StarCraft: Dark Templar: Twilight Page 8

  “That is only the barest hint of his sacrifice and what it did for our people—the blow it struck against the zerg—but yes. Tassadar eventually turned against the Conclave, to the point where he engaged them in combat when they refused to listen to him. They were all slain.”

  “What? He killed the Conclave? All of them?”

  “Yes. Members of the Judicator caste still survive, but there is no longer a Conclave. Tassadar did this with deep regret, but it was necessary. They would have imprisoned him at a time when his actions were desperately needed, and Aiur and the entire protoss race would have been destroyed. Tassadar learned what Zeratul had to teach him, about the energies and powers the dark templar had learned after centuries of exploring the mysteries of the Void. Alone, we could never have destroyed the zerg Overmind. Tassadar used both kinds of skills in order to defeat the Overmind and save our people. And it is because of his understanding and compassion to the dark templar—his befriending of Zeratul, and Zeratul’s of him—that we were welcomed on Shakuras at all.”

  Tassadar was remarkable indeed. He had opened a mind that a millennia of lies had endeavored to seal shut, and not only accepted but actively embraced beings who were reputedly attempting to destroy what it meant to be protoss. He had chosen to see what was truly there, rather than what he thought was there, and had saved his people.

  Perhaps even more extraordinary was Zeratul and the dark templar. Jake was pretty sure that if one branch of terrans had been rounded up, threatened with execution, and exiled into the unforgiving Void, they wouldn’t feel all warm and fuzzy toward their oppressors.

  I did not spend much time on Shakuras. I do not know what has happened over the last four years. But Zeratul and Tassadar have given me hope, that in my absence Aiur protoss and dark templar have reunited, and we have become one people once again. We will need to be if—

  Jake was instantly alert, but Zamara had shuttered her mind to him again.

  Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on, Zamara?

  I hope to be able to, Jacob. You have earned the right to at least know what it is you’re being asked to perhaps die for. But I must wait until we find Zeratul, or someone else who can help us.

  That could be a long wait.

  The mental blast that sang through his thoughts almost caused Jake to black out.

  Trespassers and thieves! Who dares violate my sanctuary?

  Then again…it might not be such a long wait after all.

  CHAPTER 8

  ZAMARA RESPONDED QUICKLY TO THE DISTANT mindcall. “Zeratul, my old friend. It is I, Zamara. You once told me of this world, though not its name, and I have come, seeking your aid and wisdom.”

  Pain lanced through Jake as Zamara shared the memory. He knew she needed to, knew she had to make it crystal clear and unquestioning quickly if Zeratul was to be mollified and help them. But still…

  Zeratul kicked at the dust beneath their feet, sending a lazy gray puff of ash up in a little cloud. Jake looked around, curious to finally see this place aptly named Char with her own eyes.

  “Is it a burden, holding these memories? Does it tax you?” Zeratul asked.

  “It is an honor and a duty, and yes, occasionally a burden. The memories themselves are easy to hold. It is only when—when the memories are passed to me that there is pain.”

  “Passed to you?”

  She regarded him evenly. “I receive a protoss’s memories when he or she dies. It is never pleasant, and if many die somewhere at once…then it is painful to integrate.”

  He nodded his comprehension. “That must be difficult indeed.”

  “Most of the conflict comes when I know something and am unable to share it. I am glad you and Tassadar found your own paths to peace with one another.”

  He regarded Jake thoughtfully. “How do you find your own peace, Zamara? Does it not threaten to overwhelm you, being the bearer of so very much?”

  “As Tassadar has explained, we do not completely lose ourselves in the Khala. I am renewed and refreshed by contacting so many other minds in such a nurturing place. But because there are so many things I am not permitted to share freely, I find I must make time to meditate, channel my emotions and thoughts, and calm them with the crystals.”

