by Anna Carven
The fresh night air hit him in the face and soothed his burned skin. The soft sand under his feet didn’t slow him at all. He had no weapons, but it didn’t matter. After all, he was a weapon, and nothing was going to get between him and the fiend who dared attack his sarien.
The First Division warriors followed him, a rain of plasma fire streaking through the air as he ran across the wide desert expanse. He was several steps ahead of them, and he veered left and right, avoiding the deadly blasts as he widened his lead.
Freedom. It was his at last, but he didn’t have time to enjoy it.
He had to reach her. She might be a physically weak, clumsy Human, but she was the only person who had ever tried to reach out to him. She was the only one who had ever shown concern for him.
A mythical one-in-a-billion sarien. There was no other way they could have bonded so quickly. The bond between two sarien was more powerful than any mindbond, and theirs was strengthening with every passing moment. Every time they connected, every time they engaged in mindspeech, every time they touched, their psychic connection grew stronger. No wonder she’d broken his silence so quickly.
What would he do if her end suddenly went silent? Her emotions resonated at the back of his mind, intensifying as he drew nearer. She was afraid, and her fear spurred him on like nothing else. It was as if liquid accelerant had been injected into his veins.
He ran even faster, his feet whipping up dust as he streaked over a small hill, reaching a motley collection of buildings. She was in there. He could feel her aura; compared to the others, it blazed as brightly as a supergiant star, dwarfing everything else beside it.
How had he not noticed its brilliance until now?
Whoever dared lay a hand on her would reckon with him, and Ashrael had never learned to spare his targets.
It wasn’t in his nature. In his line of work, mercy had never been an option.
Chapter Fifteen
Noa sat alone in the kitchen, inhaling the refreshing aroma of her lemongrass tea. Abbey had apologetically left her to go and feed little Ami, who had started crying shortly after they’d sat down.
Shortly afterwards, Sera had stuck her head in and bid Noa good night, stifling a yawn. It was close to midnight now, and Noa was grateful for the warmth of this strange, cozy little kitchen.
She was also grateful for the kindness of the two Earth women, who appeared to sympathize with her situation. To her relief, they hadn’t asked too many questions, instinctively seeming to understand that she wasn’t ready for that.
She needed time to adjust. Things were happening too quickly.
She took a bite out of her third scone, savoring the combination of moist pumpkiny goodness and the richness of real butter. She hadn’t tasted real butter in such a long time. It was such a rarity in this day and age, and it was amazing.
She was absolutely ravenous. Her appetite was back, and for the first time in longer than she could remember, she was wolfing down her food.
Perhaps all that psychic work took energy.
Noa studied her surroundings, noting the old-fashioned gas oven and the worn wooden bench tops. Various pots and pans hung from the ceiling, suspended from large hooks. In the center of the kitchen was a battered wooden table upon which sat a ceramic jug adorned with a spray of yellow flowers.
It was a homely, rustic place, and it looked like something straight out of the twenty-first century. One might even be tempted to forget that there were Kordolians beyond these walls, but that was impossible, because her bond was a constant reminder that Ashrael lurked in the background.
For better or worse, she was tied to him now.
A few minutes ago, she’d caught a flash of his pain, and without realizing what she was doing, she’d reached out to him.
Are you okay?
Yes. His response had been curt and snappy, and he’d actively pushed her away, giving off a now is not the time kind of vibe.
Perhaps he just needed time to heal.
Noa sighed as she sipped her tea. Her strange companion could be tender one minute and abrasive the next. There was so much she didn’t know about him. Hundreds of questions flooded her mind, and she wondered whether any of them would ever be answered.
She stood and made her way across to the stove, carrying her tea. The scones sat in a warmer box atop the stove, emitting a mouth-watering aroma. As she reached out to open the box, the fine hairs on the back of her neck rose.
Something wasn’t right. She felt the same way as she did when she’d encountered Ashrael for the very first time.
