by Raine Thomas
The proposition interested Ty. He couldn’t deny it. Hearing such fervent words from someone barely out of his adolescence troubled him, but he couldn’t afford to let sentiment interfere with his plans.
“I’d appreciate any help you can offer me,” he said at last.
“All right. I remember the way well enough. I’ll sketch you a map. We can figure out a good way to get you out from under Barto’s thumb.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s not just for you, mate. It’s for…well, it’s for all of us.”
Ty heard a depth of sadness in the youth’s voice. “Who did they make you kill?” he asked.
Reider fidgeted. “That isn’t something folks around here ask each other.”
“I apologize.”
Shrugging, Reider said, “I guess it’s not that big a deal anymore. It was my little sister, Hena.”
Ty shook his head. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Reider. It was that he didn’t want to believe him. What had come of Alametria? What would come of it now?
“Well, I’ll do what I can to avenge Hena,” he promised Reider.
“Thank you. You’d better go before Barto sniffs around and finds you in here. I’ll sneak back out later with the map.”
Nodding, Ty got to his feet. He was reaching for the door when Reider asked, “Hey…who did they make you kill?”
The question told Ty that Reider had no idea who he was. It also served to open up all of his deepest wounds. No wonder this question wasn’t asked out here in the Dark Lands.
Still, Reider had given him an answer. He should show him the same respect. Turning, he looked at the youth and gave the only answer he could.
“I killed the better part of my soul.”
Chapter 31
Although the substance Gren gave her helped Kyr’s mind begin to settle, she still felt as though she’d been run over by a train. He stayed with her on the bed as she rested. Under Vycor’s orders, Sem was overseeing security at the meeting with the Vawn. Gren was receiving thoughts from him as the meeting went on. Kyr was still too weak to connect with Sem from this distance, so she listened as Gren sent her updates.
Seems your efforts have paid off, Gren said with a small smile. Vycor is getting more and more riled as the meeting continues.
Is he speaking at all?
No. As a Dane, he’s not permitted. But the Guardians have been consulting with him as they state their case to be named authorities. As to that, they don’t seem too happy, either.
You don’t say?
Gren’s smile widened. So far, the majority of the Vawn have decided that they should wait before naming a replacement for you. Sem says that even a few of the Vawn that you didn’t influence are leaning in that direction.
I’ll bet they’ll change their tune, Kyr mused darkly. Vycor will get to them.
Well, he won’t get the majority vote he needs. So that’s a victory for us.
They were quiet for a while. She dozed. When she blinked back to awareness, she felt a little stronger.
Sem said he can sense Vycor attempting to influence the Vawn, Gren told her. You were right.
Bet he’s super happy about the ones he can’t.
He’s elated. Sem said Vycor definitely suspects something is going on, but he doesn’t know what.
Kyr’s eyelids drooped again. She wasn’t sure how long she slept, but when she awoke, she felt strong enough to connect with Sem.
How’s it going? she asked.
Better now that you’re back in my head, Ma’jah, he responded, always the flirt.
Ha, ha.
The meeting is wrapping up, Sem shared. Nothing was decided. Vycor advised everyone to get a night of rest and they’ll revisit the topic again tomorrow.
You know that he’s going to try and do something to sway things in the Guardians’ favor, Kyr returned.
She felt Sem and Gren both silently agreeing with her. Frustrated, she pushed herself into a sitting position. Gren reached over to help her get more comfortable.
Sem, you have to follow Vycor. We need to find out what he’s planning. I thought that once the meeting concluded with the majority voting to wait that it would buy us enough time until I could rescue Ty and bring him back. I didn’t consider the fact that Vycor hates to lose.
Sem didn’t respond. She felt that Vycor was attempting to use his influence on him.
Concentrating, Kyr listened in on the commands. She and Sem both picked up that Vycor wanted Sem to follow a few of the Vawn to their chambers to spy on them with his eyes and mind. He hoped Sem would find some reason for what happened at the meeting.
Sem didn’t want Vycor to know his hold on his mind had been broken, so he agreed to the task without hesitation. He followed the Vawn council members that Vycor had ordered him to spy on until Vycor was out of sight. Then he ditched the Vawn and hurried after Vycor instead.
He’s going into his chambers, Sem conveyed after a few minutes. I don’t think we’ll find out anything useful while he’s in there.
Who’s to say? Kyr countered. He’s seriously pissed off right now. There’s no way he isn’t already formulating his plans.
You could use the rear entrance to his chambers, Gren said. Sneak into his closet, see if you can find out anything.
Yeah, yeah, Sem thought dryly. Always the fun assignments for ol’ SemDane.
Kyr couldn’t help but smile. She knew he was secretly thrilled to be doing something productive in their joint quest to clear Ty’s name. She decided to let that thought stay between them, figuring it would embarrass him that she knew.
Much like the secret entrance to her chambers, the rear door to Vycor’s was located along a private corridor. Unlike hers, the door was secreted down a long passageway. The passageway itself wasn’t hidden or secret, but it was locked because there were no guards posted there. Fortunately, as the head of security, Sem had the key.
