Aven and Tam rounded the corner into the wide, brightly lit hall of the Medical Unit, ignoring the guard at the desk. Their boots tapped against the smooth stone floor, discordant in the early morning silence.
Her green eyes wide, Maire swept through the pale-blue curtain, closing it swiftly behind her. She held a finger to quivering lips and gestured toward the cubicle where Jaer lay. She dropped her hand and mouthed, “Gaden.”
Aven nodded. Tam squeezed his fingers in a trembling grasp.
The drape slid, chattering on the rod, and Gaden emerged. “Aven.” He turned. “And Tam. I see Jaer is ready to go home. I’m so sorry.” Gaden glanced behind at Jaer’s unmoving form and then to Aven. “For your loss.”
Aven’s free hand fisted. “My brother is not dead.”
The skin around Gaden’s eyes tightened and then relaxed. “Of course. Forgive me. There is always hope for a . . . miracle.” Gaden stepped into the bright corridor. “Maire will be accompanying Jaer? Be sure to return her to us.” He stared at Maire. “We need her here, safe and sound.”
Shan stomped from the far side of Jaer’s bed. “You’re letting them take him? I thought—”
“Shan, we discussed this. The claim is valid.” Gaden tipped his head, watching Aven. “I would never dispute Anbas law.” He took a step down the hall, then stopped and turned, his expression thoughtful. “Although, I did promise Erynn she could see Jaer.”
“What?” Shan shrieked. “I will not allow that, that half blood freak . . . No! Never.”
Gaden held his hand up to silence Shan. “With Jaer leaving us, Erynn seeing him is no longer an issue. Too bad. I know how much Erynn cared—cares for Jaer.”
“Then let her see him now, before we go.” Tam’s softly stated request carried intensity.
Aven had experienced Tam’s anger just once before. That incident had included Shan, also. The shudder in her hand was not from fear, but outrage. Her growing heat radiated to him. He turned on Gaden, waiting for a response, knowing he would have to refuse. Erynn wasn’t here.
Shan fumed in a silent fury, her face red, jaw muscles bunching.
Gaden lowered his gaze to the stone floor. “No. I’m sorry.” He raised his head, looking first at Aven and then to Tam. “I believe to allow Erynn to see Jaer in her distraught mental state would be too cruel. I must keep Erynn’s best interests, her emotional stability my highest priority.” He turned away. “Perhaps Jaer’s burial ceremony will give her closure.”
Aven repeated in a low growl, “My brother is not dead.”
Gaden ignored Aven and strode away. He rounded the corner beyond the guard’s desk and disappeared, Shan on his heels. Her displeasure at allowing Erynn to attend Jaer’s memorial echoed back to them.
Tam exhaled and whispered, “Do you think General Gaden knows?”
“No.” Aven stepped past the fully open curtain and stood next to Jaer’s bed. He stared down at his brother, who appeared to be in a deep, easy sleep. “I think Shan contacted him and he came here to placate her.” He touched Jaer’s hand and glanced at Byan Skye, noting the obvious fear in her lavender eyes. “We need to hurry. There’s not much time. With Gaden walking the base, he’s bound to notice personnel are missing and start asking questions.”
Skye nodded. Her long hair slipped over one shoulder, strands of silver gray shimmering in the bright lights. She attached the last cord from the Medical Unit’s monitor to a smaller portable version. “I’m ready,” she whispered, a tremor in her voice.
Maire entered with a gurney, and together they slid Jaer from his bed onto the narrow pad, fitting the equipment around his unmoving body.
“Let’s go.” Skye activated the controls at the head of the gurney, guiding the floating cot out of the cubicle and toward the security desk. She hesitated long enough to inform the posted officer of her intentions. “I want to make sure Jaer gets settled into the Herk. I’ll be right back.”
“Sure, Byan.” The guard sat up straighter in his chair. “Want security to meet you in the hangar bay—make sure you get back safely?”
Skye stopped and frowned. “I’ll be fine. Is there some reason I wouldn’t be?”
He stood up, fumbling with a zipper over a pocket. “No. No reason, Byan.”
Aven tugged, pulling Skye into motion. “Byan Skye, the Herk is waiting.”
