Space Bound: A Dragon Soul Press Anthology

by J. E. Feldman

  “Only the best for my newest recruit,” the man said.

  Maygist’s eyes snapped up at the man, “Recruit? What the hell do you mean by recruit?”

  The lean face smiled, a ghastly visage that reminded Maygist of a skull. “It’s time I introduced myself. I am Merrick Wassam, head of intelligence division. One of our offshoot programs is the placement of resources within the ranks of the bounty hunter corps.”

  “The Dogs?”

  Wassam nodded. “Yes, you would call them Dogs. Well, I would like you and Miss Sandlocke to join these so-called Dogs and operate a little outside the law for me. I know that shouldn’t be overly difficult for either of you.”

  “Why would we do that?”

  “Two reasons. One: you have no choice. If you refuse, I remove all of your cybernetic parts and deposit you back on that desolate planet that I found you on. Two: I thought you’d like the chance to seek revenge against the man who brought us together.”

  “Brand,” Maygist spat.

  “Yes. The infamous Dallas Brand. A thorn in the side of the Empire. One that needs to be removed.” Wassam tapped an icon on his wrist computer. “Maybe that will help sway your decision.”

  Staring at Wassam for a moment, Maygist noticed a familiar sight in the corner of his eyesight. He closed his eyes and found his implants were working again. Streams of data flowed past his sight. He searched his cerebral storage and realized he had retained all of the data he’d found on Arrantic Prime.

  “Yes. You have all of Brand’s history available to you, plus the advantage of Miss Sandlocke’s knowledge as well.”

  Opening his eyes once more, Maygist asked, “What’s in it for me if I succeed?”

  “You and Miss Sandlocke will be pardoned of all crimes, and awarded ten million credits each.”

  Maygist’s eyes grew wide at the sum. A grin grew across his face. “Alright then, I’m in.”

  Janina Franck

  Growing up in the Black Forest in Germany as a hopeless dreamer with an overactive imagination, Janina Franck began writing at a young age to give a voice to the stories living inside her head.

  As a teenager, she moved to the emerald isle of legends and myths, Ireland, where she completed her basic education, and went on to study Modern Languages and Multimedia.

  While her surroundings changed, her desire to create stories did not, which she now pursues across various types of media, while traveling and reading voraciously to quench her thirst for new impressions and adventures, both imaginary and real.

  Learn more at Facebook.com/JaninaFranck

  The Wizard’s Bride

  Janina Franck

  If there was one thing I knew on my wedding day, it was that I would not, under any circumstances, marry that brute of an excuse for a man Tykon. Not since he’d shown me his true face. Not since he…

  I shuddered at the memory of his large, clumsy, dirty hands pressing on my neck and involuntarily moved my hand. My breath sped up just thinking of that moment when he’d claimed me. My fingers found the cool necklace that felt more like a collar and brought me back to the present.

  I glared through the mirror at the white gown I had been forced into, as though it would change anything about my situation. My reflection looked miserable. Miserable, but beautiful, I had to admit to myself; despite the clenched fists, the thin line my lips had formed, and the hatred and fire in my eyes. Only a sword was missing to make me look like an ancient goddess of war.

  But looking at the dress--the fine, delicate fabric with pearls sewn carefully into it with a mother’s love--I felt my temper calm.

  There had to be another way. Another way to look after Fywin than marrying a man I hated. I could earn money, somehow. There weren’t many professions I was allowed to do, but I was sure I could do something… A wet nurse, maybe, or a seamstress…

  I almost laughed at myself for the thought. My mother never had the chance to teach me her craft, and I was too clumsy to learn on my own.

  I’d gone through these thoughts a million times over, but I still came out with the same conclusion. I had to marry, so my husband would help me take care of Fywin.

  I hated it.

  “You don’t have to do this, Byanka,” my brother’s voice rang out from behind me. My shoulders sagged a little. He sounded so earnest. Like he could hear my thoughts or feel my emotions. I turned and gave him my brightest fake smile.

