Reclaiming Mystique (SpaceStalker Saga Book 2)

by Bevan Greer

  “Jace?” Mikhel asked tentatively. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” Jace said. The memories continued to bombard him however. And Jace could no longer be sure whether he had control over his mind. He flexed the careful hold he had kept over his inner powers and allowed some to build his shields. Suddenly his homesick memories faded and Jace grimaced at the powers Orsan retained.

  “Orsan knows I’m here,” Jace said quietly.

  Mikhel looked startled, his blue eyes dimming as a natural wariness stole over the large hunter.

  “He wants me,” Jace said with conviction. Jace had felt Orsan’s sick touch just a few moments past, had felt the evil laughter drifting towards him, inviting him to partake in just a taste of madness. “Mikhel, you need to go and get help.” Jace suddenly projected an image of the palace layout into Mikhel’s mind. “Take that and use what I’ve left in the study on board ship. And plan on an attack as soon as the Dark Worlders can arrive on the planet.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Don’t think! Just do it, Mikhel. Or this will all be for naught,” Jace’s eyes glowed with vibrant colors as he stared into Mikhel’s blue gaze. “And one other thing, without being captured, try to find out where all of the people here went. I’ve got to know,” Jace added.

  Then he shoved Mikhel into a hidden section in the tower and fled the room. Jace purposefully sought the hoard of evil, following the dark taint through the castle until he entered his father’s great room, the heart and soul of the palace and of the kingdom.

  There he found several Cazeth hovering in the air, waiting for him. And on the throne sat Orsan.

  The years had left virtually no mark on the monster. His skin still had that dead, otherworldly aura, white and crisp as if dried of all life. Large black voids filled Orsan’s eye holes, an entreaty to look causing Jace to purposefully focus on the rest of the Cazeth’s physical attributes. The creature lazed about on the throne, his long legs encased in a foreign black material, his feet exposed and showcasing long black talons for toenails.

  Orsan smiled as he stared at Jace and Jace knew that the Cazeth knew exactly who he looked at. The Cazeth’s wings suddenly appeared as the creature sat forward, those massive stretches of blood-red skin stretching fully in the evil creature’s pleasure at having the missing prodigal son returned.

  “Jace Arel.” Orsan’s full voice echoed throughout the room. Odd resonants filtered through the air striking a discord as the noise reached Jace’s ears. “We have longed for this moment for a very long time,” Orsan said with a smile, his teeth very sharp and wicked against the blackness of his mouth.

  The other Cazeth in the large hall began to flutter, more streaming through the room until Jace thought he recognized most of the creatures that had tormented him a decade past. All but one remained in the room chattering at him. Jace only hoped that the other had died. He meant to make good his sacrifice so that Mikhel could return to the SpaceStalker with vital information. Jace only prayed he would have the strength to give Mikhel the time he needed.

  Suddenly an image of Naria rose in Jace’s mind, as if she had accompanied him to his world. He smiled as he thought of her, his heart growing in love as he thought of her giving nature, her boundless devotion to him.

  Orsan’s smile suddenly soured as he stared at Jace and he screeched for two of his minions to capture the Psi.

  “We have plenty to do with you,” Orsan said, a depraved expression on his face. His dark black hair hung like pieces of string over his narrow face. “Oh yes. The utter joy you have brought us this day can equal nothing else.” Orsan smiled.

  Keeping a wary eye on the two Cazeth circling near him, Jace subtly backed away. “Where are the other Psi?” he asked.

  “They are all around you, Jace. Can you not see them?” Orsan asked pleasantly. He narrowed his focus and suddenly the a circle of fire rounded the hall, lighting up the room to the enraged yells of the Cazeth floating in the air. Orsan merely chuckled at their torment and watched Jace’s face.

  Jace couldn’t help it. He couldn’t hide the utter loathing and disgust that filled him as he saw his people encased in a wall of ice, as if a frozen tapestry of death decorated all the walls of the palace. Then Jace’s eyes narrowed as he felt the fear and horror pounding at him.

  “They’re alive,” Jace said in shock, turning back to see Orsan’s pleased expression.

