Chapter 28

Mack grabbed for Blass. The sorcerer stepped back quickly and raised his right hand in a casual gesture. "Seems you have a minor emergency, Admiral. I'll leave you to handle it." His mouth twisted in a feral grin.

Hebbs's anguished moaning punctuated Blass's words.

Mack slapped at his commbadge, never taking his gaze off Blass. "Makarian to sickbay. Code Red, my location."

Rigo seemed frozen on Blass's right, his broad face creased in confusion. His gaze shifted nervously toward Blass, but Blass turned away.

Mack had no intention of letting him leave. Nor had Tobias, who'd sprinted forward, laser pistol drawn. "Don't move. Sir."

Mack pulled out his own pistol. "Whatever you did to her, stop it." He glanced down at Hebbs, startled to see Gillie at the stationmaster's side. The dark-haired woman was unconscious, her limbs twitching spasmodically.

There was a hardness in Gillie's face when she looked up at him. No, past him. At Blass, watching her from over his shoulder. "Fielgha." She spat out the word as she rose. "Release her."

Blass's smiled faded. Mack could've sworn something crackled in the air between them. Rigo took a step backward, shaking his head.

Blass's gaze zigzagged, as if reading something in the air. "Raheiran." His voice was flat. Mack couldn't tell if Gillie's appearance surprised him or not.

"Release her," Gillie repeated.

Tobias clamped his hand on Blass's upper arm. "Do as she-"

Snarling, Blass spun. Tobias flailed backward as if jettisoned out an airlock. Mack whipped his pistol up, saw Blass's eyes narrow. Then pain seized his chest, the air sucked from his lungs. He staggered, gasping, not understanding what was happening to him, only that Blass was the source. "Bastard!" He pressed the trigger. White laser fire streaked.

Blass swung one arm in an arc. Mack's charge sparked, illogically, impossibly dissolving like a bright cloud of dust. "Fool." Blass's voice held a deadly note. The dust cloud solidified, whirling toward Mack as if sucked backed into the pistol in his hand.

"Mack!" Rand screamed his name.

Everything went purple. Mack dropped to his knees on instinct, then realized everything hadn't turned purple. Only things close to the sword inches from his face. He squinted through the haze, saw Blass's eyes widen. Rigo's mouth opened but no sound came out.

"Carrickal Grel Tel'ard Blass," Gillie said. The purple mist hovered around her. She pointed the sword at Blass. "You will not take this station. You will not harm my people."

Mack shoved himself to his feet, his ears ringing, his chest aching. Rand's team surged up beside him, pistols drawn. He held up his hand, halting them. He'd just learned, painfully, what a sorcerer could do with a laser pistol discharge.

And he'd just seen an RSF captain stop a Grel Tel'ard. With a sword, of all things. One that oddly looked like one he'd revered, years ago, with his grandfather.

"Impossible." Rigo gasped out the word. Tobias trudged over next to Mack. Blass took one step back, eyes narrowed. He clenched his right hand.

"Don't." Gillie adjusted her grip on the sword. "Don't even try it." She splayed her left hand. A ring of lavender fire flowed from the floor around Blass and Rigo.

"Very good." Blass arched one eyebrow. "Including your emulation of Lady Kiasidira's essence and sword. But immortality isn't a Kiasidiran talent. Our ship destroyed hers over three hundred years ago."

Mack didn't understand essences but he'd recognized the sword, too. Gillie must have duplicated Lady Kiasidira's sword as a means to intimidate Blass. Unfortunately, the sorcerer had seen through the ploy. Mack glanced at Tobias, ready to take action if Blass challenged Gillie. To his surprise, his second-in-command's mouth was quirked in an odd smile.

"I will take this station," Blass continued. "One Raheiran witch cannot stop me." He opened his hand. The lavender flames flickered and died.

Mack raised his pistol as Blass laughed, harshly. The sorcerer stepped forward.

No, Mack! Don't fire! Pull your team back! Gillie's voice rang, not out loud, but in Mack's mind. That startled him, halting the signal he was going to give the security team, a signal Gillie pulled from his mind. She must have been monitoring his thoughts since he entered the shrine.

He didn't have time to be concerned about her unexpected intrusion. Blass raised both hands. Light flared. Mack flinched, grabbing for Gillie to push her behind him. She sidled out of his reach, swinging her sword. Purple sparks cascaded, dancing up from the flames again visible on the floor. The fire shot up into the form of a burning cylinder, surrounding Blass and Rigo. The magefather fell to his knees, his arms over his head. Blass jerked backward. His face twisted in anger as he shouted something Mack couldn't understand.

But evidently Gillie did. She swore under her breath.

Blass clasped his hands together. The fire-laced cylinder exploded.

"Get down!" Gillie lashed out with her sword.

