Pt. 20
Gideon contemplated the couple in front of him, a sinking feeling developing in the pit of his stomach. "A pretty box?" he asked, trying to sound unconcerned.
"Yes, that box-thing you're hiding in your quarters," Andre replied, a wicked grin on his face. "The one that's screaming its head off right now because it can feel our presence. Can't you hear it?" he asked, peering past the group on to the bridge. "I'm surprised your crew isn't sounding red alert with all the noise it's making."
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Gideon replied, a note of annoyance creeping into his voice. He glanced across at the older technomage and flinched as the man's icy stare lanced through him.
'Now that's a very unconvincing lie." Marianne glanced back at her brother and raised one eyebrow quizzically. "I think you're going to have to retrieve the silly thing, brother, before someone goes in to find out what the noise is all about. They do have at least one telepath on the crew and who knows who many more might have enough of the gift to be susceptible to the creature's persuasions. Best to have it here where we can deal with it, don't you think?"
Andre shrugged, unconcerned. "Doesn't matter to me, sis. I kind of enjoy listening to it scream."
"You're a sadistic thing, aren't you," Marianne replied fondly, then turned away from her brother and leaned back in the chair with a sigh. "Oh do get on with it Andre. After all, we've got bigger problems than one silly box."
Andre bowed mockingly in the direction of his sister's back. "As you command, Lady, so shall it be done." He waved his hand over the conference table, carefully inscribing into the air a set of mystical symbols as he quietly sang in an unfamiliar language. A slight glow began to form in the center of table, increasing in intensity and heat as he wove his spell. Suddenly, he slapped the top of the table hard, causing it to shiver with the force of his blow. The light disappeared instantly, replaced by the ornate figure Gideon recognized as the Apocalypse Box. The Box fell with a thud on to the center of the table, rocking slightly from the force of its fall. Andre again sang softly in its direction and the Box slid to table's edge, stopping in front of Marianne.
"Recognize it now, Captain?" Marianne asked sarcastically, reaching out to tap the top of the box with her hand. To the astonishment of the group, the Box appeared to shiver at her touch, reacting as though it were afraid.
"Do you have something you'd like to share with us about this, Captain Gideon?" Alwyn drawled, pulling up a chair and seating himself opposite the two strangers. He barely glanced at the box on the table, relying on his sensors to take readings for him to review later.
"What exactly are we talking about here?" Max asked, finally finding his voice. "Some form of ancient alien technology?"
"Greedy little bugger, isn't he?" Andre responded, leaning on the table with his back to the box.
Dureena grimly watched the scene unfold from the door of the conference room, her eyes hard and cold. "Will someone please tell me what this has to do with Galen's problem?" she asked, her voice tight with suppressed emotion.
"Captain Gideon here has been using this little beast to help locate alien worlds for you to explore, in hopes that one of those worlds would lead to a cure for the Drakh plague. Problem is, it's not in this beast's best interest for you to find a cure." Marianne leaned forward and leaned her chin on her folded hands as she examined the box closely. "So brother, what exactly are we suppose to do with this thing now that we've found it?"
"I wasn't aware we were even looking for it," Andre drawled. He shifted again to lean against the wall, arranging himself so that he could see the whole room at once.
"We aren't, obviously, but our brother is." Marianne replied, as she reached out to thump the box with one finger. The Box responded as it had before, shivering almost imperceptibly.
"If your brother wanted this "thing", then why didn't he just reach out and take it?" Alwyn leaned back in his own chair, pulling himself out of the light and into what little shadow the room provided. His voice was restrained, as though he were keeping his not inconsiderable temper tightly leashed.
"I suspect he's bored." Marianne shrugged and thumped the Box again, smiling thinly at its fearful reactions. "You're quite right – he could have just plucked it out of the Captain's cabin anytime he wanted to. But I'm sure making your friend walk through a Dreaming is much more interesting to him."
"Are you sure it isn't your friend the Swordsman who's behind Galen's Dreaming?" Sarah asked, pensively. "After all, it's his story Galen's seeing."
"It's not his style," Andre replied with a laugh.