Empty corridors loomed before Aven as he hurried forward, his hand clasped to the foot-rail of the gurney carrying his brother. He approached the first set of four stairways ascending to the hangar bay. Jaer’s head leveled as the cot floated up the steps, returning to a normal position at the next long corridor.
Tam stayed at Jaer’s side, holding his hand. “Almost there, Jaer. We’re going to be okay.”
Aven glanced back at her and smiled, but he knew the expression held no comfort. They still had a long way to go.
Multiple boot steps echoed from an intersecting corridor, quieting just out of view.
Aven slowed, holding up his hand, and the procession halted.
A strident female voice shouted orders. “Check every access on this level. If the door’s locked, use the master code. I want to know where all these people have gone!” Hurried boot heels rang on stone. A COM crackled and the woman called. “All levels, I want updates immediately as you clear a section. Copy?”
Aven edged forward, fingers gripping the hilt of his dygaer. Shadowy forms rushed right and left ahead, but none came toward him. Silence returned and Aven released his grasp on the weapon. He glanced back to three pairs of wide eyes.
Tam whispered, “Hurry!”
Aven increased the pace, trotting forward in the muted yellow glow of the overhead lights. Shadows shortened ahead, snapping behind and lengthening as they hurried under the spaced bulbs.
“It’s so quiet now.” Maire panted. “But I guess that’s a good thing.”
The shuffle of boots on smooth stone and their quick intakes of breath ricocheted against the close walls. What should have been a short trip seemed to take forever.
Aven rounded the last corner into the main corridor and made a left into the hangar bay. He slowed his dash into the massive space.
Straight ahead on the scramble pad, ten Anbas Warriors grouped around the Herk. Wind tugged the hems of their heavy black jackets. Rain dripped from their long, straight hair and somber faces.
Aven’s heart hammered, his breath catching, refusing to exit his lungs—not at the sight of the warriors, but at the three squadrons of security in dress uniform standing at attention behind General Gaden.
Anbas Warriors strode from the pad and through the center of the bay to surround Jaer, Skye, Maire, and Tam. The Herk’s engine began to whine, building into a roar. Rotors whirled, splitting the air with an increasing whack, whack, whack.
Gaden stepped up to Aven, glancing beyond the warriors to Jaer. “Our Fayn deserves an honorable send-off.” His gaze swept the bay. “I sent out an announcement, requesting that all off-duty personnel attend along with their families, as a demonstration of respect and admiration toward Fayn Jaer.” Gaden’s jaw tightened and his narrowed eyes darted back to Aven. “I see not many chose to attend.”
Aven breathed deeply, compelling a pretense of calm. He maintained eye contact with Gaden. “It could be, with communications restricted, no one received the message.”
Gaden exhaled and his anger dissolved. “Perhaps.”
Aven nodded to the Anbas around him. “Let’s go.”
“Wait.” Gaden’s gaze stopped on Byan Skye and his eyes narrowed. “Byan? Why are you here?”
Skye pushed through the ring of warriors, her tone harsh and forceful. “I’m seeing to my patient, General.”
Gaden’s head jerked back and he stepped away from her abrupt manner and tone. “Hmmm. Well then, by all means, carry on.” He turned and walked to stand in front of the three squadrons, calling in a loud voice, “Ready salute.” Gaden pivoted to face forward. When Jaer was directly in front of the troops, Gaden excla
imed, “Present salute.”
The three squadrons saluted, the tips of their fingers touching the brims of their dress hats. They held the salute until Jaer and company moved onto the scramble pad.
The Anbas loaded Jaer into the cargo hold with dignity and care, but swiftly. They hustled Skye, Maire, and Tam toward the ship, helping Tam and Maire on board, climbing on behind them. Only Skye and Aven remained standing on the pad, in the open and vulnerable to the assembled troops.
“I’m not supposed to go with you,” Skye whispered.
“Get inside. Strap yourself in. And hurry.” Aven pushed her up on the deck, nodding to Tiar, who watched from the pilot’s seat. Tiar’s gaze darted from Aven to Gaden, then to the troops, and back to Aven. His green eyes flashed with obvious alarm, a contrast to his normally stoic expression.