Thousands of pinpricks danced over Mack's skin. He dropped to a crouch, sighted, fired. The security teams' lasers whined over his shoulder. Leyden, his body protectively over Hebbs, added his shots from Mack's left.

Someone screamed but Mack didn't turn, didn't take his gaze off Blass who was down on one knee, both hands splayed before him. Laser fire impacted against an invisible shield he'd constructed with magicks, then sizzled, dying.

Only Gillie stood, her sword arcing through the air, deflecting what she could of Blass's magicks.

"Gillie!" Damn her, she was too close to Blass. Anger and fear surged through Mack. He rose. If she could distract Blass, maybe he could tackle him. He and Tobias could-

-pain seared his body. Mack's vision hazed, his throat closed. He fell, hard, on both knees, aware his laser pistol had dropped from his hand. Something vile writhed through him, twisting, gnawing.

He heard a keening cry. Tobias, on the floor next to him, spasming in pain.

Gillie. Where was...He forced his face around. She stood, arms raised, sword over her head and for a moment all he could think of was the holo of the Lady in the temple. Gillie's posture, the hard determination on her face, the incandescent glow of the sword...Gillie looked liked Lady Kiasidira. No, the Kiasidira, his mind corrected. At least he could get that right, while dying.

Blass had been right. One Raheiran witch, even an RSF captain, was no match for a Grel Tel'ard.

Mack inched his hand forward, feeling blindly for his laser pistol. Gillie had done all she could but she couldn't stop Blass. He had one choice. He could key the pistol to overload. Turn it into a small bomb, shove it toward Blass. It was his only chance. Their only chance.

His fingers grazed the pistol. He drew it into his palm, hazarded one last look at Gillie. His Gillaine. There wouldn't be a wedding. Only a funeral. But at least they'd be together, for all time.

Her sword winked out as he watched. Gods, Blass had destroyed a Raheiran sword. The sorcerer struggled to his feet, his arm stretched out toward Gillie. Beads of sweat covered his face.

Mack flipped the laser pistol over, feeling for the safety. His skin was numb. He groaned in frustration.

"You will not take this station," Gillie repeated, her voice shaking. "You will not harm my people." She drew in a harsh breath. "Tal tay Raheira!"

A blue haze sparkled through the lavender mist around her-flowed from her fingers. For a moment, Mack thought he saw the shape of her sword, but it was as if it were inside her, part of her. Then her skin, her clothes glowed with a clear, golden hue.

Gold light. His mind fought to process what he was seeing. A Raheiran with a golden hue. It was something he'd only read about in his required studies of the Raheira, but he knew what it meant. Its appearance signaled the presence of a god or a goddess, as impossible as that could be.

The prickling against his skin lessened. The pain coursing through his body ebbed.

He knew what that meant, too. An impossible Goddess had just stopped the Grel Tel'ard sorcerer.

Blass backed up, stumbling over Rigo's prostrate form. "Lady Kiasidira's dead." He spat out the words.

Gillie took a step toward him. "Guess again, Grel Tel'ard."

"We killed you."

"You missed."

Someone grabbed Mack's elbow. Tobias. Mack rose shakily, pulling Tobias with him, only the solid feel of his second-in-command's hand on his arm verifying that what he had seen, and heard, was real.

Lady Kiasidira's dead.

Guess again.

Blass's gaze flickered over them, then back to Gillie, his mouth a thin line. A dark haze rushed down his arms then curled inward at his fingertips.

Gillie shook her head.

An expression of total surprise filled Blass's face. The dark mist writhed, covering him. It clung to his skin like caustic lesions. He doubled over, gasping.

"Magecabinets are dangerous toys," Gillie said. "Once breeched, they have no loyalty. But then, loyalty has never been a Fav trait."

With a roar, Blass lunged for her, a slim blade suddenly in his hand. Mack didn't think. He moved, grabbing the sorcerer in a headlock. He shoved his knee hard against the man's side. Blass bellowed harshly, thrashing out with the blade. Tobias caught Blass's wrist, squeezed until the blade clattered against the floor. Then with a quick twist, snapped the sorcerer's arm in half.

Something washed over Mack, like a thick wave of ice. Dark ice, deadly and infectious. It was coming from Blass. He tried to shove the man away but the sorcerer clung to him, his breath acrid and foul in Mack's face.

Mack! Gillie's voice, calling to him. His vision filled with purple and blue, the icy cold melting as quickly as it had appeared. Blass went limp and hit the floor with a sickening thud.

Mack almost fell over. Tobias's arm around his midsection pulled him upright at the last moment. "You all right, sir?"

He sucked in a deep rasping breath. "I'm okay." He looked at Gillie but whatever words he'd wanted to utter died in his throat. She shimmered in the gold light, beautiful, ethereal. Divine.

