Wind Demon Triology: Book II: Evil Wind (13 page)

"Enough!” she cried out.

"Stay away from the Titaness, Raphaella,"
Khiershon snapped at her.
"You know his plan and he is not to be thwarted."

"I wasn't going to interfere with him. I was going to block your retrieval beam so the two of you weren't aiming at the same man at the same time and tear him apart during the retrieval,"
she complained and took one hand from her head and was shocked to see a trace of blood in her palm. It was hard communicating in this way with the Reaper.

"You would have kept all knowledge of my bloodsire's closeness from me and mine from him!"
Khiershon accused.
"Where is your head, woman?"

"I didn't want either of you to worry,"
Raphaella complained.

"I will be guarding my bloodsire. You keep out of this!"

Raphaella sensed him pulling free of her mind and stomped her foot in anger. How dare he give her orders when it was his life she was attempting to keep from harm's way?

Dorrie put a hand on Cree's shoulder. “Well, what's he like?"

Cree shook his head. “I won't know until I stand face to face with him."

"It should be a relief to you that one of your bloodkin is safe from Multitude hands and in charge of his own destiny."

"He would have attempted to extract the cadets,” Cree said. “The Daughters would have gone after him with everything they have and he might not have survived."

"Just goes to show what kind of man he is,” Dorrie said.

"Aye,” Cree agreed on a long sigh. “He is a brave man."

"Like father, like son,” Dorrie repeated what Raphaella had said.

Cree looked down at his hands and was stunned to find them shaking. It wasn't fear. He rarely felt that debilitating emotion and even when he did experience it, it wasn't for himself.

"Is that the first time you've ever spoken to one of your bloodsons?” Dorrie asked softly.

"Aye,” he said. “My heart was thundering in my chest, Dorrie."

"More than likely his was, too,” she told him.

He cocked his head to one side. “But I felt no anger,” he said. “There was no desire to do harm to him.” He looked at Dorrie. “I had no urge to fight with him. He showed only respect toward me. There was no hint of anger in him, only what I perceived to be admiration."

"So the alpha wolf in you didn't feel like marking his territory and subduing the young pup?” she questioned.

"No,” he said and his face was filled with surprise. “I felt no such need."

"Did you have thoughts like that about Jaelin?” she queried. “A need to assert yourself over him?"

The Prime Reaper thought about that and slowly shook his head. “No, I did not, but I wasn't willing to take a risk with his little life."

"When we get home to Terra,” she said, “you can introduce your eldest to your youngest. Won't that be something?"

A smile hovered on the Reaper's chiseled lips. “Aye,” he said so quietly it was but a breath of sound. “The gods willing I hope to do just that."

Tylan Kahn was nervous as the
Vortex
readied for its landing on Montyne Vex. He didn't know what was causing his uneasiness but it sat between his shoulders like a heavy, cold, soggy blanket. He shifted his body against the apprehension and turned to Tealson Hesar. “Are you scanning this planet?"

Hesar nodded. “I'm getting a faint life sign from inside one of the caves. Whoever it is is dying."

"'We can not hold mortality's strong hand',” the cybot who was rolling past spoke.

"Shut the fuck up, ‘bot!” Kahn snapped.

"'You do ill to teach the child such words',” Troi said with a sniff.

"I'll teach you something with the toe of my boot if you don't shut up!” Kahn shouted.

"'I'll note you in my book of memory'.” Troi mumbled.

"Aye, you do that,” Kahn grumbled. “You worthless piece of shit."

The men who had accompanied Kahn from Terra all looked toward the former Admiral of the Rysalian Fleet, but Kahn ignored them. Most were fond of the cybot the Prime Reaper had programmed long ago with the words from a famous Terran playwright. Only Kahn seemed irritated by the artificial intelligence unit's prattling.

"What kind of life sign are you reading?” Kahn asked.

"Female."

"An Amazeen?” Lares Taborn questioned.

"I can't tell that,” Hesar replied.

"Any ships on the Vex?” Kahn asked.

"'Ships are but boards, sailors but men: there be ... ‘"

"Not another word, Troi,” Kahn warned. “Not one!"

"'Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me',” Troi said on a long sigh.

"Someone shut that gods-be-damned thing down!” Kahn shouted. “Now!"

