Kings of Euphoria (Euphoria Duology Book Two)

by Franc Ingram

  The pain of her recovering muscles was dulled by the ache in her heart. "I did everything you asked, expended every ounce I had on the tasks you gave me. Then the Heirs of Eternity got crowned without me. They're working to unite the realms without me. They don't need me. So, what do I do now?" Oleana yelled into the air. She pulled at the jagged pieces of her hair with her good hand, frustration building like a lump of broken glass in her chest. "Tell me, what do I do now?"

  According to the guys, The Twelve had been silent since they let her speak to Lorn before Cornelius iced her. She didn't really expect them to answer her rant now, but she had no one else to yell at so they would have to do.

  Without their manipulations, the part of Oleana that was human would have had a chance to live a normal life. She wouldn't have been embroiled in a centuries-old war against the unnatural hybrid Ultras. She may not have ever crossed paths with Cornelius, much less hadbeen tortured and killed by him. Now that she was little more than a damaged shell of her former self, Oleana had no intention of just letting them sit by without giving them a piece of her mind.

  "I know you're up there and I know…" Oleana tripped over her own feet and careened into a wall. She tried to brace herself but landed on her stump sending a white-hot pain up her arm. She fell forward, sliding to the floor in a messy heap. After a few shaky breaths, Oleana managed to unfurl herself enough to be propped up against the offending wall with her legs stretched out in front of her, her bruised arm clutched tightly to her chest. "I know you can hear me," she finished in a ragged whisper.

  Oleana laughed at her own ridiculousness. Some Guardian she turned out to be. She was an old fool with too many unfulfilled promises under her belt to be trusted. She was yelling at the wind for no reason. What if The Twelve answered her? What good would it do? She would still be without an arm, still be a drunk, and still be plagued by a mind-numbing fear that ate away at her insides.

  "Those sweet, misguided fools should have left me iced over," Oleana said. She let her chin drop to her chest, exhaustion and pain taking their toll. "At least then I could have died a hero, instead of living long enough to become this mess."

  Oleana felt something cold grip her mind and it pulled her free of her body. She felt the familiar rush of being everywhere and nowhere all at once. Then she was left swimming in the blue static that meant she was connected to The Twelve.

  "You are our best accomplishment, the four of you, because you have become more than even we could imagine," Three said, her voice cutting through Oleana's head like a hot knife.

  "If you're so proud," Oleana said, after choking down the contents of her stomach that were desperately trying to escape, "why the silent treatment? Why the abandonment? Why are you so very useless?"

  "We are dying," One said. "When we attempted to switch over control, wake the others and enter sleep ourselves, we realized we didn't have the power to do it. We chose to circle this planet so we could be recharged by solar energy as we were designed, but our cells are no longer holding the charge. We have well exceeded our expiration date. We knew this day would come, that's why we created the Ultras and then the Heirs. But it looks like we won't last long enough to see it through to the end."

  Oleana didn't know what to say. Chills crawled up her spine. She could deal with the reality of cold and strict taskmasters hanging over her head dishing out sparse orders whenever they felt like it. She didn't know if she could deal with a world without them at all.

  "You can't just leave us. What are we supposed to do without you? This is... I can't even... It's all a mess. Uugghhh!" Oleana screamed.

  "We will download all that we think you can handle. We trust that you will succeed. You have accomplished much already. Why don't you believe in yourself?"

  Oleana shook her head. Did they really not understand? All she wanted to do was drink herself into oblivion. She couldn't live this life anymore. She couldn't fight and they didn't need her to lead. There was nothing left for Oleana to do."

  "They still need you," Three said, reading her mind. "They aren't complete without you and it will take everything you all have to defeat Cornelius, Ivar, and Emmaray and undo what they have done to this world. I'm just sorry there is nothing we can do about your arm."