He dropped his gaze. Blass lay crumpled on the floor, his legs and arms at odd angles. Beyond him was Hebbs, Leyden still bending over her protectively. Blood streamed down one side of the officer's face. Mack nudged Tobias in their direction as part of his mind still functioned as an admiral's should. "Check on Hebbs."

When he looked back, Gillie-a golden-hued Gillie-was kneeling by the sorcerer's head. His pale eyes stared at nothing, lifeless. She passed her hand over his form, not touching him. Blue light melded to purple, flowing from her fingers. "Damn him," she said softly. "He took Trace with him."

He wasn't sure he had heard her correctly. He opened his mouth only to realize he had no idea how to address her. She was-

"Gillie." She rose. "Just Gillie. Faydra Trace is dead. That was my error. I didn't know he'd tied her essence to the magecabinet as well."

He knew about the magecabinet on Blass's ship. He just had no idea what part that played in what had just happened. He wasn't even sure he knew what had just happened, other than a Grel Tel'ard sorcerer was dead. And a Goddess was alive, after three hundred and fortytwo years.

Mack took his emotions, his confusion and shoved them aside. There were Hebbs's injuries to deal with, and two of Rand's people sitting weakly on the floor. There was a hard ache in his own chest as well. Possibly from where Blass had plowed into him. Possibly from something else, something not physical at all.

The doors to the corridor opened. Mack turned. Janek and three med techs entered noisily, a stretcher floating behind them. "Doors were locked." Janek headed for Hebbs with one med tech. The others stopped by the injured security officers. "What in hell happened here?" Janek asked as he squatted next to Hebbs.

Gillie, no longer golden-hued, hunkered down between Tobias and Leyden. "Blass laced a spellform over her." She fished in her pockets, came up with two small stones. The wardstones Mack had seen her place in front of Faydra Trace.

She touched Hebbs forehead then her chest with one stone, put another at Hebbs's midsection. The stationmaster stirred slightly but was still unconscious. "It'll take a few hours. Make sure she stays warm and don't," she added, securing the stone under Hebbs's waistband as Janek and the medtech eased her onto the stretcher, "move this."

Janek nodded then faced Mack. "I'll send a tech to transport his body to the morgue."

"I'll dispose of it," Gillie put in before Mack could reply. She rose and stepped back to give Janek and Ledyen room to turn the stretcher. Rand appeared, Rigo in tow, his hands locked in sonicuffs. The magefather trembled visibly.

"Mercy, My Lady." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I beg for mercy."

Donata Rand's mouth was grim but her eyes were wide. Mack wondered if his own face wore a similar shocked expression. "I'll put him in lockup with Trace," she said.

"Trace is dead." Mack nodded toward Gillie. No, toward Lady Kiasidira. The Kiasidira. His Goddess. "Blass, somehow when Blass died, he killed her."

Rand switched a quick at Gillie but said nothing, only shoved Rigo forward.

"My Lady!" Rigo wrenched around. Tobias grabbed the magefather's arm. They fell in step behind Janek. The magefather's whimperings faded.

"Mack. I'm sorry."

Her eyes were more green now than purple. Mack didn't know why he noticed that. But it was easier to think about the color of her eyes than who, illogically and impossibly, she was. He tried to shrug casually in answer to her apology. "Trace probably wouldn't have told us much more, anyway. She-"

"Not about Faydra Trace. Though yes, I should've guessed Blass wouldn't have let her live. This magecabinet he used, it's a vicious thing. It fed him power but it also consumed him. But that's not what I..." She hesitated. "I'm sorry I lied to you." Her words came out in a rush. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you who I am."

He had to say it. He had to hear her confirm it. "Lady... the Kiasidira. You're the Kiasidira."

"It's a long story."

"You don't owe me any explanations, My Lady."

"Damn it, Mack, don't do that!" She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, they held the thin sheen of tears.

That tugged at him hard, painfully. Almost as painfully as the fact that she was a Goddess. Not his Gillaine. "I'm sure you had good reasons." His grandfather had taught him that: never question the whys and wherefores of the Gods.

"Yes. I hate shrines." She held his gaze for a moment then walked back to Blass's body.

Mack waited a respectful distance away, watched as she took another wardstone from her pocket. She held it between her palms then suddenly the sword, Lady Kiasidira's sacred sword, was in her hands. She slashed down quickly. Mack sucked in a breath, startled by her movements. Equally as startled when Blass's body disintegrated at her sword's touch, leaving behind only a dark gritty dust.

A slight movement of her hand and the dust was gone.

These were things a Goddess could do.

He tried to assemble his expression into something professionally neutral when she turned back to him. It didn't matter. She wasn't looking at him. Her gaze traveled over his shoulder and he figured he understood. He was an Impure. The Lady Goddess didn't have to acknowledge him, much less speak to him.

Then he heard Simon's voice and he realized that wasn't the reason at all.

"Lady Gillaine. We have a problem. The Fav'lhir Fleet has launched an attack against Cirrus One."