by Alana Serra
She threw open the door and stuffed herself inside, trying to keep calm as she looked over the controls. She'd never flown anything in her life, but the process of elimination pointed her toward the button that disengaged the pod from the Zavellan.
The pod sped past the hull, then dropped in an arc. She pulled up on a lever, managing to get it to stabilize, but she was lost beyond that. Everything she did to steer the thing was an absolute failure. She was hurtling toward Earth in a glass-and-metal sphere with no way to stop the descent.
Buildings grew closer as she gained speed. She missed Everton proper, but the pod kept falling, sailing in that same arc, losing altitude faster and faster until the walls of a ruined building rushed up to meet her.
The contact knocked her off her feet, and she was thrown against the side of the sphere. Ren forced her eyes open, defiance lighting a fire inside of her.
But the pod never made that final crash as it dented a crater into the Earth's surface. A field of energy appeared around it, holding it in stasis. Ren was thrown against the glass again, but this time she managed to hold on to the back of the seat.
When she let go, the pod was still, resting… somewhere.
Ren poured herself into the seat. She was boneless and shaking, all of the adrenaline fleeing her body at once. But she was alive. And as she looked at the ruined cityscape around her, the buildings caked with rust and strangled by vines, she realized she was in the middle of the Pit.
Which meant she was close to the vault.
As she tried to catch her breath, her next course of action became clear. She couldn't run. She couldn't leave Rhavos and the others to be slaughtered by the Nikhiza.
So she'd go into the vault herself, and she'd fuck up as many of their plans as she could before they took her out.
18
Rhavos stayed in the brig, his attention focused on the unconscious guards. He monitored them, made certain they were still breathing; that they had not suffered irreparable damage.
It was bad enough that he would soon be executed for treason. He did not need murder on his conscience.
Hearing the sound of his brethren rushing through the Zavellan, responding to the alarm his actions raised should have made him feel ashamed. Or at the very least, fearful for his soul as a warrior of the Karuvar. When he was executed, his body would not return to the Stars. He was not worthy of that honor.
It was something he'd spent long stretches of his youth thinking about, and yet all he could think about now was his mate. He could still feel her, so he knew she'd made it out alive. He was calmed, too, by the fact that she was in control of her own mind. At this point, that was all he could wish for.
The door to the brig was thrown open, and Rhavos was not surprised to see Verkiir. The large male—younger than Rhavos, but with a family to care for now—looked to the disabled cell, then the Karuvar that lay very still on the ground. His gaze cast up to Rhavos, and he wore an expression of disappointment mixed with… understanding.
Rhavos gave a single, silent nod—an acknowledgment of what must be done.
Reinforcements poured in, the first ready to seize Rhavos. Verkiir called them off immediately.
"See to the others, and search for the human," he said, though Rhavos was sure even he knew she was long gone. "The Conqueror does not pose us any threat."
Verkiir approached, one arm at his side, ready to grab his spear if the need arose. Rhavos held his head high, but he did not resist as the First Guardian led him from the brig.
He did not know if it was the male's intention, but Verkiir marched him past a number of onlookers, all of whom could see exactly what he was. Traitor. They spat the word as he walked past. He did not spare them a glance, looking straight ahead as he was brought to a room Rhavos recognized well. Aboard the Zavellan, it was called an interrogation room, but it served the same function as the one on Rhavos' vessel. It was a highly secured, self-contained space meant to break the leader of the enemy's forces.
Rhavos made no move to resist. In fact, he stepped into the room before Verkiir could even prompt it, moving to the far side of what was just a glorified cell.
The First Guardian lifted his implant to a panel and the security system came on line. "I know I do not have to explain this room to you."
"No," Rhavos said.
It was a simple enough concept. The room was split into two halves. If Rhavos stepped beyond his half, he would suffer the consequences.
"I will tell the Pathfinder you are here," Verkiir said, turning on his heel to leave.
"You would have done the same, if it were your mate."
The First Guardian paused, his back to Rhavos. After a moment he turned and gave a curt nod. "I would."
It changed nothing, but there was some solace to be found in the knowledge that he was not the only Karuvar who would sacrifice his honor to save the woman he loved.
It was not long before the Pathfinder arrived.
Drann was flanked by guards, his lean form seeming comically small beside their mass, but Rhavos knew better than to mistake his size for weakness.
Like his father before him, Drann opted to step inside the interrogation room himself, without his guards present. They waited just outside, ready to snap Rhavos' neck in an instant if the need arose, but Rhavos did not move from the space where he'd been standing for the past half hour.
He met Drann's gaze, and saw in the youngling a deep fatigue that seemed etched into his very being. It disappeared in an instant, and the Pathfinder's face returned to hard neutrality.
"Despite many years of heated disagreement, my father trusted you like no other. He once told me you did the things he was not strong enough to do himself."
Rhavos' heart clenched in his chest, a wave of grief rising in him despite his efforts to keep it at bay. He had no use for grief. Not now.
"That is the only reason I am not having you executed for freeing the woman who murdered him."
