Renegade Skyfarer

by R. J. Metcalf

  Nevin sniffed and wiped his pince-nez against his sleeve before settling it back on his face. “Impossible. It’s a rock. Even if it’s magical, rocks don’t have feelings.”

  Staying near the edge of the room, Victor edged toward the closest of the large stained-glass windows where the morning sunlight threw colorful patterns on the floor. He rapped his knuckles against it and looked at Slate. “Either way, Captain, you should get started. Who knows how much time we have before it gets unstable again?”

  “True.” Slate walked back to Victor and slipped Zak’s—Zane’s—black ring off his hand and into his pocket. I’m not going to risk mixing magic. He accepted the stone from his first mate and stared at the dappled surface for an eternity of a heartbeat. It weighed heavy in Slate’s hand, and it was too easy to imagine it being pulled down with the burden of secrets, promises, and the blood spilled nearly two decades prior. He gripped it and approached the barrier, excitement and nervousness coursing through his bloodstream as the purple and black rippled before him.

  Ironic, that to protect the barrier from collapse in case of emergency required the lodestone and blood, but to restore it completely, he only needed a bloodstone.

  Slate lifted the bloodstone up to the barrier, as the scroll illustrated. He stopped a sword’s length away from the keystone and stared as orange blossomed from its center, a starburst of red following a moment later. His skin prickled as ice crept down his spine. This isn’t how it’s supposed to look. He twisted to look behind at Victor and Nevin, but one of the guards stood directly behind Slate, sword drawn. Nevin stood in front of the open door, buffing his nails against his sleeve.

  “What’s going on?” Panic shot through Slate’s veins as orange and pink lightning ripped along the wall of the barrier, casting color on the guard’s stony face. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to react!”

  The man said nothing and lunged forward. Slate dropped the stone and pulled out his sword, but not fast enough. The jab sliced through Slate’s bicep, and scarlet anguish lanced up his arm. He fumbled with his blade as he sidestepped and tripped over the bloodstone, kicking it toward the edge of the room. He looked at Victor and Nevin with wide eyes. “What are you waiting for? Do something!”

  Nevin pressed his lips together and looked away. Victor flicked his hand toward Slate, then kneeled and picked up the bloodstone. He inspected it casually. The second guard drew his blade with the ring of steel and advanced toward Slate.

  Bloated whales. What was going on?

  Slate threw a desperate glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t going to back into the barrier. He looked over in time to see Nevin collapse on the ground. A moment later, the closest guard dropped, too, a crimson sword protruding from his chest.

  The guard crumpled, revealing the blond bearded bandit from Vodan. Fury danced in his eyes as he glared at Slate. His blue gaze switched to the second guard, and he stalked toward him. The man swung at the bandit, but the blond blocked and pushed against him.

  Horror swept over Slate as the guard screeched and slipped into the barrier. His skin withered. Muscles sagged. Everything melted and collapsed, revealing bone—and then he was gone. Evaporated. Nothing.

  The bandit returned his glare to Slate. “No one has the right to kill you, but me.” He flicked his wrist, and droplets of blood flew off his blade. He drew himself up. “Sapphire is dead because of you.”

  Slate’s body turned numb from shock, and he squinted at the man. The blond hair was far too long, his skin weathered, and he’d never had a beard before. It was impossible, but Slate knew he wasn’t mistaken. The familiar eyes, the bump in his nose so like his daughter’s, the misery when he spoke of Sapphire…

  “Brandon?”

  Who else could it be?

  How had he survived? Where had he been?

  Victor swore and banged his hand against the window. It exploded inward with a burst of blue, red, and green glass. A man dressed in casual pants and a green vest swung in and landed next to Slate’s first mate. Victor held the bloodstone out. The newcomer yanked his goggles from his eyes, grabbed the bloodstone, and rushed forward. He pulled a short sword from a sheath on his hip and swung at Brandon—it has to be Brandon—but Brandon blocked and pushed against the stranger.

  The bloodstone fell from the green-vested man’s grasp, and he stumbled backward over the body of a guard, the barrier just behind him. He teetered on his heel, then fell back. Red and orange rippled around his body as he disappeared from sight.