Spooked, she turned around. The air seemed to shimmer in front of her, and she felt movement.
But there was nobody there.
The air wobbled again, and for a split-second she thought she saw a half-invisible figure moving towards her.
Then it disappeared. She blinked, wondering if she was imagining things.
There.
The air in front of her seemed to move, and at last she felt the presence. It was eerily silent, and it radiated menace.
This thing, whatever it was, meant her harm.
Noa froze. The energy radiating from her stalker was oppressive and terrifying. It threatened to paralyze her. She was suddenly filled with the certainty that she would die here.
No. You need to move!
There was no time to think. There was no time to hesitate. She raised her arm and splashed her tea at the intruder. The liquid coated her attacker’s invisible form, leaving a strange glistening wet patch.
The tea was near boiling temperature, but her stalker didn’t flinch. A near-silent hiss of pain was his only reaction.
Noa’s psychic barriers were slipping. Fear had scattered what little control she had. In desperation, she reached across her bond, trying to alert Ashrael. She didn’t know why. He was injured and probably under heavy guard. What could he do?
She retreated back into the corner, her breath coming in heavy gasps. The dark aura in front of her split into two. She faced not one, but two enemies.
“What do you want?” Glancing around, she searched for a weapon. A long kitchen knife sat on the counter. She picked it up, brandishing it in front of her. Her hand trembled. “Help!” she screamed as she tried to gather her psychic power. She tried to replicate that thing she’d done the first time she’d pushed Ashrael out of her head, but her concentration was shattered. She couldn’t grasp even the smallest thread of her power.
A gloved hand covered her mouth, silencing her. She bit down on the attacker’s fingers, but there was no respite. Another hand closed around her neck, applying slight pressure.
Move and you’re dead. His voice rang out inside her head, loud and clear. Drop the knife or I’ll crush your windpipe.
She hesitated as she contemplated stabbing him in the gut.
He squeezed, cutting off her air. Noa gasped and choked.
Do it.
Reluctantly, she let the knife drop from her fingers. It clattered uselessly across the tiled floor.
Noa stiffened. What do you want with me?
He didn’t answer. He just pulled her backwards, tightening his grip around her neck, his other hand clamped across her face. A muffled cry of pain escaped her.
There was a loud crash, and the other attacker stumbled backwards, sending the warmer box full of scones flying. A fully armored Kordolian warrior had appeared, wielding a pair of long black swords.
“Harm her and you are both dead,” he snarled. Although his features were hidden behind a black helm, Noa recognized the General’s voice. He became a black blur as he stalked forward, hunting his invisible prey.
The other assassin revealed himself at last. He was clad in all white, a form-fitting, flexible suit covering him from neck to toe. His face was hidden behind a featureless white mask. Two tadpole shaped black marks were painted where the eyes were supposed to be, but the mask had no eye holes. A wet patch had bloomed across his chest, the result of her tea-throwing efforts.
&
nbsp; He rushed forward, a plasma gun appearing from nowhere as Tarak dodged a searing bolt of blue plasma. The General somehow managed to slash the assassin’s lower leg as the Silent One leaped backwards, drawing first blood. Black blood oozed from a cut across the assassin’s shin. Tarak sheathed one of his swords and pulled his own plasma gun, firing off two quick shots.
The assassin didn’t slow down, seeming to anticipate the General’s every move.
Noa’s invisible companion continued to pull her away from the action, his unrelenting grip partially blocking off her air supply. She struggled to breathe. The lack of oxygen was making it difficult to think. Her vision blurred, and she completely lost her grip on her mental barriers.
The thoughts of the three terrifying Kordolians flooded into her mind, and suddenly her head was filled with death and destruction.
Panic threatened to engulf her. Darkness crashed in on her from all sides. The hands around her neck and face tightened as the assassin dragged her away from the fighting. They exited through a screen door, bursting out into the dark night. Distant shouts echoed through the still air. Somewhere off in the distance, a dog started to bark incessantly.
