Storm of Arranon Allies and Enemies

by Robynn Sheahan

  Go. See for yourself. Get answers. Save Jaer.

  Erynn glared at Shan. “It’s okay. I’ll leave. But I’ll be back.”

  Shan took Erynn’s place on the bed next to Jaer, taking his hand and stroking the neat dark beard over his chin. “Jaer, I’m here. And I’ll stay right here until you wake up.”

  Maire remained in the cubicle, giving Shan an update on Jaer’s condition.

  Aven walked out with Erynn. “I’m sorry. I’ll deal with this. You can be with Jaer whenever you want.”

  “Thanks. But right now I’d like to see him.”

  Aven glanced back to the curtained space and frowned. “Him?”

  “Dhoran. I want to see Dhoran. I have questions I believe only he can answer.”

  Aven shook his head. “Erynn, I don’t like this. It could be dangerous. Jaer wouldn’t like me allowing you to see Dhoran.”

  She stopped, took a deep breath, and stared into Aven’s dark, fathomless eyes. Once again, the resemblance to Jaer unsettled her, his stubborn determination and pride evident. “What if the only way to save Jaer is to talk to Dhoran?”

  “And what if it’s a trap? A ruse to get to you? I have to think of your safety.” Aven glanced at the curtain. “I’m doing what Jaer would want me to do.”

  “Dhoran. He’s sedated, bound, secure. There are guards. What could he do?” Erynn laid her hand over Aven’s arm. “I have to try. Jaer isn’t going to wake up, and I believe Dhoran knows why. I want to talk to him.”

  Aven watched Erynn. “If I don’t agree, you’ll find a way—regardless of what I say.” He nodded. “Okay. But I’m staying with you.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Can we go now?”

  Chapter 6

  MULTIPLE BOOT STEPS TROTTED IN cadence, approaching rapidly from the far end of the dim corridor. Dhoran ducked into a narrow cleft in the rock wall, hoping it would be enough to conceal his new, rounded shape. He sucked in his breath and squeezed into the constricted space. Sharp edges dug into his yielding flesh. Water trickled and dripped from overhead, leaving icy trails down cold stone. The chill penetrated Dhoran’s coat and he shivered. He longed to be deep underground again, among his subjects and warm. But for now there was work to do, keeping him tied to the surface just a little longer.

  General Cale Athru had the base on alert. His next order would lock down all access points, making escape impossible.

  I have to get out before that happens.

  A six-person security team materialized from the shadows and filed past, eyes focused on the passageway ahead. Dhoran pivoted against the scrape of rock and watched them disappear into the gloom. He sidestepped into the corridor when the snap of boot heels no longer echoed against stone walls. With a quick glance back, Dhoran continued in the opposite direction from the patrol, stepping up his pace. His lungs burned with exertion. The muscles of his legs began to twitch and cramp. He missed Nev’s strong, athletic physique.

  Dhoran’s current form had not been the best choice. The soft, delicate body disgusted him. This host had no security clearance, so his position was limited to a specific section of the base. However, need dictated a hasty possession. After his consciousness had descended so deeply into Nev, resulting in physical changes—red-gold scales over Nev’s hands, arms, face, and upper torso, elongated incisors, increased muscle mass, and his deeper, guttural voice—fleeing the body nearly caused Dhoran’s death. In a weakened condition, Dhoran seized the first available opportunity. If he hadn’t, he risked slipping into a dormant state like the one Zander had imposed on him nearly twenty years ago. Driven to finish what he’d started, Dhoran refused any further delay. He had come too far. And Erynn already knew too much.

  His primary concern now required getting safely off the base. He needed to act quickly and not be caught. Dhoran considered trying to reach Gaden, but with the base on alert, his presence in areas other than where the host belonged would raise too many questions. There was always the possibility he might encounter a loyal sympathizer, but again, this new and unrecognized form would require an explanation. The time taken to do so would be wasted, delaying escape. Unable to get help from his supporters, Dhoran’s plan entailed a dash to the transport bay where he would exit the main access—before the lockdown took effect.

  A hasty retreat to Tamaagra would work. He had a small but strong faction in the city, some high-ranking officials included. He could take the time to obtain a new body or allow this one to change. The size of the city and population made it the perfect place for a clever resourceful individual to lose—or better yet—find himself.