"But it is his story," Marianne agreed thoughtfully. "And it only gets more interesting as the Dreaming continues. I wonder what part of the story he's reliving now?"
Marianne walked around the Swordsman's Spartan bedroom, noting that the Jinn seemed to feel no need to cast glamour over his slave's quarters as he had over her own. The room was sparse, containing only a simple bed covered in rough linen. At the end of the bed was an equally plain clothes press for the man's clothes. A bare table and chair at the other end of the room completed the furnishings. A simple wooden door led out to a balcony that overlooked the town. A sword hung in its sheath from the back of the chair and various knives and throwing stars littered the floor or were stuck in the walls. "Nice. A little bare, but nice."
The Swordsman shrugged, unconcerned. "It is adequate for my needs."
"Then you must not need much," she replied, sitting on the edge of the simple bed.
"He will expect you at his table for dinner within the hour." The Swordsman looked pointedly at her saddlebags, which she had insisted on carrying herself. "I will give you some privacy to ready yourself."
"Don't bother." Marianne reached over and pulled the bags onto the bed. "I'm not terribly shy. You can stay and get ready yourself if you want. I won't look." She smiled wickedly as she looked back up at the still figure in front of her. "Then again, maybe I will."
The Swordsman sighed in frustration. "This is not a game, woman! You do not know what he is capable of, what horrors he will visit on you once he has you in his thrall."
"You'd be amazed at the horrors I've already seen, soldier. There is little that minor demon can show me I haven't already experienced." She pulled out another dark shirt and pants from her bags and shook them lightly, frowning at the wrinkles.
"You are a fool." He growled, moving around her to pull open the chest and search for a clean set of clothes.
"And you're no fun," she responded, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it in his direction. "Any chance of a bath before dinner?"
"Not likely," he fumed tossing her discarded clothing in the corner angrily.
She pulled the clean shirt on and slid out of the dusty boots and pants she was wearing. "Never know till you ask." Marianne padded barefoot out the door and onto the balcony, breathing in the over-perfumed air, mentally preparing herself for the battle of wits to come.
Inside, the Swordsman sat on his bed and pulled off his own boots, trying to understand why he was so angry. It seemed to be a constant occurrence when this woman was around him. She pushed all the buttons he thought had been long disabled, found sore spots on his heart he thought had scabbed over and died when the Jinn had first taken control of his life. He had worked hard to numb himself to his life, had strangled any feelings he might have had long before they could blossom in his soul. Yet somehow she managed to make him feel something even if it was only anger. He stared down at his clenched hands resting in his lap with a frown. "What spell is this?" he asked himself, forcing his hands to open and lay relaxed in front of him.
"I don't do spells," Marianne's voice floated out of the doorway, as she re-entered the room. "I thought I told you that."
"You said Magic didn't affect you," he replied, pulling his other boot on. He kept his eyes lowered, forcing himself not to look up at the slender figure in the doorway.
"Same difference," she said, climbing onto the bed to kneel behind him. She saw him stiffen, uncomfortable with her presence and his vulnerable position in relation to hers. "Relax. I don't bite. Well, not often." She laughed softly, and then gently lifted his shirt to expose his back. She caught her breath at the sight of the fine, white scars that criss-crossed his back. "The bastard really enjoys his whip, doesn't he?"
"I am his slave. He may do with me what he wishes." The Swordsman's voice was hollow, devoid of expression. He shrugged her hands away then turned on the bed to face her, his eyes lifeless. "Avoid my fate, woman. Leave now, while you still can."
"I can't." she sighed. "None of us can avoid our fate. If it is mine to fall in this castle, then so be it. But I must at least try to make right what those that came before me have made so wrong. It is what I was born to do."
"Were you born to be the plaything of a demon? Or were you born to find death at the point of my blade? These are the things you will find here. I know not what goal you seek, what thing your brother has sent you here to find. All I know is how this will end."
"And how will it end?" she murmured, reaching out to take his hand in hers.
"With your death – and my damnation," he replied, pulling free of her touch. "Get dressed. The Beast awaits us."