Chains of Mist Page 14

  Moreover, the Sho’nal did not appear to have much actual power; from what little Austin had been able to determine, he was more of an advisor, able to give suggestions but not actual commands. So, not like the Vizier at all, actually. As for the real leaders of the tribe, Austin could only speculate. Katrina, Darayan, and Sho’nal Taralen had all mentioned the kat’ara, which Austin remembered from his briefings back on Tellaria to be a group of elders who decided tribal policy. He had also heard of a Dar’katal, a man named Ulkar—nothing definite, but enough for someone of Austin’s experience to work with. If other cultures are any indication, the kat’ara is a peacetime legislative body, responsible for anything and everything, and in absence of war they hold all the power. The Dar’katal—probably the leader of the warriors—is the wartime ruler, and during such times he likely wields powers akin to a dictator.

  If Austin was right, then his situation was grim. The warriors didn’t like him, which meant that Ulkar probably wouldn’t support him either…and the Sho’nal had already explained why the kat’ara wouldn’t help him. Which leaves me with…not much. My only supporters are a young girl and a man with no actual power.

  Every moment Austin spent here was another moment he was not helping Justin. His powerlessness in his interactions with the Belayas was maddening—he was used to having the full weight of the Federation behind him, to having others listen when he spoke and act based on what he said. Waiting helplessly was torture, especially since he had no distractions, nothing to take his mind away from the terrible reality.

  The reality that he—and Justin—were running out of time.

  With that thought lingering in his mind, it took Austin a long time to finally sleep. When he did, his dreams were dark.

  -9-

  The ground rushed up to meet Drogni far faster than he would have liked, and he braced himself for impact. Most of his mind was relaxed, a calm born from the confidence of experience—no problems, you’ve done this hundreds of times before—but there was that one little voice in his head that reminded him sullenly that those hundreds of times were all twenty years or more in the past. It was a voice he’d been hearing more and more over the last few years. It’s not that you can’t do it, the voice said, but it’ll hurt like hell afterwards.

  Drogni knew better than to shut the voice out; it always came back, no matter what he did, and he was learning to accept that. But now was not the time for that kind of advice; he was going to land, whether he wanted to or not. So he just ignored the voice.

  His feet touched solid ground, and he immediately let himself drop into a crouch to minimize the impact force. Still, a tremor like a sledgehammer’s blow ran through him. Hurt like hell? There’s an understatement if I ever heard one. At least we landed in a field and not in the middle of the forest, and at least this planet’s got lower gravity. If this insert were on Deneb… Drogni could feel his knees shuddering at just the thought of landing on the high-gravity Denebali homeworld.

  Wincing, Drogni unstrapped his parachute harness and glanced around for Makree. His fellow soldier had landed nearby and was already out of his chute and walking over to Drogni. And here I am, still on the ground like an old man. Drogni gritted his teeth and stood, a movement that was about as smooth as opening a rusty door, but he ignored the pain and greeted Makree with an even face. “Another happy landing.”

  Makree nodded, his expression unreadable as always. “Did you see where Forgera landed? I tried to keep him in my sight, but I lost him in the wind.”

  “I’ve got a general idea.” Drogni turned, thought for a moment, and pointed to the south-east. “He hit somewhere over that way—I’d say, oh, about fifty klicks, maybe a little less. Landed in the trees somewhere.” At least, I hope he landed, and didn’t crash. Hardly a given.

  The same thought which Drogni had kept to himself, Makree said aloud. “When I last saw him, he was spinning pretty badly, and then to land in the middle of the forest…we’ve got to consider the possibility that he didn’t make it.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” The words came out more heated than Drogni had intended, and he immediately felt ashamed. “I’m sorry, Sergeant Major. You’re right, damn it, you’re right. But let’s keep that kind of talk to a minimum, understand? For now, we assume that Austin’s alive and work from there.”

  Makree met Drogni’s gaze for a moment, then gave the faintest shadow of a nod. “Understood, Admiral.”