  “Fywin,” I cooed. “Don’t be silly. This will be good for us. We’ll have a family again, with Tykon.”

  I couldn’t help hesitating for an instance before I said my husband-to-be’s name. Fywin glanced at my neck, but I had covered up the bruise well.

  Determined to cheer him up, I took two strides to his side, and tousled his blond hair. “Stop looking so glum,” I laughed.

  He looked up at me, wrapping his small arms around my waist. “You don’t have to do this,” he repeated. “I can get a job. I can look after us.”

  Smiling at his eagerness to protect me, I knelt down to his level, and gave him a kind, stern look. He’d always been so sweet. So caring. “You’re far too young.”

  He started to protest, but I shook my head.

  “As your big sister, it’s my responsibility to look after you, and this is the only way I can do it.”

  Tears flowed to his eyes, and he looked down with fists clenched, mouth a thin line—a mirror image of myself only five minutes ago. Seeing him hold back his worry, his anger, and his sadness made my eyes sting too, and I leaned forward to embrace him.

  If I’d been alone, I’d have called off the wedding in a heartbeat, run away to some distant place, and tried to start a new life for myself. But with Fywin along, as young as he was—only ten-years-old—I didn’t dare. It was too dangerous. The eight years between us meant that I was the one who needed to take on the role of a responsible adult now.

  I loosened our hug and held him at arms’ length.

  “Don’t worry,” I said brightly, but my words ebbed away at that point. I couldn’t think of anything more hopeful to tell him. He nodded and I turned him to the door. “Now go on. Wait for me inside,” I said as I pushed him gently.

  He nodded again. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he said to me from the doorway.

  “Hush,” I giggled, and he flashed me a grin before leaving.

  I turned back to the mirror. The anger had fled from my eyes. Seeing Fywin, reminding myself once again that I was doing this all for him, had taken the fight out of me. I didn’t have a choice. Not anymore.

  I sighed, trying to let out all my worry and despair out with the breath.

  “It won’t be that bad, I promise.”

  Tykon’s voice made me whirl around and I involuntarily took a step back. Leaning casually in the doorway, he watched me critically, eyeing me from head to toe, lingering far too long on my neck and waist. A few months ago, I would have thought he looked dapper in his black suit and white shirt, but now the sight filled me with dread.

  “If you behave like a good little wife, that is,” he added, smiling terribly.

  The thinly veiled threat made me shiver, and I dropped my gaze.

  “As long as you promise to look after Fywin, I will,” I promised.

  “About that…” He chuckled and trailed off.

  I looked at him sharply, even taking a step toward him. “That was the deal,” I reminded him, my voice cold and firm. “I’m marrying you, so you’ll look after my family.”

  He barely reacted. The only indication that he had heard my words was a small, almost imperceptible shrug.

  “Let’s have a chat after the ceremony,” he said and left, before I could argue further.

  Fear seeped back into my skin, burrowing its way to my veins. Tykon was going back on his word. And once we were married, there was not a thing I could do about it.

  The church was silent when I entered, accompanied by two of Tykon’s sisters. They were to either side of me, officially acting as my bridesma
ids, but I had a feeling their brother had given them additional instructions. I noticed that they stayed close to me, close enough to grab my arm, to hold me down, to… stop me from running away.

  I let my gaze wander through the hall as I slowly glided forward. Faces of people I had known my whole life were watching me—neighbors, fellow farmers, and people I only ever saw in church. I didn’t dare look at Tykon, waiting for me at the end of the aisle. I didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to think about it. Instead, I looked out for Fywin. I needed to see his face to remind myself why I was doing this.

  I expected him to be either in the last few rows, or in the first few. I didn’t spot him in the back. I scanned the turned heads ahead of me, but I couldn’t see my brother among them. My step quickened, hurrying to see Fywin, to be assured that he was fine. I made it to the front, almost jumped the few steps up next to Tykon, and turned, to have an overview over the entire church. My chest was heaving quickly, heavily, and my eyes darted from face to face, scanning every bench, glossing over Tykon’s sisters tripping over their skirts trying to hurry to my side. I didn’t even recognize anyone anymore. All I could tell was that none of them were Fywin.

