Read Online Empire: Book 2, The Chronicles of the Invaders (The Chronicles of the Invaders Trilogy) by John Connolly, Jennifer Ridyard - Free Book Online
Authors: John Connolly, Jennifer Ridyard
Ads: Link
in mourning for her husband, Gradus, and she partly blamed Syl and Ani for his death, but Syrene was nothing if not practical, and the Sisterhood was her first love. If the Earth hostages could be put to use in the advancement of the Nairenes, then so be it.
And doubtless Syrene had other secret aims in mind, for such was her nature.
“We should never have admitted Syl Hellais to the Marque,” said Thona, still wittering on. “The mother turned her back on us, and now we give shelter to the daughter? She does not want to be here, and I, for one, do not want her here either.”
This time, Oriel sighed aloud. How many times did they have to go over this?
“She requested admission to the Sisterhood,” said Oriel. “We cannot turn down one who offers herself to us.”
“She requested admission to save herself from death, or the near certainty of it,” said Thona. “That is not a genuine calling.”
“And Ani? Did she not join us for the same reason?”
“But she has a gift!”
Arguing with Thona, Oriel realized, was a fruitless exercise.
“And,” Thona added, “we do not need her as a hostage to use against her father. That problem has been solved.”
Ah, thought Oriel, that much at least was true. Governor Andrus was now Syl’s father in name only. Syrene had seen to that.
Syrene, and what dwelt within her.
CHAPTER 9
T he sands of Torma were alive, both inside and outside the platform. The survivors watched as they churned and roiled, buffeted by the unseen creatures that moved beneath them. Occasionally one of them would break through, its back curved and catching the sunlight, shining like cut glass. They were almost beautiful.
Almost.
The walls of the drilling platform were constructed from sheets of heavy alloy, each riveted to the next, and specially designed to be resistant to the heat of the Tormic sun. Otherwise, to touch them would have been to risk scorching one’s skin. Their foundations were sunk into the sand, but only to a distance of ten feet or so, and that was largely a result of their sheer weight. Whatever the creatures were doing underground, it was not only causing a degree of vibration capable of loosening the rivets but also distorting the shape of the walls themselves, buckling them slowly so that eventually they would put so much pressure on the joins between the plates that they must eventually collapse.
“We won’t last six hours up here,” said Steven. “And we won’t last six seconds once we hit that sand.”
“We need to get to the shuttle,” said Paul. “It’s the only way.”
“But how?”
“A line. We can run a cable from the walls to the edge of the platform, and rappel down.”
“But where do we get the cable?”
“There,” said Paul. He pointed to a coil of wire that lay on top of a jumble of barrels, crates, and unidentifiable pieces of mining equipment. It stood just beneath the walkway, some twenty feet from where they were. Twenty feet away, but also at least nine or ten feet below.
“Were you planning on walking over to get it?” asked Steven. They had all surmised by now that, whatever the nature of their enemy, the creatures must be acutely sensitive to the slightest of vibrations and the shifting of the sands. After all, the unit had seen no evidence of eyes on their heads, and there would be little need for them below ground. Setting foot on the desert floor would be like ringing a dinner bell.
“Nope. You and Thula are going to take a leg each and lower me down.”
Thula wandered over to where they stood.
“Did I hear my name being taken in vain?”
“I have a plan,” said Paul.
“Is it dangerous?”
“Almost certainly.”
Thula permitted himself a grin. “Those are always the best kind.”
• • •
Paul swayed. The blood was going to his head, and he felt as though his brain was about to explode in his skull.
“Easy,” he said. “Easy!”
The fingers of his outstretched right hand brushed against the
And doubtless Syrene had other secret aims in mind, for such was her nature.
“We should never have admitted Syl Hellais to the Marque,” said Thona, still wittering on. “The mother turned her back on us, and now we give shelter to the daughter? She does not want to be here, and I, for one, do not want her here either.”
This time, Oriel sighed aloud. How many times did they have to go over this?
“She requested admission to the Sisterhood,” said Oriel. “We cannot turn down one who offers herself to us.”
“She requested admission to save herself from death, or the near certainty of it,” said Thona. “That is not a genuine calling.”
“And Ani? Did she not join us for the same reason?”
“But she has a gift!”
Arguing with Thona, Oriel realized, was a fruitless exercise.
“And,” Thona added, “we do not need her as a hostage to use against her father. That problem has been solved.”
Ah, thought Oriel, that much at least was true. Governor Andrus was now Syl’s father in name only. Syrene had seen to that.
Syrene, and what dwelt within her.
CHAPTER 9
T he sands of Torma were alive, both inside and outside the platform. The survivors watched as they churned and roiled, buffeted by the unseen creatures that moved beneath them. Occasionally one of them would break through, its back curved and catching the sunlight, shining like cut glass. They were almost beautiful.
Almost.
The walls of the drilling platform were constructed from sheets of heavy alloy, each riveted to the next, and specially designed to be resistant to the heat of the Tormic sun. Otherwise, to touch them would have been to risk scorching one’s skin. Their foundations were sunk into the sand, but only to a distance of ten feet or so, and that was largely a result of their sheer weight. Whatever the creatures were doing underground, it was not only causing a degree of vibration capable of loosening the rivets but also distorting the shape of the walls themselves, buckling them slowly so that eventually they would put so much pressure on the joins between the plates that they must eventually collapse.
“We won’t last six hours up here,” said Steven. “And we won’t last six seconds once we hit that sand.”
“We need to get to the shuttle,” said Paul. “It’s the only way.”
“But how?”
“A line. We can run a cable from the walls to the edge of the platform, and rappel down.”
“But where do we get the cable?”
“There,” said Paul. He pointed to a coil of wire that lay on top of a jumble of barrels, crates, and unidentifiable pieces of mining equipment. It stood just beneath the walkway, some twenty feet from where they were. Twenty feet away, but also at least nine or ten feet below.
“Were you planning on walking over to get it?” asked Steven. They had all surmised by now that, whatever the nature of their enemy, the creatures must be acutely sensitive to the slightest of vibrations and the shifting of the sands. After all, the unit had seen no evidence of eyes on their heads, and there would be little need for them below ground. Setting foot on the desert floor would be like ringing a dinner bell.
“Nope. You and Thula are going to take a leg each and lower me down.”
Thula wandered over to where they stood.
“Did I hear my name being taken in vain?”
“I have a plan,” said Paul.
“Is it dangerous?”
“Almost certainly.”
Thula permitted himself a grin. “Those are always the best kind.”
• • •
Paul swayed. The blood was going to his head, and he felt as though his brain was about to explode in his skull.
“Easy,” he said. “Easy!”
The fingers of his outstretched right hand brushed against the
Similar Books
