The Iron Altar Series Box Set One: Books 1 to 3

by Casey Lea

  The Maker smiled modestly. “I deliver the impossible on a regular basis and your challenge is most fascinating.” His smile slid flat and then tipped to form a frown while he raised a warning finger. “There will be danger though. To reset your genes will carry great risk with no guarantee of survival. I could only try it if you were prepared to sign a waiver.”

  “What sort of waiver?” Zariss demanded.

  “Full acceptance of the risk involved and complete immunity for myself.”

  “Done.”

  “Misty, no!” Zariss protested and dropped a protective arm over her shoulders. “This scientist does terrible experiments. You've no idea how many he murders-”

  The Maker slapped the wall behind him with his palms. “Murder? Never. I would never destroy life. Yes, yes, some natural attrition occurs during my work, but even my failures offer vital data and some deaths are unavoidable. I thought you t'ssaa understood that. Did you not read the fine print? Arr...kkkkk.”

  The Maker was choking again, but this time it was Zariss who had his hands in the gentik's throat. “We t'ssaa feel our children. Every one of them, from conception on, so I know that some of my unborn survive. That is why I have not killed you. Return them. Now.”

  The Maker kicked feebly against the wall. His hands flapped wildly and Misty realized he was nodding.

  “Yes,” she yelled. “Zariss, he agrees. Let him go. Please. I need him.”

  The lizard's tongue flickered wildly, until Misty’s knife slid under the wide frill of his crest to prick his neck. “Be calm,” she ordered. “Remember he’s a gentik. Fragile and prone to breaking.”

  There was a tense moment of silence, before Zariss managed to step away. His pupils tilted sideways when he looked back to Misty. “Certain-sure.” He ignored the Maker and his voice was even more clipped than usual. “My young.”

  “Here, here, gentle client. I'm most sorry my services were disappointing.” The Maker reached into a voluminous sleeve and fished out a stasis block. He handed it to Zariss with a bow. “Twenty remain, all at fertilization plus ten hours. Luck with them.”

  “We t'ssaa grasp our own luck.” He took the cube gently and raised it to his face. His tongue flickered over it and he sighed. “My grievance with you is satisfied, but I cannot answer for the future. If you injure my friend, we’ll meet again and it won’t end so well.” He looked up from his babies to study Misty gravely. “Are you sure you wish to do this? I urge you to rethink dealing with this nys’t’tharz. He reeks of death.”

  Misty paused and considered that. Her throat was tight and her stomach churned. Yep, she was scared. “Thanks, Zariss, but I need to try.” She turned to the Maker. “Where's that waiver? I wouldn't want you to lose any sleep if I die.”

  35

  Reunion Too

  Darsey perched on the edge of a real, wooden railing and enjoyed the view from the veranda. The plants on Point were a soft teal, their leaves wispy and lacy and her small house was lost in them. Giant strands of gossamer green trailed over the edge of her hideaway and she breathed deeply. This planet was far too pretty to be called 'Point', but that was what happened when you let the military colonize. She slipped from the rail and something sticky caught her hand. She looked down with a smile and absently wiped the cobweb from her fingers. It was nice being back on a real world.

  However, Darsey's smile faded when she turned to duck into the marquee that was presently her home. It seemed that even though she'd agreed to leave Jace alone, returning all the way to Blossom was psychologically impossible. So that left her stuck halfway, neither at home, nor with her son, and living in a tent. Still, that could change at any moment. Her heart lifted at the thought. Could Jace have received her present already? It was probably too soon, but it wouldn't hurt to check her tracers again.

  Darsey hurried back under her covered space and the hair rose on the back of her neck, just before her frond bushed wide in alert. There was no further warning, no cry or challenge, just a gust of air that made her spin. An attacker was dropping toward her from the peak of the ceiling – no, not just falling, diving at her with his sword above his head. She had a brief glimpse of eyes shining with a silver-blue light and her own blade dropped from her com to her hand. She swung it high just in time to block his blow.