  Slate swallowed hard, staring at the sword that Brandon pointed at him.

  “I—” Color drained from Brandon’s face, leaving him ghost-white. He stepped back, his eyes dilated as he stared at the barrier. “What the bleeding Void is that?”

  Slate looked over his shoulder. Brilliant tongues of crimson swirled and pulsed into orange and yellow as the stranger stepped out of the barrier.

  He looked at Victor and shrugged while he straightened his green vest. “It looks like it’ll be down within minutes.”

  Slate dropped his sword and scrambled back.

  Void Born.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Blade

  Blade ignored the clatter of Slate’s dropped blade and stepped back, giving the Void Born a wide berth. The abomination stooped to leisurely scoop up his short sword. He looked up, eyes narrowed.

  “Chris.” Slate’s first mate spoke from the corner. “Change of plans. We’re going.”

  Blade’s eyes widened. The rising sun shone bright through the open window, making it difficult to discern his features. But he recognized the man. The sharp nose. The high cheekbones. The cruel eyes. Hatred surged through Blade, and he trembled at the memory that wavered behind his eyelids.

  It’s him.

  Chris’s eyes darted to the bald man, and he nodded. “Yes, sir.” He picked up the black-and-red-flecked stone and slipped it in his pocket.

  “No.” Blade pointed at the bald male, his voice rough with rage. “You killed Zane.”

  “What?” Disbelief colored Slate’s choked gasp. He took a short step toward the window. “Victor, you killed Zane? And you were riding with us. My first mate—pretending to be on our side? Why?”

  Victor shucked off his sleek brown jacket to reveal a harness and metal gauntlet similar to what Blade’s crew had on their airship for emergency escapes. The traitor grinned as Chris jogged over to his side. “You failed, Captain. The barrier will fall soon, and it will be all your fault. Then we shall claim what is rightfully ours in this miserable land.” He pivoted on his heel, and gears whirred as the grappling hooks shot out.

  Chris tested his line and jumped out the window. Victor saluted mockingly with his free hand, then rode the line out to freedom.

  Stunned shock left Blade reeling. Zane’s murderer had been right here. With a Void Born.

  A Void Born. They’re real. And one’s here.

  “What just happened?” Slate’s ragged voice cut through Blade’s internal panic. He turned to regard his former brother-in-law. He’d worry about the Void Born later. He had to deal with this situation first.

  Slate visibly swallowed as he leaned over, hands on his knees as he trembled. “Victor killed Zane.” He looked up at Brandon. “How did you survive?” A flare of orange and yellow burst from the barrier, and Slate flinched. “Where did you go?”

  Blade lifted the blade in his hand to point at Slate. Slate’s eyes focused on the tip. “Doctor Taylor took me in.” Blade let the rage and venom in his voice seep out. “And I was his mindless slave until you happened to stroll through our camp not too long ago.” He offered a mocking bow. “I thank you for freeing me. And now I shall free you of your life, you vile traitor.”

  Blade lunged forward, and Slate scrambled for his sword. A silent tremor surged from the keystone, shaking the tower. Alarm spiked through Blade. If the barrier fell, too many innocents would die. Those of his own kingdom, even if he wasn’t a prince anymore, as well as all over souther
n Terrene. What had happened to it? A quick glance showed Slate’s white-faced alarm. Was it something Slate had done, or the Void Born?

  Slate used Blade’s moment of distraction to grab his own sword and slip to the side. He glanced toward the door, and Blade stabbed, gashing Slate’s arm. Slate howled as a chunk of his arm ripped free.

  Almost there. I’ll avenge all of you. Air rattled in Blade’s lungs as he moved in toward Slate again. “I’ll send you after your daughter to shehalla.”

  Slate stumbled to his knees, sweat beading on his forehead as he tried to block Blade’s sword. “What did you do to Jade?”

  “You raised a stupid girl. She chased me, and I cut her down.”

  Tears slipped down Slate’s cheeks, and glee rose in Blade’s chest at the devastation in Slate’s eyes.

  “You killed…that was Adeline, Brandon,” Slate whispered. He curled forward as he bowed, palms up, tears falling down his face. “Your daughter. I raised her, protected her. I wanted her to reclaim the throne, to make you and Sapphire proud.”

