by Dan Allen
“We’re a thousand AU out from Xahna system,” Decker announced as he walked to the bridge. Jet knew that meant they were a thousand times the distance from the Earth to the sun. He’d never been to Earth, but he assumed the distance was similar to the other Goldilocks-zone planets he’d been on.
Jet and the others drifted after Decker from the launch bay through a fifteen-foot-long corridor to the bridge, which was more of a glorified cockpit. Aside from the maintenance cubby and the sanitary silo, they were the only two rooms on the ship.
Decker checked the panel of analog gauges, then swung himself around to face the marines. “We’ve got six weeks of free fall while we get ahead of the braking fleet, then six weeks of double gravity while we slow to match orbit with Xahna.”
“How much time will that buy us?” Jet asked.
“Three weeks, of course,” Yaris replied. “Did you even study physics in school?”
Jet laughed as his feet drifted away from the bulkhead. “Why do you think we brought you along?”
“Actually, I’ve been made legal advisor.”
“What—how?”
“I was an interplanetary trade attorney on Capria for several decades before I joined the marines.”
Jet chuckled. “Can’t imagine why you gave up a cushy desk job like that.”
“I’ve also been a professor of statistics and Caprian history, a farmworker, a trade mall food court musician, a—”
“We get the idea,” Jet said. “You’re a geezer who likes to change jobs.”
“Caprians all change jobs every few decades,” Yaris said. “It’s ethical and prudent.”
Teea drifted past and tweaked his nose. “Hope that’s not illegal.”
“A violation of no fewer than ten fleet regulations and several societal norms.”
“Thought so,” Teea chimed.
Decker caught her arm when she drifted past him and tried the same thing. “Don’t you guys have some mission planning to do?” He gave Teea the stink eye. “Maybe study the language or something?”
Teea swatted his butt instead and gave a sharp salute. “Yes, sir!”
“Teea, as you are not military personnel,” Yaris reminded, “you are not required to salute the captain.”
“Says the elf with a red nose.”
“You heard the captain,” Jet said. “Let’s figure out what we’re up against. This planet is bound to be full of surprises. I don’t want to get ambushed by something we—”
“You had to say it.” Monique shook her head, turned, and pushed off down the maintenance access corridor, past Dormit’s cryobag, toward the storage bay that would likely serve as their quarters. On a ship intended for short trips to and from a battle zone, there wasn’t really anywhere else to set up camp and sleep. “You literally had to say it—again.”
Jet followed her. “Come on. You know you were thinking it, too.”
Monique stopped in the storage bay and touched a crate to pivot slowly in midair. “For your information, I was thinking about something else.” She gave him a solid stare.
It could be any number of things, but the way she was looking at him said it definitely involved him.
Avalon? It stirred feelings he would rather not touch.
When the squad had been separated, it was her group that had taken the worst of the casualties. She was the only one that had survived. Jet had never even talked to her about what happened. He had never even thought about what it had been like for her. He had just gloried in the victory and felt bad for those who hadn’t made it. She had seen them all fall—Romeo, Atlas, Zeke, and three other squads. “Monique, I’m really sorry about what happened on Avalon. I should have been there when you guys came under fire.”
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Monique said.
Jet nodded. “Well . . . if you ever do want to talk about it, I’m here.”
Monique gave him a small shove that sent him flying across the bay. “Well now you’re over there.”
She looked to a status console and then looked back at Jet as if she was finally ready to ask a question that had been needling her for days. “You and Dormit weren’t using Yaris’s flamethrower to roast bat chickens were you? Because if you were—”
Jet patted his stomach. “I didn’t think it was that obvious.”
Her jaw dropped. “Are you being serious? You’re being serious.” She couldn’t tell if he was kidding. “I’ll ask Yaris.”
“Oh, sure. Go and ruin all the fun.”
“Yeah, fun.” She spat the word. “Jet, is this a suicide mission?”
“I don’t know how to answer that.”
“You wouldn’t care. You volunteered because you had nothing left to lose.” She stared at the status console, not looking at him.
“Why did you volunteer?” Jet asked. “You were in school. You’re brilliant. You obviously didn’t flunk out.”
She looked up. “Because it was the right thing to do.”
The concept had never occurred to him.
“I’ve studied planets and societies, Jet. You can’t imagine the similarities between the worlds. It defies logic. There has to be some kind of . . . master plan. Some kind of Creator.”
“Sure.”
“That doesn’t matter to you? That we’re all cut from the same cloth, all tied to the same destiny?”
“I . . . was honestly just out to kick some ASP butt.”
“At least you’re good at it.”
Jet hadn’t been huge on religion, but something inside him seemed to be looming larger and larger, something he would eventually face. “Monique, do you believe in prophecy?”
“Of course. They ordered us all to leave Rodor years before the extermination order—and we were just in time to save the High Council. You think that was coincidence? Didn’t you hear that Avalon evacuated thousands of Believers in the weeks before the extermination order?”
Sarah’s vision. She knew it would happen. Those who had believed her were now traveling with the fleet. The rest were entombed in a fiery hell.