  Oleana nodded. She figured as much. It hurt to let go of that last bit of hope. She feared the download but if it could give her something that could make her relevant, she would take it. "Give it to me."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: LYSANDER

  Leaving the village in a scatter pattern didn't help keep the Elevated off their trail. Somehow Gaeth's elite warriors had managed to track them all day, forcing the group to stay on the move and randomly traversing Gaeth's varied terrain. They were heading in no particular direction, just away from a certain death by an angry enemy.

  They had found a place to hide for a few moments well after the sun dipped low on the horizon. Lysander discovered a plant similar to the island organism he'd communicated with earlier. Similar in that it was one large organism with many parts, but far less complicated, or sensitive, to its surroundings than its island cousin.

  The plant was made up of little bushes that stood about four feet high and had thick, wide leaves that were about as wide as Lysander's chest. The bushes were so tightly packed together they created a canopy they could have walked over without risk of falling through. Instead, Lysander and the others crawled under the canopy, disturbing all manner of creeping bugs that shied away from the light their presence let in.

  Their group of fifteen wormed their way toward the heart of the collective. Lysander knew if they were cornered under the bushes it would be difficult to fight or flee, but they needed rest and it was the only place that gave them any cover. Once they were as settled as they were going to get, Zyair threw off his pack and pulled his short sword.

  "I'll guard the entrance."

  Daycia sat forward as if she was going to reach for him. The two of them exchanged a look that Lysander hadn't expected. "Be careful," Daycia urged.

  Zyair nodded then disappeared back through the tangle of branches and leaves. Daycia sat back, pulling foodstuffs from her bag, while others moved around behind her. Lysander leaned against one of the trunks of the short bushes, keeping his head down so he didn't scrape against the canopy of leaves.

  "So, you two," Lysander started.

  Daycia's round cheeks blushed. "No, we're not talking about that."

  Lysander took her offered strips of jerky before trying again. "I think it's nice. You two are wonderful together." Daycia stopped fiddling in her bag long enough to fix Lysander with a look that begged him to be kind. "Somebody around here needs to be thinking about more than just fighting."

  Jonathan crawled toward them, stopping the conversation short. "I'm going to take two men and scout an alternative route out of here."

  "Twenty minutes and we come after you," Lysander said.

  "Sounds reassuring," Jonathan grumbled. Five steps away and he too was covered up by the leaves, the two men following him were close behind.

  Lysander chewed on his strip of seasoned meat thinking about the second ship and its crew. They were to swing around the other side of Gaeth and make landfall on the more untamed portion of the island. They had at least another day of sailing before hitting the far shore. The worst part of the tricky divide and conquer plan was not knowing where the other half was. Now that Lysander had a moment to catch his breath he couldn't help but obsess about it.

  "We need to stop all this running and get back on track," Lysander said.

  Daycia nodded. She swallowed down the chunk of bread she'd been nibbling on. "If my memory serves me, we should be about three miles west of the capital at this point. It won't take us long to get back there if we can get these Elevated squads off our backs."

  "Emmaray knows exactly what we’re after. She should have the capital locked down by now."

  Daycia smiled and shook her head. "Mother has too much pride for that. She would nev
er show her people that she's scared of a few interlopers. No, life in the capital will go along as usual. She sent the Elevated after us because she wants us dead long before we get anywhere near her."

  Lysander adjusted his position in the wet earth beneath him. "So, we get past these guys and we have a clear path."

  "That's not so easy. The Elevated have been trained from childhood to fight. They have been bred for generations to be the island's protectors. They know this island."

  "We're on a tropical volcanic island with the Master of Earth and a Fire Ultra, I'm pretty sure we can come up with something to knock these guys out of play."

  Daycia looked up at the canopy inches above their heads. Her eyes narrowed. "I think I might know ..."

  A far-off scream drowned out what she was going to say. Lysander popped up, bumping the top of his head on a tree branch. When he tried to draw his sword, it got tangled in the mass of leaves and he had to tilt forward to get the weapon out.