  The broken expression along with Slate’s words filled Blade’s body with horror. He didn’t have to torture Slate to hear the truth of his words. He’d seen the truth himself when he first saw her. She didn’t take after her father’s side of the family with the red hair and delicate features. She took after her mother’s side of the family.

  She had been alive. And now she was surely dead. By his own hand.

  What have I done?

  “But you,” Blade raised the sword again. “You killed Sapphire!”

  “No.” Slate’s face twisted in pain as he shook his head. “No. That was an accident. I swear. I never meant for her to die. For you to disappear.” He looked over his shoulder at the barrier as it rippled yellow. “I never meant for any of this to happen,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

  Fury coursed through Blade’s blood, and he stood over Slate. “It’s too late to be sorry.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Ben

  Dust rained down from the ceiling as the shaft shook. Ben added another burst of speed while he ran behind Raine, his toes squelching uncomfortably in his boots. Zak had failed to mention that there was an underground river. And no lights to see by. And though they managed to get across the water, and figured out which of the three tunnels to take, it hadn’t been an easy endeavor for Ben.

  Of course, Raine had made it across the stepping stones perfectly. And she’d even managed to hold back a bark of laughter when Ben slipped on the last stone and fell in, spluttering and howling in the cold water. But now neither of them were smiling as another tremor rocked their underground tunnel.

  The darkness provided the perfect backdrop to the nightmarish images that kept playing in his mind. Jade, pale as death, crimson blood splashed over her face, her chest, and the floor. Laurent, his face ashen under the dust and dirt, bleeding out from the artery in his leg. One of them was dead. One of them may yet die.

  Ben gritted his teeth as he followed the sound of Raine’s strides. Jade had to live.

  “Stairs,” Raine panted, and Ben paused long enough to place where the steps were before he followed her up.

  Too many stairs later, they stumbled out of the tunnel and into a deathly silent library. She kept her hand on her sword as she led him through the maze of bookshelves and out into a corridor. Ben stumbled into Raine’s back when she stopped abruptly. He peered over her head.

  Five men blocked their path, all of them leering at Raine in her sweat-stained, form-hugging tunic. Her sword rang free of its scabbard as she settled into her fighting stance.

  Ben didn’t want to hide behind her like a useless damsel in distress. His hand dropped to his steam-pistol before he remembered the glass tank had shattered in the foyer. He swore.

  The lead bandit scoffed. “You’re outnumbered.”

  “Let us through, and you’ll live.” Raine’s voice reverberated in the hall. She dropped into a low crouch. “Hinder our cause and die.”

  The men hooted and drew their swords. “Don’t hurt her face, lads,” one of them called out. “I’d like to have a go at her—”

  Raine didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence. She surged forward, and the men backpedaled at her scream of fury.

  Ben cast about for a sword, a stick, anything, that would help Raine now that he didn’t have the steam-pistol. He had to beat that guy. Had to make him pay for even thinking such vile things toward her. Scum.

  But the woman was a master. She ebbed and flowed around the bandit men like an ocean wave. Relentless. Untouchable. And yet everywhere. Her blade sliced through the men with frightening ease. And there was nothing Ben could do to help. Raine didn’t stop moving until the last man fell, his fingers twitching. She stabbed his back, and his digits stilled.

  She looked back at Ben and raised her eyebrows at him. “We’re in a hurry.”

  He shook off his daze and jogged over to grab one of the fallen bandits’ swords. He had to help her. Not be a deadweight. Ben glanced up at Raine as he shook off the severed hand that gripped the handle. “Why did you need me to come again?”

  Raine glanced over her shoulder. “Because I may need help getting through obstacles.”

  Ben focused on the stone tiles on the floor instead of trying to maintain eye contact while running. “Either you overestimate my usefulness, or you underestimate your skill. I need you to teach me, someday.”

  Raine twitched her head in a small shake as the floor rumbled beneath them. “If we survive this, I’ll teach you whatever you want to know.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Jade

  Finn doubled into two figures as Jade watched him work on the throbbing line of torn flesh on her chest. Just over his shoulder, there were two Zebediahs watching the corridor. She blinked twice, and both men converged into a single image. Finn shook his head while he dabbed white cream on her shoulder, the pain receding as his fingers continued.