Let go of me! Once again, Noa tried to gather her power, but it eluded her. It was like grasping at fine threads tossed about in a gale-force wind. There was too much chaos swirling around her. In desperation, she reached out, looking for the only thing that could anchor her.
Ashrael.
I’m coming. His mindvoice rang out with deadly certainty. She didn’t know how it was possible, but somehow, he was coming for her.
The Silent One took his hand away from her face and she gasped for breath. Faster than she could comprehend, a blade was pressed against the back of her neck. Don’t speak. Move and do exactly as I say. You are the property of the Empire now.
They kept to the shadows as they made their way down the long verandah, heading for a grove of trees at the end of the main house. Noa couldn’t see much. The sky was overcast, and the air was thick with dust and moisture. A flash lit up the sky, revealing a grove of trees in the distance.
That’s where they were headed.
A low rumble of thunder followed soon afterwards, accompanied by a gust of warm wind.
Impossibly, the air was loaded with the scent of rain. As they walked, her captor released his grip on her neck and pulled her wrists together behind her back, binding them with some kind of restraint. All the while, he held his blade against the back of her neck, reminding her of her helplessness.
As they marched towards the stand of trees, Noa stumbled, struggling to keep up with her captor’s brutal pace. The wind whipped at her clothes and bits of airborne dust stung her eyes. He grabbed her arm to steady her, propelling her forward with merciless force.
Lightning illuminated their world again, and in the distance, Noa saw a pale figure.
I’m coming.
His aura engulfed her, merging with the oncoming storm, growing in intensity as he neared. Thunder rumbled in the distance, followed by a blinding streak of lightning that split the night sky, burning its spectacular forked image onto the backs of her retinas.
The roar of thunder was deafening this time, seeming to shake the ground itself.
He appeared again, so much closer this time, moving impossibly fast. Then he disappeared, lost to the darkness.
But Noa knew exactly where he was. His ka’qui swirled around him, vicious and intense. He wasn’t running before the storm, he was the fucking storm.
Fat droplets of rain hit her cheeks as her captor stiffened, the sharp point of his blade digging into her skin.
Lighting flashed. The world lit up, but Ashrael was nowhere to be seen. The tempo of the rain started to increase, and Noa tasted pure, fresh water on her lips. With his free hand, her captor fired a shot of plasma off into the distance. All the while, he held his blade steady, applying just enough pressure to remind her of his earlier threat.
The skies opened up and the rainfall turned into a downpour, drowning out any other sound. A wave of pressure crashed into her from behind, sending Noa stumbling forward. With her hands bound behind her back, she struggled to keep her balance, dropping to her knees.
The blade at her neck was gone.
She was soaked through to the bone, the rain drenching her clothes and turning the dirt around her into mud. She rose to her feet, testing the bonds around her wrists.
They wouldn’t budge. She couldn’t see anything, but she could feel Ashrael in front of her. His presence drowned out everything else, muting the terrible symphony of thoughts and emotions that emanated from these lethal Kordolians. The sounds of combat reached her ears, along with the terrifying certainly that one of them was about to die.
Lightning flashed, and through the haze of the pouring rain, Noa saw Ashrael and the Silent One circling one another in a deadly dance.
Darkness blanketed them as thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, then a white sheet of lightning lit up the sky again, illuminating the fighters for a split-second.
They were on the ground now, engaged in an ugly, dirty fight. The Silent One’s white clothing was stained the color of rust. Ashrael’s body was slick with moisture and mud. He had the assassin pincered between his muscular legs, and he appeared to be squeezing him to death.
The emotions resonating from him were terrifying.
Noa thought she saw several ebony-clad figures closing in on them, but she wasn’t too sure, because the rain cast a curtain across her vision and the sky had turned dark again.
She couldn’t see anything now.