  “Thank you.” You’d better be alive out there somewhere, Austin, got it? “Now, let’s get down to business. Just because we’ve gotta do this on foot doesn’t mean anything’s changed—we’re still going to Nembane Mountain, and I’m still going to wring that stelnak’s filthy neck when we get there. All it means is it’ll take us a bit longer. Now, I’d guess we’re fifty, maybe seventy-five klicks away—that’s two, three days. When we get there, we wait for Austin. Hopefully, he’ll get there before us—he’s actually a lot closer to the mountain than we are right now. If he doesn’t, we decide how long to wait for him then—no point in doing it now.”

  Makree had looked away, towards the looming hulk of Nembane Mountain, and didn’t appear to be paying attention. Whatever was bugging him on the flight is still bugging him now. Great. “Did you hear me, soldier?” There was no response, so Drogni repeated, more loudly, “I said, did you hear me, soldier?”

  “Yes, Admiral,” said Makree without turning. “A fine plan.”

  Drogni bit back a sharp reply, forcing himself to stay calm. At least one of us has got to have his head on straight. First rule of military planning: assume that whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. First the ship inexplicably loses power, then we go a man down, and now the soldier famous for being completely unflappable in combat is having some kind of mental breakdown. It keeps getting better and better. “Move out, then?”

  “Yes, move out. Of course,” said Makree, in the same detached voice. “No time to lose.”

  Drogni narrowed his eyes at the back of Makree’s head, as if doing so would allow him to stare into the man’s brain. What the hell is going on with him? Better ask him about it, once we get to somewhere a little less exposed. Whatever it is, he’ll have deal with it, because…because… Drogni took a deep breath and forced himself to finish the thought, even though it stung as sharp as any physical wound. Because I don’t know if I can do this alone.

  They walked in silence through the middle of a rolling grassland that stretched for several kilometers in every direction. Lonely trees with no branches and thin, twisting trunks topped with bulbous floral canopies dotted the plain at irregular intervals and were the only feature that broke up the monotony of the terrain. Wading through the thick, tall grasses required all of the Tellarians’ energy. Soon both of them were covered in the sticky, fetid sap that oozed from the grasses like pale yellow blood.

  Both Drogni and Makree were both very careful not to let any of the stuff get in their mouths or noses. Before departing from Tellaria, they had been briefed on the flora and fauna native to this region of Espir. The grasses were called bo’al, and the sap, while harmless to the touch, was a powerful hallucinogen if ingested and was toxic in high enough quantities. It would cause the muscles to atrophy and the nervous system to shut down, and would eventually lead to death by slow asphyxiation.

  Espir’s lighter gravity helped ease the difficulty of their travel, but Drogni’s legs quickly began to burn with fatigue. A sweltering heat beat down upon them, and sweat poured off of them, mixing with the sap to form a foul paste that beaded against the skin and which resisted their attempts to wipe it clear. Drogni glanced ahead and saw that they seemed to have covered no ground at all; Nembane Mountain looked exactly as it had when they had first landed, and the line of trees indicating the end of the grassland was little more than a tiny shadow on the edge of the horizon. They were still many hours away, and the heat of the day was just beginning.

  Drogni gritted his teeth and pushed onwards.

  Vario
us small creatures with large eyes and flat, fur-covered bodies skittered away as the Tellarians pushed their way through the bo’al, dashing for cover in concealed underground dens. They encountered no larger predators, but many times Drogni felt sure that they were being watched; whenever he turned, he saw shadows on the grass, shadows apparently unattached to anything. Drogni knew that there was a local carnivore called a bortath—a canine predator possessed of incredible speed and strength which could camouflage itself to any environment. They were also supposed to be highly aggressive, cruel monsters who attacked anything and everything that crossed their path, killing for fun rather than simply for food. Invisible hunters, thought Drogni grimly, keeping one hand on his par-gun and both eyes scanning the surrounding bo’al for any signs of movement. Perfect. One more thing to have to watch out for.

