Shadow Hunters (12 page)

Ladranix hesitated. “May I … show this? The telling … it is a hard thing to convey with just words.”

“I do not think that is best,” said Zamara, unexpectedly. Jake focused his thoughts toward her.

Zamara, why not? It’s exactly what you have been doing to me with the memories of Temlaa and Vetraas this whole time!

Yes, she replied, keeping her thoughts for his mind alone.
And I am giving you that which I believe you need to understand in order for me to carry out my mission. Nothing more and nothing less. Words are easier for your brain to manage. I see no point in taxing you or, indeed, Rosemary further than is absolutely necessary from that perspective.

The headache was coming back, no doubt due to Jake’s sudden surge of exasperation.
Look, you picked
me, I didn’t sign up for this. And I think that all things considered I’ve been a damn good sport about it all.

You have indeed, Jacob. Better than I dared hope the first time my mind met yours.

And whether I like it or not I’m going to be the next preserver. So I’d better get used to having my mind stretched in this way, hadn’t I?

When she did not reply, Jake took it as a yes and said, “If it’s all right with Rosemary, I’d be okay with your showing us.” He glanced over at his traveling companion. She looked wary, but finally nodded.

“Yeah, you can do it if you have to. But no prying into my thoughts. I hate that.”

Ladranix inclined his head. Almost immediately Jake felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the protoss he beheld in his mind’s eye. They did not look any different from the ones he now sat with in the physical reality. But … they
felt
different.

They shared the same worry, the same fear, the same anger as the Shel’na Kryhas. However, instead of gathering strength from adversity they had almost … embraced it. Emanating from them was something akin to a mental stench, something ancient and primitive, and Jake’s heart suddenly lurched as he realized it was dreadfully familiar.

Suddenly he was again that ancient protoss, watching as the xel’naga abandoned them.
Up it went, the home that flew, bearing the
Ihan-rii,
the Great Teachers, the Makers, the Guardians away, away, forever away. Dozens of
lithe, purple-blue-gray shapes sprang into the air in futile pursuit, clinging to starkly beautiful crystals that had edges sharp as shikmas. The home that flew continued to ascend, its inhabitants unmoved by the begging and pleading of those they forsook. Hands now slicked with blood lost their grip and the panicked beings fell to the earth, fell too far to survive, striking the ground with a thudding sound that was drowned out by the overwhelming noise of the departing vessel and the excruciating mental din that threatened to tear Jake’s head apart, just as the pain in his heart threatened to rip his mind apart.

No, no, they mustn’t go, they were everything, everything—

Overcome with despair, Jake fell to the ground as well, thrashing, his dark blue skin mottled and heated with blinding, smothering fear and fury. What would they do? How could they go on? Alone, alone, so alone—

“Hey, you okay there, Prof?” Rosemary asked. Jake blinked, coming back to the present, back to Jacob Jefferson Ramsey and not that long-ago, terrified pro-toss whose sense of abandonment would know no ease. He was shaking and gasping, and when Ladranix handed him a gourd filled with the metallic, warm water he gulped it down thirstily.

“You all felt that, I know you did,” Jake managed, his throat still somehow dry despite the water he had just drunk. “It’s like a—a racial memory.” He hesitated, then said softly, “A racial wound.”

Ladranix nodded. “Only a fraction of our people are born preservers, but they are merely the ultimate expression of something latent in our people. The
abandonment of the protoss by the xel’naga is deeply ingrained in our psyches. That dark day when the gate was closed and we realized we were stranded—were alone—was a powerful echo of the day when we were forsaken so many eons in the past. For some, it was too traumatic an event from which to recover.”

Again the “other” protoss came into Jake’s mind. He steeled himself for the emotions pouring off them and this time it wasn’t as overwhelming. He sensed a darkness, a wildness about them. It was as if the blow of abandonment had struck both groups of pro-toss hard, metaphorically knocking them down, but only one had risen. These others were ruled by anger and fear, not calm and enlightenment. He sensed a name—Tal’darim, “the Forged”—but did not understand why the name resonated, not yet. Just as Jake recognized the Shel’na Kryhas as being spiritual brethren to the likes of Adun and Vetraas and Temlaa and Savassan, he realized that these pro-toss had been so traumatized that they had reached back in time for a mind-set that would permit them to continue to exist. Instead of faith in the advancements that the race had made, they were returning to the primal, angry, powerful beings from which they had evolved.

