12 January 3051
Phelan Kell entered the Dire Wolfssmall shuttlecraft bay and easily picked out the Precentor Martial from the milling crowd of yellow-robed ComStar Acolytes helping with his baggage. He threaded his way through them and extended his hand to the one-eyed man. "I only just heard you were leaving."
Anastasius Focht shook Phelan's hand warmly. "Yes. Ulric felt it would be for the best. He said I would not be welcome where the Clan is going." The older man released the mercenary's hand, then smiled quizzically at him. "What is going to happen with you? Any news of the inquiry into your behavior during the attack?"
The Kell Hound shook his head slowly. "No. They've kept me virtually incommunicado since the battle at Radstadt, but more pressing matters may have taken precedence over my fate. It's my impression that the Smoke Jaguars wanted to raze Radstadt because survivors from the Rasalhague fleet were likely to take refuge there."
Focht nodded in agreement, then walked Phelan away from the other ComStar personnel. "Ulric said that losing the ilKhan's body to the vacuum of space drove the Jaguars into a frenzy. He was from their Clan, you know. They were upset that you saved Ulric but not the ilKhan."
"If I'd seen him, I'd have done what I could. Don't forget ... I pulled Vlad from the bridge, too."
The Precentor Martial nodded. "I know, Phelan."
The young man touched Focht's sleeve. "I realize Ulric may have placed restrictions on the information to be passed on to ComStar. But if there's any way you can get word to my family ..."
The Precentor Martial touched his right palm to Phelan's forehead. "The Peace of Blake be with you, Phelan Kell. I don't know what the Primus will approve concerning the Clans. As we are to implement some of the occupation policies for the Clans during their absence, ComStar is in a delicate position. If nothing else, perhaps I can let them know their son made them proud."
The mercenary nodded, then smiled weakly. "Thank you. I feel we've become friends and I'll miss talking with you. And I can't thank you enough for your help during the whole business about Ranna and Vlad. I'm still not fully at ease about that situation, but maybe I've learned from my mistakes."
"Remember," Focht said, almost fondly, "that's why the body forms scars."
Phelan threw the Precentor Martial a salute, then turned and left the bay. Watching from a window in the airlock near the door, he saw Focht board the blocky shuttle and seal the hatch. The viewport frosted over as Launch Control drained the bay of atmosphere and opened the external hatch.
Phelan had no chance to watch the ship depart. Two Elementals in full armor, with red sashes slung across their chests, entered the viewing room. The mottled gray and black camouflage pattern identified them as belonging to the Smoke Jaguar clan. "Phelan Patrick Kell?"
"Yes," Phelan answered, wondering about the seriousness of the man's tone. "I am he."
The one on his right pointed down the corridor. "You will come with us." The first Elemental started off toward the core of the ship and the second followed closely behind, with Phelan sandwiched between.
Full of apprehension, Phelan tugged at the braided cord surrounding his right wrist. Bondsmen may not be slaves and might get better treatment than bandits and other social misfits, but the word "civil" is not a word that fits the rights or relations between warriors and any other caste in this culture.Then another sudden thought brought a smile. Well, at least I know they're a bit leery of me. The Elementals are in armor this time.
One of the lift doors already stood open, with another Elemental standing there keeping the cage clear. I've never seen them do that before.The Elemental behind Phelan nudged him forward into the cage, where the mercenary squeezed back into a corner as the Elemental trio filled the elevator.
Though he could not see the panel showing the deck numbers flashing by, he knew they were headed forward toward the bridge level. When the ride ended somewhat prematurely, Phelan realized they'd stopped on one of the forbidden decks—decks where only warriors were allowed. His mouth went dry, then tasted sour.
The Elementals ushered him along a short corridor, then stopped at a door that bore no identifying icon. One Elemental rapped on the door with a metal fist and it slid noiselessly upward. Suddenly, the Elemental behind Phelan shoved hard, spilling him into the room. The door slid shut again, leaving the mercenary alone in utter darkness.
Blinded, Phelan held his hands out in front of his face, then stepped forward until he felt a wall. Moving to the right, he completed a cautious circuit of the room. Two meters by two meters, with no furnishings. This is a less hospitable berth than I had when originally captured. The Elementals who brought me here were Smoke Jaguars. Are they going to take revenge upon me for the death of the ilKhan?
Phelan whirled as a door at his back whisked open. Standing back two meters from the doorway and illuminated by a spotlight from above, a woman beckoned him forward. Is that you, Ranna?By her elaborate dress and gestures, he sensed that her silence held special significance.
Dressed in a tight-fitting body suit of white leather that left her arms and legs bare, she might have been an apparition. Silver studded the costume, and long leather thongs hung down like a loincloth. Knee-length Mech Warrior boots of polished silver encased her lower legs, and gauntlets of fine steel mesh covered her hands and arms to the elbow. A short cloak of white wolf-fur fell from her shoulders to midback. A silver wolf's-head clasp with ruby eyes fastened the cloak at her throat.
Though Phelan thought he recognized her form and stance, he could not be certain because the woman wore a mask. It reminded him of nothing so much as the fierce visage of his WolfhoundBattleMech. Worked with the greatest of skill, the white enameled mask took the form of a wolf's head. The beast's mouth hung open, its lips pulled back in a snarl, but Ranna's blue eyes shining through the mask's eyeslits took away some of the threat.
He took one step forward and she vanished. The light from above winked out, then another light flashed on, and she appeared further on. She invited him forward with a languid gesture, then abruptly shot both her hands up and out above her shoulders. Silver flashed and a metallic ring filled the darkness as her hands stopped twin swords from flashing down.
Phelan rushed forward and passed beneath her right arm. Blackness swept in again as Ranna released the blades and they whistled down to complete their arcs. In the darkness, the Kell Hound felt all his senses come alive and his heart begin pumping. This must be some strange justice ritual of the Clans. The Smoke Jaguars desire my death, but Ulric has sent a representative of the Wolf Clan to ward me and assist me.
He felt Ranna move past him, but he concentrated instead on identifying other perceptions. On his left, he heard the dry whisper of boot against deck. Instantly, he dropped to his hands and knees, letting the sword slice air where, a moment or two before, it would have met his spine. He stabbed out with his left foot and hit something. His target did not cry out, but the thump of a body hitting the floor and the clatter of a dropped sword made Phelan smile.
Ahead of him Ranna appeared again within a circle of light. As he trotted toward her, she squatted down, then leaped up. Responding immediately, the Kell Hound drove up and forward. Two swords sparked as they collided, passing centimeters below his belly. Phelan tucked and rolled forward, but as he came up, sensed a motion on his right.
Too late.