  The impact drove Darsey to the ground and she rolled away, coming to her feet as her opponent landed lightly in front of her. He was breathing hard, but she guessed more from excitement than exertion. He paused and his eyes faded while he held back, giving Darsey a moment of hope. However, when she looked into those ice-blue irises his purpose flashed through her like lightning. He meant to kill her.

  “Have we met?” Darsey wondered, but he just grinned in answer. He moved forward, his sword swinging easily in his fist and she retreated, holding her blade in both hands, while her com fed energy to her arms. Just in time.

  Darsey barely managed to parry his first blow, which rocked her onto her heels. The second drove her to a knee, but she was a quick learner. It was pointless trying to set up any sort of riposte. She was completely outmatched and her only option was retreat. This wasn’t a duel, it was a hunt.

  Blows rained down and then all around once Darsey found her feet. She backed away, blocking frantically, until her calves hit the bed and she had to stop. There was nowhere left to run and a mind call to Wing wouldn’t help. He was far away and the base was automated. There was no one close enough to reach her in time.

  Darsey fought on and her attacker stopped smiling, but still raised his blade without effort. When Darsey did the same her shoulders and arms screamed in protest. It was a very long time since she’d had to fight for her life.

  The stranger’s sword licked out again and again, high and low, from one side then the other and each time Darsey blocked it a little bit later. He slashed for her throat and she only just turned his weapon aside, feeling it tug at her collar when it passed. He spun on his heel and his sword returned even faster than her relief at surviving the previous blow. It was far too quick to avoid and her blade had barely twitched when his bit deep.

  Darsey threw herself back onto the bed and sprawled there, waiting for the pain to hit. It never did, but a male voice cried out in agony instead. She lifted her head to see someone kneeling at her attacker’s feet, bowed forward with his face on the floor and a sword jutting from his shoulder. He’d taken the blow that was meant for her.

  “NO,” her attacker yelled and staggered back, his face sagging in shock, before he leapt forward. He decompressed his blade and it vanished into his com with a sucking sound, to let blood flow freely down the broad back of Darsey’s savior.

  She pushed herself upright in sudden panic. “Wing?”

  Both males ignored her rough cry, so she staggered from the bed to crouch beside the stranger who’d saved her. He looked up with a grin that was more of a grimace and she knew him at once. He was no stranger at all. It was her turn to sit back in shock, while her attacker slathered regen strips over the shoulder he’d stabbed.

  “Nikareon,” she said flatly, but still couldn’t believe he was actually there. Speaking his name should have made him more real, like summoning some force of evil in an ancient rite, but instead it made everything more confusing. Surely, the Beserk should have been the one trying to kill her, not the one saving her.

  “Nikareon,” she repeated and this time something shifted. She still had no idea what was going on, but she finally believed he was truly here. At her feet. The killer of her child.

  Darsey rose in a single fluid motion, pushing off from the floor and straight at her foe. Her fronds shouted fury and grief to the world and as she threw herself forward her attacker’s sword reappeared. It lifted to skewer her as she leapt, driving through her in midair, to leave her spread-eagled around it like a butterfly pinned to an invisible board.

  The heat of that cold steel entering Darsey’s body was the only thing that could have stopped her. Her attacker backed away on one kne
e, pulling his blade clear and she dropped to the floor. She fell on her face too, so that all she could smell was wet rug and all she could taste was blood.

  “No, no, drakking no,” a voice exploded beside her and her frond tracked Nikareon when he rose to start shoving regen into her wound.

  “Patri,” the young assassin protested, making Nikareon snarl in response.

  “Fool of a boy. How dare you defy me like this? What have you done?”

  “Dealt with a pest.”

  Darsey flinched at the coldness in that young voice and pain ripped through her, while she struggled not to groan. That battle was lost when Nikareon flipped her over. She moaned and swore, staring up at her mortal enemy while he forced more regen into her wound. She cried out and blood sprayed from her chest to form a curtain between them. She bit down hard, her jaw clenching against further cries and endured, trying to ignore the blood bubbling in her throat. It felt like the boy had killed her.