  “Yes, quite a bit of art, isn’t it? I created it myself,” Orsan said proudly as he examined a bit of flesh caught in the long nails of his hand. “But it needed a final touch, and now that you’re back I can see what it’s been missing.”

  Immediately the Cazeth moving in to capture Jace flew into each other, their wings tangling as they fell from massive heights to a sickening crunch on the cold hard ground. Jace continued to focus his thoughts on the two of them, his rage escaping from his carefully controlled confines.

  He imagined the two creatures battling each other to the death, pulling flesh and bone until each collapsed into death in the arms of the other.

  Then he watched as his vision unfolded.

  “You have the true makings of a Cazeth,” Orsan said, sounding impressed as he watched his minions tear one another apart. “And I like your creativity here.” He pointed to the decapitation and black blood spilling over the stones, smoke hissing as Cazeth blood met Mystique’s rock.

  Jace flinched as Mystique’s anguish filtered through to him. He hadn’t meant to hurt his world but the rot before him had to be disposed of one way or another. He hadn’t recalled the blood of the Cazeth being so acidic, but then he hadn’t caused them any real harm the last time he’d been here.

  “Ah, finally death takes them both,” Orsan said with grim satisfaction. “You know, Jace. I have been eagerly awaiting your return all these years, curious to see the man you would one day become.”

  Jace stared at Orsan, his black eyes pulsing with the need to destroy this menace plaguing his world. Memories of the golden days of the Zescha kingdom of the Psi contrasted sharply with this new nightmare. And Jace could only imagine what his people had suffered in the time he’d been gone.

  “Why Mystique?” Jace asked, needing to hear the answer.

  “We needed a place to hide for a time,” Orsan answered with a shrug. The large Cazeth stood and flexed his large wings. “And Dark World had gotten so boring.”

  Orsan stared at Jace with a discerning eye. “But then, you’ve been there, haven’t you?” he asked. Orsan’s expression changed subtly and Jace wondered at the hint of worry he thought he saw.

  “I’m sure your friends in Dark World would love to know you’re here,” Jace said smoothly. “Perhaps I ought to let them know?”

  Orsan smiled exposing his fangs. “As if they would consent to help you, a mere Psi. Yes, your planet did well to hide us. Had it not been for one of your people that just happened to leave your world as we neared it, we never could have found it. But he was good enough to tell us everything we needed to know.” Orsan laughed and the echoed sound shrieked of madness.

  “It’s rather disturbing Jace, but Mystique just won’t let us have the fun we need to have. And to be quite honest, the order around here has been killing me,” Orsan admitted.

  Suddenly Jace felt the stone beneath him tremble and watched as the place walls shook and crumbled. The ceiling of the keep suddenly ripped open and Jace stared in horrified awe at the sucking void of emptiness that suddenly clouded above them.

  “That’s much better.” Orsan sighed. “Reminds me of Wern. Now as I was saying, I think it’s time you provided us with some sport, eh?” So saying, Orsan turned to his minions and nodded.

  Freed from their constraints, they swarmed over Jace.

  Jace prayed to the Goddess that his death would be brief, sadness striking deep into his heart that his future with Naria would never come to pass. Then the first chills of ice and the burns of fire struck him at once. The rage and angst he’d been holding on
to for years suddenly erupted and a fierce battle shook the planet as it had a decade past.

  Mikhel stopped upon hearing a horrible rumble and what sounded like the scream of a hundred souls in torment. He had again circled the village but found no one in residence. He still felt disloyal leaving Jace to fight those fiends, but something in Jace’s face had warned him that leaving could only help his captain.

  Mikhel must have paused too long for he suddenly found himself surrounded by those half human winged creatures he and Jace had encountered earlier. Purple wings beat furiously above him and Mikhel ran with preternatural speed towards the sanctuary of the treeline nearest him. He could hear the irritation in the clicks and whirrs of the foreign tongue behind him. But by then he had already avoided the creatures.

  For some reason he felt that they feared to approach the life in Mystique, safer in the tainted halls of their defiled masters.

  Mikhel frowned and felt the whisper of life in the vegetation around him calm him somewhat. By the Goddess, he thought as he inhaled deeply. “I feel as if I’ve landed in the Fentra forests.”

