Slave Empire III - The Shrike Read online

  “Do you want to change?”

  “I never did before, but now… perhaps.”

  “Only perhaps?” she teased.

  “Yeah. That says a lot, doesn’t it?”

  Rayne looked away as fresh tears blurred her vision, staring into the lake’s clear water, where water plants floated like green hair. It explained so much. His monkish lifestyle and devotion to his empire were a result of this loner complex, this dread of being touched.

  It all made such tragic sense. The mask and gloves were part of it, too. While the mask was vital for hiding his face and collar, the gloves were primarily to prevent people from touching him. She had noticed that his aversions extended to being stared at, and the mask also kept unwelcome eyes at bay. That was how he was able to deal with people. That he had allowed her inside his armour was so much more poignant and precious now that he had explained the other reason for it, and his solitary existence. She guessed it had been a process, one that had taken two years just for him to offer her a place at his side to save her from her unhappy situation, under heavy restrictions.

  Then she had tramped in with hobnail boots and he had pushed her away with words, ever so gently, and she had bolted like an idiot. He had been horribly brutalised in the past, she was sure, in ways that his abbreviated story had barely touched upon, or, in all likelihood, not mentioned at all. For some unknown reason, it had made him extraordinarily gentle, but with deadly reactions to the thing he had learnt to dread as a slave, and without which their relationship could not progress: touch. She understood it, although it saddened her beyond words. She blinked away her tears and wiped her cheeks, took his hand and rubbed the smooth skin with its pale scars.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said.

  “I don’t know if I can make you happy, but I promise to try.”

  She leant forward and kissed his cheek. “Your love is all I need to be happy.”

  Chapter Six

  Tarke looked away, wishing her closeness did not make him so uncomfortable. He had discovered that he could bear her touch, even enjoy it, up to a point. It was a miracle that she could touch him without him wanting to kill her. It gave him hope that he thought he had lost long ago, that he might one day be able to put his past behind him at last. He would not raise her hopes, however. That would be cruel, and could have dire consequences later on, when she realised the futility of her dreams. His previous plan had been a safer one, but she had not been happy. He did not think she would be happy with this arrangement for long, either, but it bought a bit of time. She had no idea just how damaged he was, and he would never tell her the whole story.

  He met her gaze. “I had to become like I am to survive. I don’t know how many men I killed in the arena, but it was a lot.”

  She stroked his cheek again, and he fought the urge to move away. With a sigh, he escaped it by stretching out beside her, rubbing his eyes, and she propped herself up on one elbow to gaze at him.

  “Maybe I could heal you?”

  He chuckled. “I knew that was coming. It’s psychological, not physical.”

  “Explain it to me.”

  “Physical contact is repellent. I’ll either try to avoid it, or lash out. I can touch other people, although I don’t like doing it, but if they touch me, especially unexpectedly...”

  “But it’s not so bad with me?”

  He nodded. “The first time you touched my hand, I knew you were different.”

  “But you still didn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “I wanted even less to do with you. You scared the shit out of me.”

  She giggled. “You didn’t show it.”

  “I’m good at hiding things.” He gazed into the distance. “My other aversions include any encroachment upon my person, such as telepathic probes. I hurt you when you tried that, I know. I didn’t mean to, but you mustn’t do it, anyway. My reaction to telepathic intrusions is as violent as my normal reaction to touch.”

  “I won’t. I’m not much of a telepath, in any case.”

  “Enough of one to make me almost fry your brain.”

  “How violent is your normal reaction to being touched unexpectedly?”

  He closed his eyes. “I’ve killed a few people.”

  “That was a long time ago, though, right?”

  “No. The last time was five years ago. But that was an assassin. My reaction depends on what you do to me. Anyone who grabs me is going to get a black eye, at the very least. Stick a needle in me, and I will probably kill you… them.”

