by Vi Voxley
She somehow managed to catch the blow, averting it clumsily, so that it only ripped the sleeve of her dress. Feeling blood roll down her arm, Zoey could hear the other pursuers coming closer. Unthinking, she reached out and pressed her gloved hand against the attacker's throat. The creature was thrown back with a nauseating thud.
Zoey didn't stick around to see if he was breathing or not. With nowhere else to go, she ran for the dark depths of the ship, the Yemalan right behind her.
Chapter Six
Zoey
I'm still alive.
That was the only clear thought in Zoey’s mind as she leaned against the rusty wall. It was both a reassurance and a question, since she truthfully couldn't believe it. Somehow, she had managed to shake her pursuers.
A cynical thought came to her, and it made little sense. How could the Yemalan lose her on their own ship?
She liked none of the answers her helpful mind provided. The one she liked the least was that there was some perverse hunt going on and they were simply letting her believe that she'd escaped.
She shook her head clear. Despairing wouldn't do her any good, only surviving did – and finding out what was going on between the Yemalan and Corgans, if she could. Technically, what the two species did was none of her business – the Union had no stake in that fight – but that wasn't entirely true, was it?
The Union wanted peace throughout the known galaxy, Zoey believed that. Even if some of the Union’s leaders were a bit particular as to how that peace was to come about, she knew that at least the Palians would approve if she tried to help.
And somehow it had become unbearable to think that she couldn't be of any help to Daegon. Not only because the warlord was bound to be more sympathetic towards her if she delivered vital information, but on a more personal level as well.
Zoey wanted to see those blue amber eyes shine brightly for her. No way would she let herself be rescued like a damsel in distress with nothing to show for her time spent in captivity.
She had wandered around the ship for a while now and several things were becoming clear to Zoey. With no more overheard conversations helping her understand the situation, some things were glaringly obvious.
The Yemalan mothership was preparing for war. The attack on Gaiya had been nothing more than a practice run, it seemed. Zoey couldn't imagine that their only purpose had been to kidnap her. Surely they would have done a better job at guarding – and capturing – her then. No, she figured they had wanted to deal a terrible blow to Corgan pride.
Remembering the brief time she'd spent with Daegon, Zoey had no doubt they'd succeeded with him, at least. She couldn't imagine the warlord letting them go that easily.
Her heart skipped a beat every time she thought of him, closing in on the fleeing Yemalan. No man had ever left an impression quite like that on her. Attraction aside, Zoey found a deep longing within herself, one that called out to the warlord. Above all else, she wanted more of him.
It didn't have to be anything physical, necessarily. She just wanted to continue living with Daegon as part of her life. Then she could figure out exactly what he was.
Her hearing wasn't supernatural in any way, but even Zoey could suddenly make out footsteps coming her way. They weren't hurrying but slow and steady, as if the person had no reason to rush whatsoever.
This being a Yemalan ship, it left very few options to who it could be.
Zoey hid behind a darker nook as soon as she heard him. She doubted it would work, but she wasn't going to let the opportunity to see the man pass. If she could find out who was cooperating with the Yemalan, clearly guiding their steps... That would be something Daegon could use.
Taking a deep, quiet breath, Zoey dared to peek out of her hiding spot.
The dark corridor was empty, although she could have sworn the steps were almost upon her.
Was I wrong? It couldn't have been an echo, I'm sure of it –
That was all she could think before a hand grabbed her. Suppressing a scream, Zoey rounded on the attacker, trying to rip herself free.
"Don't try anything foolish," the man said.
He was clearly Corgan, which made her struggling all the more pointless. Zoey stared up into fever-bright blue eyes, somehow wrong in their intensity. Daegon's eyes had been passionate, wild. The gaze of this warrior was driven by something different. He was mad, furious even.
He was nearly as tall and powerful as Daegon, but he scared her in a way Daegon never had. Mara James had assured her that Daegon wouldn't hurt her, but this warrior would, Zoey had no doubt about that.
But she wouldn't let it come to that. The man had startled her, but he had grabbed the arm that held the trident. Since the weapon was practically useless to her anyway, Zoey let it drop but brought up her other hand, stopping only inches from the man's face.
His eyes went wide in surprise, but he didn't even flinch.
"Let go of me," Zoey snarled, "or I will burn your face off."
In answer, the warrior caught her hand, moving so fast she couldn't even react before he held the glove and her hand away from the two of them. His eyes twinkled with amusement.
"Feisty," he said, "but you are not a match for me."
"I know," Zoey replied defiantly, "but I can still struggle. Would you risk getting hit with it accidentally?"
"Yes," the warrior replied calmly as if they weren't talking about his death. "Are you?"
Zoey thought about it for a second, but as soon as she saw the smug expression on the Corgan's face, she lashed out with all her strength. The man managed to avoid contact with the glove, as she'd predicted, but in turn Zoey pulled free.
She made no illusions to herself. He'd let her go because there was nowhere for her to run.
He's not going to kill me, she told herself. Not yet, at least.
"I think your little escape is over now," said the warrior. "Come along and I will not hurt you."
Zoey raised the glove in front of her, backing away.