  "That came from the direction Jonathan went," Daycia said.

  "We'll go check it out," Lysander said.

  "What about Zyair?" Daycia's eyes filled with worry.

  Lysander grabbed the two men closest to him. "Go with her to find Zyair." He got the attention of three more. "We'll go check out the noise. The rest of you stay on guard here."

  Crawling with his sword in hand made progress awkward and slow but when another scream cut through the night Lysander knew he couldn't risk being unarmed when he came across whatever it was. After three minutes of following the drag marks Jonathan and his group made through the soft dirt, Lysander came upon a rough opening in the canopy.

  Looking up, Lysander couldn't see anything. While they were inside, night had fallen and the light of the moon wasn't enough to pierce the deep shadows. Lysander stuck his head out of the hole and nearly got kicked in the face for his troubles.

  In his haste to step back, he knocked over the man behind him and they were both tangled in a collection of thin branches. A pair of booted feet dropped down on top of them in a hurry and the rest of the Darten soldiers slid in the hole backward.

  Once Lysander and the others had righted themselves enough to get face to face, Lysander saw that the soldier that almost kicked him was smeared with dirt and had scratches on his angular face. Terror filled his blue eyes as they darted back and forth wildly.

  "There's something out there," he stammered.

  "The Elevated found us?"

  The man shook his head. "Animal," he wheezed. "I don't know. I didn't get a good look. It’s fast. Too fast. And strong." The man brushed his bleeding face. "With large claws."

  "Where are Jonathan and the..."

  "It snatched Kern and the others went after it, but I got knocked down. I don't know how it managed to circle behind us. I didn't see where they went so I scrambled down here."

  "Calm down, it's okay. Follow the tracks back and get yourself patched up. We'll find them."

  After making sure the solider was steady enough to make it back to their camp, Lysander tried going through the hole once more. The night was full of little animal noises but nothing big enough to do what the man said. Lysander wondered if Cornelius had left some yetis on the island in exchange for Emmaray's help. The yetis were brutish creatures, not known for stealth attacks, but there was a time when they didn't speak and that had changed rapidly. Maybe Gaeth was the training ground for yet another new breed of the beasts.

  "We stay in a tight X formation. Keep our eyes open. Who knows what we'll find out there."

  The Darten soldiers didn't look too sure about it but they all nodded. Lysander was reminded he wasn't back in Caledon with a group of Rangers. Still, they were trained, and they formed up as ordered. Lysander took the lead, keeping their pace steady. He spotted drag marks and followed them into the forest.

  The trees around them had to be twenty feet high and five feet wide. Lysander felt dwarfed by the dark green behemoths. They had flat, wide leaves much like the bushes, but they were so high up Lysander couldn't touch the lowest one even with his highest jump. The ancient trees called to him, tried to pull him into their slow and steady way of life, but Lysander didn't have time to learn their song.

  "Maybe next time," he whispered to them as he delved deeper into the dark, grateful for the light the rings gave off.

  Lysander heard rustling in the trees behind him. He resisted the urge to turn around, trusting his team to do their jobs. He stared forward keeping his eyes on the trail.

  A deep throated howl cut through the night ahead of them. Lysander froze in his tracks. He pointed his sword out in front of him expecting to be charged by some great beast.

  "What is that?" one of the soldiers behind him asked.

  "I don't know. I've never heard anything like that before," Lysander whispered back. He didn't know which option was better, to turn back and hope Jonathan and the others had circled around, or to plunge forward and risk being eviscerated by whatever monster lay out there.

  "Back you brute!" Lysander heard Jonathan yell.

  That sealed it. They had to help.

  "Keep tight," Lysander ordered before he started forward.

  They moved past a line of smaller trees with twisting vines that blocked what little view they had. Then the forest opened into a small clearing. Jonathan was kneeling down, cradling an injured man in his lap, holding his sword against....