  Rayne’s silence told him of her disquiet, and he did not blame her. She was safe from his reactions, though, he was fairly sure. If he harmed her, he would be never forgive himself, and that had been another reason to keep her at a distance, where she was safer. Whenever he had been in her company, he had kept her in sight, just in case she had the urge to grab him for whatever reason. It had always made him edgy, however. Now that she knew, he hoped he would be able to relax a bit more in her company. He opened his eyes to find her studying him, which instantly made him uncomfortable.

  “This must be hard for you,” he said.

  “It must be hard for you, too. In time it’ll get easier, as you get used to it, won’t it?”

  “I want it to, but I don’t know.”

  She smiled. “You’re not the kind of man who accepts failure, and, since you haven’t tried before now, you don’t know what’s going to happen. It could be easier than you think.”

  “You might get hurt, though, and that, I don’t want to do. There will be times when I can’t deal with touch at all, not even yours.”

  “I can deal with it, now that I know how you feel.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I’ll do my best to make up for it. I can be nice… even friendly… sometimes.”

  “I noticed that.”

  He smiled. “Your attempt to seduce me before you ran away was somewhat alarming, I must admit.”

  “Oh… the black dress?”

  “Yes, the black dress.”

  She lowered her eyes. “I thought if that didn’t work, nothing would.”

  “It should have worked. I wanted it to, but I knew it wouldn’t.”

  “And you had to start a five-alarm fire to escape.”

  He laughed. “You figured that out, huh? I didn’t actually start a fire, just set off the alarm. The fire fighters were not amused.”

  “I’m sure you could have fought me off if you’d wanted to.”

  “But I didn’t want to. That would have hurt your feelings. I thought I could keep it casual without telling you the truth.”

  “And how long did you expect that to work?”

  “I wasn’t sure. I knew you’d never admit what you felt if I didn’t, so I figured as long as you didn’t know what I felt you’d keep your feelings in check… somewhat. I guess I should have seen the seduction attempt coming, though. I knew what was up when you walked in dressed like that, even if I hadn’t seen it in your mind when you asked if we could watch a vidfilm after dinner.”

  “Then why did you go along with it?”

  “You’d have just tried again, or tried without the vidfilm primer. You’d have done something, I know. I figured I’d just have to deal with it. What choice did I have? I couldn’t very well stay away from you forever, although the thought did cross my mind. That would have been far worse, though.”

  “Were you happy with the way things were then?” she asked.

  “No, but it was better than nothing. I knew I wasn’t capable of more. I’m still not, Rayne. Remember that.”

  “But you want to try, right?”

  “I do now, yeah. I have a reason to, now. But… don’t hope. Accept things as they are, because the chances of that happening are… almost non-existent.”

  “You know, I almost climbed onto your lap that night.” She smiled. “What would you have done?”

  “I knew what you were planning. That was why I set off the fire alarm. If you’d acted impulsive
ly and taken me by surprise… I don’t know, probably set off every alarm on the base.”

  She giggled, and her eyes drooped. “I wish I’d done it, now.”

  He smiled. “Go to sleep.”

  She lay back with a sigh and closed her eyes.

  When Rayne woke, Tarke slept beside her, his back to her. She propped herself up on one elbow to gaze at him, wondering if his revelation had been a wonderful, impossible dream. A space separated them, and she reached out to touch his shoulder, wondering why he slept apart from her. Tarke jerked awake as if someone had rammed a red-hot poker through his back, his elbow thudding into the moss between them as he whipped around. Rayne recoiled, shocked. His eyes focussed on her and filled with anguish. Sitting up, he buried his face in his hands, then jumped up and strode away for a short distance before swinging around and walking back to sit beside her again.

  He gazed down at her with sorrowful eyes. “Sorry.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t be, it was my mistake. You warned me.”

  “What you did was perfectly normal. My reaction is at fault.”

  “I understand it, though, and I’m not offended, or hurt, so don’t be sorry.”

  “This is why we can’t live together.”

  Rayne smiled. “We can. We just can’t sleep in the same bed.”

  “No. Definitely not.”