  “No, no,” Nikareon soothed, “you can survive this. You will survive it. You’re annoyingly tough and- no, no, no. Hold on. Think of Wing. Think of your son.”

  Darsey frowned. Jace?

  “Yes, Jace.” Nikareon gave her another grimace that seemed to be an attempt at a grin, before rounding on his companion. “Zak, give me all your regen. Get it out of my shoulder now. I can’t reach.”

  “No.”

  Darsey chuckled at that, but the laugh came from her chest not her mouth and it made a strange sucking sound. Still, it was funny. Her killer probably wasn’t the right person to ask for help.

  “Zak, you will help me and you will do everything you can to save this lady. Those are orders, soldier.”

  “Officers who desert their posts don’t get to give orders and you were about to desert us all.”

  Nikareon hissed in frustration, but the sound was muted and Darsey’s attention started to wander. Strange, when he wasn’t angry the Beserk’s eyes were actually quite lovely. She’d never noticed that before.

  “I’m a risk to all of you,” Nikareon growled, “and you don’t need me anymore.”

  “You don’t get to decide that.” Another face appeared above Darsey and ice-blue eyes studied her coldly. “You’re only a danger to us because the IceFlights hunt you. Let them have a real drakking chase and follow me for a change. You belong with your children.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until we fix this.”

  That frigid gaze moved from Darsey to rest on Nikareon and her lips twitched in the echo of a smile when the older Beserk shivered. “You need that regen, Patri. Your body’s in shock and I’m not giving up your healing strips to the gat who tried to kill you.”

  “The fact she wished to kill me doesn't mean you get to kill her.”

  “Ah, yeah. Drakking does.”

  Darsey’s body was so far distant it took a minute to register the cold edge pressing into her throat. She swallowed and something sharp dug deeper.

  “Zakareon, put the knife down.”

  The blade under Darsey’s jaw trembled for an instant and nicked her skin. Suddenly she could feel the blood trickling down her neck, so she must be getting better, which seemed ironic considering she was about to get her throat cut.

  “You don’t want to kill someone in cold blood,” Nikareon said. “That’s not how I raised you.”

  The knife wobbled again. “You don’t know what I’ve drakking done, Patri, or who to. All those times you left me with Shift, because the ditches hunting you were getting too close… well, no matter. It’s too late now, but this is finally it. A chance for you to lose that pursuit forever. So shut up and let me do it.”

  The knife was quite still now, but Nikareon must have sensed something from his son. “No. She’s your mother.”

  The blade trembled violently, almost slashing Darsey’s skin, before Zak jerked it back and safely away. She could hardly hear for the sudden roaring in her ears, but she didn't need to. Her mind was far too busy to waste time listening, as she frantically replayed Nikareon's anguished claim. They were the only words that could hold her attention. Was it possible? Could her lost baby have survived? How? And why?

  Hope didn't care. Hope coursed through her regardless, rising to a strangled cry. “Devyn?”

  “My name is Zak.” The denial was instant, but the young man sat back on his heels above Darsey and trembled while he stared at her, unable to look away.

  She gazed back, then licked her lips. “Nikareon?” she whispered, her eyes still locked on Zak.

  “Time for introductions, it seems,” the Beserk said lightly, though his fronds hinted at darker emotions. “Darsey IceFlight meet Devyn IceFlight, known as Zakareon farNikareon since I stole him from your womb. Please note, I did make some improvements, including my own DNA, so Nightwing and I technically share paternity. Though I suspect he had more fun with his part of the fathering. Sorry, Zak. I should have told you earlier.”

  His son's face twisted at the apology, but speech was clearly beyond him. Darsey reached out slowly to lay her hand over his and he flinched at her touch before pulling away, but even as he backed up his eyes never left her face. A long moment passed and Nikareon eventually started whistling, a shrill and simple forcing of air past his teeth.

  Darsey finally turned to look at him. “You stole my son,” she stated flatly and for once he had nothing to say. She pushed herself upright, straight at the Beserk who was still crouched over her, far too close too escape.

  Zak cried out in protest and lurched forward, but he’d pulled away too far to reach her in time. She threw herself at her target and Nikareon never flinched. He shut his eyes instead, so she collided with him unhindered and her arms closed around him.