  Confused and yet intrigued that the creatures that so darkened the keep had not corrupted the life prevalent in the wildness of Mystique, Mikhel tried to open his mind to the life flowing around him.

  It was then that something pulled his attention to the sky, a cry perhaps, that sounded from all around him.

  “Holy mother of the Stars,” he cursed as he saw a void of darkness beyond anything he’d ever seen appear out of nowhere above the keep. The pull of emptiness seemed to suck at the very life around him.

  Mikhel felt his weight pull him down towards the ground, felt his mind shudder under the awful nothingness watching over everything. He shook his head but could not shake the grim feeling of death invading his limbs.

  And then something knocked him off of his feet and his mind snapped free. Without thinking he tore deeper into the jungle around him, letting his Fenturi blood guide him towards the source of life and energy flowing in this planet.

  He could feel something pursuing him but quickly left it behind as his body became one with the land. A natural born hunter and survivor, Mikhel had lived through perpetual imprisonment in his old world of Bylaran, and through a hellacious experience in Dark World that he knew he was better off not remembering.

  But just now he knew that flight would bring him the reward of victory, if for no other reason than to bring darkness to meet the darkness in this world. Mikhel paused as he lost his breath, his strength ebbing after his marathon run.

  He bent over at the waist to recapture his strength and dropped to the ground instinctively sensing a predator near. He looked around him and found to his surprise that he no longer recognized the trees and vegetation of this world. Nothing he now saw belonged to the plant life that Jace had shown him earlier. Mikhel frowned, wondering just how far he’d run when he felt an arrow shooting towards him.

  He easily rolled out of the way and took cover behind an odd tree, one that seemed throbbing with energy but was conspicuously silent to his senses. He waited breathlessly for another attack but to his surprise nothing happened.

  He waited and listened, burrowing further down into a crouch to make himself as small a target as he could allow.

  Heartbeats later he sensed… nothing.

  As if the attack had never happened, the world around him shifted and he found himself wondering if he had imagined it. He looked up and around a covering tree cautiously, not surprised to see the arrow missing from the ground where he had been standing moments earlier.

  Mikhel sighed and rubbed at his neck, again opening himself to the world around him as he closed his eyes to concentrate.

  Suddenly his senses tingled and he felt more than just a hint of life, but a great cacophony of energy bursting around him. Stunned at this discovery, Mikhel opened his eyes to find himself completely surrounded.

  But this time the creatures around him appeared human and deceptively unarmed.

  A female, rather tall but still two heads shorter than Mikhel, approached him proudly. She had an arresting face, strong and passionate, yet it was her eyes that drew him. Mikhel knew those eyes, those dark eyes that shimmered like a rainbow of colors as emotion crested and peaked in them.

  “Give me your name, alien, or face death,” she said softly, her threat more real due to the impact of her mental stranglehold on his mind than for any other reason of intimidation.

  Mikhel couldn’t concentrate on the others around her. He didn’t see the throng of muscular men and women pressing around him. He could only stare helplessly into her eyes as she commanded his immediate obedience. Try as he might, Mikhel could not resist her compulsion.

  Trying one last measure of defense, he reached out and grabbed her to him, heedless of the knife pressed to his neck. His eyes glowed as he stared down at her and he muttered the last name he’d wanted to

  “Jace,” he said before he blacked out, sadly thinking that he had failed the mission after all.

  -20-

  “I don’t like this.” Naria rubbed her arms as a desperate foreboding overwhelmed her. She could feel Jace battling something fiercely and she knew he had disregarded her warning to wait for the rest of them. She tentatively reached out with her mind to search for Mikhel and found him also out of reach.

  “Naria?” Castor said with concern.

  “We have to contact Dark World, now,” Naria said worriedly, her eyes begging Castor to agree. “I know Jace said to give him twelve hours but he won’t make it if we wait. As it is it will take those of Dark World an entire day just to arrive. And I have a feeling Jace doesn’t have that much time.”

  Castor stared at her, his brown eyes showing nothing of what he felt. Then he looked to the lonely console in the control room, seeing nothing around them but black space.

