Fusion Fire by Kathy Tyers

Author:Kathy Tyers [Tyers, Kathy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Christian, Futuristic, Science Fiction, Space Opera
ISBN: 9781621840411
Amazon: B00T0Y74IS
Publisher: Gilead Publishing
Published: 2015-04-07T05:00:00+00:00

16

SANCTUARY

lucernarium

song for vespers, evening worship; its texts often refer to light

Carradee thrust down harder with her arms and pushed up with both shoulders. Her head smacked something.

“Daithi,” she moaned. “Are you there?”

For some time, she drifted in and out of a faint. Crashing and crunching sounds roused her. Perhaps someone called her name, perhaps not. Shuhr? No, she thought. Sentinels?

What if they’re in league?

Holy Powers, she pleaded, help us!

The weight shifted, slicing into her legs. “Hello,” she gasped. “Hello, I’m here.”

“Majesty.” It was a male voice, breathy as if he were frantic. “Majesty, keep talking.”

“I’m at the dresser,” she shouted. “It’s dark. I think my legs are hurt, and maybe my back—”

Light flashed on a slab of rubble above her. “You can stop, Majesty.”

She saw two faces, one familiar and comfortable. “Doctor Zoagrem,” she cried. The weight on her legs lifted. She grappled forward, trying to crawl out of the debris. “Daithi was in my bed. Find Daithi.”

The doctor pressed something cold against her arm. “We will, madam. Lie still.”

•••

It was good of Governor Dantonto come to her hospital room. Carradee shifted on the bed, and its contours shifted underneath her. Doctor Zoagrem had assured her that the fractures would heal, and with regen therapy she would soon walk without limping. But Daithi...

He’ll live, she reminded herself. Be grateful for that, and wait to see what else the doctors can do. She had sent her servitors away. She gulped back an urge to weep on the shoulder of this professional Federate diplomat who’d always been kind; with whom she never had to fight, the way she constantly battled her electors. But she mustn’t weep with him. She was queen, though every instinct screamed her anguish.

“If,” she said steadily, “you can get Iarla and Kessaree to a safe locale, do it. Please. Do it quickly.” Then her reserve crumbled. The electors would not approve, and she had to make someone understand. “Up until now, Lee, whenever we’ve talked I have spoken as queen. Now I’m only a mother. I cannot explain these instincts, only obey them. I’ll answer for my own safety, but I could never live with myself if there were anything I could’ve done for my daughters, and through my not having done it, they were harmed. Do you understand?”

He nodded. Fading afternoon light gleamed in his blond hair. “I do, Majesty. I had three children of my own. Lost one. Only between us, madam, I dream of her—monthly, sometimes. I do understand. Now, there are several possib—”

“No.” Shutting her eyes, Carradee pressed her head into the pillow. Her mouth tasted queer from some medicine they’d given her. “I don’t want to know where, Governor. If your suspicions are correct—if what I felt before the explosion was some sort of psychic taunt, meant to trumpet my killers’ identity—if they come here again, and they can read my mind—I want no knowledge of where my daughters are sent into hiding.” Grief tugged at her. “At least, not yet. You can tell me later, but you cannot unsay anything you say now.

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