Sarah had also seen a vision of their fleet’s ships falling from the Xahnan sky in droves. “What if it is a suicide mission?”
Monique looked at him, her eyes steely. “Then I’m not going down without a fight.”
“That.” Jet pointed at her. “That is why I put you on the mission.”
“Not because you can’t take your eyes off me?”
Jet felt as if he’d been depantsed on the playground—faelings were big on that sort of thing. He cleared his throat. “Well, there’s always going be collateral damage.”
She lifted her eyebrows, intrigued. “Collateral damage?”
Jet bumped his chest with his fist. “Wounded heart.”
“Oh brother!” She grabbed a torque wrench and hurled it. “That was like the worst line I’ve—” she put a hand to the side of her head. “Are my ears bleeding?”
Yaris and Teea floated into the room. Yaris caught the rebounding wrench. “Good to see you two are getting along as usual.”
“Does this room need some happy pheromones?”
Monique glared at Teea and then Jet, probably thinking about the fact that Adkins had the whole fleet to chose from and picked a ship without a cryobay. There was nowhere to hide from each other. The closet in the maintenance corridor didn’t even have a door.
“Collateral damage.” She turned to the status console and began reviewing the ship’s manifest. “Where are the tasers stored? I’ll give you collateral damage.”
She was definitely back to normal.
* * *
On her knees, Dana felt across the fur rug with her hands. A dull ache throbbed again from her forehead, but Dana didn’t care whether the wound burst open again.
Where is the bloodstone?
Equally important was the question of who took it.
Ryke was too proper. He wouldn’t dare touch her while she was asleep.
Kaia.
She was
the only one that knew about Dana meeting Sindar, and Vetas-ka’s interest in the bloodstone of Shoul Falls.
I told her I didn’t have it here.
She might have found it when she took Dana’s blood-soaked clothes to wash. Or perhaps she had even searched her for it.
How dare she!
The fact that she was stuck in a dark room, couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, and was only wearing scant underclothes made it all the more frustrating. Dana wanted to call out for somebody to turn on a light, but she was terrified that someone would actually do it—someone like Ryke, or worse, Korren.
She didn’t want to see him again, not ever, and especially not in her skivvies and tie-top alone and helpless.
Wait a minute. I’m a druid. I can see in the dark.
Dana took a deep breath and cleared her head to search for animals with better night vision.
Where are you?
Dana reached out with her spirit, touching the walls of the cavern and especially the roof, but found no help in the form of blackwings.
What kind of a cave has no nocturnal animals?
Or maybe they’ve all gone out because it’s the middle of the night.
Dana tried for a cave shrew and similarly came up with nothing. With panic again rising within her, clenching at her throat and squeezing her breath, Dana realized that for the first time in her life, she couldn’t feel a single living creature, not even an insect.
What did they do to me?
It couldn’t have been the water from the pool. Everyone knew blood-sworn adepts were more powerful than drale adepts.
There was another possibility, one that scared her to her core.
She was blood-sworn now, part of the collective. If somebody else was using the bloodstone, then her will was at the beck and call of whoever wielded the bloodstone.
But her will wasn’t gone. She knew what that felt like. It was a pitiful sense of incapability and no desire to do anything.
Right now, she wanted to find the stone more than anything, even more than finding her clothes.
She had to find the stone.
“Hello?” she called softly. “Is anyone there?”
Great. Probably put me in a prison.
No. Prisons were guarded. There had to be another explanation.
I was injured. I am probably in the infirmary.
“Kaia? . . . Ryke?”
The flap of a leather curtain was followed by a hushed voice. “Keep quiet. I brought the antidote.”
Dana froze. The voice speaking to her was oddly similar to her own.
“Cousin?”
“Second cousin,” Mirris said. “Now shut up.”
“Light a glow candle, would you?” Dana begged. “I can’t see anything, and I’m stuck here in my underclothes.”
“There are already two glow candles on in the room, Dana. You can’t see because you’re blind. It’s a side effect from the angel’s kiss they’ve been giving you.”
The hush in her voice told Dana that Mirris wasn’t supposed to be there.
“I’m going to put something on your cut. It will hurt . . . a lot. But you must not scream. This is the only way to get your abilities back quickly.”
“What did they do to me?” Dana whispered.
“Alchemy and adept abilities don’t mix well. It’s the same with getting drunk—you lose your will entirely. Angel’s kiss is particularly potent. It takes away all pain. I think something about pain makes us Xahnan. Without it, we can’t connect to the spiritual plane. We can’t reach through the veil. With as many doses as they’ve given you, it could take a week to get it all out of your system—hence the antidote.”
“And the antidote makes me feel pain?” Dana said.
“As much as possible.”
“That is the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”
“You can’t risk being powerless. Not now.” A hand reached out and touched her hair. “Hold very still.”
“Hold on. How long have I been out?”
“Two days.”
“What?”
“Korren has been keeping you asleep by pouring angel’s kiss on your wound every few hours.”
A nauseating mix of fever and chill passed over Dana. “Then why am I awake?”