There were many times in the past where Rhavos had argued with Drann's father, but doing so would not get him far here. He kept silent, accepting whatever judgment Drann wished to make.
"But I am stripping you of your title," he said. "The role of Conqueror will be filled by another. You will be held here until transport can be arranged for you, after which you will serve the Karuvar as far away from this ship as can be managed."
Pain blossomed in Rhavos' chest, and he imagined his sire looking down on him from the Stars. He believed in honoring one's people more than anything else, and Rhavos' actions shamed that belief.
Some small part of him wanted to urge Drann to reconsider, but Rhavos had been broken. His inability to perform the role of Conqueror led to his Pathfinder's death. It led to the low hum of fear he could feel through his bond with his mate—something that would be ever-present as she was forced to run and cower just as she'd done in her youth.
He did not deserve the title, and he would forfeit it without a fight. But that did not mean he was ambivalent to the loss.
The moment Drann left, Rhavos nearly crumpled in a heap against the wall, his legs no longer supporting him. In the space of an afternoon, he'd had absolutely everything taken from him. When Drann allowed him to leave, he would truly be leaving with nothing. No legacy left behind by his sire. No decorated career as the Karuvar's foremost warrior. No future as a direct adviser to the Pathfinder. No kits of his own to raise and shape as his sire had shaped him.
No mate to share it all with.
When he'd been younger, Rhavos had imagined what his mate might be like. Tall and muscular, every bit the specimen of Karuvar warrior, just as he was.
His Rhin was not that. She was small. She barely knew how to protect herself in a fight. But she had more strength in her tiny form than most Karuvar could ever dream of having.
Now she was going to be forced into exile; forced to leave the world she knew and start again. And while Rhavos did not think Drann malicious, he was in pain over the death of his fat
her. He could easily broadcast information about Rhin to all ships, all Waystations, all colonies. She would not be safe wherever Karuvar were present, and she would not be safe so long as the Freedom Fighters controlled her implant.
She would not be safe.
That realization struck him hard, and Rhavos' thoughts fixated on it. He'd freed her so that she would escape execution, but was this truly better? Was he actually fulfilling his role as her mate?
He should be out there fighting for her, not locked in this cell, awaiting the day he could be released as a title-less, honorless pariah. If he was going to be stripped of everything that mattered to him, then his life was not worth living any longer.
But if he could help Rhin—if he could ensure her safety and prove her innocence—then he could actually do something that mattered. He could defend his mate one last time; give her the chance to live without fear.
There was a very good chance he would be killed, possibly even before he made it off the Zavellan. But he had to try.
In a very short time, Rhin had become his life. It only made sense to give his to ensure she would live on.
Pushing himself to his feet, Rhavos prepared for what was to come. There would be guards in his way, as well as the innocent Karuvar who were manning the ship. He had to be ready to get to a pod at all costs. And if those had been locked down, he would have to do whatever was necessary to reach the lift.
If it came down to it, Rhavos would pilot the Zavellan himself.
But first, there was a more measurable barrier. A tingle of dread coursed through him, making his scales shudder. Leaving this room was going to hurt. The shock alone might kill him. But he had no choice.
Steeling himself, Rhavos started to cross that invisible line in the middle of the room. The second he did, a white-hot laser shot from the wall, piercing scale and skin. He gritted his teeth and tried not to fixate on the intense pain that seared through him, or the nauseating smell of his burning flesh.
Instead, he pushed past it, nearly panting on the other side. He stumbled and staggered to the door, forcing his body to cooperate. His mate was out there somewhere. She'd very likely given up on him, but Rhavos would make himself into someone she could depend on.
No matter what it took.
The door was nearly pulled off its hinges, and his bellowing roar shook the corridor beyond. Guards startled, then launched into action, but Rhavos threw them aside like the untried younglings they were.
He cleared one corridor, then the next. Blades scraped his scale plating, staves bruised and battered his aching muscles, but Rhavos kept going.
Nothing would stand between him and his mate's safety.
As he approached the pods, he could already see the system was disabled. With a growl, Rhavos whirled toward the direction of the lift, his tail plates scraping along the metal of the ship. He was not facing merely a hallway of unconscious Karuvar, though, their bodies slumped against the walls and the floor.
Verkiir stood amongst them, his spear drawn.
"Do not challenge me, First Guardian. You know what it means to fight on behalf of your mate."
"I do," Verkiir said, his voice low.
He approached with calm, even steps, and Rhavos readied himself. But the Karuvar did not attack. He made no motion toward it, there was no threat of violence in his eyes. Even his scent spoke of a male who aspired to peace.
As if Verkiir could read his mind, he said, "This is how I choose to honor Drol'gan's legacy. I hope you will do the same."
He raised his arm to a panel, and within moments, the pods were brought back on line. Rhavos stood, stunned, unable to find any words except those that mattered most.
"I will."
And with that, he ducked into a pod and set a course for the vault. One way or another, he was going to finish this.