  The priest cleared his throat, and I whirled around to Tykon.

  “Where is he?” I shouted. I didn’t care that the entire village was watching.

  “Who?” he asked with feigned innocence.

  My blood boiled inside of me and all my fear evaporated. “Where is my brother?”

  Tykon raised an eyebrow. “He’s not here? I guess he doesn’t care about his sister’s happiness.”

  It was a throwaway line, but it only served to enrage me further.

  “What did you do to him?” I hissed.

  The priest stepped in, once again clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Byanka,” he said, “why don’t we continue with the ceremony, and you two can settle things once you are husband and wife?”

  I shot him a glare with enough infused anger to make him stumble back. “The ceremony is off,” I said quietly, but sternly. I stood up straighter, an ice-cold expression plastered on my face and glanced at Tykon. “I could never marry a monster like you.”

  Surprise flashed across his eyes, quickly followed by anger. He growled and stepped forward as his sisters came to either side of me and clasped my arms to keep me in place.

  I struggled, but their grip was tight. A flutter of fear rose in my chest once again, but I forced my cool, determined expression to remain fixed on my face.

  Tykon leaned next to my face, his breath tickling my ear.

  “You will marry me,” he growled, quiet enough for only me to hear. He glanced at the priest, who nodded hurriedly and began reading a passage from the holy book.

  I tried to rip free again. How were the sisters so strong? Had they been training by hauling trees around?

  I shot a desperate glance into the crowd, praying that someone, anyone, would come to my rescue. But no one even attempted to move.

  Where was Fywin? He wouldn’t have left me alone here. He wouldn’t have run away. What was keeping him? If he could, he would be the one trying to rescue me right now.

  I screamed, letting out all my anguish.

  When my voice subsided, I suddenly became aware of the rumbling ground. An earthquake?

  The world shook as everything broke into chaos. The people in the benches scattered in all directions and finally, my arms were free again. Instead of seeking protection like everyone else, I lunged forward, my clenched fist swinging forward, ready to connect with Tykon’s jaw. He stumbled and I caught his nose instead. The impact caused a nasty crack, and blood distorted his angry expression. My fist throbbed with pain as I backed away from him. He dropped to his knees, an agonized screech emanating from him. I stared at my work with horror until he glanced up at me, hatred blooming in his eyes.

  I bolted.

  I ran through the chaos, as fast as the stupid dress would let me. I tripped over and over, the ground still shaking under my feet, but I managed to neither fall, nor lose my momentum. I raced out of the church and into the fields, but there, I stopped dead. A giant silver bird was lowering itself from the sky, spitting fire and blowing gusts of air strong enough to throw me to the floor, but its wings didn’t flap. Even though I saw the monster, and felt the fear it inspired, my attention was directed to a small figure lying in the grass just ahead of me. My heart skipped a beat.

  “Fywin!” I screamed, but the wind took the sound from my lips and carried it away. I screamed his name over and over, scrambling across the ground to his side. When I finally reached him and put my face close to his, I almost cried with relief. He was still breathing. There was a wound on his head, that likely was the reason he was unconscious, but I was simply overjoyed that he was still alive. Tykon hadn’t taken my brother from me.

  I held him tightly in my arms, trying to shield him from the beast that was descending next to us. A roar filled the air, a tremendous thundering sound. I squeezed my eyes shut. If it was going to devour us, Fywin and me, I didn’t want to watch it happen. At least we would perish together. And any death was better than ending up as Tykon’s wife.

  Finally, the world became still.

  The rumbling floor stopped moving and the noise subsided, leaving only a ringing in my ears. I was still holding onto Fywin, and he was still breathing. Slowly, carefully, I looked up. The silver creature had settled not too far from us, and now sat still as a rock. Was it awake? Watching and waiting for movement to attack?

