“The transport will not take us to the Enclave if any but the Chosen step within its doors.”
Inhaling sharply through his nose, Rodney blew the breath out slowly, keeping a tight rein on his anger. He could play along up to a point, but the idea that these people were making judgments of worth based on a purely random gene was more than he was willing to accept. “‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal,’” he quoted under his breath to Sheppard, who tossed a sideways glance in his direction.
“You do realize that you were channeling my high school history teacher just then, right?”
“I’m just saying that occasionally a good idea does emerge from your country.”
“Nice. But since getting inside this Enclave could potentially be a big help in your information-gathering, let’s wait a while before shoving the Declaration of Independence down these people’s throats, all right?” The Major shifted his gaze. “Teyla, Ford, you comfortable with hanging out here for a while?”
“I believe we will be fine with these people,” Teyla said, looking around with a tolerant smile. “There is no longer any misunderstanding.”
That might have been true, but Rodney wasn’t all that thrilled with the aspects of the situation that he did understand.
Kesun nodded to four of the warriors. “See to it that the visitors are known by all to be under my personal protection. And remain here with them until we return.”
To Rodney, that sounded more like confinement than protection. “Why can’t they take a look around outside?”
Leading him and the Major to the transport, Kesun replied, “If they venture from a protected area and the Wraith come, they will be in mortal danger.” The so-called Chosen clasped his hands behind his back, which Rodney took as a sign that either he or Sheppard was supposed to open the door. What was that about? Another test? General apathy? It might have been deference, but that was a more redeeming quality than he was prepared to ascribe to these Chosen types at the moment.
Sheppard stopped walking and faced his second in command. “We’ll be back before long,” he told Ford. “Until then, enjoy the down time.”
The Lieutenant gave a solemn nod. Rodney couldn’t help but feel like he’d just missed an entire conversation. Under those laconic instructions, there had been a trace of something else. He suspected that Ford and Teyla had just received covert authorization to act as they saw fit, ‘protection’ or no.
At the entrance to the transport, he and Sheppard looked at each other. The Major spread his hands in a gesture of accommodation. “Want to do the honors?”
It was petty, but that had never stopped him before. Still clutching the Shield in one hand, Rodney folded his arms. “Not particularly.”
Sheppard gave him a withering look and reached for the console. The door slid back, and the oddly matched trio stepped inside.
Rodney was reminded of the opening line to any number of bad jokes. A soldier, a genius, and a zealot walk into a bar… Well, hell. Time to think positive. If his suspicions about this Enclave place were confirmed, it would at least be less of an assault on his olfactory senses than the marketplace.
This time, the control panel on the inside of the transport opened out to the full-sized display seen in the transports of Atlantis. On the plasma screen map, Kesun touched a light located at one end, which, if Rodney recalled correctly, was also the highest point of the hill. The door shut with a somewhat less than graceful metallic sound, and for the fourth time that day, he was instantly somewhere else.
When his companions disappeared inside the transport, Lieutenant Aiden Ford relaxed his stance, demonstrating to Dalera’s warriors that he had no intention of defying them. Lisera openly stared at him. Weapon poised, he had stood ready to defend her, just as her mother had often described the Ancient hero-warriors of the fabled Atlantis. “Lieutenant Aiden Ford.” His name was as exotic as his deep brown eyes and gentle smile.
He turned and moved back toward her. “Call me Aiden.” Removing his cap, he smiled and kneeled beside her again. “Morphine kicked in yet?”
“The potion has indeed rid me of much pain.” The memory of his strong arms gave her warmth despite the chill in the dank hall. Never in all of Lisera’s years had she dreamed that her mother’s tales were anything more than children’s stories — until the night that the Wraith had come. The hideous nightmare beings were indeed real, but then so too were the legendary warriors who battled them.
“See? I told you the needle would make you feel better.” Aiden gently probed her leg.
The striking woman who claimed not to be Dalera, but called herself Teyla, smiled her approval, then turned to the apothecary and said, “Is there a place of healing where we can take Lisera? The bones of her leg must be set properly to ensure that there is no permanent damage.”
A look of sympathy crossed the woman’s face. She was a merchant, a seller of healing potions capable of fixing many ailments, but her words confirmed what Lisera feared. “Only Dalera could heal such an injury so that the bones are set true. You truly are not her?”
Perhaps Lisera imagined it, but it seemed that Teyla’s smile took on an edge of regret. “No, I am not.”
Despite her determination to be brave, Lisera’s breathing hitched as she battled tears. The pain in her leg was now a dull throb. The pain of grief and fear could not so readily be eased. She would be crippled. To survive the Wraith she would have to to remain in the Citadel. With no coin to pay for her food and keep, she had but one option.
Many years ago, her mother had told her, the Citadel had been a fine place, and the Chosen honored as the protectors of Dalera. Then came the Great Plague. The Chosen had withdrawn to their Enclave, barbarians had taken over, and the Citadel had become a place of evil, the horrors of which could only be guessed at. But when the Wraith had returned, just a few short weeks ago, the Citadel had offered their only protection.
After the first wave of attacks, entire villages had been decimated. Those who had not been taken had lost their homes, their crops and their loved ones, and something more — their souls. The horrors of life in the Citadel had spilled out into the countryside, and now nowhere was free of the pillaging, raping, even killing.
“I know a healer that might help,” Balzar replied gruffly.
The flesh on her arms crawled. The chief’ s look was agonizingly familiar to Lisera, for it was not only strangers who could not be trusted. The day the Wraith had taken her brother, she and her mother had tried to escape to the Citadel. Balzar, a man she had believed to be a friend, had first refused them entry to the transport inn because their only form of payment was no longer acceptable. Lisera had not understood the promise that her mother had then made until Balzar had come to them that night, in the dank shadows of this same Sanctuary Hall. After defiling her mother, he had turned his attentions on Lisera. She had run away, desperately seeking a place to hide in the bowels of the great city. For two days she had roamed the streets, hungry and cold, barely one step ahead of men whose eyes gleamed with a different kind of hunger, one she now recognized in the merchants’ eyes.
“This one has no coin or goods to pay a healer,” Balzar continued. “Her family is dead, her home burned. Leave her with me and I will see what I can do.” He bent down to grip her arm.
Recoiling, Lisera grasped Aiden’s leg and clung to him.
“Then we will tend to her ourselves.” Teyla placed herself in Balzar’s path. Her smile remained in place, but her eyes held a warning.
Balzar was many times Teyla’s girth and weight, but Lisera saw his hesitation. The warriors who had attacked Teyla had both instantly been felled by her swift blows. These same men now exchanged an approving look with one another.