  However, the two Tellarians passed across the bo’al fields unharmed and undisturbed. The bortath—if indeed that was what stalked them, and not some other dangerous representative of the Espirian fauna—was apparently content to watch and wait. Predators knew their own; just as Drogni could feel the air practically humming with raw bestial ferocity and fearless aggression, so too the bortath would be able to sense the Tellarians’ strength and will, and know that it was a match for the beast’s own. The two sides had formed an unspoken truce, each to allow the other to pass unchallenged—but Drogni knew that that could change in a heartbeat. If the Tellarians let their guards down, or offered any signs of weakness, the bortath would strike—and strike hard.

  They walked through the morning and early afternoon, and the pale blue sun had just passed its apex when they came upon a small cave nestled into the underside of a hill. Drogni thoroughly examined every corner of the cave for more predators and concluded that it was empty. Slinging off his pack, he sat down on a smooth area on the ground, and began to knead out the muscles in his legs. He considered taking some painkillers, as he had an ample supply, but decided against it. Those are for real injuries—not a little stiffness. I’m not that old, and the pain’s not that bad—I’ll deal with it without drugs. As his thumbs dug into the sore muscles it felt like fire was running through his veins, but gradually they began to loosen. Won’t be perfect, but at least now I’ll be able to move tomorrow.

  Makree remained standing at the mouth of the cave, chewing slowly on a ration bar and staring at the giant mountain in the distance. “We made good progress today,” he said, his voice flat. He sounded like a machine reading off investment projections. “I think I’ll scout the surrounding area, make sure there aren’t any predators around.”

  “Hold it, soldier—” Drogni began, but he was too late; Makree was already gone. Damn it. Drogni tried to stand up, to go after the other man, but his knees said otherwise, and he remained firmly on the ground. Damn it again. Well, he’s got to come back here eventually. Whatever’s on his mind, we’re gonna talk about it, today, so I can make sure he’s got his head screwed on straight. Won’t be fun, but it’s got to happen.

  As he waited for Makree to return, Drogni had a quick meal, then fell into a doze. He dreamt of that battle in the control tower on Proth fifteen years ago when Rokan Sellas should have died, only now Rokan was the one with the pistol, and he was the one who was falling. The air was filled with an inhuman cackle of malice, and a voice was yelling Ortega! Ortega!—

  Drogni awoke, his heart pounding. He could still hear a voice, yelling his name—but Makree was nowhere in sight. What the—

  “Ortega! Ortega, wake up! Ortega!”

  Adrenaline did what conscious willpower had been unable to, and Drogni found himself on his feet, par-gun drawn and held ready. “Who’s there?” he barked, eyes flickering around the still empty cave. “Show yourself!”

  “Calm yourself, Ortega. And put that gun away—this is no time for such foolishness.”

  Drogni did not feel particularly inclined to take the voice up on its commands. Whoever it is, he can see me and I can’t see him—not good. He rushed to the cave mouth and peered around, but there was still no one in sight. Is there a species on this planet that exists on a spectrum I can’t see? he wondered, but then discarded the idea unfinished. If that was it, how would they know my name? Maybe they already captured Makree, but my gut’s telling me that’s not it. Besides, I feel like I recognize that voice…

  And he had it. A week ago he would have thought it impossible, but he was looking at the galaxy at bit differently now. “Vizier? Vizier? Is that you?”

  The reply was swift and curt. “Of course it’s me, Ortega. As should have been immediately obvious.”

  “Yeah, well, you caught me a bit off guard.” In what world should it have been ‘immediately obvious’—never mind. Not important, and not worth arguing about. “What’re you doing here? I thought you said you weren’t coming?”

  “If by ‘here’ you mean Espir, then you have learned nothing. Do you think that you are hearing my voice with your ears? I am still on Tellaria, and I am speaking to you through your mind. If Makree were with you, he would think that you were talking to yourself.”