"One step," she warned him, "and I will do what I promised."
Attempt to, at least. He's no joke. I wonder if he's a clan lord as well.
As soon as the idea occurred to her, Zoey realized it had to be true. He walked with the same arrogant pride as all warlords did, confident in themselves and their capability. The man in front of her definitely wasn't some trooper. He looked like he gave orders, not obeyed them.
"Who are you?" she asked, still retreating.
The warrior followed, his expression unchanging. Zoey noticed he hadn't even pulled his swords free. No need for them to deal with her, apparently. She frowned.
And of course the man didn't respond. Apparently he wasn't the type of villain to carelessly explain his master plan to her, but Zoey had a mind of her own. She'd seen enough on the ship to start piecing the clues together.
"You're working with the Yemalan," she said. "I heard you. If your chieftain hears of this, you're dead. I know your kind. He won't even reach you. The first Corgan will kill you."
A smile answered her, as cold and calculating as the man himself.
"My kind," he replied, "has gone insane. Mad times call for unusual allies."
"They won't forgive you for this."
"They will not know," he replied.
Not a mute after all, huh. Alright, what else can I get from you?
Unaware as to whether she would ever have the opportunity to relay the information to Daegon, Zoey pressed on. She figured he wouldn't tell her anything if he thought she had the slightest chance of fighting back. That was not a comforting thought – she had no way of escaping him, only delaying the inevitable.
"You can't be sure of that, but go ahead," she said. "But why? I thought all Corgans hated Yemalan with a passion."
Now there was finally a reaction from him. The bright blue eyes flashed with fury and he growled, "We do. I hate this filth. Simply being here stains me, but it cannot be helped."
Zoey's mind was working frantically, tryin
g to tug at every clue he was giving her.
"If you are here," she began, "it means you couldn't find allies within your own people."
The warrior glared, and for a second, Zoey thought that that would be the end of her. He would cut her head off before she even saw the twin swords drawn. But they remained sheathed.
"The others are traitors," the man replied with pure disgust. "I've had to kill quite a few already. Many more will die before we are great again."
Wonderful. I should report this back to the Union's main council. They'd love to hear how unthinkable joining us is.
"You promised them something," she realized suddenly. "The Yemalan. They wouldn't fight for you out of loyalty. You said you'd give them a world."
The warrior halted in his steps, stopping a few feet from her. Zoey did too, still holding her gloved hand up to try and stop him if he decided keeping her alive wasn't worth the trouble.
The moment seemed to come sooner than she would have liked.
"Promises," said the warrior, finally drawing the blade, "are easy to make."
"You don't plan to keep it," Zoey said. "You will have a lot of enemies."
The warlord smiled, but there wasn't even an ounce of warmth in it. The price of his actions seemed fine with him.
"I hoped to execute you more publicly," he said quietly, coming towards her again with purposeful strides. "But I see you're not as stupid as you could be. All the worse for you. I suppose it doesn't matter. The implications are clear enough. I would love to hear what the Union thinks of this arrangement after their ambassador gets brutally murdered."
You don't have to make it brutal, you bastard, Zoey thought furiously.
He charged and so did she. With all caution thrown to the wind when it was clear she only had one chance to live, Zoey managed to jump out of the way of his first swing. It landed her right in front of him. She could see the brilliant blue eyes stare at her as she threw the hardest punch she could.
The glove hit right under his chin. It would have knocked the air out of a normal person's lungs, but the warlord certainly had organs to compensate. The impact wasn't what made him stumble. Zoey had felt his body shake under the shock and saw a nasty burn on his flesh. When he looked up, his eyes were filled with loathing.
"I will not make it quick for you," he hissed, pulling the other sword free as well.
Zoey didn't stay to gloat about finally being worthy of two blades like a proper opponent. She turned on her heels and ran. She'd used the single shot she had and it hadn't killed the warlord. Zoey could hear him follow with a small limp due to the shock he'd received, but she knew he'd catch her nonetheless. And this time, she wouldn't get close enough for a second hit.
She thought of Daegon again. How far behind was he? Zoey ran, desperately wishing that she had the opportunity to send him a message with everything she'd found out. She didn't know the name of the man chasing her, but surely Daegon would be able to figure it out.
She didn't want her death to be in vain. Of course, Zoey didn't want to die at all. The more she thought about it, hearing the warlord come closer with every step, the less she was ready to go. There were too many things she still wanted to experience, and most of them seemed to have something to do with one name.
Daegon. She wanted to see Daegon again.
And then she did. From the darkness in front of her, two impossibly blue eyes shone at her. Without truly seeing him, Zoey recognized him immediately. The blue amber eyes were hateful, but softened for a second when their gaze slipped on her.
Zoey dashed right into his arms and he caught her, pulling her tightly against his body. She stayed there, trying to catch her breath for a long minute before realizing that the man who had chased her was no longer there.
Chapter Seven
Daegon
He held Zoey in his arms.
Daegon couldn't resist lowering his face into her soft, silky hair, breathing in their sweet scent that even the wretched ship hadn't taken away. Her beautiful body under his hands felt better than he had dared to imagine.