  Eager to begin the assault against the surface, exercising his power and authority to subdue Erynn would have to wait. With Jaer dead, or soon to be, she wouldn’t be a problem. Dhoran understood his previous mistakes. The combined efforts of building his army, evolving into his new body, and taking Erynn proved too much. From this point on, he would advance methodically—one step at a time. War first. With the surface conquered, and his former resplendent glory restored, he could return to claim Erynn, taking her to his underworld kingdom. Their superior children would soon follow.

  Dhoran’s thoughts wandered with these pleasant images. His inattention almost caused a collision with an Anbas patrol. Their stealthy approach left him scrambling for cover into a side tunnel. He pressed against the stone wall, cloaked in shadows between dim overhead lights. Heart hammering in his chest, he was sure the patrol would hear his gasping breaths and seek out the source.

  They didn’t.

  He cursed this inadequate body. Even his abilities abandoned him. Any strength or magical power regained during his short time in Nev’s body appeared lost, for now.

  Dhoran waited until his heartbeat steadied and his breathing calmed. Silence filled the empty corridor. The cramps in his legs continued to increase as he pressed against the vertical rock, his muscles still and tight. He limped back to the main tunnel, muffling a scream of pain behind clenched teeth. He must hurry or lose this opportunity to escape. This body was expendable as long as he made it to Tamaagra.

  The closer Dhoran got to the transport bay, the more personnel he encountered. He kept his head down and pushed on, realizing no one paid any attention to him. Activity in the main corridor was frenetic, everyone distracted by duties and concerns. Talk of an imminent battle inside the base and rumors of a complete evacuation buzzed in the air.

  Dhoran slipped into the transport bay, leaning against the wall on the right for support. He wiped sweat from his eyes and hobbled toward the access tunnel. His chest heaved to draw in enough air, his throat raw and dry. Above him, amber lights flashed from several positions high on the walls, circling the bay. The lockdown hadn’t been ordered—yet.

  I can make it. The door to freedom is in sight—

  An alarm blared, echoing through the expansive space. Amber lights flashed one last time and changed to a steady red glow.

  Lockdown.

  Dhoran knew running straight toward the access was pointless. Security would stop and question him. Without answers, his escape would end here and now. He wove between transports, staying behind the massive vehicles when possible.

  A grinding of stone on stone cut across the blaring alarm. The access door rumbled slowly over metal tracks, inexorably sealing his escape route. The last ten meters before him was open space, with no place to hide until he reached the tunnel beyond the slowly closing door. From there the short corridor, his path to freedom cleared, leading him to the outer access panel that opened to the forest. Dhoran sucked in a breath and pushed the limits of the host’s endurance. Short legs pumped, propelling him forward. He pressed through the door with no time or space to spare. A fraction later and he wouldn’t have been able to squeeze the fullness of this body through what remained of the opening.

  The grinding stone panel slowed and stopped, thudding into place. A cool dark silence greeted Dhoran on the other side. He waited, expecting the door to reopen, shouts revealing his re
ckless sprint through the access bellowing from the bay.

  No one pursued him.

  Dhoran’s heart skipped, and a tearing pain tore across his chest. Darkness swirled, closing in. He dropped to his hands and knees on the uneven stone floor, concentrating on breathing, deep and slow. The pain eased and his head cleared. Dhoran pushed up from the cold, rough surface. He shuffled, pushing aching muscles to the final panel of solid rock, the only access to the base not affected by the lockdown. He activated the door, stepping into a frigid night and a sky full of brilliant stars.

  Chapter 7

  A COLD GRAY MIST THICKENED around Nev. He searched the dense fog for the other’s evil presence.

  He found nothing.

  His thoughts were his own. The other didn’t rebuke him or chastise his prodding, his opposition to be controlled. He was alone inside his body. This one fact he knew without any reservation.

  Dhoran was gone.

  Deep silence coalesced in layers, each more solid than the previous. A low thrumming vibration pulsed, penetrating the dense embrace of drugs. His consciousness stirred, searching for the source. The low throb increased, its pitch rising and then cutting off, leaving him once again in suffocating quiet. His fractured thoughts settled on a reasonable explanation.