  “I don’t have what I need for the keystone. I sent her in without the very tool that we need.” He ground his teeth and dipped his finger into the little jar that Zak held out. “I’d given it to your brother, you know, and I haven’t seen it since the fall.”

  Jade caught Zebediah’s grimace at the mention of Zane. She still didn’t know when they’d come, but the Monomi were in the palace, and now their hallway had at least four of the Guardians posted at each end.

  The jar nearly slipped from Zak’s grip, and he shifted by Jade’s side, his knees brushing her hip. “What did you give him?”

  Finn sighed and dabbed down to the edge of the cut that ended just above Jade’s left breast. He wiped his hand on the hem of his shirt while Zak screwed the lid back on the bottle. “A black ring—a lodestone—that if used in tandem with a bloodstone can restore stability to the keystone.” He compressed his lips and sorrow haunted his eyes. “It requires a willing sacrifice of blood or life, depending on the criticalness of the situation, and the strength of the one wielding them.”

  Zak’s eyes widened as Finn talked. He set the jar down next to her arm. “Finn, I had that ring. I gave it to Slate last night.”

  Finn rocked back on his heels. “That ring can save all of southern Terrene.” His voice dropped. “And, I’m sure he doesn’t know it, but it can also be the death of him.” Finn reached into his pouch and pulled out a large roll of gauze. He tossed it to Zak and nodded at Jade. “Take care of her. I need to get to him.” Finn looked down at Jade and brushed a sweaty strand of hair off her forehead with a gentle smile. “Rest, and don’t move on your own. I’ll do my best to look after him.”

  “All of them.” Jade rasped, her throat burning from screaming earlier. Finn raised an eyebrow, and she elaborated, “Father, Victor, Ben, all the crew. Bring them all back.”

  “I’ll do my best. Don’t move or talk much, you’re still in a very fragile state.” Finn stood and looked to where Zebediah watched over them, a large sentinel in black.

  Zebediah no
dded at the unspoken question. “I’ll escort you and leave a group here for them.”

  “Excellent.” Finn didn’t wait a moment longer and hustled into the library, Zebediah behind him.

  Despite the sticky blood coating Jade’s shirt, the edges of her blouse started to slowly slide without Finn’s hand to keep them in place. She tried to lift her hand to tug the fabric closer together, but all she could manage was to twitch her fingers. She strained, and her vision swam from the effort.

  Zak didn’t seem to notice her growing concern for modesty as he focused intently on laying gauze over the stitched skin. He pursed his lips and pressed his warm fingers into her cool arm. “I’ll be right back.” He clambered to his feet and disappeared around the corner, returning a long minute later with his elder sister, Zandra.

  The siblings settled on opposite sides of Jade, and Zandra offered a small smile. “How are you feeling?”

  Jade blinked back tears as Zak lightly pressed the gauze into the cream on her shoulder. “I’ve been better.”

  “I bet.” Zandra tucked a chocolate brown strand of hair behind her ear, and reached out to delicately tug Jade’s top back in place, leaving space for Zak to work without compromising Jade’s decency. “I’m going to help you sit up while Zak bandages you.” She held Jade’s gaze. “I’ll help keep things proper.”

  Relief and embarrassment rolled through Jade as she managed a tiny nod. “Thanks.”

  Zak’s ears had a pink tinge to them, and Jade smiled internally. At least she wasn’t the only one who’d been wordlessly embarrassed by the situation.

  He leaned into Jade’s field of vision, concern bright in his eyes. “I need to have you sit up now. Let us hold your weight as much as possible. Save what strength you have—let us do the rest of the work. Tap your hand if you can’t breathe.”

  Jade took a shallow breath and braced for the pain, but it wasn’t enough. Even with Zak’s steady arm around her shoulders, her muscles screamed in agony after so long against the hard floor. Her torn flesh shifted, stretching tissue in ways that it shouldn’t. Spots danced in her vision, and her stomach threatened to rebel. Zandra straddled her legs, a hand keeping Jade’s shirt closed while bolstering her torso. The sutures in Jade’s chest pulled as she moved, and she whimpered into Zandra’s shoulder.