Shadows of Neverland (Second Star Book 3)

by Josh Hayes

  John scanned the sky from his window and saw the skysnake making a wide arc around them. "Are you sure?"

  "I hit it."

  "You might want to tell it that."

  Ahead, two large spires created a kind of floating hundred-foot canyon, their sides like dark cliff faces, twenty feet apart. A wide rock bridge arched between two of the larger spires. The space between the spires was just barely wide enough for the skiff to navigate; once they entered the canyon, they wouldn't have many options. Then again, neither would the skysnake.

  "Michael, that archway ahead, can you target it?"

  "Yeah, why?"

  "Do it."

  John pushed the throttle forward and flew through the entrance to the canyon.

  "Wendy, is that thing following us?"

  "Yeah."

  "How far?"

  "Hundred feet, maybe less. It looks pissed."

  John adjusted their course slightly. "Michael?"

  "Ready."

  "It's almost on us!" Wendy shouted.

  "Now!"

  Michael cursed and thumbed the triggers. The skiff's cannons roared to life. The archway erupted into a cloud of dirt and rock.

  They shot under it a second later, small bits of rock and debris raining down around them. John banked left, flying up and away as the debris cloud expanded through the air behind them. He thought he caught the very end of the skysnake's tail disappearing into the falling rubble.

  "Do you see it?" John asked, easing off the throttle.

  Michael twisted around. "No, I—"

  Wendy's panicked shout cut him off. "John, look out!"

  The second skysnake appeared out of nowhere, shooting through the air directly toward them. John slammed the throttle forward and pulled hard on the controls, but even as he did, he knew it was too late. The snake was too close. Its gaping maw opened so wide that John could almost see the back of its throat.

  A blinding red light flashed across the sky, slicing through the skysnake's mottled hide. The snake's eyes rolled back and its head twisted away from its body, passing mere inches from the front of their skiff. John jerked the controls, rolling away from the snake's body.

  "What the hell was that?" Michael asked as they arched over the decapitated body of the skysnake, still writhing through the air.

  John brought the throttle back, slowing their flight. He scanned around them, replaying the event over in his mind, knowing what he'd seen and not quite believing it. "Call me crazy, but I think something just sliced that thing in half."

  Michael twisted to see out his window, watching as the severed head disappeared through the clouds. "Holy shit. What could do that?"

  John tweaked the controls, yawing to the left, scanning the sky around them. "Keep your eyes open, guys, I don't think—"

  He cut off as a long flat-topped craft appeared from behind one of the spires. It looked more like a boat than an aircraft. Four bulbous protrusions extended out from the underside, glowing green. Tendrils of energy streamed from the round pads. Two figures stood behind a large deck cannon mounted on the bow. A raised pilot house extended from amidships to the aft hull. Two additional gun emplacements were situated on either side of the pilot house, both manned and aimed in their direction.

  The skiff's instrument panel flickered and a male voice came through the comm system. "Identify yourselves."

  John and Michael exchanged intrigued looks, then John flipped on the comm. "This is John McNeal."

  "What is your business in the Wildlands?"

  Wendy appeared in the hatch and spoke before John could answer. "My name is Wendy, leader of the Lost Boys of Neverland. We're looking for the surviving members of the Redleen Clan. I'm looking for Lily."

  After several seconds of silence, John gave Wendy a worried look. He keyed off the comm and kept his voice low. "Probably not smart to let the cat out of the bag before we're sure who we're talking to."

  Wendy hissed at him through gritted teeth. "Who else could they be? Do you think they'd be talking to us if they were Hook's men? They'd have just let the skysnake eat us and be done with it."

  John turned back to the attack boat. He couldn't argue her logic, but it didn't make him feel any better about the situation. They were clearly outmatched and outgunned here, and he had the distinct notion that no amount of imaginative flying would save their asses this time.

  A moment later the voice came back over the com. "You will follow us. Deactivate your weapons systems and make no attempt to power them back up, or you will be fired upon. Do not attempt to deviate, or you will be fired upon. Do not attempt to make any transmissions, or you will be fired upon."