“The schism happened slowly, but it came to a head in one angry night. There was no fighting, but there was … much rage. Their leader, Felanis, had been acting strangely for some time. He and I had never
been close, but we had been united in our need for survival. He turned to a dear friend of mine, a fellow templar, Alzadar. We had trained together, stood together in many a battle, but no longer. My old friend began shutting me and others out. Turning inward, becoming solitary, sharing thoughts only for the most basic necessities. Felanis was the one he turned to now. Finally Felanis called us fools and idealists, and struck off for the wilds, Alzadar and others at his side. We tried to pursue, to stop them—it was madness, certain death, to venture forth from the cities—but Alzadar and the others insisted on going with him. We are a free people. We live and die by the choices we made. We could not force them to stay. And so the protoss on Aiur were a divided people from that moment forward.”

“But Felanis, Alzadar, and the rest of the Forged—they’re still alive?” Rosemary asked. Ladranix turned his glowing, pale blue eyes to hers.

“They are. They found an unexpected sanctuary. There are cave systems beneath the surface. Some of them are vast. Many are still unexplored. It is there that the Tal’darim find shelter, coming up only to take nourishment from the starlight. Faint though that light is, it is enough to keep them alive.”

Rosemary and Jake exchanged glances. He was starting to get a bad feeling about this. “By any chance … do the Tal’darim live near the area where our ship was planning to land?”

Ladranix moved his head and arms in a way that Jake recognized as surprise with a hint of confusion. “They do indeed.”

Despite his curiosity, Ladranix was as good as his word. He had not read Jake’s or Rosemary’s thoughts, and it was clear now to Jake that Zamara had kept her own thoughts on this matter well hidden.

Rosemary threw up her own hands in exasperation. “Well, isn’t
this
just great! The one place in this whole blasted planet we need to get to and half the protoss are going to fight us to get there!”

Zamara sighed in Jake’s mind. She was a preserver. Her knowledge was for her people, but it was nonetheless not knowledge that was intended to be commonplace. Jake did not doubt that had the situation been different, Zamara would have felt no need to share it even with Ladranix and the other Shel’na Kryhas. But Rosemary had summed up the situation accurately, if bluntly. They would require aid to penetrate the chambers to obtain what they had come here for, and the protoss, even though they honored their preservers, would insist on knowing before lending assistance in attacking their own, if it came down to it.

Thoughts, Zamara’s and Jake’s, intertwined, interconnected now, flowed gently into Ladranix’s mind. His pale blue eyes widened as Zamara showed him the barest fragment of what Jake—a terran, an alien, not even a protoss—had seen in rich and powerful detail.

“We … did not know,” Ladranix managed. He was stunned. “All this time … such treasures sat beneath the surface.”

“Treasures, true, and dangers as well,” Zamara said. “We are protoss. We might be the children of the xel’naga, but we are not them, and their treasures would not be our treasures. So the Conclave ruled long ago, after a brief initial investigation of the caverns.”

“But now, what was hidden away … what was dark … has come to light,” Ladranix said. “First the dark templar, an ancient and shameful secret, have reappeared in our lives. And now this. Can you reveal yet more to us, Zamara? Can you tell us why you must find this technology and take it to our brethren?”

Jake had yet to master the fine art of censoring his thoughts, and what escaped was:
Good luck with that.
He sensed astonishment, affront, and humor in rapid succession from the protoss, and blushed.

“In due time, it will have to be shared,” Zamara said. “But first … we must do what we came here to do. And that will mean somehow entering the chambers beneath the earth where the Tal’darim live. In the meantime, we will join with you and help you as we are able.”