Ironic, he thought as he entered the passageway.
Kyr silently agreed as she mentally followed her friend’s progress. Just as he got within sight of the door itself, Sem heard another set of footsteps in the dimly lit passage.
Shit, he thought.
They all held their breath as he threw himself into a tight corner near the door. With luck, the person would mistake him for a shadow. Sem stayed as still as possible until the other person came into sight.
Shaya.
Kyr’s nostrils flared. So this was how the Guardian was meeting with the Advisor without it being public knowledge.
Get in there, Kyr thought as Shaya opened the door and hurried inside.
Sem moved quickly, managing to slide across the threshold before the door closed behind Shaya. He ended up in Vycor’s closet.
Should make it easier for spying, Sem commented to himself as he edged away from the door.
Kyr stilled. Spying from the closet…could that be how Vycor knew what she and Ty were doing the night they were discovered?
The thought made her want to vomit, so she shoved it away.
Sem was able to position himself at a spot in the closet where he could see Vycor’s receiving area through a crack in the door. Shaya was standing while Vycor paced.
“I expect you’ll explain what just happened,” Shaya said in clipped tones.
“I have no idea what just happened, Shaya,” Vycor snarled. “I had everything under control last night. I made all the arrangements, just like we discussed. Somehow—and I will find out how—those Vawn are now beyond my influence. My abilities didn’t do a goddamn thing.”
Shaya frowned. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know.” He stopped pacing and stood in front of her. “Shaya, believe me. I tried everything in there. I’m not going to be able to influence them.”
“Bah,” she said, waving that off. “We should be able to sway them with words and emotion. Your abilities were meant to be a backup plan.”
“That’s another problem. The thought patterns of ma
ny of them…well, I suspect that they are under the influence of another. If that’s true, you’ll never sway them to your side.”
Shaya inhaled sharply. “Who could possibly do that? Counteract your influence? Wouldn’t that take a tremendous amount of power?”
“Yes. No one in the palace is that strong.”
“SemDane?”
“No, and he’s still under my influence. I have him and several of my best Mynders shadowing the council even now in hopes of getting some answers.”
“GrenDane?”
Vycor hesitated. “I’ve never read his abilities as being strong enough to do something like this.”
“But his loyalty is certainly not to us. We should have him interrogated.”
Kyr met Gren’s gaze. He didn’t appear concerned. She opted not to allow it to concern her, either. They both knew she’d never let that happen.
“Shaya, you have to give me more abilities,” Vycor insisted. “It would allow me to counteract whatever was done. It would be useless to have GrenDane or anyone else questioned if he’s strong enough to do these things. The Inquisitors would never get through his shields.”
Now, Shaya started pacing. “How do I know this isn’t some ploy of yours, Vycor? You could be lying about not being able to use your influence on the council in an attempt to get me to share these abilities with you.”
Vycor looked injured. “How could you think that? After all we’ve shared over the years, this is what you think of me?”
Seeing his expression, Shaya sighed. “This has been a very frustrating day. You said that you have Mynders attempting to get answers from the council?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. I want to find out what they uncover first. If we have no further answers before tomorrow’s meeting, I’ll give you the power you need to break whatever hold you believe is on their minds.”
Kyr gasped. Gren squeezed her hand as Sem silently cursed. They all knew that Vycor receiving Ty’s abilities would be disastrous.
You know what I have to do, right? she thought to Gren.
Yeah. You have to get Ty’s abilities from Shaya before she can give them to Vycor…and you have to do it soon.
Chapter 32
Ty looked around the palace gardens. The breeze carried hints of blooming flowers as it danced over his skin. It whispered and soothed.
His gaze moved to Kyr. She stood in a shimmering purple gown, overlooking the palace below. She loved observing the people as they came and went, knowing that she would never have the freedom to do so herself.
She was so beautiful. He could stare at her all day and not tire of it. In fact, there had been quite a few days like this where he had done just that.
He reached out, longing to touch her soft, sweetly-scented hair. Somehow, she eluded him. No matter how close he moved to her, she remained just out of reach.
“Kyr,” he said, “I miss you so much.”
He frowned. Why did he say that? She was right there.
She turned to look at him. The power of her star-blue gaze made his heart surge into a gallop. He had to touch her. He tried again, walking over to her. But she was still just far enough away that he couldn’t reach her.
“Kyr, please let me touch you. Please.”
Her expression never changed. She didn’t smile or say a word. His heart now felt uncomfortable in his chest.
“Why won’t you let me touch you?” he asked her. “I love you.”
“You don’t love me. You killed me.”
The words drove into his chest, making him stumble backwards.
Making him remember.
“No,” he choked out. “No, Kyr. It wasn’t me. They made me do it.”
“That isn’t the way I remember it…the way I saw it as I died.”
His throat ached. He couldn’t speak. She stared at him without emotion.
Without love.
“You should have known what Vycor would do when you relinquished your power,” she said tonelessly. “We should have stood together. Instead, we’ll never be together again.”
Anguish ripped through him. She was right. He had played right into Vycor’s hands.