  The instrument panel flickered again and the channel closed. John arched an eyebrow at Wendy. "Cheery bunch, aren't they?"

  "What do you want to do?" Michael asked.

  "Not much we can do," Wendy told him. "Do what he says."

  John gave Michael a sidelong look and said, "Looks like we're going to get to see what's under the clouds after all."

  Chapter Twenty

  Now

  John followed Michael and Wendy out of the skiff, under the supervision of seven armed warriors. The lead Redleen stood, arms crossed, watching as his men disarmed and secured the new arrivals. The warriors were all dressed in a variation of the same earth tones: black segmented body armor, covering a camouflage pattern of black, brown and tan. Their armor was decorated with various patterns and graffiti. Some wore masks, faces covered with black screens; others wore goggles pushed up on their foreheads. Most were armed with long rifles; all had side arms holstered to their waists.

  "You have nothing to fear from us," Wendy said, then grunted as her guard pulled her bonds tighter.

  "No talking," the leader said. A silver orb floated just behind him, tiny lights blinking.

  John frowned at the sight of the small silver orb floating just above the leader's shoulders. He couldn't be sure, but it looked almost exactly like what he'd seen just before the Redleen patrol had killed the skysnakes.

  The three prisoners were escorted away from their skiff, to the corner of the large platform. The guard ordered them to their knees, then stepped away, keeping a safe distance.

  The platform jutted fifty feet from the cliff face and was half again as wide. The canyon they'd flown through to get here stretched away from them for miles, twisting and turning into the distance. It reminded John of the Grand Canyon back on Earth. Lights illuminated at least a hundred other smaller platforms along both sides of the canyon, some large enough to hold a craft the size of their skiff, some only large enough for one or two people.

  They watched as the Redleens unloaded their gear, going through every panel and compartment on the skiff. The leader and another warrior argued on the far end of the platform. John strained to listen, but couldn't make anything out.

  As if he'd read John's mind, Michael asked, "What do you think they're arguing about?"

  "Whether or not to toss us over the rail?" John said, nodding to the edge of the platform. The thick cloud cover above made it almost impossible to make out the bottom of the canyon.

  Wendy struggled against her restraints. "Damn it, we're wasting time. I didn't come all this way to be held captive."

  "I don't think we have much of a choice," John told her.

  "Hey," Wendy called to one of their guards. The Redleen turned, his expression unreadable behind his blacked-out mask. "I need to talk to Lily! Lilliana, she asked me to come here. She knows me."

  The guard held her gaze for a moment, then turned and walked over to the leader. The leader looked over at them, then nodded and motioned the guard away. The guard disappeared through the large archway at the back of the platform, into the mountain.

  "Huh," Michael said. "You think they're going to get her?"

  "Graft, I hope so," Wendy said.

  A loud bang echoed across the platform as one of the guards knocked something loose from the skiff. John watched helplessly as one of the fuel
tank couplings rolled across the platform.

  "Oh, come on," John called to them. "Be careful with that!"

  The guard ignored him, letting the coupling continue until it rolled into the rail at the end of the platform.

  "They're going to pull that skiff apart until there's nothing left," Michael said.

  John sighed, holding up his restrained wrists. "Doesn't appear as though we're going anywhere any time soon."

  They watched for another ten minutes as the Redleen soldiers took apart the skiff, piece by piece. They separated the food supplies and weapons into different piles and began inventorying them both. Two carts were brought in and filled with the supplies, then taken away into the mountain.

  "Looks like no more canned meat for us," John said as the second cart disappeared through the archway.

  "They can have it," Michael said.

  Wendy straightened as a tall Redleen walked onto the platform, the guard she'd talked to close in tow. A silver orb floated around the new arrival's shoulders. "Brycin!"

  The solider, dressed in the same camouflage uniform save the armor plating, ignored her, but the silver orb shot towards them, stopping several feet away. Small lights blinked on the surface of the orb and John got the distinct impression the orb was scanning them somehow.

