“Yes,” he whispers. “I owe you my life.” His fingers squeeze mine. “It’s all right,” he adds, louder. Stronger. “I’ve constructed the sound barrier myself now, using your voices, and I’m holding it inside my head.”
“So here’s the plan,” the Gunnar says. “We drive inside the first set of fences. When I park, I fire up the shock fields. Mair activates the compound defense grid. Some of them are going to avoid the shock fields, that’s a given. We’re just going to have to run like hell toward the nearest outbuilding and pray.”
“No.” Mair shakes her head. “You know they won’t return to the caves until they’ve fed.”
“Then what do you suggest?” March sounds as if he’s at the end of his patience.
Mair closes her eyes for a moment, and when she opens them, it’s like she’s another woman entirely. “A sacrifice.”
And no matter who asks her, that’s all she’ll say.
One of the back panels finally rips away and I have the sense of things swarming, although I can’t see them, and my flesh crawls. I hear the sound of something swiping, reaching, and No-Chin’s corpse seems to fly back as if animated, and then I can hear the grotesque sound of bones snapping, the wet sound of the Teras devouring their prize. The wind howls through the open Landcruiser, so cold, so dark now, and an endless night full of slavering fiends.
I don’t realize I’m trembling until Loras cups his other hand over mine. “Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I am your shinai now. I will not let anything happen to you.”
My what?
Before I can ask, the side panel gives, and the Gunnar who told me I’m bad luck, well, he goes screaming, arms flailing, face contorted. I’ll never forget the way he looked as the Teras pulled him out. Perhaps I am dark luck after all.
“Coming into the compound,” the Gunnar says, toneless. Hell of a way to watch your brother die. “Cruiser’s too damaged for shock fields to fire. Whatever you have in mind, clan Dahlgren, do it now, or none of us are going to make it out of this alive.”
“Clan Dahlgren sacrifices to ensure its own perpetuity.” I’m not altogether sure what she means until she bounds out of the Landcruiser, no longer old in her deportment, and somehow, she’s sprinting with preternatural speed. I can smell the copper where she’s cut herself, and it’s an irresistible lure. Clan leader, warrior, whatever else she is, Mair isn’t merely an old woman. I’ve never known anyone who could move like that. I want to ask, but now isn’t the time.
I sense the Teras wheeling away from the vehicle and giving chase to living, bleeding prey. Keri screams, “Grandmother!” and March has to carry her away, as the rest of us make use of the time she’s bought us so dearly. It’s the bravest and most terrible thing I’ve ever seen.
We run, heads down, conscious that the Teras could return at any time. Loras still has me by the hand, and he yanks the door wide, pushing me inside before entering himself. I don’t understand his new care for my safety, then I’m awed, humbled, to hear the live hum of the compound defense grid activating. She’s out there with them, being torn to pieces, and dying, she saved us all.
Tears stand in my eyes, and Keri’s still screaming, fighting March with fists and feet, but he just holds her, gentle but implacable, refusing to let her go back out. She’s lost everyone today—her father, her grandmother. And a lot of it is my fault. I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t try to kill me at some point. I no longer find Keri’s histrionics ridiculous. Whatever her eccentricities, Mair was a woman worth mourning.
Dropping to my knees, I take stock with a glance. Of his clan, only the Gunnar chief made the run. They were all big men. Slow. Our crew seems to be present, although the doc’s blood-spattered and collapses against the wall as if he may never move again. We’re in a storage building. I see crates stacked up against the wall, tools. Dina looks angry, which is pretty much on par. Even though I don’t know shit about Lachion, I know it’s not safe to go back out there. There’s no guarantee all the Teras were outside the perimeter when the defense grid came up. We need to hole up and let them fry, trying to return to the caves.
I hope there’s some food in here. Fragging starving. It seems like forever since I stuffed that square of choclaste into my face, and before that, I hadn’t eaten all day.
Maybe that’s an irreverent thought, I don’t know. But it’s how I function. The part of me that feels unworthy, wounded, totally shaken by everything that’s happened, I shuffle her to the back because she’s not helping me deal. And the Sirantha who steps up, well, she’s a pragmatist.
And she’s hungry.
CHAPTER 11
Also, I need to pee.
But I can’t see anything like san facilities in this corrugated steel box. Dina has already started to rummage through the crates, looking for anything useful. The main house, with all associated amenities, is probably deeper inside the compound, but I don’t think any of us want to go back out there until the drones have a chance to scout around and see what might be lurking in the dark.
Loras has settled down beside me, almost as if he’s awaiting my orders, and March still holds Keri, who appears to have collapsed entirely. Rest is probably the best thing for her right now, but her breath still hitches as children’s do when they’ve cried themselves to sleep. Leaning against the wall, I watch Dina rooting around, tossing out items that may be useful. So far, she’s found blankets, torch-tubes, and what looks like emergency rations.