No Turning Back, Page 3

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  "Alleathon! There you are!"

  Alleathon nodded curtly at his second-in-command as he strode out of the alley-way, toting the unconscious Drone. Laillmen Konieton walked toward him, bandoleer swinging from her hips and cropped brown-and-purple hair bouncing minutely on her head. Vyenthon Nenkthen followed closely behind her, hands held slightly away from his body and fingers lightly curled as he scanned for potential threats.

  Vyenthon looked exactly like Alleathon, which was to say that he looked like every male Descendant since the War came to Alluvia. His distinctions were his coloring, which was several shades of green fading into each other across his skin, his eyes, which were a brighter red than Alleathon's, and his long green hair, which he normally wore in a tail high on his head.

  Laillmen looked like every female Descendant, who were not so different from their Brothers. Their feminine shape was as exaggerated as the males' masculine shape, yet each had their own unique coloration.

  "Reporting in, Alleathon," Laillmen said crisply. "The e-wagon will be a few moments yet. Sonelion and Kiemelen are with the constables, assisting with rescue and retrieval."

  Alleathon nodded again, not trusting his voice. He lifted the Drone and dumped him into Vyenthon's arms. The junior Descendant took the hint and carried the man away, leaving his superiors to talk. Alleathon turned back to the alley-way, a chin-jerk ordering Laillmen to follow. They paused at the opening before Alleathon spoke.

  Quietly and in Temple speech, he told Laillmen what had happened. Her Descendant face showed nothing, but he knew she felt every bit as disturbed as he did.

  "This Hunter creature may be a key to unlocking more of the Ancients' secrets," he said, affecting a casual stance for the eyes of the people clearing the rubble-strewn road. "It knew words I'd never heard before, and I watched It ... swallow the energy from the ball."

  "Tesselëan," Laillmen murmured. "It does sound ... right. Can that really be the name of the Ancients?"

  "I think it is. And the Sukkers are really Gontozenels." Laillmen shivered as her leader uttered the word.

  "Yes; you're right. That's their name, without question. What of the girl?" Her solid, teal-colored eyes glanced sharply at him.

  "We cannot leave her," Alleathon answered calmly. "The hells she has been through since this thing took her ... and we need to have It under supervision. And contained. We can't let It travel around killing people, not when we can drain them and leave them alive."

  "That would not improve our public image; this is certain," Laillmen agreed wryly, glancing over her shoulder. "The e-wagon is here; we can take her back in that with none the wiser. And then, we shall see.

  "Ah! I've just recalled something; there have been reports of maulings in several cities and towns over the last few years. Constables have called it some kind of wild animal attack, since the victims were partially eaten. But there wasn't a pattern, and the attacks were moving around. Started in ... Berziny, I believe, moved through Tautona, and more recently here in Ivrithan. It could be this Hunter; all the victims were in the same state."

  They stiffened in unison and turned with blinding speed. The shabby, emaciated, blood-covered girl stood in the alley-way behind them, just out of sight of the street. She held the chewed bones in her arms and hesitated, shuffling her feet.

  "Please, sir and miss Descendant. It wants to go with you. It wants to hunt and feed and ... be with Its masters." Her face twisted bitterly. In the light from the street, she looked a bit older; perhaps late adolescence. Starvation had made her eyes huge, creating a false youth in the shadows of the alley-way.

  "And what of the bones?" Laillmen asked, nodding toward the offending things. The girl glanced down at her burden.

  "I thought that we should try to return them to the family. For burial."