The King's Challenge #292 and #293

TKC 292 and 293

After Damin nearly comes to blows with Kay for allowing Siri to accompany him, we move with all stealth into the lower regions of the ship. Gennerin leads.

I have never seen Siri as angry. Ross, the young soldier, murmurs under his breath that she is able to blow the ship to vacuum with that kind of fury. Ross led Siri and Kay to us. I find his comment amusing and snort my laughter, which earns me a skew look from Damin.

Leffandir has promised to behave, no doubt because any attempt at escape will probably see her losing her head from a host of Ilfin aboard, and thus she walks freely. Damin remains close, but no longer seeks to hold her.

Many levels down, we enter a space where gigantic pipes and strange contraptions form a maze. We are in the bowels, although Gennerin reveals there are more levels below us, most of those as shielding from both the vacuum and destructive enemy fire. It feels like the bowels, however, a netherworld of industry and technology. A resonance permeates the metallic labyrinth. The multitudes of parts that are required to run a ship of this nature speak to each other in a low hum. It is more otherworldly to me than being on an unknown planet is.

Kay halts. “I hear …” He shakes his head and adds, “Never mind. It sounds crazy.”

“You hear the connections,” Damin says. “Technological.”

The westerner frowns. “How do you know? How do I know what I am hearing?”

“It is your talent,” I say. “Move; we cannot be caught here.”

We go on after Kay and Damin trade stares.

Ross, bringing in the rear, hisses warning and we melt into a conglomerate of ridged pipes, hunkering low to remain as unobtrusive as is possible.

“Triple the guard,” someone commands in a low tone. “Gennerin is rumoured to be on board.”

“He knows nothing,” another responds.

“Apparently Iniri Makar is with him. She knows. Triple the guard.”

“It will be done.”

The voices move into further depths away from us. Gennerin mouths Moravin in my direction, and my hands clench into fists.

About to follow those retreating voices, we freeze as one being. Another sound reaches us and this is behind us. Damin holds one hand aloft, chopping down. We are to wait. He swivels carefully on his heels in his crouched position, and lowers to crawl under the piping. The last I see of him is the soles of his boots as he slithers away. My heart pounds; I wish to scream at him to come back to me.

Long minutes pass, each moment filled with excruciating tension. Siri is no longer angry; her anxiety is written for all to see upon an ashen face. She grips Kay’s forearm fiercely, digging into his flesh through the uniform’s tough material. He does not react; he is as tense.

Without warning – he is that silent – Damin’s fair head appears beneath the pipes. Almost I hiss my terrible relief. Assuming a new crouch, he holds a hand up, five fingers splayed. Closing it into a fist, he again shows us five fingers. I assume it means ten guards, but whether these are the additional bodies called for or the guards already in place? I have no answer. Damin shrugs; he does not know either.

Ross is now as pale as Siri.

Leffandir taps my arm. When I look at her, she points at me hand. I desire to hit her, but she is right. Our only defence lies in the deployment of the orb.