  He half closed his eyes and tilted his head. Humor, at least, was conveyed identically whether one was an Aiur protoss or a dark templar, Jake thought with warmth. “Amusing and intriguing. Preservers are perhaps the epitome of what we turned against. You not only require the Khala to hold the memories, but you are even intimately joined with others via these memories. In a way, you become them…. They live through you. And yet you find comfort in pulling back from that, from being with the crystals, as we do.”

  Jake, too, titled her head, smiling at the accurate assessment. “Is that what you do, then? Surely you and your people have burdens of your own to bear, and you cannot share them with others in the Khala when they become too great.”

  “I meditate. I sit in the quiet stillness that is the Void. And there is a small world that no one else knows about. The hue of the sky, a comforting pink, soothes, as do the energies of a certain place nestled in the mountains near rushing waters. It is there that I go when I am…uncertain or unhappy. The natural world heals.”

  “…Zamara…it is you…and yet it is not. There is another’s mind—by the Void, it is…human?”

  Jake whimpered then gritted his teeth against the weakness. Zeratul, for he knew now that it was that powerful individual, was still distant. Zamara was having to work hard to project her thoughts so far, and the strain was making his head throb.

  “We are in the place you spoke of, so long ago, by the rushing water. Come to us and I will tell you more about why I am here, and what we seek from you.”

  “…I would you had not come here, old friend.” And with that cryptic message, Jake felt Zeratul withdraw from his mind. Zamara gentled her presence immediately and the pain eased. Jake gulped some of the delicious, refreshingly cool river water and splashed some on his flushed face. He despised his weakness, but it was both impossible and foolish to deny it.

  Zamara—he will help us, won’t he?

  I have no doubt that he will. Zeratul is not one to run from the truth, no matter how unpleasant or difficult it may be to face. He was indirectly responsible for the destruction of Aiur, but he accepted his part in that and strove to do what he could to save the rest of his people.

  Jake blinked, startled. What? Zeratul destroyed Aiur? I thought it was the zerg.

  Zamara didn’t respond, and Jake realized that he could now see the approaching ship. It was similar to the one he and Zamara had…borrowed, but it was larger and presumably capable of space flight as well as atmospheric travel. Still, it was obviously of dark templar design—purple-black with glowing green energies dancing around it, larger and bulkier than a comparable vessel of traditional protoss design. Jake got to his feet, both excited and uneasy and chafing at the fact that his question about the destruction of Aiur—a pretty major event—had not been answered. Zamara sent him calm, but no explanations.

  The ship landed and the green, pulsating glow that danced about its hull subsided. A ramp unfurled and a door irised open, and there stood the first dark templar Jake had ever seen.

  Zeratul was slightly stooped, and while he wore robes that were similar to what Zamara remembered, they looked a bit frayed around the edges, as if the wearer didn’t much care for his appearance. His eyes, however, still glowed fiercely, and when he turned to regard Jake, the human thought he’d never felt as seen in his life. He felt positively naked under that piercing gaze.

  “Why is it,” Zeratul said mildly, “that recently I seem to become entangled with humans?”

  “Maybe you need a little comic relief,” Jake said deprecatingly. Zeratul half closed his eyes and tilted his head, and his laughter washed over Jake. The archaeologist gave a half-smile.

  “I had thought Raynor a remarkable, perhaps unique, represent
ative of the terran race,” Zeratul continued, moving down the ramp with the same graceful stride that marked all of his species. “And yet behold, when I come to my secluded place to think and reflect, I am greeted by a human who holds a protoss preserver in his head.” There was a hint of condescension in his mental voice, but more of admiration. And curiosity, but dulled somehow, as if it did not prick him as it ought to.

  “Zamara,” he continued, directing his speech to the preserver but including Jake in the conversation, “how is it I find you here?”

  “My body is dead and decomposed,” Zamara answered quietly. “But my will and spirit live on.” She fell silent to Jake’s mental hearing, but Zeratul listened intently, nodding. Jake realized she was quickly and efficiently filling the dark templar in on what had transpired.

  Some of it, at least. There are things that would be best told by you, Jacob. And information I would reveal to you both at the same time.