The warlord swore he would hold her again at another time, closer, without his armor in the way. He could feel her shake in his embrace, out of sheer relief to be alive and as much as he had seen, it had been about to end.
Had he seen another Corgan chasing her?
She was holding one hand away from them awkwardly. Only then did Daegon notice that she was wearing one of the Yemalan gloves. Despite being in the bowels of the enemy ship, he nearly burst out laughing. The little female was cleverer than he'd thought. Careful not to shock either of them, he brought up her hand and inspected it.
"I took it," Zoey explained when she saw him examining the weapon. "I couldn't really use the spear, so this was the better option."
Daegon smiled at her.
"That is great thinking," he said, seeing her answer his smile at once. "I can't imagine how you would have managed to survive without it for so long."
That reminded him of the ugly truth of the matter and he became serious again.
"I allowed you to be taken," he said roughly. "You were under my protection."
"You did nothing wrong," Zoey said at once. "You thought you were doing what was best for me, and you did. The enemy snuck up on me, that's all. It's not your fault."
Daegon disagreed, but it changed nothing. He would still kill everyone on the Yemalan ship now that he'd retrieved Zoey.
"How are you even here?" she asked when he began to lead her back to where his fighter waited. "I heard them say the Wraith was in pursuit, but it doesn't look like you've caught them."
That was true.
"We haven't," Daegon admitted. "I flew ahead with my fastest fighter. These damn Yemalan ships are faster than I remembered. The Wraith's engines aren’t good enough to match the speed, but they can't run forever. As soon as we had the mothership in sight, I came alone."
Her beautiful green eyes spoke volumes to him, and Daegon wished there was a way to express everything he felt. How it had been impossible to wait and do nothing while she was out there, possibly being tortured or perhaps dead already.
The dash with the fighter had been foolhardy, but he hadn't doubted for a moment. With Zoey's life in danger, it was amazing how few choices were actually choices at all.
He'd found her alive – that was all that mattered. Now he had to get her back to the safety of the Wraith and continue his quest.
Then her words came back to him.
"You said you heard them say I was coming," he repeated. "Do you speak Yemalan?"
"No," Zoey said. "I know a few words, but not really. I heard another Corgan say that. Daegon, there is another clan lord here. I don't know what he's planning, but it's bad."
Daegon stopped in his tracks so suddenly she nearly bumped into him. The sensation wasn't unwelcome, but more pressing issues demanded his attention.
"Another Corgan," he repeated. "Are you sure?"
He thought he'd seen the same thing in the darkness of the corridor, but he hadn't wanted to believe that.
"I'm sure," Zoey said. "And I'm almost positive that he is a clan lord too. He didn't look like an average warrior. He was too tall and too strong for that. And the way he spoke... No, he is a lord."
That was unthinkable. For a Corgan to work together with Yemalan, it was impossible. Daegon wouldn't have believed her if he hadn't seen the same. There had been someone chasing her, disappearing from sight as soon as he approached. And it had been too tall for a Yemalan.
"What did he tell you?" he demanded from Zoey.
"He is planning something," she said, thoughtful.
The Yemalan mothership was not the best place to have that conversation, but they had no choice. Anything she could remember would be helpful, even as Daegon kept rushing them back. He had no fear of anyone on board, but the hordes of Yemalan that were about to descend on them could hurt Zoey.
"He said he wanted to make Corgans great again, that you've all los
t your minds," Zoey was saying.
That was unsurprising. Lately tensions had been very high and even after Daegon had taken control of his clan, he could sense the reluctance to go along with the new way. They were hoping that he'd set it right with the Union by refusing their ambassador.
"But I was thinking," Zoey went on. "If he's enlisting the Yemalan to help – and he helps them – it means that the others refused him."
"That is more than likely, yes," Daegon said. "Can you remember something else?"
"He promised them a world."
The growl that escaped Daegon's throat seemed to scare Zoey. He turned towards her with flashing eyes.
"That traitor promised the raiders one of our planets?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, nodding. "I think it's their price for helping him do this."
"Of course it is," Daegon snarled, moving on, already hearing the screams of the Yemalan troops.
They didn't have much time.
"It is all they want, and he made a deal with our enemies. If I ever find out who he is, I will make sure he regrets it until his dying day. If that ever comes."
Zoey said nothing, running by his side. She kept looking back, and Daegon couldn't fault her for it. He couldn't imagine what it had been like for her on the mothership, defenseless and alone. It was clear she wanted away, but they had to take a detour first.
He thought as they ran. The chieftain had been hinting for some time now that something like that was going to happen, but Daegon hadn't wanted to believe him. Couldn't, more so.
The fact that one of their kind would sink so low as to brook deals with the Yemalan was out of the realm of possibility. Nadar Brenger hadn't actually suggested that option, but the chieftain had said that everything was possible if men became desperate enough.
And they clearly had.
The plan was simple, as Daegon understood it. The traitor would attack the holy world with the Yemalan. It would show how far they dared to come, putting more pressure on Nadar. The traitor expected the clans to start fighting their chieftain and the Union. And in the mayhem, did he really think they wouldn't notice the Yemalan seizing one of their home worlds?