  “Is that so?” Now that he thought about it, Drogni realized that the Vizier was right. The cave was dark, but it wasn’t that dark, and the Vizier was too big to hide. “Well, how nice of you to join us. What do you want?”

  “To help, of course. And you would be wise to accept that help if you wish to make it off of Espir alive.”

  Drogni forced himself to ignore the Vizier’s condescension. For once, the big man had a point. He and Makree—and Austin, assuming he’d survived his fall—were stranded here. Even if they all found each other, there was no way for them to leave the planet, unless they could somehow find and repair their ship…which, unfortunately, was probably a smoldering wreck a few thousand kilometers away. Plus, it’s not like we can just stroll to the nearest supply depot and buy a replacement engine. “Yeah, okay then. So are you gonna send another ship for us, or just wait there being smug at me?”

  “Do not be such a child,” replied the Vizier, his voice thick with scorn. “The ship has already been dispatched. However, it will take some time to arrive, and even when it does it will not be able to land for the same reason that yours crashed. You will be on your own for now.”

  “Yeah, about that.” A sudden suspicion wormed its way into Drogni’s mind, and his eyes narrowed. “That ship went from fine to dead in less than a second—and then it stayed dead. Now, I know those ships, Vizier—the fail-safes have fail-safes, and you’d need a good-sized cruiser to pack enough EMP to knock it out for good. And there aren’t any of those all the way out here. So maybe you can tell me why we’re walking to Nembane Mountain instead of flying there.”

  “Of course I can. Rokan Sellas has begun to unlock the seals of power on this world, and the resulting energy is creating a disrupter field capable of disabling all large-scale electronic devices within its radius. As long as Rokan Sellas controls the mountain, you will not be able to leave…which may perhaps give you a little extra incentive to succeed.” He paused. “I suspected that this might happen.”

  “Really? You suspected?” Drogni didn’t bother to keep the anger from his voice. If the Vizier were one of Drogni’s soldiers, he’d find himself cashiered in a second for something like this—if not worse. “And you didn’t think to give me a head’s-up, maybe let me know beforehand that we might crash? You just let it happen—?”

  “Do not be a fool, Ortega. Do you imagine that it is an easy task, forging a telepathic link from half a galaxy away and speaking directly into a mind devoid of even the slightest spark of magical ability? You may think that that sword across your back has imbued you with some sort of arcane aura, but that is not the case—it has taken me until now to lock onto your mental signature. There was no time for me to alert you, and in any case the field is too strong for me to shield you from it from such a distance. Besides—” and here Drogni could practically feel him wave his hand dismissively “—you all survived, relatively unsca
thed, so the matter is irrelevant.”

  An angry reply leapt to Drogni’s lips but faded away as the Vizier’s last sentence registered fully in his brain. “Austin’s alive? Where is he?”

  “He is safe, and that is all you should worry about for now. Concern yourself with your mission, and your mission only—I will worry about Forgera.”

  Drogni didn’t exactly feel a sweeping wave of relief. “When I agreed to let Austin come with me to Leva, he became my responsibility, and that hasn’t changed. Which means I will worry about him, and that’s just the way it is.”

  The Vizier was silent for a moment. “Very well,” he said at last. “As I said, he is safe. He landed about five kilometers from one of the native villages, a tribe called the Belayas. I entered the mind of one of the village children and compelled her to go to find him. She has taken him to her village, and he will be safe there for the time being. Now, may we return to the much more pressing matter of your own survival?”

  Drogni ignored the Vizier’s scathing arrogance, something that was much harder to do when the man’s voice was being projected directly into his brain. “Why can’t he just go straight to the mountain? Why bother with the village at all?”

  Again, the Vizier paused, and when he finally spoke his voice lacked its usual casual superiority. “There is a very large and powerful tribe called the Traika that controls the land around Nembane Mountain. They will not allow Forgera, or you for that matter, to cross through their lands.”

  “And you can’t protect him? As far as I know, the natives here don’t have much in the way of technology. Hell, we should be able to get past them with or without your help.”