Tiar nodded to Aven and faced forward. His long dark hair fastened in a gold- and-green cocha blended with his black flight suit. He stared out the wide front window and gripped the controls.
Maire and two warriors finished strapping Jaer to the bed.
One grabbed Maire by the arm and pushed her into an empty seat. His voice low and urgent, he ordered, “Buckle in.”
The roar of the Herk’s engines increased. The rotors accelerated, blurring against a sky filled with heavy deep-gray clouds.
Aven stood alone, grasping the outer handle of the hatch. His ears throbbed from the rotors slashing the air. He glanced back. Gaden’s head tipped slowly, and his face flamed red as comprehension sparked in his piercing eyes. A woman and several security officers in white jumpsuits raced into the bay and up to Gaden. Aven jumped on board and slammed the door. “Go! Go! Go!” He dropped onto the last open seat next to the window, his hands searching for the buckle straps.
Gaden gestured, his shout lost in the thrumming roar of twin engines. Three squadrons, weapons drawn, ran toward the Herk.
Aven’s attention snapped to Tiar as he pulled back on the controls. The Herk jerked, rose slightly, and maneuvered forward just enough to plummet over the cliff edge of the scramble pad with a stomach-dropping descent.
Tiar hugged the massive boulders at the base of the mountain, zigzagging the narrow path between pale-brown stone. Displaced pebbles slammed the Herk with ticks, pops, and hissing bursts. Snow tore free from the frozen crust over the curved rock and caught in the rotor wash. Ice particles and water drops slapped the windows, blurring the view outside.
Laser blasts pinged off the ship’s skin. If a single arc of white-hot energy hit the engines, their end would be a fiery crash against the rocks. Tiar piloted toward the tree line, diving into the dense woods. He dodged laser shots and thick stands of tall trees, weaving the bulky ship through the forest.
Maire held tight to the side of Jaer’s gurney, her voice a higher-pitched scream over the wailing engines. “What if they come after us?”
A warrior strapped in next to her nodded, glancing in her direction. “They might just find that what’s left of the aircraft in the hangar are missing their stabilizers. If they do manage to get in the air, well . . .” He looked away from her, not finishing his thought. He didn’t need to. Everyone knew the disastrous outcome of flying without a stabilizer.
Aven wiped stinging sweat from his eyes, braced himself, and stared at Tam. “I hate this fancy flying skrat.”
Tam smiled and shouted over the scream of straining engines, her voice vibrating with the constant drone, “Just like Erynn—fast and low.”
Chapter 21
ERYNN AND NEV BOLTED ACROSS the street against traffic. Their attention remained riveted on the diminishing golden beam directly above a two-story building. Tiny window-front lights blinked in the lower level, radiating a bright spot of sparkling yellow and green in the gloom of a sodden afternoon.
A horn blast followed by an angry shout punctuated their passage. “Hey! Watch it! You two trying to get yourselves killed?”
Erynn jumped, startled by the thunderous yell.
Nev put his arm protectively in front of her. He held up a hand to the angry driver. “Sorry,” he called over the hissing rain. They stood in the middle of the busy thoroughfare, a grimy film spraying over them from the passing transports. Nev watched the last vehicle whirr by in the opposite direction. “Go. Now.”
She sprinted to the sidewalk entrance, pushing through a heavy wood-framed glass door.
A bar.
Three roomy booths with long padded seats of a deep-brown material occupied two bay windows flanking the entrance. Tables dotted the middle expanse with more booths hugging interior walls. Wrought-iron chandeliers with amber globes hung in open beam rafters of the spacious but quiet room. A few occupants sat on tall stools at a long polished wood bar at the back of the area. An arched entry of elaborate metal art to the left of the main door led to a darkened dining room. One would need reservations to dine here.
Erynn took Nev’s coat sleeve, leading the way into the softly lit interior. She swung to the right and claimed a booth in the window bay, throwing her pack in ahead of her. Heavily tinted glass didn’t allow much of a view to the outside. Nor would passersby easily see inside the elaborate space.
“Another bar,” Nev commented in a flat tone and shrugged out of his pack. “At least this one’s less sordid.” He scanned the few faces present, his hands on the smooth, smoked-glass tabletop.