19
Ren stayed in the pod for a while, protected by the glass enclosure as she tried to figure out a plan.
She needed to find some way to disable whatever they were planning, and that meant uploading some kind of virus to their terminals. Considering the things they'd had her work on to use against the Karuvar, she was sure she could find one buried in the databases, but having enough time to deploy it was another matter entirely.
And then there was the issue of getting to those terminals in the first place. She wasn't the type of person to cut a path of destruction through her enemies, even if she could manage it. Doing this required absolute stealth, and while Ren had managed to overcome greater odds in the middle of a militia-controlled war zone, she could still feel her stomach tangling itself into knots at the idea.
I wish Rhavos was here.
It was a silly thought for someone who'd prided herself on her independence. Made even sillier by the fact that she had no idea if Rhavos' selfless actions were just driven by biology, or if he honestly believed her.
Either way, he wasn't here. The most she could hope for was that he was safe. And alive. Closing her eyes, she tried not to think of that and instead searched around the inside of the glass sphere for anything that might help her.
Most of the design was streamlined, with various components all supporting the operation of the pod. But as she dug around underneath her seat, her fingers brushed leather. She gripped a strap and pulled out a bag, flipping open the top.
It looked like some kind of emergency kit. There was a communicator she definitely wasn't going to turn on, a flare she'd consider using only as a distraction, and…
Ren's gaze settled on a long, thin blade. Some kind of knife. In the hands of a Karuvar, it was probably meant for cutting rope or something, but it looked big enough to gut a human if it came down to it.
Her hand started to shake and she fought back the bile that rose in her throat. Arming herself to aid in her own defense wasn't the same as brandishing a weapon to lord over the powerless. She'd be as stealthy as she could, but it was just common sense to have a backup plan. In her case, that meant having some kind of response if she was caught.
You don't have to kill, she reminded herself.
That, ultimately, was what got her to reach for the knife. She slid it into her belt and tried not to think too much about how it felt resting there against her thigh. Then she grabbed the flare and even the communicator, just in case she could use it for components.
The sun had set over Everton by the time Ren pressed the release button and stepped out into the Pit. Her stomach sank as she realized she was faced with another problem: Navigating this ruined wasteland on her own, in the dark, with only a knife to protect her.
But as she pushed back her own fears, she realized it wasn't as dark as it should be. Or rather, it was plenty dark, but she could still see everything in amazing detail. And when she let herself concentrate on something other than her own breathing, she could hear… everything. Sheets of metal rustled as they blew in the slight breeze. Water dripped down through a hole in a roof. Tiny feet scurried beneath rotted out floorboards.
Instinct told her it had something to do with Rhavos, and she could only be thankful for the gift. Those heightened senses allowed her to traverse the Pit with minimal trouble, avoiding anything that sounded suspicious as she headed in the direction of the vault.
The moon was about halfway to its apex when she reached her destination, and she was immediately faced with another dilemma: How to get inside.
Checking for guards and finding the entrance unmanned, Ren crept over to the hatch and tried to open it, hoping whatever had given her those heightened senses was also giving her super strength.
But before she could tug on the latch, she felt a pull of a different kind. Her heart leapt, her pulse quickening as her body seemed to instinctively recognize what her mind was still trying to put together.
Rhavos was near.
Joy flooded her, and she scanned the horizon, hoping to see his towering form. She couldn't see him, though, and could only guess that he must be inside already.
That t
hought filled her with a renewed sense of purpose, and when she tried the latch, she was able to turn it without too much difficulty, opening it enough to scan the bottom of the ladder before she committed.
As soon as she reached that first floor, it was easy to see why there hadn't been any Freedom Fighters to contend with yet.
Bodies were strewn about the floor, discarded here and there like some morbid trail of breadcrumbs. The sight chilled her to the bone, but as Ren approached, she realized they were alive. There was bruising around their necks from where Rhavos had obviously choked them out, but they were alive.
She'd understood his desire to spare the Karuvar—they were his people, and if he had any hope of escaping death, he couldn't kill them. But humans? He'd always made it clear he thought them weak; a nuisance. The fact that he hadn't killed these ones was… so unlike him that it gave her pause.
Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it wasn't Rhavos.
But even as she thought it, her implant told her she'd been right the first time. He was here, and the nearer she drew to him, the more her pace picked up.
At least until she reminded herself she was trying to be stealthy. Right.
Ren crept along the corridor, her heart pounding. She reached the point where it diverged into two different paths, and when she looked right, she finally saw him.
His arm was around the neck and mouth of a Freedom Fighter. Ren watched as they struggled for just a few moments before he gently lowered them to the ground.
He turned to her, his brow ridge drawn up. "I felt you, but I did not think…"
To hell with stealth.
She launched herself at him, knowing she would be caught. His arms came around her, pulling her close, almost crushing her against his chest. Her fingers dug into the side of his neck and she urged him downward, meeting his mouth in a desperate kiss.
Rhavos was the first to break it, his forehead touching hers, his breath coming out in quick bursts. "Why are you here?"