The Draykon Series (1-3)

Lokant: Chapter Forty-One

'Feels like a mausoleum in here,' he muttered. He turned to leave.

Blocking his exit was a tall gentleman, elderly, with a full head of white hair and a commanding air. Aysun frowned, puzzled. He hadn't heard the man come in.

'Llandry Sanfaer,' said the newcomer. 'Which one is her?'

Aysun stood up and advanced. 'Who are you? What do you want with her?'

The man merely brushed him aside. 'Never mind that. She must be removed from here, with the utmost haste. Her well-being depends on it. Which one is Miss Sanfaer?' He stared into both sleeping faces for an instant or two in turn, then pointed to Llandry. 'This one, I conclude?'

'Back off,' Aysun said, his fits clenching in anger. 'You're not taking her anywhere.'

Pensould spoke, for the first time in some hours. 'It's all right. I know this man. He intends no harm.'

Aysun's brows snapped together. 'What? Then who is he?'

A small, hopeless smile crossed Pensould's strange face. 'It would take far too long to explain.'

'And I decline to make any more explanations at present; there's been enough of that,' said the impatient and autocratic old man. 'Pensould, you'll help me.'

'You will not!' Aysun cried as Pensould rose from his chair. 'Llandry is safe here, with her family. She stays.'

The old man rounded on him. 'She isn't safe anywhere, you fool. Do you think you can protect her? You are far out of your depth, whoever you are. The only way she has a chance is if I take her. She must not be left in this Cluster of worlds.'

Aysun stared, dumbfounded, as the man turned his back on him and, with Pensould's help, picked up Llandry's sleeping form. Sigwide whimpered at his feet: Pensould stooped to collect him, too.

'Drop the young lady,' came Rufin's command. He had drawn a pistol - where he had hidden it Aysun couldn't guess, as his weapons were always stripped from him in the infirmary. The pistol was aimed at the old man's head.

'Gently,' Aysun amended.

The old man rolled his eyes and let out a sigh of pure exasperation. 'Don't be ridiculous. You drop it. Now.' He stared the gunman down, his blue eyes cold as winter.

To Aysun's complete amazement, Rufin let the pistol fall.

'Good. Any other objections?' His cold stare turned on Aysun, whose indignation and anger melted away like butter in the sun. He had tensed himself, ready to rush the man. Now his muscles relaxed, all desire to attack withering away.

'I gather you have some interest in this young lady's condition, so Pensould shall keep you informed,' the man continued, relentless. 'But with me she must indeed go. I assure you, it is the only way to preserve her life.'

Aysun's lips fought to form words, some silent command working to keep him quiet. 'Wh-where are you taking her?'

'Somewhere Other,' was all the reply he received.

'Then I go as well.'

'That is not acceptable.'

'Just try to leave without me,' Aysun growled.

The man simply ignored him.

'Pensould?' Aysun turned to the draykon-man, placing all his hopes of an explanation in the goodwill of his daughter's admirer.

'All will be well, I swear it,' Pensould replied.

Aysun grunted. Remembering the voice-box, he groped in his pocket for it and tossed it to Pensould.