Beyond : Series Bundle (9781311505637)

by Miller, Maureen A.

  You can roll your eyes all you want.

  Beyond Gordy, an army of nearly a hundred men and some women—none of which possessed eye shields—strode with a determined manner. The notion that they had no shields terrified her. Many of them could be blinded today—or worse. They would do their best to protect their eyes, but studying the moves of their target was a necessity to stay alive. At least, that is what Corluss had warned. And with that focus, you were bound to unwillingly catch a glimpse of an incoming ray.

  Within that band of determined rebels toting man-made weapons, Aimee located Zon. In the clenched lines of his jaw, and the intensity of his stare, she saw the likeness of his son. Please don’t let this man have survived all this time only to fall on this day.

  It had been years in the making, but today was the day these good people would finally go to war. Yes, there had been battles, but now they would rally—united with the power of their own resources as the ultimate soldier. On her last evaluation of the dam from outside the crater, it revealed pockets of water bleeding through. Every step she took, she awaited that explosion—that powerful tide that would not relent until it had depleted.

  This band of soldiers marched down the foothills, giving a wide berth to that latent source of doom. Aimee was not concerned with their logistics. When that water burst out of the mountain, it would project forward in an angry torrent with a single-minded goal to rendezvous with its final objective. The Zargoll.

  “When we reach the desert we will fan out towards the right,” Zak instructed. “The Koron troops have mainly camped on this side of the river, and even though it is such a small stream now, they do not dare cross it.”

  “Right,” Zuttah agreed. “We box them in against the river. Lock them in place so that they cannot escape the path of the surging water.”

  Aimee felt a tingle in her limbs. Fear? Yes, she was afraid.

  Always in tune with her, Zak slowed his pace and touched her shoulder. “What can I say or do to make you fall back?”

  He wore his shield so she could not see his eyes. But the grooves of worry around his lips, and the twitch of a muscle in his jaw revealed his anxiety.

  “Nothing.” There was not a chance she would leave his side.

  “This is a battle, Aimee.” His voice was low, for her ears only. “There will be casualties.”

  His grip restricted and he came to a halt, heedless of Gordy colliding with him.

  “Whoa, sorry Zak.”

  Ignoring the interruption, Zak bent his head and whispered near her ear. “I don’t want you to be one of them.”

  Arguing that she was a trained Warrior seemed awfully feeble. To her dismay, Zak’s intensity was causing her eyes to tear up. Dammit, she couldn’t even reach up to clear them with the cursed shield in place.

  “And I don’t want one of them to be you,” she countered with a tremulous tone.

  “Zak!” Zuttah bellowed. “Get up here.”

  Zak’s shoulder flinched, but he did not turn away from her.

  “Then we better be damn good today.”

  There was no grin to accompany his testimony, and the gravity enforced her fear.

  A shout emerged from the crowd as Aimee whirled to locate its source. Faces swung, cast towards the mountain where the first band of water shot through. It was a small geyser in comparison to the portent of danger to come. At best, it resembled the stream of water from a fire hose on a burning building.

  Another torrent broke free.

  “Zak,” she cried, grabbing his arm. “It’s starting to collapse.”

  In his hands, the bulky profile of the solar ray looked like a charred exhaust pipe. Instead of aiming it, he hoisted it over his shoulder and glanced across her head at Zuttah.

  “We won’t have enough time to get down there to flank the Korons. If they escape the deluge, they could break free to the desert.”

  Zuttah’s profile looked grave. Perspiration trickled down his cheek and into his beard. It made Aimee aware that the temperature was increasing. They were nearly at the bottom of the mountain range where the two suns escalated their assault. A slight breeze—a ghost of the winds born in the higher elevations dusted across her exposed collarbone, but the sand was ahead, and with it, the soaring heat.

  Zak halted and lifted his hand into the air, bringing the troop to a standstill.

  “Listen,” his voice amplified to the farthest reaches.

  Heads bobbed for a better perspective.

  “We may not have the time that we anticipated, so I need to speak to everyone now.”