  Air circulation pumps cycling. Those are used only in the lowest levels.

  A muted rasp of stone scraping on stone broke the unnatural hush surrounding him.

  Not stone. Not a scrape. A whisper of metal? A blade slicing through heavy fabric? No. None of that. But what?

  Nev grasped for comprehension, but understanding floated away, swallowed by rolling darkness and a deep void. He hovered above the rift between life and death—aware he could make a choice. Years of medical training commanded that he live. Life was a precious gift that should always be chosen over death.

  There was another reason not to pass through the veil into everlasting peace, one more insistent than self-preservation. This single thought expanded, swarming over his awareness, driving his will to remain among the living. An overwhelming sense of justice surged through Nev until he could barely contain his need. Knowledge of an approaching slaughter of innocents compelled him to prevent the carnage. He must stop this from happening, not only for himself, but also for many others—one in particular.

  Then there was love.

  The crush of this emotion weighed heavily on Nev. He wanted the opportunity to reveal his heart to her. He’d held back his feelings when they were together. This was how it had always been for him. The timing never seemed—right. She had endured so much and deserved happiness. He wasn’t sure if she shared or could return his love. But for him, telling her would be enough.

  Quiet footsteps intruded into his thoughts. Patterns of light and dark crossed his eyelids. Cool air wafted over him, and a stinging needle prick warmed the side of his neck. A slight current of electricity rushed through him. The clouds blocking his thoughts broke apart, allowing his memory to clear, bit by tragic bit.

  A quavering voice whispered through the fog of receding sleep. “My lord?” A hand shook his shoulder. “My lord?”

  My lord?

  Nev’s eyelids fluttered and opened. A man’s face, vague and out of focus, leaned over him.

  “My lord. It’s Gaden. Your followers prepare. You have only to give the word, and the battle to take the base will begin. Socar Batahs and Shifters await your order.” A hard seething tone followed. “We will secure your release from this prison.”

  Nev thought as quickly as his muddled mind allowed.

  He thinks I’m Dhoran. Why? Best to play along until . . . what?

  “Gaden, help me sit.”

  “Of course, my lord.” Gaden lifted him into a sitting position on the cot. Blankets fell away and curled on the floor at his feet. Gaden knelt before him, head bowed. “My lord, what is your command?”

  “Erynn. Where is Erynn? I need—I demand to speak with her. In private.”

  “She is protected by the Anbas. After what happened to Jaer—” Gaden paused. “Aven guards her.” He cleared his throat. “My lord, what is your plan? Was Jaer to be the beginning of our assault? Who accomplished this attack on the Fayn for you? I don’t understand. Do we continue the fight? Do we take the base? This is the quickest way I can offer to release you. Then I will see to it that Erynn is brought to you.”

  More bloodshed. No, I can’t allow any more to die. Think. Think! And what happened to Jaer? Is he . . . dead? Gaden speaks of this attack as if I should understand. I must be careful.

  Nev stood up shakily. He rubbed unsteady fingers over his burning eyes. “No!” he ordered in a gravelly rumble more forceful than he thought possible. His head swam, making him dizzy.

  Gaden took a step back, cowered, and bowed. “Command me, my lord. We, your loyal subjects, await your instruction.”

  Nev sensed Gaden’s fear and subservience. A need to please cascaded from this cringing man in his body language. Nev’s stomach rolled and lurched.

  What is going on? Where is Dhoran? Why doesn’t Gaden know Dhoran has fled this—my body?

  Nev gazed down at powerful clawed fingers, the skin of his hands a patchwork of reddish-bronze scales. He sucked in a slow breath. The outward appearance of Dhoran remained.

  No wonder I’m treated like a criminal, or in Gaden’s case, his master.

  “Water,” Nev whispered, but the tone was demanding, his voice gruff and harsh.

  A cup appeared at his side. Gaden bent at the waist, staring at the floor.

  Nev drank, trying to think, to pull his thoughts together into a cohesive plan. He needed to see Erynn—make her understand. She could then convince Cale and the others. There must be a way to stop Dhoran before he takes another form. His hand shook, and he grasped the cup more tightly.

  “Do you wish more, my lord?”

  “No.” Nev bit back the impulse to say thank you. Instead, he turned on Gaden. “Bring Erynn to me.”