  She hugged him as hard as she could, her cheek against his chest and her eyes closed tight. “You saved my son. Lamidia wanted him dead, but you kept him alive. You saved him. I'll always be in your debt.”

  Darsey drew her head back to stare earnestly at Nikareon, who opened one eye and then the other, before raising both eyebrows when he looked down at her embracing him. She smiled, then pressed herself against him again and felt his jaw part her hair when his mouth fell open.

  “Are you sure you wish to do that?” he wondered. “You don't know where I've been.”

  Darsey was suddenly lightheaded and a joy as profound as anything she had ever felt flooded her system. She heard herself giggle with only a faint wheeze from her chest. “I don't care. You kept my baby alive, raised him and then gave him up just to stop him killing his mother.”

  Nikareon stirred uncomfortably, reaching back to pry one of Darsey's arms away. “You should rethink the clinch. I didn't truly do so well. I might have accidentally raised him to hate you.”

  Darsey sighed and held tighter, ignoring the physical pain lancing through her. It was nothing. “Yeah,” she murmured into Nikareon’s chest, “I did notice that.”

  He finally held her gingerly back and it took a moment for her to understand that his sudden shaking was laughter. Her happiness bubbled up again until they were laughing together, but beside them her son sat silent.

  36

  Happy Families

  Jace paced the dock and wondered where Misty could be. She was in no state to be wandering alone. People could get hurt. Zyl’s voice oozed into his head and he jumped. He hadn't heard from the ship since he left for his date. He comes.

  Jace spun on a heel to see an impressively large silhouette approaching. The figure's height and the sharp outline of a crest made it clear who the visitor was.

  Zariss, the ship purred and her engines fired.

  What the? Jace turned to Zyl in surprise. “Calm down, sweet. We're not scheduled to lift anywhere.”

  The ship ignored him and surged forward to press into the docking field. He comes. I knew he would, as soon as I told him about us.

  “About us?” Jace wondered, but there was no response. He felt rather than heard the stealthy footfalls behind him and turned with an automatic smile, b
ut Zariss was already looming over him. He could feel the smile still plastered to his face when a t’ssaa fist smashed into it.

  Jace sprawled backward, but weirdly he wasn’t surprised. He’d been expecting Zariss to hit him since they first met and that expectation was finally realized.

  Jace shrugged and got carefully to his feet, feeling his jaw. Those t’ssaa knuckle implants were certainly effective. His com was flashing a belated alarm and regen had already numbed his lower face. Or the blow had. Either way he could ignore it. The thing he couldn't ignore was the attack itself, but fortunately he had the perfect weapon.

  Jace let his Honor sword fall from his com to his hand, while Zariss’s crest spread to full width. “I urge deep thought before you swing that sword this way.”

  “Then you should have thought twice before you hit me.”

  “My strike was deserved, father to father.”

  Jace hesitated at that and lowered his blade. “I don’t get it. You think it was okay to just hit me?”

  Zariss’s crest rattled again, but this time it started to flatten, settling against his back. “Are you saying you fail to understand why I struck you?”

  “Yes. That’s me. I am definitely in fail-to-understand mode.”

  “So,” the t’ssaa said, “apologies then. Perhaps I was mistaken. Has your place since I put Zyl-tarxidoss in your care not been as her translator?”

  “Ah, I guess, yeah.”

  “Then the responsibility is yours. Zyl is expecting.”

  Jace waited, clenching and unclenching his fingers around his sword hilt. “Expecting what?”

  “Offspring.”

  There was a brief silence, broken by the metallic clatter of a sword hitting the ground. Jace looked down at his dropped weapon without actually seeing it. “Baby offspring? As in pregnant?”

  “Certain-sure.”

  “A-huh.” Silence fell again, while Jace’s boot absently toyed with his sword. He finally looked up through his hair at Zariss. “Soooo, this doesn’t have anything to do with me, does it?” A hand landed on his shoulder, but he managed not to flinch and lifted his head further instead.