  Jake was oddly touched by Zamara’s consideration. He had expected that he’d be the classic third wheel at this reunion, but Zamara seemed determined that he be an active part.

  “Your will is admirable, Zamara,” said Zeratul slowly.

  Jake sensed a “but” in there.

  “…But I do not know that you have come to the right protoss for aid.”

  Zeratul turned his purple-hued face up to the sky and closed his eyes. There was weariness and something else in Zeratul’s mental voice. More than simple tiredness or frustration. Something that—

  I’ll be damned, Jake said to Zamara. Zeratul—he’s soul sick.

  She did not respond, and he realized that she was as taken aback as he. Perhaps more so.

  “Zeratul?” Jake said tentatively. “I don’t know exactly what Zamara told you, but there’s a lot at stake here. We really need your help.”

  “I did not come here to help you, human. And I do not know that I could even if I wished. Zamara knows.” He turned and gazed at Jake, but it was Zamara he was looking for.

  “This is my sanctuary. I did not ask you to invade it, and I am not pleased to see you, preserver. You bore witness to my failing once before, and it is now recorded in your memories for all generations to know. I, Prelate Zeratul, was the one who told the zerg where to find Aiur. The blood of all those who fell is on my hands.”

  Whoa! I thought he was one of the good guys!

  He is, Zamara reassured him. There was no doubt in her mind.

  “You destroyed a cerebrate, killing it permanently,” Zamara said. “You used what the Void had taught your people—you did something we never could have done without you. You know it is not your fault that in that moment, your thoughts were made known to the Overmind, who plucked from them the location of our homeworld.”

  Jake felt a rush of sympathy. That burden of guilt had to be heavy.

  Zeratul waved a hand, almost angrily. “I well know I would never have betrayed Aiur intentionally. And yet, betrayed it was, and so many died. I must live with that. That—and other things. Some of the things I have seen, and some of the deeds I have done, Zamara, are darker and colder than the Void itself, and all the rationality and reason in the universe cannot expunge the guilt.”

  Something as bad or worse than leading the zerg to an innocent planet? What the hell has this guy done?

  Jake was shocked and more than a little worried, but Zamara was angry—angrier than perhaps he had ever seen her. “Perhaps you are right, Zeratul. I came seeking a protoss of wisdom, of insight. That is the Prelate Zeratul I sought. Instead, I find before me a shadow of that being. One who is more concerned with his own pain and guilt than the future of his people. I have seen arrogance in our people before, in the actions of the Conclave. I never thought to see it in the dark templar, least of all in the protoss I had come to admire as the best the dark templar had to offer.”

  Zeratul drew himself up to his full imposing height. Green fire blazed in his eyes. “Arrogance? You do not know of what you speak. Even with all that you have seen, preserver, I think if you had borne witness to what I have, you would be less judgmental.”

  “Perhaps,” agreed Zamara. Jake stayed silent, utterly taken aback by this vehement confrontation between a protoss he knew to be rational and calm and one he’d been led to believe was the same. “But you are too consumed by your self-pity and what you have labeled your shame to confide in me. It is well you are here, Zeratul. I cannot think that in your present state you would be of any use to our people on Shakuras, or indeed, of use to Jacob or myself. Jacob and I have come from Aiur, where we watched others die protecting us and the information I bear. Our passage to Shakuras has been blocked. I know not where to turn now, but rest assured, until you can conduct yourself better, it shall not be to you.”

  For a dreadful moment, Jake was certain Zeratul was going to physically attack Zamara—and by extension, Jake and his terran body. With Zamara in control, he’d been able to defeat Ethan Stewart’s pet assassin, Phillip Randall. But he knew with certainty that Zamara would not come off the victor in a fight with Zeratul, even if she had been equipped with psi blades. Though moody and emotionally shattered, Zeratul was still a force to be reckoned with.

  Then to Jake’s combined relief and disappointment, the blazing fire in Zeratul’s eyes subsided to a dull ember.

  “If anyone knows where to turn, Zamara, it is a preserver. You will find aid. But you will not find it here. Take the atmospheric vessel that brought you here. You have already stolen it from me. Take it to the gate and begone.”

