Four hours later, the stowaway was glad she had demanded a pair of sturdy boots to go with the gun, knife, and other items she needed to get through the jungle. The tracking device in her hand placed Brynt’s group directly ahead. She caught up with them by following the path they had spent time clearing.
Upon hearing voices in the distance she hid behind a tree trunk. Her fingers wrapped tighter around the knife. She saw no point in letting them know she had followed. Not that she had a plan either. Best see first if the Navi is alive.
She cut through the web of low hanging vines to get a better view of the group in the distance. They gathered around the capsule debating. She caught a few words from the conversation. “Broken… gone… salvage…”
A twig cracked behind her and a hand touched her arm. For someone like the stowaway, when startled there was only one response. Slavers knew to prod their property with long sticks for that very reason. She turned around and the knife thrust forward hitting soft tissue.
“I know wh—” the woman’s quiet words turned into a gurgle.
The stowaway pushed the gray haired woman against the nearest trunk, the blade still inside.
“Who…” The stowaway muttered, but one glance at the shimmering dress was enough. Who else would be wandering there?
She covered the woman’s mouth, but she found no anger or defiance in the Navi’s eyes, just sadness, maybe even pity. How the hell will I cover this up?
Lost in thought, she missed the Navi’s hand movement. The wrinkled, trembling fingers closed around Fiana’s bracelet.
You are now their only hope, a strange voice rung in the stowaway’s head. She looked left and right. The grasp on her wrist tightened.
The trinket comes to life under the woman’s touch. A faint, blue glow seeped through the cracks between the metal segments.
I know what happened to Fiana. You shall carry her burden now. A click within the bracelet and a sharp pain in the stowaway’s wrist, as if from a needle, followed. She tried to pull away, but the old woman had a surprisingly strong hold.
“How are you doing this?” the stowaway hissed quietly, lowering her hand from the woman’s mouth. But only a sigh came in reply.
There isn’t much time. They need you, but you need them, too. The Navi coughed and blood dripped down her chin. One is not enough.
With each rough breath life escaped from the old woman.
“No, no, no,” Fiana whispered, holding the woman up. “They’re all right there; we can still take you back to camp. I didn’t mean to…”
I forgive you. The Navi paused. Blood foamed at her mouth. But they would not.
The old Navi’s bracelet lit up. When it is done, say my name. I was Samare.
In three quickening breaths the woman was gone.
“No!” Fiana screamed, letting go of the body. Immediately she covered her mouth.
But it was too late. The sound of heavy boots hitting the ground neared. A moment later, Brynt burst from behind a shrub. He stopped when their eyes met.
“What are you doing here, Navi?” His gaze shifted to the body still warm at her feet. Surprise, shock, and horror flashed on his face before returning to the emotionless mask. He grabbed his gun and pointed it at Fiana.
“Arrest her!”
Her eyes widened. Was she not untouchable?
“It was an accident! I…” Both bracelets dimmed fast. Panicked she bent down and grabbed the one on Samare’s wrist. “Samare,” she whispered repeatedly, but nothing happened.
“Don’t move!” Brynt adjusted his stance. “I will shoot you.”
Shivers ran down her spine. She dropped Samare’s bracelet and raised her arms slowly.
“I…”
“Save it for the trial, Navi.” Another man walked up and cuffed her. “Start walking.”
A World of Worlds Page 15