  With any luck, it didn’t have a craving for flesh. Behind me, people were milling out of the church, stumbling, limping, but I had no attention left for them. My gaze was fixed on the hole that was opening in the creature, and out of the belly of the beast stepped two strangely clothed men.

  How had they survived? Were they the reason why the creature had screamed and was no longer moving now? Had they killed it from the inside? Awe and fear alike whirled around my head.

  They spotted us, and one of them came hurrying forward. As he came closer, I realized that he was actually a woman dressed like a man—only betrayed by the bulges of her chest. I couldn’t stop staring at her bright eyes and dark, short hair as she smiled gently and reached out a hand to me.

  “Ruk-shin thay-il?” she said.

  It sounded like a question, but in no language I had ever heard.

  The word was whispered by someone in the village as it echoed through my head as well.

  “Wizards!”

  Her hand was still there, ready to take mine. Did I dare? Could I really touch a person who had so much power?

  I took her hand and let her pull me to my feet, holding Fywin up against me with my other arm. I was lucky my brother had always been particularly small and scrawny.

  The female wizard’s fair-haired partner had made his way towards the other villagers who shrunk back from his scrutinizing gaze.

  “Ruk-shin thay-il?” the wizard holding my hand asked again.

  “Um…” I started. “Is that a spell?”

  She blushed and released my hand. Only now did I register how strange and foreign her clothing truly was. It appeared to be a padded black suit that covered from her neck down to her heavy black boots. There was a black stick of sorts wound around one of her ears. Frowning, she fumbled with it for a moment, before her expression brightened again.

  “How is that?” she asked.

  I tilted my head, using my second arm to hold Fywin better. “How is what?”

  “Oh, good, it worked,” she exclaimed cheerfully. “Are you alright?”

  I nodded. “But my brother…” I looked down at Fywin and bit my lip. I didn’t have money to pay for a doctor, and I lacked the medical knowledge to treat the injury myself. Nevermind if the wound became infected, or if Fywin didn’t wake up again.

  “Let me see,” the wizard said, and she stepped closer. Involuntarily, I backed away from her, clutching Fywin even tighter.

  She smiled disarmingly.
r />   “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt either of you,” she promised, and somehow, I believed her. Despite her obvious power, she held herself differently to someone like Tykon. There was also something in her eyes and voice that seemed earnest, intent to please, to be friends with everyone. She approached again, and this time, I allowed her to look at Fywin properly.

  She inspected the wound, careful not to touch it. Then she leaned in to listen to Fywin’s heartbeat and felt for his pulse by the neck. Eventually she nodded. “We’ll get him fixed up in no time.”

  Healing by magic?

  Instinctively, I clutched Fywin closer to my chest, turning him away from the wizard.

  Screaming and shouting made me turn to the villagers, though it took me a moment to comprehend what I was seeing. Tykon was on the ground, flailing wildly, the other wizard kneeling on his chest. He was holding something that gave off a buzzing sound to Tykon’s throat. Something that seemed to create small lightning. The other villagers all backed away, too afraid to either intervene, or to run away.

  The wizard was attacking Tykon and hurting him!

  Before I knew what I was doing, I was rushing across the meadow toward the other wizard.

  “Stop it!” I yelled. “You’re hurting him!”

  The wizard stopped long enough to glimpse at me. I used the chance to hand Fywin over to one of the other villagers, our neighbor Syanton.

  How dare these strangers arrive at our village and attack us? Tykon wasn’t exactly my favorite person, not by a long shot, but he was still one of my people, no matter how much I despised him.

  I glared at the fair-haired wizard as I approached. He watched me carefully, assessing me with a smirk at the edge of his lips.

  “Leave,” I ordered, calmly. “You’re not welcome here.”

  I stepped closer, and he finally rose from Tykon’s chest. I glanced down at Tykon. His chest was still moving, and he appeared to be conscious, albeit somewhat dazed. Whatever magic the wizard had worked, it hadn’t been intended to kill.