  He moved toward them, brushing past them so close that Jake felt the whisper of the soft fabric of Zeratul’s robe caress his bare arm. For an instant, Jake sensed astonishment, quickly contained, from Zamara. Obviously she hadn’t expected the conversation to go this way.

  “We shall depart,” Zamara said, her mental voice cool and completely in control. “But this is a small world, Zeratul. If you will not deal with us now, you must do so later.”

  She borrowed Jake’s body and bowed. Zeratul missed the gesture; he now stood next to his makeshift dwelling, his body stiff, his back to them. He was utterly silent, his powerful mind locking down on any telltale thought.

  Jake and Zamara went to the atmospheric craft that they had, as Zeratul put it with brutal fact, stolen. Jake let Zamara operate the vessel while he sat in a corner of his own body, thoroughly stunned by the developments. Not even lifting off into the rosy sky cheered his spirits.

  Zamara—I thought you were chasing a protoss hero. That guy down there—he’s a total wreck.

  …I am aware of that.

  I…downloading your memories into a dark templar crystal was our last hope. If we don’t do that I’m going to die here.

  I am aware of that, too.

  So what the hell are we going to do now?

  Utter silence. Jake felt panic well up inside him for a moment, a bright frantic flame that was quickly snuffed out by the heavy darkness of complete despair.

  They were stuck on a planet, the only other sentient being a protoss so far gone in trauma and self-pity that he was unreachable. The tumors in his brain were growing almost daily, and Zamara, the preserver, who had seen so much, who knew so much, who seemed to have all the answers, who had met every challenge with calm and aplomb, had no idea what to do about any of it.

  CHAPTER 9

  ROSEMARY WAS DOING HER DEAD LEVEL BEST TO keep from punching either the wall or her guard, and for the most part she was succeeding. But four days had ticked by—though the days here never got truly bright, there was a clear demarcation between night and day—and there was no sign of any movement.

  She was naturally a headstrong woman, but she was also smart enough and experienced enough to know when to be calm and exercise patience and when to push.

  She had been trying the former, but when the door opened and a protoss who was not her guard nor Selendis entered, she almost literally had to bite her tongue to keep from exploding at him.

  “It is I, Var
tanil,” the protoss said, executing a deep bow. Rosemary still had difficulty distinguishing between individual protoss, but she was getting better at it. The fact that their mental “voices” were unique helped. Her impatience faded slightly as she realized she knew this protoss.

  “You stood up for me when we came through the warp gate,” she said, remembering. “You tried to convince the guards to open the gate back up so Jake could come through.” He inclined his head, almost shyly. She smiled at him, the first genuine smile she’d had since setting foot on this obsessively blue planet. “Thanks.”

  “I only wish I had been more convincing.”

  “Well, you tried at least. And honestly, I suppose I can’t blame them. To risk putting out a welcome mat for the zerg on a story they couldn’t verify—I guess I understand.”

  She blinked as realization struck. “Hey…you’re here. They let you out. What happened?”

  “They assisted me in clearing the Sundrop from my system,” Vartanil said. “Many sat with me, reached their minds to mine, and when I was able, comforted me via the Khala. You, Rosemary Dahl, had only Jacob and Zamara to aid you. You are strong indeed.”

  Rosemary was strong, and she knew it, and the knowing wasn’t egotistical. She was always keenly aware of both her strengths and weaknesses; an honest understanding of both was simply smart. But somehow, Vartanil’s praise made her feel uncomfortable.

  “Yeah, well, maybe it didn’t hit me as hard,” she said. “I’m glad you’re all right though. Did they believe you? About Jake and Zamara?”

  He nodded. “Once I was purified of the drug, I spoke with Executor Selendis herself.” His mental voice held tones of awe. “She also spoke with the others. We all verified your story. She believes us.”

  Rosemary’s patience, stretched to the breaking point, now snapped. “Then where the hell is she? Why am I still in this damned prison?”