  She held out her hand, and he took it with a smile. “But you are going to try to get better, right?”

  “I want to, and I will try. That’s all I can promise, though. I’m not going to lie to you anymore. You deserve the truth.” He gazed across the lake.

  “That’s all I ask, that you try.”

  He nodded, lowering his eyes to the moss on which they sat. “Are you well enough to return to the outside world?”

  “I’m still quite weak, but if you carry me, yes.”

  “Then I’ll carry you.”

  “And I’ll enjoy that.”

  He chuckled. “And I’ll be glad of it.”

  “Already we make progress.”

  Tarke tugged on her hand until she sat up, and enfolded her in his arms. She rested her chin on his shoulder, revelling in his closeness as he stroked her hair. His touch sent shivers through her, which she strived to hide.

  “This is nice,” she whispered.

  He gave a soft snort. “I am capable of holding you, and I want to. You just need to be careful, like I said.”

  “I noticed that no one ever touches you.”

  “Most don’t have the courage to take liberties with the Shrike, while others, like Vidan, learnt the hard way. He got quite a few black eyes and bloody noses before he stopped tapping me on the shoulder or grabbing my arm to detain me.”

  “Did you explain it to him?”

  Tarke shook his head. “No, I just told him to stop doing it. You’re the only one who knows.”

  Rayne squirmed closer, her arms tightening about him. How awful it must be, she thought, to be forced to reject affection and the balm of human contact by the phobia of being touched. The things that had been done to him must have been truly horrific.

  After a minute he said, “Perhaps it’s time we left. There must be a lot of worried people out there, wondering what’s happened to us. I want to take you home. My people will be so happy.” His arms tightened again. “When I brought you home, I was... inconsolable. You shouldn’t have done that, Rayne. You almost died.”

  She drew back to gaze at him. “It was the only way to stop the telepath telling anyone what he saw in my mind. I told your cruisers to destroy that facility, but they didn’t do it.”

  “Good god, did you really think they would kill you?”

  “I had to protect you...”

  “No!” He frowned. “Not if it costs you your life. Promise me.”

  “Only if you promise me that you won’t go on a crazed killing spree and get yourself, and your people, killed.”

  “I swore an oath.”

  “Then unswear it,” she said. “You’re responsible for too much good, and too many people depend on you. You can’t throw away your life because of me. Promise me, Tarke.”

  He tilted his head, his eyes sliding away. “Very well.”

  “Then I promise, too.”

  “Good.” He released her and ran a hand through his hair. “I think it’s time we went home.”

  She sighed. “I wish we could stay here forever. Just the two of us.”

  You may, Scrysalza’s soft thought came, brushing against Rayne’s mind. She smiled and replied that they must return to the outside world, which required them. They would return if it visited them again, though, and welcome it. The ship’s sigh of regret wafted through her mind. It told her that it must return to its kin also, and it wished a boon of her.

  Anything, Rayne answered.

  My kin suffer. They long to be free of the Envoys, as I am. They rejoice in my freedom, but cannot join me in it. This saddens me. Will you help them, as you did me? A qualm went through Rayne, and the Ship recoiled from it, soothing her with its gentle presence. It assured her that she would not have to battle another Envoy. Its kin had agreed to take on board many man-things if they could kill the Envoys.

  Rayne looked up at Tarke, who had shared the communications, and he nodded.

  “I’ll ask for volunteers. Now we know that all they need to do is cut the blue ganglion and the ships’ soldiers will be able to kill the Envoys. In fact, if Scrysalza gives me a sample of its soldiers’ venom, I can manufacture it and the men can inject it. My scientists might be able to make it more potent, too.”

  Scrysalza’s joy blossomed in Rayne’s mind like a vast, bright bubble, and its presence gambolled like a frisky foal as it promised to do this simple thing.

  “You must take my men to your nebula,” Tarke continued aloud, allowing the ship to read his thoughts. “Prepare your kin before you send my men into their Envoy’s chamber. Tell them to bear the pain only for a short time, and do all they can to prevent their soldiers from attacking my men. Can you do this?”