  A few men in the rear shouldered their way forward for a better vantage.

  “I need you all to ask yourselves if this is your battle.” Zak’s voice was strong. “Do you want to risk your life today? Yes, you have lost your land, but the mountains have been good to you, and they are safe. You do not have to fight.”

  “And what of you, Zak?” Zuttah reasoned. “You have not been to this planet since you were a child. Ask yourself if this is your battle.”

  Aimee held her breath as Zak searched the faces in the crowd. His wandering gaze stopped on her. Though he stayed locked there, his voice carried to everyone.

  “They took my mother,” he began. “They took my sister. They took my sight—and they tried to take my mind.” More soldiers pressed in. “But, they didn’t take my heart. I may have left as a child, but Ziratak was always here.” His palm tapped his chest. “We may be outnumbered. Hopefully, this dam will even that tally. But what we lack in a head count—in weaponry—we compensate with will and pride.”

  Emotion agitated his throat. “Some of us will fall today. Others will pick up the fallen and carry on. This is Ziratak. This is our land. Our land. You should not have to scurry into the mountains and exist in seclusion. You should live where you grew up—where your family before you was raised.”

  Drawing the solar ray off of his shoulder and into a contentious grip, Zak called out, “So I ask you. Is this your battle?”

  From the ranks, Zon stepped forward. In the soft breeze his unkempt hair ruffled like a lion’s mane. “Yes,” he said.

  “Yes,” Zuttah echoed.

  “Yes,” chanted more voices.

  Fists rose into the air, pumping with each cry of “yes” that echoed in the shade of the mountain.

  Caught up in the zeal, Aimee whispered, “yes.” If this was Zak’s battle, then this was her battle too. “Yes,” she vowed softly and touched his arm.

  In the reflection of his sun shield, she saw her hair whip in the breeze. Tension tugged at the corners of her mouth. In the gap of her collar, the pendant flashed. Zari.

  Resolve pumped in Aimee’s veins.

  When Zak called out, “Let’s go,” her legs charged as fast as his, and those of the giant beside him. Today, she possessed the speed of a stallion—and the strength to accompany it.

  Today, she was a Warrior.

  * * *

  From this distance the explosion was muffled, as if the mountain heaved a grave sigh. They had made it as far as the desert basin, but the resonance drew the corps to a halt. En masse they faced the peak. A plume of black smoke arose, but it wasn’t actually smoke—rather a rush of mud and water surging from that elevated perch and cascading down the crevice. Even now Zak could hear the thunderous approach of a tsunami as water swallowed land in its haste to reach out.

  At a safe enough perspective he saw it connect with the Zargoll in a vicious torrent. Though their plan had been to stay back and wait for any surviving Korons to charge out into the desert, many men hastened towards the river. He understood their motivation. There could be no risk of assumptions. They could not chance that this flood was successful. They wanted to witness first-hand the annihilation of the creatures that sought to abolish them.

  “Stay back,” Zak called to Aimee who had already starting jogging alongside him. His warning was stolen by the zealous cry of the rebels, and the encroaching rumble of the tide. Even if he tried to stop
and talk to her, the impetus of the pack bulldozed them forward. No one could counter the momentum of a band of people who wanted their land back. This was an event for them to herald…and not from a distance.

  All he could do was try to keep Aimee in his peripheral vision as the clan fell into an all-out sprint. Around him a clamor of footfalls and shouts collided with the epic rush of water. Instinct took over and he became a creature of the desert, honing in on the river banks.

  It played out in slow motion as torrents of water crashed through the river bed, elevating the level to heights far greater than its capacity. Zak had hoped that this plan would work, but never had he anticipated success on such a grand level, as if he could have commanded the charging cataclysm with willpower alone.

  At a close enough range to witness the melee but still remain safe, Zuttah stood, pointing. Following his hand, Zak locked in on a horde of Korons fleeing the riverbank. Their progress was sluggish from sheer weight alone. Sandstone legs plundered forward with the finesse of drying cement. Black eyes expressed neither fear nor arrogance. There was no soul there. A barrel of a chest did not rise and fall with resuscitation. They did not breathe. They simply existed. And, in one great surge of water—they were gone.

