The Battle of Betazed - Charlotte Douglas [37]
With the cavat farmer in the lead, they raced along the narrow wilderness path worn by the beasts they hoped to avoid. Branches whipped Lwaxana’s face until it stung with lacerations, and she stumbled over rocks and tendrils of vine, but she refused to slow her pace. Only once, when her cloak caught on a bush of tarna thorns, did she stop and force herself to unhook it carefully. The least scrap of fabric would alert an enemy patrol to their presence in the area. With her garment freed, she sprinted after the others, ignoring the stitch in her side and the painful compression of her lungs as she struggled for air. On one occasion she heard beasts crashing through the underbrush, but the sounds led away from them toward the river, not the village.
The tiny group maintained their draining pace for over an hour until the farmer stopped and held up his hand to signal a halt.
The village is just ahead, he announced.
Take us to where the forest comes closest to the community hall, Lwaxana instructed. We can’t risk being seen.
I played in these woods as a child, the blacksmith said. Follow me. I know the way.
The glow of village lights was barely visible through the trees, and the only sounds the occasional barking of dogs and the rustle of a gentle wind through the overhanging branches. Lwaxana followed the men, at one point dropping to all fours to creep through the vines that blocked their way.
After several minutes of tedious travel, the blacksmith motioned them to stop. The community hall is over there, he said, pointing east through the trees.
I can’t see it, Enaren grumbled.
If we move any closer, the blacksmith said, anyone at the community hall can see us.
Then I’ll have to try from here. Lwaxana settled on a nearby tree stump, drew her cloak around her against the encroaching chill, and opened her mind. Okalan, are you there?
The answering blast of agony and fear almost knocked her to the ground. Lwaxana, is that you?
Yes, I’m here, in the woods near the village hall. Where are you?
The pain of his injuries cascaded through her, setting up sympathetic responses along her nerve endings. Her entire body vibrated from the shared agony. A glance at the men who accompanied her indicated they had not picked up Okalan’s thoughts.
Okalan’s nearby, she told them, and in horrible pain.
They have me in the hall, Okalan managed to send through his suffering.
The ryetalyn, she asked. What happened to it?
When they brought me here, there was a Cardassian officer, Gul Lemec. He took the ryetalyn and poured it into the dirt.
Lwaxana suffered a spasm of grief for the dying children at the stronghold, then turned her thoughts back to Okalan. We’ll try to get you out.
It’s no use. I’m half dead already. The gul suspects my involvement in the resistance. They’ve tortured me for information, but so far I’ve denied everything.
Lwaxana sensed not only Okalan’s pain, but the weakening of his spirit. His torturers would keep him alive and in excruciating distress until he told them what they wanted to know.
We’ll get you free— Lwaxana began.
No! Okalan’s refusal was powerful, in spite of his injuries. They’ve gouged out my eyes. My fingernails are gone. And they’ve passed more electrical current through me than I ever thought a body could endure. There’s only one thing to do for me now, and for yourselves.
Lwaxana refused to consider what he was suggesting. Okalan, no.
Dammit, listen to me. My interrogators just left. They’ll give me time to recover to keep me alive. Then they’ll begin again. Before they took my eyes, I saw an open window in this room. Every ten minutes, a Jem’Hadar sentry passes and checks on me. One is almost due. If you kill me as soon as he passes, you’ll have ten