  Wendy struggled to her feet as the two Redleens spoke in hushed tones.

  "Wendy, don't," Michael warned.

  "Brycin, you know me," Wendy said. "We've fought together. Where's Lily? We need to talk. Why are you doing this?"

  "I don't think he wants to talk to you," Michael said.

  "It's possible he doesn't remember you," John said.

  "No," Wendy said, shaking her head. "He remembers. He's just an asshole. Brycin, don't do this! We need your help. I need to talk to Lilliana."

  Brycin and the leader of the guards finished speaking, and the taller solider turned, silently considering the three prisoners. He stood there for several minutes, then finally motioned toward the archway. "Bring them."

  The Redleen guards ushered them off the platform, through the archway and into the mountain. They entered an expansive chamber that stretched away for hundreds of feet. Pillars of stone and earth stretched from the floor to the ceiling, thirty feet above. Illumination globes, floating through the air, added to the brilliant lights shining down from the ceiling.

  Groups of people stopped mid-conversation throughout the room, all turning to inspect the new arrivals. They weren't all soldiers, John noticed. In fact, most appeared to be civilian, or the closest approximations.

  "Look at that," John muttered as the moved through the chamber. "Here five minutes and already we're the talk of the town."

  "I always wanted to be famous," Michael replied.

  "Quiet," a guard said, giving Michael a shove.

  They entered a side passage and several minutes later reached another chamber. Stone columns lined both sides of the expansive circular space, leading to a raised dais that spanned the back of the room. Twenty men and woman, dressed in purple, red, and black robes, sat in high backed chairs, quietly watching as the trio were ushered to the center of the room.

  As they neared the dais, John noticed that most of the seated Redleens bore intricate tattoos on their faces. There was something else about them that John couldn't quite put his finger on, something about their faces.

  The guards stopped the prisoners in the center of the room, all but Brycin backing away to the edges of the space. A man seated in the center of the first row of onlookers stood and moved to the edge of the dais, putting his hands on the rail in front of him. His tattoo crossed his face from his left temple to just below his right ear. His graying hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail.

  They're old, John realized. He looked over the faces of the people sitting before him and realized they all appeared to be in their late fifties.

  "Brycin, what is the meaning of this?" the standing Redleen asked. "I hope you have good cause for convening the Council at this hour."

  Brycin stepped around the prisoners. "I apologize for the lateness of my request, Chief Elder. We caught these invaders coming through the Wildlands. They made it to the Forest before we were able to detain them."

  Several of the Elders leaned close to each other, whispering. The Chief Elder waved them silent. "The Forest, you say?"

  Brycin nodded.

  A woman seated at the end of the front row leaned forward. "And why did you bring them here? Why are they still alive?"

  "Yes," another said. "This is a strict breach of protocol."

  "They could lead Hook's forces straight to us," a third said.

  "Silence," the Chief Elder said. He looked at Brycin expectantly. "The Elders are correct in their concerns. Explain yourself, Brycin."

  "They were not followed," Brycin said. "And they have not made any transmissions of any kind since entering the Wildlands. Our security has not been breached."

  "How do you know they weren't followed?" the woman asked.

  Brycin's chin lifted ever so slightly. "They were not followed. They killed a serpa just before we took them into custody."

  "Impossible!" someone shouted.

  The woman held out an upturned hand toward Brycin and spoke to the Chief Elder. "Chief Elder, you cannot—"

  "Latrice, I said enough. Brycin is quite capable of making such an assessment." He eyed the travelers, considering them for a time. "It seems you're quite capable. Taking down a serpa is no small task, and without a hunting crew no less. You have come a long way. I will allow you to explain yourselves."

  Wendy tried to step forward, but a guard held her in place. She glared at him, then turned to the Redleen Chief. John hoped she'd show a little more tact in dealing with this man than she'd shown him when they'd first met. A right cross to the jaw probably wouldn't be as easily overlooked among this crowd.