VALERIAN LOWERED THE SWORD, FOR THE FIRST time ever voluntarily pausing during his training. He realized he could not bring his attention to focus on the stance, the whirling of the blade, could not drop into his body. The thought concerned him.
Or maybe,
he mused with a hint of humor as he respectfully put away the sword and reached for a towel to wipe his face,
I’m learning what it means to actually be in command.

His father, God knew, certainly had distractions. Valerian had played enough chess and drunk enough port with the man to know that. But Arcturus had never possessed anything like Valerian had with his swordwork—something in which he could wholly lose himself and that belonged to him and no one else; in which all that mattered was being fully in the moment and striving for his personal best. Now, Valerian was starting to understand why. It was damned difficult to balance the two.

He’d been almost giddy at first, when he realized exactly where Jake and Rosemary had been heading. They were going to Aiur. He would follow. It had seemed simple enough in that first moment, but reality had soon set in.

Whittier had haltingly informed his employer that he was very, very sorry, sir, very sorry indeed, but there were no appropriate ships in that sector that Valerian could commandeer for this purpose. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, the
Gray Tiger
was in that area, but she was hardly fit for action anymore, was she? Well, yes, there are several Dominion vessels, but His Excellency was utilizing those, and it was Whittier’s understanding that the Heir Apparent had no desire to attract his father’s attention any more than was absolutely necessary. Was Whittier misinlformed as to this delicate issue? No? Well then, it would take some time to get any vessels at—
how
many did Valerian require? Oh my, that would take a bit of doing….

Valerian growled in the back of his throat at the recollection of the conversation. The delay was excruciatingly frustrating. Every hour that ticked by meant Jake and the protoss in his head were that much closer to escaping. Still, Valerian was not about to sacrifice Jake to his father’s whim by misplaying his hand. This had to be done correctly, or all would fall to disaster. He did not need a handful of vessels, he needed as close to a fleet as he could manage. Who knew what kind of state Aiur was in? The last information
he had been able to obtain had indicated that the planet was crawling with zerg.

Valerian would not make the mistake his father had of underestimating Kerrigan. While he did not understand quite how the former ghost managed her abominable troops, he was not about to assume that once Jake landed on the planet, Kerrigan would be unaware of so unique a presence. And even if she was foolish enough to not recognize the opportunity, well … Jake devoured by zerg was as bad as Jake captured by Kerrigan or Jake tortured to death by Arcturus.

It was a delicate mission, one requiring care … and one that needed to have started days ago.

Valerian grit his teeth and again drew the sword from the scabbard.

Arcturus might not be able to balance running an empire with perfecting the Stance of the Stalking Panther. But Valerian was not his father. He would surpass his father as the sun surpassed the moon. And he would begin now.

Kortanul inclined his head. “As you wish, Executor.” Despite his words, he seemed deeply reluctant to speak. Adun and Jake waited patiently.

“Impossible as it may seem, there are those among us who would destroy everything we have sought to build over the last millennium. They question the Khala. They maintain that the right of the individual takes priority over the good of the whole. Some have even resorted to the extreme measure of self-mutilation in order to sever their connection to the Khala.”

Even though he spoke in words rather than a more intimate connection, Kortanul could not entirely conceal his revulsion. Jake and Adun shared it.

“This cannot be!” Adun cried. “What do they hope to accomplish? Hurtle us backward thousands of years to when we were no better than the beasts of the jungles—worse, because we had self-awareness. They know that the Khala was the greatest boon the protoss have ever had! Why would they wish to ruin our salvation?”

The Conclave members exchanged glances. “Would you wish to ask them such a thing yourself?”

Jake started. They had some of these … these heretics present?

Adun was very still for a moment, with that deep stillness that all protoss had but that was lifted almost to an art form with the templar. “Yes,” he said at last. “Yes. I would know why one of these … renegades … thinks and feels as he does.”

A soft murmur of approval flitted across Jake’s mind. Such a mind-set was so inconceivable, so wrong, that even he would be concerned about brushing the mind that held those thoughts. And yet Adun stepped forward boldly. He was, as Jake and all the others had known, a true defender of his people. Not only did he have the skill and training to protect the protoss from outside threats, Adun had the deeper strength to protect them from this insidious, hitherto unimaginable attack from within.