  Lysander couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The dragon scale armor they wore was supposed to be modeled after a creature of legend. It was supposed to be the stuff in the stories of old men reminiscing about the good old days that never really happened. Yet, in front of Lysander was a dragon in the flesh.

  The animal stood five feet tall on four legs. Its long, muscular body was covered with iridescent scales from the edges of its long snout to the tip of its barbed tail. Its large black eyes stared straight at Jonathan past its conical muzzle. Triangular ears poked out at the top of its head. Claws as long as Lysander's fingers dug into the earth as it stomped the ground. It hissed and snarled at Jonathan, showing off a double row of teeth sharper than any yeti Lysander had come across.

  "Jonathan," Lysander called softly, trying not to attract the beast's attention. "We'll distract it while you run."

  Jonathan shook his head without turning around or dropping his weapon. "Can't let you. Too dangerous."

  "No time to argue," Lysander said, even though he agreed with the older man. It was a dangerous idea, but he was all out of safe ones. "We split in two," he told his team. "Left and right. Run and don't look back. Find cover as fast as you can." He didn't wait for a reply. If he waited he would talk himself out of it. "On three. One. Two. Three!"

  Lysander yelled at the top of his lungs, waving his sword and his arm around like a fool, making as much of a commotion as he could before darting to the left. He didn't look back to see if the beast took the bait. He didn't even turn to see if his partner had followed his lead.

  Lysander just ran because his life depended on it. His heart felt like it was in his throat. Low-hanging vines slapped him in the face and sharp branches cut against his legs, but Lysander didn't care. He ran.

  The thumping of his own heart was so loud in his ears he almost missed the sound of snapping branches and heavy breathing behind him. A bone-rattling howl erupted, and Lysander encouraged his legs to move all that much faster knowing that death was on his tail. He spotted a downed tree in front of him. Lysander had a split second to decide whether to jump over or try to slide under.

  He tossed his sword ahead of him and bent low at the knees, diving under the huge trunk. Using every muscle he had, Lysander wiggled under the tree, grabbing his sword on the way back up. It was then, half bent over, that he spotted his partner who happened to choose a different route against the tree. He was almost over it when the dragon caught up, swiping him across the back, and sending him flying.

  "No," Lysander yelled, spinning on his heels, bringing his sword around to slash
wildly at the beast's face.

  The impact sent a sharp pain radiating up Lysander's arm that brought tears to his eyes. The sword did nothing but bounce off the scales. The dragon swiped its massive claws at Lysander, but he jumped back in time. Lysander pressed forward, aiming for the creature's eyes. A jab from the right, a backslash up and across. All his attacks failed to pierce the scales, but the dragon pulled back step by step.

  Lysander was making progress, but no real damage, and his arm was tiring. He dared to divide his attention between the beast before him and the trees around them. The tree song was low and slow, like a monk's chant and getting them to move took some bribing. Distracted, Lysander took a blow to his shoulder knocking him off his feet, but his work was done. As he scrambled to get up he saw the vines wrapping around the dragon's legs, leaves coming down over its face.

  Lysander didn't wait around to see if the dragon was truly trapped. He got his arm under his downed companion, throwing the man over his shoulders, and ran back in the direction he hoped was the camp. With no beastly footsteps echoing behind him, Lysander finally made it back to the clearing that opened up right before the hole he'd crawled out of, but instead of finding safety he stepped onto a killing field.

  Bodies were strewn about the crushed grass. Six men down. Two had the dark camouflage colors and the stark red hair of the Elevated. The rest were Darten troops. Daycia and Zyair were at the heart of the chaos tending to a Darten woman, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, a gash on her side oozing blood.

  "Hold her still," Daycia ordered as she placed a hastily made poultice along the woman's side.

  Zyair did what he could but the soldier's panic and desperation made her wild undulations more powerful than seemed possible from such a lean body. Lysander staggered past them, without pausing. He shifted the man he carried on his back, his muscles burning from the effort. He spun around expecting death to come at him from every angle.