  "My name is Wendy Darling. I'm the leader of the Lost Boys. My friends and I have made this journey to ask for your help. Neverland is in trouble. Hook's forces are slowly destroying this world. We have fought long and hard to keep his forces in check, but we are losing. We don't have the resources to keep fighting this war." She paused, looking over the faces of the Elders. "I was told once that if I ever needed help, I could come here and ask, and it would be given."

  The Chief Elder cocked his head to one side. "And, pray tell me, who advised you so?"

  "Wendy!" A voice echoed around the chamber.

  At the far end of the chamber, a young woman appeared, jogging toward them. Raven hair, tied in bright orange bands, bounced behind her. She wore a form-fitting dark shirt with cutoff sleeves, and pants bearing the same camouflage pattern as their guards. Well-worn combat boots pounded against the stone floor.

  Wendy's eyes lit up at the sight of the Redleen woman, and John knew at once who she was. Wendy tried to take a step toward her, but her guard held her in place.

  "Let her go, Tulls," Lily said as she reached the group.

  The guard shot Brycin a confused look, who with considerable effort, nodded. Wendy pulled free and wrapped her arms around the Redleen woman.

  "What are you doing here?" Lily asked, stepping back. "Michael, is that you?"

  "Lily," Michael said, grinning. "Good to see you again."

  She arched an eyebrow at John. "I don't think I know you."

  "I get that a lot," John said, extending his hand. "John McNeal."

  Lily ignored the hand, glancing at Wendy. "What are you doing out here? Where are Bella and the twins?"

  Wendy chewed on her lip for a moment. "They… couldn't make it. A lot has happened since you left. You said you'd come back, what happened?"

  "After what happened with Rendlee, the Elders refused to allow anyone to leave." Lily eyed the twenty men and women on the raised dais.

  "Lilliana, do you know these outsiders?" the Chief Elder asked.

  Lily put her hands on her hips, glaring at the Chief. "You know I do. Or have you forgotten the many nights we
've spent discussing the events of my last trip to the city? No, you are well aware of who these people are and what they mean to me. You all are."

  Several inaudible murmurs trickled through the seated members of the Council. The Chief Elder held up a hand. "The fact that I may or may not know who they are doesn't explain what they are doing here."

  Wendy stepped forward before Lily could respond. "We're here because we need help. How many times do I have to say it? We can't win this war alone. We need your help. Neverland needs your help."

  "War…" the Chief Elder said, straightening. "We are at war with no one."

  Wendy stuttered, obviously flustered. "You can't be serious."

  The Chief Elder turned to Lily. "Lilliana, I put her ignorance squarely on your shoulders, girl. Who is this that enters our sacred lands and disrespects this Great Council?"

  "You know full well who she is, who they are," Lily said. "They are the ones who did not bow to the tyranny of Captain Black. Who stood up to the desolation caused by Hook. They are the ones who have fought and died, trying to save this world. Our world. They are the reason we," she looked at Brycin, "are alive."

  Brycin straightened and turned to the raised dais. "Chief Elder, I must protest—"

  "Enough!" The Chief waved a hand through the air. "Lilliana, you have spoken your peace, but it is not proper to address the Council in this manner. Protocol—"

  "Protocol! The Council's protocol is nothing more than an excuse for your inaction. You have all turned a blind eye to what is actually happening to our world. Every day people are fighting and dying trying to save Nevaris, while you all sit up there, negligent and oblivious."

  "Watch your tone, girl."

  "My tone? We call ourselves the Warriors of Neverland, but what battles have we fought? We decry the evil brought upon this world, but are content to watch it die. We are content to call ourselves brave, yet cower in the face of true redemption."

  "You forget your place, girl!" the Chief Elder bellowed.

  "No," Lily told him, her voice steady and determined. "You have forgotten yours. You all have. You all, we all, have cowered behind these walls for far too long, content to let others fight for us. A battle that by rights is ours alone to fight."