I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough to protect you, Kyr, he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come.
“It’s too late for apologies,” she said.
Then she was right in front of him. His hands were around her throat.
“No!” he cried, just as he had done before.
And just like before, it did no good.
He squeezed her delicate neck while she held his gaze. Her body started decaying beneath his fingers, flesh decomposing and features distorting until all he held was a grotesque corpse.
“This is how you’ll remember me now,” she said.
Ty shuddered awake. He sat up, struggling to breathe. His thundering heart raged in his chest. Ventilated air touched his clammy face, making him reach up with trembling hands to brush away the moisture he felt there.
A sound had him glancing over towards the food preparation area. Hope stood there, a pan in one hand and a cooking tool in the other. Her expression told him that he’d probably cried out in his sleep.
He hated the pitying look he saw on her face, so he turned his focus to the floor. He took several deep breaths to try and get himself back under control.
But breathing wasn’t going to erase the dream from his mind. It wasn’t going to ease this crippling sense of desolation and self-loathing. It wasn’t going to make him feel any less bereft and alone.
“Do ya want ta talk about it?” Hope asked from a couple of feet away.
He shook his head.
“It’s goin’ ta be—” she began, reaching out and gently touching his shoulder.
He surged to his feet, backing away from her. “Don’t.”
She stepped back with a stricken expression. He knew he had hurt her feelings, but he couldn’t stand her sympathy. It was too much. It would break him.
Who was he kidding? He was beyond broken.
He was shattered.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
Not looking at her, he grabbed the laundered clothes she had placed over one of the chairs. He headed down the hallway where the wash stall was located and entered the small water closet he’d found beside it the night before. It held a rather noxious excrement tank and tiny wash basin. He made quick use of the facilities and put his clothes on.
By the time he was done and his face and hands had been scrubbed, he felt better enough that he headed out to apologize to Hope. She was setting the table as an indistinguishable form of hash cooked in the pan over a chemical heat canister. He was glad that no one else was yet in the room.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said, stopping far enough from her that she wouldn’t be tempted to try and touch him again. “It wasn’t personal.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She gave him a small smile as she turned back to the pan. “I understand.”
He felt like he should say something else, but he really didn’t have it in him. Fortunately, noise from both hallways signaled the arrival of the rest of the group. Although he supposed it made him a coward, he gratefully sat in a chair and let everyone else control the conversation.
“Oughtta be a fine day with all of us sharin’ the load,” Barto said as Hope scooped some of the hash onto his plate.
“Where’re ya thinkin’ we’ll start today, Barto?” Orran asked.
“I figured we’d head out to the ol’ mill.”
Reider paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “But that sector is always crawling with Marauders.”
“That’s right,” Barto stridently agreed. “Which means there ain’t any other Harvesters frequentin’ the area.”
“What happened ta yer balls, boy?” Orran asked.
Ty noticed the sickly-looking male’s gaze latch onto Hope’s chest as she poured some pink liquid into his cup. Orran licked his lips, though it was clearly not in anticipation of the
food. He reached out and slid his hand inside the top of Hope’s dress before she could pull away.
“Orran!” she gasped. She swatted his hand sharply, making him pull it back.
“What?” he said, reaching out and grabbing her around the waist before she could move away. “Ya know ya like it. Let’s have ourselves a little fun before work, eh?”
Hope shoved against him. “No, Orran. Stop!”
“C’mon,” he pressed, trying to drag her closer for a kiss. “Think ya could take on all four of us at once?”
“I said no!”
She brought up the pitcher and dumped its contents on his head. He released her, issuing a string of searing curses. Barto let out a bellow of complaint as some of the liquid splashed onto him.
“Ya’ll pay for that, ya stupid—” Orran sputtered.
The sound of Ty’s chair scraping across the floor cut him off. Everyone turned to look at Ty as he got to his feet. Hope hurried over to the food prep area and set the pitcher down. A soft sob reached him.
“What?” Orran muttered when Ty just looked at him. “She was askin’ for it.”
Ty didn’t say anything. He just continued to stand and stare at Orran. His hands were bunched into fists at his sides. Barto was uncharacteristically silent, gaping over the proceedings with a loose jaw. Reider had lifted his plate from the sopping table and was holding it close to his mouth so he could eat and watch.
“Stop starin’ at me with those damn freakish eyes,” Orran demanded. “Ya ain’t scarin’ me.”
Ty took one step in his direction.
“All right!” Orran shrieked, throwing up his hands. “Shit. Shit! Sorry, okay? Sorry. Can’t a guy want a piece without his life bein’ threatened?”
“Not if she says no,” Ty answered.
“Fine. Damn it.”
When Ty continued to stand, Orran broke down and met his gaze. Ty lifted a chin in Hope’s direction. She had collected herself and now stood looking warily between the two men.
Sighing, Orran said, “Sorry, Hope.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. Her gaze was on Ty.
As he sat back down, Hope approached with a drying cloth and began mopping up the spilled juice. The rest of the meal passed without incident. After they were done, they all donned their gear. Barto ordered Hope to stay behind since they’d be entering Marauder territory.