  A roar of approval resonated behind him. It was a minor victory. This was only a limited ensemble of rock monsters. Many more lined the riverbed, but their pace could not exceed the acceleration of this water.

  “Keep moving south,” Zuttah shouted.

  Zak nodded and signaled with his hand to motion others on. It was hard to communicate over the roaring thunder, like the pounding hooves of a million horses. The mountain continued its discharge, far from depleted. Ahead, bright strobes pierced the air. Solar rays. Were these creatures so brainless as to believe they could battle the flood with weapons? Regardless of their stupidity, the rays were still lethal, and not to be taken lightly. Zak glanced back at Aimee to ensure her shield was secured. Just behind her, Gordy charged with a grimace of determination.

  Zak felt the weight of their safety on his shoulders. He could not fail them.

  Shouts erupted as brilliant rays pierced the heart of the corps like ephemeral swords. A man screamed and collapsed onto his knees.

  “Down!” Zak ordered, tugging Aimee to the ground.

  Packed sand smacked his chest. Working fast, he mounted his refitted weapon deep in the granules for stability. Squinting against the suns and a multitude of prisms from the surging water, Zak bided his time. Around him, turmoil unfolded. They were under attack, but from an unseen foe.

  Wait.

  There. A rock creature lumbered alongside the flooding river, seeking the safety of the arid desert. Behind him another beast advanced, its solar ray firing random blasts into the rebel regime.

  Zak waited for that moment of clarity when all sound, all motion, even time itself ceased to move. It came. A keen silence that locked out the world. Within this abstract tunnel, only he and his target existed. In that precise instant, he stroked the underbelly of the massive weapon and watched as the stream sought its mark and incinerated it as if no one had been there to begin with.

  Another Koron fell under his assault.

  Wait.

  When the dust finally settled, he realized that they were no longer under attack. A cheer went up through the crowd. Zak rose to his knees and searched the troop, seeing only two men down.

  “Casualties?” He looked up at Zuttah.

  The brawny man’s silhouette provided relief from the suns.

  “None. But one or two men have possibly been blinded. We will be able to tell better later.”

  Aimee reached down for his shoulder. “We still have some serum, Zak.”

  He felt that reassuring squeeze against his hot flesh. Thank all the gods that she was safe.

  Get off your knees, man.

  Hoisting upright, he shouldered the solar ray and announced, “We keep moving. I think that first blast took out a huge number of them, but I know of camps further downstream. We are not done here.”

  They continued their march and Zak spared himself a spot of indulgence to put his arm around Aimee. It offered him balance, and bolstered his resolve—and for just a moment, the severity of the situation eased.

  “Korons ahead!”

  Before he even had his arm free he saw Aimee raise her star laser, preparing for conflict. Corluss was thorough with his training. Zak hoped for the opportunity to thank the man.

  A haze born from heat hugged the horizon, making it hard to distinguish what was real. Through that mist he observed a band of Korons fleeing the river banks. The rebels circled around them and forced them to retreat. Rays were fired, and ultimately the Korons fell back as the Zargoll’s rushing tendrils lunged out to claim them.

  Victory bolstered the group with shouts, pats on the back, and boisterous declarations of freedom. A few men sang, while others remained alert. Executing a calculated pivot to survey for injuries, Zak jolted when he could not locate Aimee. Clamping down on his panic, he searched the troop, but there was no desert-haired goddess—and for that fact, there was no fair-haired Gordeelum either.

  “Aimee!” Zak cried.

  Charging through the crush of curious glances and disrupted celebration, Zak stopped short when Zon blocked his path. His father’s face was solemn.

  Confused by this obstacle, Zak nearly shoved him aside.

  He didn’t have to. Zon stepped back with his head cast down.

  And that was when he saw her.