"'I must have liberty withal, as large a charter as the wind, to blow on whom I please',” Troi said as he rolled quickly away.

"No ships, Sir,” Hesar answered as his fingers flew over the keys to put the cybot into hibernation mode.

"'O, how full of briers is this working-day world!'” Troi put in before powering down.

"Should we check on the woman?” Hern Belvoir asked, trying not to laugh.

"Aye, we'll check,” Kahn said, concerned with the sour feeling in his gut. He looked at his navigator. “Land us near the fueling compound first."

"Where
is
the fueling compound on the Vex?” Raine McGregor asked.

"If it is still here,” Paegan Thorne replied, “it will be just beyond the largest plateau. It was well-hidden and can only be accessed by a Rysalian password."

"Which is?” Lares demanded.

Paegan turned to Kahn. “Sir, do you remember what it is?"

Kahn jerked his head around, his eyes flaring. “How the hell would I know? I had never ventured past Diabolusia before we fled to Terra!"

"Try
stáisiún breosla
,” Alexi Noll spoke up, spelling the words. Noll had been the ranking Keeper on Kamerone Cree's ship and had made the trek to Terra many times. “Unless they've changed it since we left that was what it was when we'd refuel here on the way to Terra. Each Reaper had his own personal code for the station. That was Cree's."

"And how do I access whatever I need to access that password, Noll?” McGregor growled.

Noll grinned. “Allow me, Your Highness,” the ex-Keeper said and his fingers flew over the console. “There it is!"

On the vid-screen, the men saw a large hatchway opening up ahead of them. As the hatch moved, black sand cascaded from the titanium surface of the two flanged portals and a tall kiosk rose up from the opening.

"Let's hope there are still crystals in the kiosk,” Noll commented.

Kahn got up from the command chair and began pacing. The apprehension that was burning a hole in his esophagus made him dig his fingernails into his palm. “Lock on to that female life sign. I'll investigate myself."

Hesar turned to look at him. This was a Keeper's job—not the commander of the ship. “You don't want Noll or me to go?"

"What did I say?” Kahn exploded.

"Aye, aye, Sir!” Hesar said and locked on the feeble signal. “It is in the plateau, Admiral. I can transport it here if you like."

"Well, I've no desire to trek into the plateau myself!” Kahn sneered.

Taborn and McGregor exchanged a look. The two men were aristocrats, royalty on their own worlds of Necroman and Serenia. They had as much authority as did Kahn on the
Vortex
but it was Kahn who was leading the mission to rescue the Prime Reaper. For the last few hours, Kahn had been barking at everyone—including Taborn and McGregor—and neither man liked it.

"Locking on,” Hesar said.

A soft blue light pulsed on the transporter pad. When the light faded, a body laid sprawled face-down on the plexiform shield.

"Barely alive,” Hesar reported.

Kahn made no move toward the body. His heart was thudding so hard in his chest he was having trouble breathing. He could hear it pounding in his ears.

Hern Belvoir and Andre Arbra hunkered down beside the body and gently turned the robe-clad body over.

"Sweet Merciful Alel,” Belvoir whispered for he recognized the woman lying there. He looked up at Kahn. “It's Dr. Sejm."

Kahn nodded. Somehow he'd known it was his surrogate mother and as much as he had always distrusted the Chalean woman, he felt a terrible sadness welling up inside him. She was the only mother he'd ever known and—in her way—she had shown him as much affection as she was capable of showing. She had made sure he had survived the virus that had killed almost the entire male population of Rysalia so in a strange way, she had given him life.

Sejm's eyelids fluttered open. She was struggling to drag air into her lungs. When she saw the men standing over her, she whimpered.

Kahn motioned Arbra and Belvoir away and he knelt down beside the dying woman. Very gently, he slid his arm under her back and lifted her, hoping to relieve some of the gasping that wracked her body.

"Tylan,” she whispered and tried to lift a hand to touch his face, but her strength was rapidly fading.

"What ails her, Hesar?” Kahn asked and felt tears gathering in his eyes.

"Her body is cannibalizing itself,” Hesar said quietly. “Apparently she has had no food for nearly a week."

"Where are the others?” Kahn asked. “Why are you here alone?"

A smile tried to tug at Sejm's lips. “Your hero left me here to die,” she said, her voice cracking, barely audible.