“I emptied his bottle and replaced it with water. Korren doesn’t know he’s used water on you for the last dose, but he will if he finds you awake. You woke a few minutes before the next dose is due.”
“Which means . . .”
“I don’t have much time to pour this viper’s embrace on your wound. Now, when Korren comes, just stay quiet and pretend to be asleep while he puts more water on your wound. As soon as they’re gone you can sneak out.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“The civic guard is rounding up all of the rest of the acolytes and kazen. I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like it.”
Mirris never trusted anyone, but this time Dana agreed. It sounded like somebody wanted to do something without any interference from those most loyal to the city and its bloodstone.
Korren. He’s going to take the stone and become the ka.
“Wait.” Dana gripped Mirris’s arm. “Can you make them think they’ve got everyone, when someone is missing?”
Mirris sighed. “It’s going to take a lot of will. I don’t know how long I can keep that up. Eventually they’ll realize not everyone is there.”
“Make it Ryke.”
Mirris hesitated. “Alright. I’ll tell him to meet you at the mouth of the falls.”
“But I still can’t see,” Dana said.
“You will . . . I hope. For now, find an animal to guide you.”
“But—”
“I’m sorry, Dana.” A drop of liquid touched Dana’s forehead. It felt like the liquid had lit her skin on fire. A moment later her face fell into a blazing furnace. The muscles of her face and neck seemed to peel away as though flayed by a thousand flesh-tearing hooks. Spears stabbed through her chest, shredding every muscle and organ.
Dana couldn’t even draw a breath to scream.
Tears welled in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Dana. Just keep quiet. I have to go. I shouldn’t be here. Korren is coming soon. Just stay quiet. Please. Then get out while you can.”
Dana felt herself being laid back on the fur rug as hammers crushed her bones.
She wanted to strike out at Mirris. But her retreating footsteps faded into the roaring in Dana’s ears, leaving her in tortured silence, depriving her of the one comfort of company.
In a few moments, the pain grew quickly to such an unbearable extent, one desire eclipsed all others.
Please, let me die.
Dana wanted to utterly cease existing. Now.
Her chest moved in a breath halted by pain, denying Dana’s searing body even a lungful of cool air.
The pain she felt was far beyond tears. Dana only wanted to cease being. If she had a knife in her hand, she would have put it through her heart to end the worlds of pain that coursed through her.
Worlds!
Dana could feel them, somehow.
Beyond Xahna, there were others. The presence of worlds beyond her own passed through her like wind through a veil. Rhythms of vibrant beings coursed through them, whispers of emotion.
Entire worlds filled with life . . . and some with pain that echoed hers.
There was a meaning to the pain, a purpose grander than anything she could have ever imagined.
It was real. And all beyond her reach, like the surface of the water to a drowning victim. Yet, there was meaning to it all, a glorious beauty that transformed pain into passion, passion into creation, and creation into . . .
Dana reached out desperately, searching through the pain for that something. It was the truth she needed.
There was meaning, beautiful, radiant, transcendent—a great pool that would fill her beyond capacity if she could but reach it.
But it was all she could do to
catch a glimpse of it before the pain overwhelmed her. It pressed Dana from inside and out. Dana could no longer fight the suffering. Exhausted by the pain that grew in waves, beyond anything she could have ever imagined, Dana sank toward the screams.
Save me. Please.
Muffled voices sounded in Dana’s ears.
Help!
The voices grew louder, and Dana somehow remembered Mirris’s warning.
Quiet.
The next wave of pain broke over Dana’s body like a bladed scythe cutting right through her, tearing her apart.
She felt a single drop of cool liquid on her forehead. The mere touch of it exploded into a detonation of pain that ripped through her head like a boulder had landed on it. The viper’s embrace amplified every sensation with pain.
“That’s enough,” said a woman’s voice.
Another cool drop landed on her forehead, this one turning to stone, choking every microscopic vein with a million tourniquets.
“She won’t recover if you keep this up. It is against our teachings.”
“She is a threat to all we value.” Dana recognized Korren’s voice.
“The citizen council will hear of this,” said the other woman kazen.
“No one will hear of this. We’ve already been summoned. In this state, she’s no risk.”
“As you wish, Korren.”
“The citizen council thinks we cannot keep the stone from Vetas-ka,” Korren said. “They’re going to vote on whether to destroy it.”
Destroy it! No. It took all Dana’s will to keep from gasping in shock.
“When?” the woman gasped. “They wouldn’t do it—would they?”
“I cannot decide for the council, although I will present our arguments at the public meeting. Some of them think destroying it is the only way to stop outside interference.”
“I . . . understand,” said the woman. “It is an extraordinary circumstance. But, should we not first seek aid from the Pantheon? The other ka of Aesica could defend us from Vetas-ka.”
“There is a price to pay for any aid,” Korren said simply.
What price? Dana wondered. What is he talking about?
“Unfortunately,” Korren said. “The rest of the acolytes and kazen will not be at the meeting. I alone will represent the sanctum. The council fears interference. The civic guard is taking all the kazen and acolytes to the barracks. You must go with them. And you will all receive angel’s kiss.”