  Aimee lay inert on the sand. Gordeelum kneeled over her, his hands on her abdomen stalling the fresh blood flow that tarnished her glossy white top. Hauling off his eye shield, Zak dropped to his knees by her side. Knocked loose from her collar, the pendant flashed in the sunlight, blinding him. He reached for it and slipped it back under the material, his hand brushing her flesh, feeling for the drum of her heart. It was there, but it was a feeble cadence.

  “No,” he whispered.

  “Zak,” Gordy choked. “There was so much going on. Rays were coming from every direction. I—I saw her—she dropped back because she caught sight of a Koron that had gone unnoticed. Somehow he had circled around us—” he swallowed, “—and Aimee fired at him, but it only clipped his arm. He was close enough to use a—a—”

  “We don’t know what they are.” Zak’s voice caught. “We call them pulse slayers.”

  Nodding, Gordy continued in halting words, “He—it—shot her. I—I fired at him and missed.” He looked crestfallen. “But I got him the second time. He’s gone. He’s a pile of dirt—but it’s all too late. I was too late.”

  Zak placed his hands over Gordy’s, infusing his fingers beneath to feel the warm flow of blood saturate them.

  “You did good, Gordeelum. You watched out for Aimee when I couldn’t. I am indebted to you for that.”

  It was difficult to speak. Emotion formed a noose about his throat, cutting off his voice—his air—his will.

  Hunching over so that his mouth pressed close to Aimee’s ear, Zak caught a whiff of her hair. It smelled like the meadow. Fresh, like a crop of wild zilli flowers.

  “Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “Not again, Aimee. Don’t you leave me.”

  A hand fell on his shoulder. With tears blurring his eyes he looked up at his father’s pensive expression.

  “I don’t want to lose her,” Zak pleaded.

  The hand around his shoulder clenched tighter as the man crouched down beside him.

  “I know, son.” he soothed in a husky voice. “I know.”

  Zuttah’s bulky profile eclipsed the suns as he stooped over, evaluating the scene with worry in his eyes.

  “We have used up our supplies on the wounded. It is a long journey back to the caves,” he observed morosely.

  The implication that it was a journey she would not survive hung heavy in the air.

  Zak felt the pulse thump under his hands as the blood continued to pool around his fingers, but the rhythm was wani
ng.

  “There must be something we can do,” he shouted. “Nexus elixir, coagulant beams?”

  “All used,” Zuttah proclaimed. “Most of our wounded have been healed.”

  Selfishly, Zak could not rejoice over that news. So many men and women had fallen in this battle, and yet all would return. All but—

  The blood continued to pour, but what limited sight of it he had was now obliterated with tears.

  Who was he to bring Aimee into this world? He should have never disclosed his feelings on the Horus. He should have loved her from afar. Then she would have returned to her planet and lived to a safe old age, with children and grandchildren...and have never died at the hands of a Koron like everyone else Zak loved.

  “Who here can bond us?” He looked up, frantic. “Please,” he cried.

  The silence was maddening. His sight might be impaired, but he sensed them, the circle of rebels staring down at him with sad eyes. He could feel the weight of their breath, the pressure of their pity.

  One voice replied, “I can.”

  Zak jolted when the hand on his shoulder squeezed again. Wild with grief, he turned towards his father.

  “The ceremony was taught to me by my grandfather,” Zon explained. “And when I turned of age, I was sanctioned to perform the ritual.”

  So little I know of this man.

  “Please,” Zak choked, feeling the beat beneath his fingers wane.

  Was this frustration, this utter despair what his father had felt as his mother died in his arms? No. Don’t let the past repeat itself.

  Rubbing his eye into his shoulder, he was able to clear up enough vision to witness the rebels kneel in an arc around them. Aimee lay still, with only the faintest rise and fall of her chest. Her skin was so pale, when normally her cheeks were infused with a warm blush, especially when she was mad. The wind toyed with the auburn tendrils cast across the sand. He wanted to touch them, but there was no force in the universe that could remove his hands from where they were right now.