  “I will go immediately, my lord. But I can’t promise she’ll come.”

  “Do what you can to bring her to me and nothing else until I tell you. Make no attack against the base. Do you understand?”

  Gaden nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

  Footsteps in the outer corridor caused Gaden to straighten and take a step back from Nev. The door slid open.

  Aven and Erynn stood in the outer chamber.

  Chapter 8

  ERYNN HESITATED AND GLANCED AT Aven. She whispered, “I haven’t seen Nev . . . I mean Dhoran since before you and I left for Deanaim to search the ruins there.” Her heart thudded in her chest, the pulse throbbing to her fingertips. She recoiled, crossing her arms protectively over her stomach. Dhoran’s twisted intent for her was clear in her mind. If Jaer’s life wasn’t at stake, she wouldn’t be anywhere near this monster.

  Aven nodded to a technician seated at a control panel. “Once the changes started, the outward transformation of Nev into Dhoran happened quickly.” The lock disengaged with a snap and the narrow door slid open. Aven pushed into the tiny cell ahead of Erynn. He stopped, blocking her entrance. “General Gaden. Does General Athru know you’re here? Who gave you clearance? What business do you have with this . . . this creature?” A derisive sneer colored his voice.

  Gaden turned from the prisoner, his jaw muscles bunching. Shoulders squared and hands fisted, he met Aven’s advance. Gaden stood his ground, leaning toward the powerful Anbas Warrior with only centimeters separating them. His brown eyes shifted to Erynn standing in the door and then back to Aven. Gaden’s face reddened, his words snapping in the air between them. “I am second in command and the wing commander on this base. That is clearance enough. The safety of my pilots and my aircraft is my business.” Gaden sighed deeply, his fisted hands relaxed, and he straightened. Regaining control, he shrugged and said smoothly, “I thought I could persuade him to give up his allies. He refuses to reveal any followers—if there are any.” Gaden glanced back, his smile weak and humorless.
“If you think you can get something out of him, go ahead. Try. But please be careful.” Gaden nodded to Erynn as he slipped through the door and into the outer corridor.

  Erynn sidestepped, allowing General Gaden to pass. He brushed by her, radiating a sense of triumph shaded with a deep subconscious fear. This mix of emotions seemed out of place in the current setting. She understood triumph, but fear puzzled her. Before she could further consider Gaden’s intentions toward Dhoran, movement beyond Aven drew her attention.

  A shuffling step followed by a low rumbling sigh emanated from a shadowy corner.

  She edged next to Aven, staring in stunned amazement at the creature standing unsteadily before her, illuminated by a tiny overhead light.

  Not much of Nev remained. Dhoran had grown formidable in her absence, no longer completely human, but neither was he a form Erynn could define. Red-gold scales replaced smooth skin in patches on his neck, face, and both hands. Long, wickedly clawed digits held no resemblance to the strong, skilled fingers of a surgeon. Nev’s trim, athletic body had morphed into a physically powerful beast. What was left of the byan was barely visible under a reddish-bronze hue of scales.

  Piercing gold-green eyes with elliptical pupils replaced the soft silver blue of Nev’s. They shifted from the closing cell door to Erynn. He tipped his head. Lips curled back to expose canines, sharp and long, more animal than human. “Erynn.” The word croaked from his throat in a guttural murmur.

  Erynn bit at her lip, eyes widening. She muttered, “He’s more alert than I thought he would be.” A slow tumbling sensation threatened to topple her resolve. Every muscle in her body went rigid. She forced away her desire to escape the close confinement of the cell—and Dhoran. This was about Jaer, not her.

  Aven frowned. “You wanted to question him. Can’t ask an unconscious man—creature—questions. I instructed Roni to revive him, but not this much.”

  An awkward swipe of a shaking hand pushed sandy-brown hair from a scaled forehead. Nev’s cocha, the silver and blue clasp that usually held his long hair at the nape of his neck, had been confiscated. He squinted. The pinched expression caused his nose to wrinkle and his lips to curl, casting a menacing appearance. “Questions? Not sure I have answers. A little confused myself.” His rasping guttural voice was thick and slow. He straightened, swaying a bit. “Erynn, you must find Dhoran. Advise Cale. He’s here, somewhere.”