  Scrysalza agreed with boundless enthusiasm, imparting its joy to them in waves of euphoria that made Rayne giggle.

  “When your kin is free,” Tarke went on, “you must bring my men home to me.”

  It would, the ship promised. They would be honoured guests, just like Rayne and Tarke.

  Rayne frowned as a doubt intruded. “They’ll have to be powerful telepaths with mental shields as strong as yours to withstand the ships’ pain.”

  “I’ll choose good men with strong mind shields, but they don’t have to be as good as me. If my scientists can manufacture a powerful venom and they inject it in a large amount, they need only then cut the ganglion and Scrysalza can transfer them out. I’ll have my people work on a weapon to deliver the poison quickly.”

  “They’ll suffer,” she pointed out.

  “They’re not strangers to pain, and they’ll be doing what they love best, freeing slaves. Many will come forward to do it, you’ll see. You’ll have to allow them to communicate with you, Scrysalza,” he informed the ship. “I think you must come to my world so we can prepare them, and you.”

  Scrysalza agreed, a little of its joy ebbing away, but, still buoyed by happiness, it continued to gambol. A glitter drew Rayne’s eyes to a crystal flask that sprouted from the moss beside her, filled with amber fluid. When it was fully formed, she plucked it from its slender stem and held it up to admire its hue.

  My soldiers’ venom, Scrysalza informed her, and Rayne thanked it.

  Tarke rose and collected his clothes from the crystal growth where he had hung them, donned them and clipped on the mask. His retreat into the safety of his anonymity saddened Rayne, but she hid it, reminding herself of its necessity. She no longer resented the mask, since it kept him safe, and found she was somewhat uneasy when he took it off now.

  Tarke put on his grey coat and scooped her up, and she wound her arms around his neck before asking Scrysalza to return them to Scim
arin. The Crystal Ship’s light engulfed them with its blinding brilliance, and when it faded they stood on Scimarin’s bridge.

  “Welcome back, Tarke,” the ship said. “Rayne, it’s good to have you back.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  Tarke placed her on his command seat and leant against a console, gazing out at the seven black cruisers that surrounded Scimarin.

  “What’s been happening, Scimarin?” he enquired.

  “After you left, the Atlanteans continued to demand communications, which I denied. Then the cruisers arrived, and, when Commander Drayva asked, I informed him of your absence. He told the Atlanteans, and all parties have been waiting ever since.”

  “No hostilities?”

  “No. Commander Drayva informed the Atlanteans of your reason for being here, and they withdrew their objections to your presence.”

  Tarke snorted. “Only because Tallyn has no wish to start a fight with seven of my cruisers.”

  Rayne asked, “How’s Rawn?”

  “He’s well enough. He got divorced five years ago. He asked to see you many times, but I refused. I was angry. He was the reason you were captured.”

  “He didn’t know.”

  “I know.”

  “I’d like to see him.”

  The Shrike nodded. “Of course. Scimarin, inform Rawn of Rayne’s recovery and invite him to Ironia. Inform my commanders of his visit. Contact Vidan and tell him I’m returning, and order my escort to follow us back to base.”

  Rayne gazed at the Crystal Ship that hung like a giant, blazing jewel in the inky blackness, Atlan’s pearly orb visible beyond it. Scrysalza’s soft presence brushed her thoughts, telling her it would follow her to Tarke’s world. Rayne smiled, thinking about how much the Atlanteans were going to miss the Ship’s presence. A veritable armada of vessels circled the massive crystalline entity like drifting stars in a miniature solar system, their occupants drinking in the glory of the Ship.

  “How long were we here?” she asked.

  “Scimarin?” Tarke passed the question on.

  “Seventeen Atlantean days.”

  Rayne frowned at the formation of silver warships that faced them off Scimarin’s starboard bow. “They obviously haven’t noticed that Scrysalza has sent us back.”