The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [170]
After that, she had followed just behind him, silently, quickly, seeming to anticipate each of his moves. Twice she had made frantic motions, flapping her long hands as he started down a corridor, and each time as they fell back he had heard voices coming in their direction. Beltan wondered what they had done to her. And what they had done to him. The chin-pasi was not the only one who seemed to know things.
More than once, as they stole through the fortress, he had felt the tingling creep over his flesh, along with a sensation of danger. Each time he had led the chin-pasi to a hiding place. And each time, moments later, a guard came into view, clad in their strange uniform of black boots, tight black trousers, and thin black shirts with short sleeves.
That they were guards there could be no doubt. Beltan was a disciple of Vathris; he knew a warrior when he saw one. To a one they were large men, arms and necks thick, hair cropped close. Their shirts were marked with a white crescent shape—surely an insignia of some sort. But the clearest sign of all were the objects strapped to their belts. The things were short, stubby, and made of metal. Beltan couldn’t say exactly what they were, except that by the way the men carried them they were clearly some sort of weapon.
The needle pricks came once again, swarming over his neck and arms as he crouched behind the crate. A heartbeat later the guard came into view. He was not walking on patrol, but rather jogging toward a specific task. He touched a wire coiled around his head.
“This is Clarkson. Alpha and Beta Sections are clear. Moving to Gamma Section now. Trucks one and two are already fully loaded, so start with truck three. Good, then—”
The guard’s harsh words were cut off as he rounded a corner. The tingling faded, along with the sense of peril. Beltan turned toward the chin-pasi. She gazed at him, eyes quiet in her dark, wrinkled face.
“They’ve done something to me, my lady,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Just like they’ve done something to you.”
The creature pursed her lips and gestured with curving fingers. Time to go.
Hunched, he started down the corridor, toward the source of a faint, gray light. The chin-pasi loped after him. Beltan wished he could walk like her, leaning on the knuckles of his hands. His sinews felt like wet leather left in the sun to dry; stretching his tall frame upright was painful.
After the noise and commotion, the hallway was now eerily silent. Together, they passed open doors leading to rooms empty save for a few papers crumpled on the floor or a handful of colored wires dangling from the ceiling.
The light grew brighter. A new sound echoed from up ahead, a roaring he could not comprehend. It made him think of the growling of some great beast. However, he did not feel the tingling. Whatever the source of his new instincts, they had gotten him this far. He clenched his teeth, willed his legs to keep pumping, and swung around a corner.
He nearly collided with a man and woman in long white coats.
Beltan’s bare feet skidded on the slick floor, then stuck, halting him. With a soft whuff, the chin-pasi bumped into him from behind. He stared, frozen, waiting for the two doctors to turn around, to see him, and to cry out in alarm.
They did not. The roar was loud now, pouring through the opening in which the two doctors stood. Beyond was bright gray light and chilly air.
The doctors were talking—loudly, to compensate for the grinding noise. They had not heard Beltan and the chin-pasi. But why hadn’t he felt the tingling? Maybe his new instincts were fallible after all. Or maybe he was not really in danger—not as long as they hadn’t heard him.
“—and it’s being loaded now,” the male doctor shouted above the noise.
The female