“He has to be here. The light led us to this spot. Didn’t it?” Erynn finished her examination of the handful of patrons and watched Nev. “Can you see anything?”
A server wearing a dark tailored suit approached. The faux cheerful expression on the middle-aged woman’s features ended with a mock smile plastered to her lips. She eyed Erynn and Nev, her manner disapproving. “What can I get you?”
Erynn flipped her hood back, spattering the plush seat around her with droplets of water. “Kree. Lots of ice, please.”
Nev glared at Erynn from under his hood. He tipped his head, eyebrows raised.
“Make that two, please,” Erynn added, smiling up at the server.
She scowled, spun, and dashed away, returning a moment later with two tall glasses filled with ice suspended in a dark fluid, balancing on a tray.
Erynn pulled credits from her pocket, leaving two extra on the tray.
The server smiled again, more genuinely this time. “Thanks.” She deposited the colorful slips of blue, green, and gold paper into an inside pocket of her suit jacket.
Erynn dropped another credit on the tray. “We won’t need anything else.”
The woman beamed. “I’ll see to it you aren’t disturbed. Stay as long as you like.”
“Thanks.” Erynn probably just gave the woman more than she’d made since her shift started. As evening approached and the establishment filled with customers, that would change. Erynn slipped her hand around the icy glass and sipped at the cold, sweet liquid.
When the server disappeared into the vast cavity of the bar, Erynn leaned over the wide table. “Anything?”
Nev picked up his glass and took a small drink. He coughed and cleared his throat. “Forgot how syrupy this stuff was.”
Erynn grimaced. “You don’t like Kree? Sorry. I should have asked. Would you like something else? A beoir?”
“No. Better not.” Nev glanced up from his inspection of the Kree. “Dhoran is here. He’ll come to us. Soon.”
“What? He’s here?” Erynn whispered harshly. A wave of fear slammed over her, and her stomach roiled. She glanced at the door and started to stand, scanning the darkened corners.
Nev reached out and covered her hand with his. “Sit down. He’ll find us.”
Erynn dropped back onto the seat, barely containing the quaver in her voice. “Guess it’s as safe here as anywhere.” She absently touched the slight bulk of the dagger hidden in the inside pocket of her leather jacket. Not that using the blade against Dhoran would stop him. Just having something that once belonged to her father somehow comforted her. She surveyed the nearly empty room again.
Nothing.
She turned her attention back to Nev. Uncertainty churned in her mind and her gut. “Do you think this is a trap?”
Nev stared out the tinted window, not answering. Instead, he reached across the table and tapped the back of her hand with a trembling finger. “I’ll let you know when he’s close.”
Her voice hushed, she asked, “So what do we do? I mean when Dhoran comes over here. How do we . . .” She shook her head. The lack of communication made their situation worse. She desperately wanted—needed to talk with Cale or Aven. Erynn had only herself and Nev to accomplish what her father, Zander, had tried years ago and failed. He died in the attempt. She closed her eyes and silently pleaded for Zander to help her.
Nothing. Not even a high singing word of encouragement from the Anim Blath.
Is this to be my sacrifice? What about Jaer? How do I stop Dhoran from destroying Arranon? What do I do?
She sucked in a deep breath and jerked her hand from under Nev’s. Erynn wiped moist palms on her dark pants. “What do we do? Should we contact the authorities?”
“What if security is on Dhoran’s side? I wouldn’t count on help from them. We’re on our own. And we probably won’t get another shot at Dhoran. So let me do the talking. I’m more familiar with his ways.” Nev’s head swiveled slowly to the gloomy shadows at the rear of the room. “He’s coming.”
Erynn stiffened. She glanced up and to the right. From a murky narrow hall at the side of the long bar, a darker form appeared, heading their direction. He approached with long confident strides. A powerfully built man with short dark hair and a crooked smile stopped and stared, his cold brown eyes locking on her. “Well, hello, Erynn.” He slid into the booth next to her, joining them.
Erynn shoved into the corner, pressing against her pack, the wall, and the window. Dhoran radiated assurance and an uncomfortable heat. Erynn narrowed her exposure to his assured superior self-importance but could only distance herself as best she could from his proximity. She gritted her teeth and willed her body not to shake.
Storm of Arranon Allies and Enemies Page 17