  “What did you have in mind, exactly?” he hedged.

  Exhaling the breath she’d been holding, Naria spoke quickly. “We need to call Dark World now and order the attack. Carinna can wait aboard ship to direct them to Mystique once I’m on the planet. I’ll transmit what she needs to know then. But for now,” she paused and stared at Castor with worry evident in her dark eyes. “Castor, Jace is in trouble and needs our help. We have to hurry.”

  Castor frowned but nodded and Naria thought he might have seen this coming. “That stubborn goat just wouldn’t wait, I knew he wouldn’t,” Castor muttered angrily. “An entire year with the man and you’d think I’d know better.”

  He shouted over the intercom for everyone to join them in the control room and within moments had the crew caught up to speed. As he spoke, Koneru sent word to Dark World and received confirmation that the Dark Worlders had been dispatched.

  “We’re going to the planet,” Castor commanded. He looked to Naria and she nodded, fully content to let Castor lead this expedition. Though she had more experience in the mental battles sure to follow, Castor and his crew were surely the masters of physical combat and who knew what they’d find on the planet besides the Cazeth. “Bring your weapons and prepare to trans down.”

  Naria moved with the others towards the second level, giving Carinna and Nesham a moment apart.

  “Be careful,” Carinna demanded, tears of worry flowing unchecked down her pale cheeks.

  “I will, love,” Nesham said quietly and kissed her tears, tasting the salt of her beautiful emotion.

  “And whatever you do, don’t look the Cazeth in the eye. To do so will invite your death,” Carinna warned.

  “Yes, love,” Nesham said again, a hint of humor in his voice. “Carinna, I wouldn’t let your father and his minions separate us. What makes you think I’ll bow to the Cazeth any easier?”

  Carinna smiled through her tears. “Fine, you arrogant Fenturi. Just remember you only have to hold them off until reinforcements arrive. Don’t be a hero.”

  Nesham hugged her and gave her one last kiss before leaving. Carinna watched him go and sent a mental
farewell to her sister.

  Be careful, and watch over my mate, Carinna pleaded.

  Of course little sister, I can do no less, Naria responded, a smile in her voice. Don’t worry, Carinna. I refuse to let any harm befall this courageous crew. They are our family now.

  Naria mentally waved good-bye to her sister and watched as Koneru punched in the codes that would send her and the rest of the crew to Mystique. She only wished she could have communicated with Mikhel or Jace before leaving for the planet. Who knew what those two had started.

  ***

  Mikhel groaned slightly and sat up, aware that his body felt sluggish and not quite his own. As he struggled to stand, he heard a soft murmur and felt a gentle hand stroke his brow.

  “Enough, Shayna,” a disgusted female voice interrupted Mikhel’s tender ministrations. “Now who are you and what do you do here?”

  Mikhel rubbed at his head and blinked rapidly to clear his vision. He felt as if in a dream, recalling the last time he’d been captive in his homeworld. And yet, he couldn’t recall the pleasant female scent of his Bylaran captors ever being so enthralling. No, his Bylaran guards had been foul-smelling men, reeking of body odor and hatred.

  “I asked you a question,” the insistent sultry voice asked again.

  “Damn, but let me get my mind together to answer you, woman,” Mikhel said with a snarl, his Fenturi blood running hot at his loss of control. His blue eyes blazed as he looked up at his inquisitor but he studied her quietly, not allowing his surprise to show in his face.

  She truly looked like Jace’s sister, he thought with amazement. Her white-blond hair and brows, the dark eyes and feminized form of Jace’s features clearly proclaimed them related. He sniffed the air subtly and found her scent clean and pure, though her angry curiosity at Mikhel’s appearance clearly upset her.

  His eyes roamed over her form, ignoring for the moment her demand for his name. Mikhel stared with hooded eyes at her bountiful breasts clearly outlined by the thin fabric she wore to cover them. Obviously in this heat the natives had resorted to as little clothing as possible, a fact Mikhel could readily appreciate. He stared boldly up and down the woman’s body, his gaze lingering pleasantly on her outthrust breasts and down her lean stomach to her long legs, golden and begging to be touched.