"Cree took your ship?"

"My ship, my women,” Sejm whispered. “My life."

"Where is he?"

"On his way to hell, I hope,” Sejm said with her last breath. The air pushed out of her lungs and she lay with her eyes open, staring into whatever fate the goddess had in store for her.

Kahn crouched with the body of his surrogate mother in his arms. He felt his heart squeezing in his chest and marveled that he could feel such sadness over a woman who had never really shown him that much affection. She had been an evil woman, full of hatred and spite and revenge. She had caused the death of hundreds of thousands of men. There had been no redeeming qualities about her.

"Admiral?” Belvoir questioned. “Do you want to bury her here?"

Kahn shook his head. “Not in this barren place,” he said and slid his other arm beneath Sejm's legs. He struggled to his feet, holding her. “We will take her home."

Lares Taborn's dark face creased. “Home where, Kahn?"

"To Chale,” Kahn replied. “It is on our way."

"But why would Cree go on to Rysalia Prime now?” Taborn questioned. “If he has control of the ship, why did he not return to Terra?"

"He had his reasons and I imagine they have something to do with his bloodkin,” Kahn said. “I told Bridget we would bring him home and by the gods I will!” He turned with Sejm. “One way or another, I will bring him home!"

Behind the black marble coping, six graves lay beneath shining black marble slabs. A fresh grave had been carved into the lush green grass that matted the burial plot on the hill of
Seacht Claíomhs
. Six names had been chiseled into the black marble stones: Analeis, Ciara, Edana, Leila, Nuala, and Raicheal. One more name would need to be added when the seventh stone slab had been laid over Hael Sejm's grave.

"Why did she take the name Sejm?” McGregor asked Kahn.

Kahn shrugged. “I never knew. Perhaps it was her mother's maiden name."

"That could not be,” Lares Taborn put in. “King Rian Brell was married to Celeste Wynth of the royal house of Oceania. She was the mother of the Seven Sisters of the Sword."

"Then I can't begin to guess why she chose the name Sejm. She never Joined with any man I knew of,” Kahn said. He ran a hand over his sweaty face for him—and him, alone—had dug his surrogate mother's grave, refusing the help of the men standing with him.

"We'd best be going before someone comes to investigate,” McGregor said. He felt eyes staring at him and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.

"They know we're here,” Kahn said softly. “They'll wait until we leave before they come to say the
Slán
, the final farewell, for the last Daughter of Brell brought home."

Taborn swept his hooded dark gaze over the forests surrounding them. He, too, felt eyes watching his every move and it unnerved him. Although Chale was not allied with Rysalia, they were men, and men were not welcome in this most hallowed spot on Chalean soil.

"Hesar,” Kahn said, touching the vid-com at his wrist, “transport McGregor and Taborn to the ship."

"You must come with us!” Lares insisted.

"I will be along shortly,” Kahn said. “Give me a moment alone with her."

Though Lares would have protested, McGregor laid a hand on Taborn's shoulder and shook his head, warning the dark man not to interfere.

Alone on the emerald hill, Kahn hunkered down and reached out to grab a handful of the rich black soil that was mounded over his surrogate mother's grave. He let the dirt drift through his fingers as he said his own
Slán
to Hael Sejm.

"You are home, Mother,” he said. “May you find comfort in the arms of your sisters."

"May the Wind be always at your back, son of Hael,” a voice drifted with the blessing from the copse behind the cemetery.

He hung his head for a moment then got to his feet. “I'm ready, Hesar,” he told the waiting Keeper. As he felt the shift of the retrieval beam passing over him, he wondered what Hael would say to Analeis—Kamerone's mother—when they met in the Shadowlands.

As the
Vortex
sped away from the green hills of Chale, Kahn sat in the command chair, his thoughts of Bridget, and the man he had come to think of as a brother. “What the hell are you doing, Cree?” he whispered. “What have you gotten yourself into now?"

The shackles were too tight around the wrists of Kamerone Cree. Binding his arms behind him, the titanium bands were cutting off his circulation and he flexed his fingers, grimacing.

"Too tight?” Major Akkadia Kahmal inquired.

"Aye, but if you loosen them, someone will think you've been coddling me,” the Prime Reaper replied.