Thunder boomed, surrounding her with a wall of sound. This was nature’s awe-inspiring soundtrack, the primal song of the sky and the Earth. It merged with the roar of the falling sky and the silent, deadly auras of the two assassins as they fought to the death, cloaked in darkness.
Unable to see and unable to hear anything but the pouring rain, Noa let go of her flimsy psychic barriers. She opened herself fully to the bond and felt Ashrael’s presence, seething, vicious, and powerful.
She caught a small glimpse into his mind.
Having only one arm didn’t slow him down. He was death’s child, and he knew only one way of fighting. Victory equalled death. Survival meant thrusting one’s opponent into the afterlife. There was no other option.
Your life is mine, brother.
His triumph was a terrible thing to behold. His brethren were his enemies. He had no friends or allies in this Universe. He was well and truly alone. He had no attachments, and his loyalty had been enforced, not won.
Except that now he had Noa.
What did that even mean? She trembled at the realization that by accident or design, she was bound to him.
He restored the balance to her fractured mind and eliminated those who would see her harmed.
The sky lit up, several flashes of lightning coming in quick succession. She saw him standing over the body of his fallen enemy, his chest heaving, his torso painted black and ochre, his blood mingling with the red earth. His aura was an indecipherable swirl of emotions; anger, satisfaction, pain, sorrow, relief. Instinctively, she reached across the bond, even though she didn’t know what she could possibly say or do.
I’m here, she said at last as he fell to his knees.
I know. He pitched forward, collapsing in the mud beside his fallen opponent, the rain sluicing off his pale body.
As the lighting flashed again, she saw Kordolian warriors - the dark figures she’d spotted earlier - closing in on them from all directions. She paid them no heed as she rushed towards Ashrael, her gait unbalanced, her feet throwing up sprays of muddy water as fear deserted her and darkness descended once again.
It didn’t matter. She couldn’t see him, but she knew exactly where he was.
As she fell to her knees beside him, she strained at her bonds, trying to break free, but they were made of some impossibly strong material that chafed against her skin. She cried out in frustration, hating th
e fact that she was so helpless.
Wait. Despite being hurt, Ashrael spoke in her mind. His powerful chest was heaving and his breath came in great noisy gasps, but somehow he was able to focus on Noa and what she was doing. How much self-control did he possess?
These are mindlocked. Here.
A weird kind of pressure surrounded her wrists and Noa gasped in surprise as the cuffs suddenly fell off. Her lower arms tingled with a residual sensation that wasn’t unpleasant. Her shoulders and wrists ached, but at least she was free. What did you just…?
Ashrael didn’t answer. His breathing became harsher and more labored. Panicking, Noa reached out in the darkness, searching for him. Her hands glided over his bare wet skin, and there was a sharp intake of breath as she touched a spot in the side of his ribcage where he’d been stabbed. The wound was wide and gaping, and she felt his warm blood before it was washed away by the pouring rain.
He was bleeding profusely, but she couldn’t see the extent of his injuries. The only thing she could rely on was her sense of touch.
“I’m going to put pressure on your wound,” she said, not quite sure if he could hear her.
You don’t have to speak aloud, he reminded her, his mindvoice echoing loud and clear inside her head. His words were tinged with irony, even though he was supposed to be mortally wounded.
Noa pressed down on his wound and he grunted in pain. I’m still getting used to all this. Not all of us were born with the ability. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself as Asharel’s aura surrounded her. In contrast to the cold, inhuman being she’d encountered back in that dark prison, this version of him was warm and vulnerable and very much alive. She found his presence was strangely comforting.
His closeness was making her feel strange. She couldn’t believe she had her hands on his chest. It boggled her mind that his living, breathing form was beneath her.
And he’d just saved her life.
Why? she mused, and it was more of a rhetorical question, but he answered it anyway.
You are the only soul who has ever shown a shred of concern for me, he murmured, however misplaced that might be. And, you are my sarien.