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

by Casey Lea

Falkyn sighed. “Of course they do.”

  He flipped over and swung his feet round to sit on the edge of the med field. “Thanks, Amber. My back feels great.” He smiled up at her then frowned. “Are you well? You look flushed.”

  “I’m fine. Truly. This ship has an imprecise thermostat.”

  She spared a glare for Nikareon, who grinned back. Falkyn looked between them and chuckled, which was strange. Amber didn’t see anything amusing in their present situation. Relying on a Beserk for royal transportation was galling.

  “Speak,” Falkyn ordered whoever was on the other end of his com and an image of Raptor appeared.

  “Sire, I’ve commandeered one of our arriving Royal Fleet vessels and can rendezvous with you pre-jump if you order the Beserk to wait.”

  “It seems rude to start bossing around my rescuer,” Falkyn pointed out mildly and Raptor snapped straighter than ever.

  “Please, Magnificence. Being separated from your security is far too dangerous.”

  “You can pick us up at Nexus. I wish to visit my father and Darsey anyway and we’ll wait for you there. It’s safer than dawdling out here, in Harvester space.”

  Raptor chewed his lip, but couldn’t argue with the good sense of jumping to a friendly system as soon as possible. He finally sniffed and threw Nikareon a dour look. “At least there are few Beserks now,” he said. “They make fearsome foes, Sire, but I’ve not seen them in battle for years. Are the Harvesters saving them for some greater crisis?”

  Everyone stared at Nikareon, whose eyes turned to ice. “Are the Harvesters saving my people? Rather the reverse. They killed them. All of them. Two decades past.”

  Amber shared silent horror with Falkyn, which Nikareon seemed to feel, because he flinched and the silver left his eyes. Zak’s mind was as frozen as his body, but Raptor’s hologram shifted awkwardly.

  “Killed them? All of them? Are you certain-sure?”

  Nikareon’s lips creased, but his eyes stayed unlit. “A spy who can’t absorb information. You must be a great asset to your people. Yes, Raptor, they’re all gone. The Harvesters decided we were a mistake. Too hard to handle. A few clones emerge at times, but no more.”

  “You’re not dead,” Raptor pointed out and Nikareon closed his eyes.

  When he opened them they were clear, but his voice was ice. “Luck Lamidian owed me his life, so he saved mine in return. I was imprisoned, pardoned for being a Beserk and exiled. I’d already started a breeding program, so my people would be more controlled and able to govern themselves.” His gaze moved back to Zak. “I used the best material I could find.”

  The young Beserk locked eyes with Nikareon for the first time and Zak’s gaze was edged with silver. “I wasn’t a bolt of cloth to be stolen and cut to fit.”

  He turned on a heel and was gone, striding back into the link before Nikareon could stop him.

  Amber’s mind touched Zak’s and she realized he was retreating to spend the rest of the trip beside the exit. That was probably for the best. The whisper of leather brushing past metal drew her attention back to Nikareon as he gave a perfect kres bow and straightened.

  “Please ask the console for anything you wish. It seems Zak’s childhood abduction has made him resentful. Who would have expected such? Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, Sire?”

  “Of course,” Falkyn answered and the Beserk disappeared through a low arch, draped in fabric, at the far end of the marquee.

  The Arck flicked his com and Raptor disappeared, which was a relief. Falkyn lifted his legs and twisted to flop back onto his med field, but Amber scarcely noticed. She couldn’t seem to look away from Nikareon’s cabin door and her heart unexpectedly ached for him. He was the only survivor of genocide and no people, not even those as aggressive as Beserks, deserved that. His emotional output after his revelation was nil, which was concerning.

  Amber knew from personal experience that Nikareon was likely to do something foolish at the best of times and with Zak aboard there was still the potential for a full blown berserk battle. Someone needed to lance whatever poison was hiding behind Nik’s cool façade. She squared her shoulders and marched to the smaller arch. Her fingers brushed the shiny surface beyond it and a chime sounded.

  Amber studied her reflection in the door while she waited and frowned. Her dark hair had surrendered its braid at some point, to frame her solemn face and tumble randomly down her back. She had dirt smudged across a cheek and her dress was ripped, while her golden eyes seemed huge and startled. Well, it had been a startling day. She was about to turn and walk away, when the door finally shimmered and dissolved.

  “Come,” Nikareon called and Amber swallowed, but entered without hesitation.

  She stepped into the room and stopped. She was in a bedroom, but it was serene and beautiful. Pale walls and gauzy fabrics framed old fashioned shutters and windows with a shared view. She seemed to be looking at a green valley that ran down to meet the sea, while birdsong and the murmur of a stream filled the air.

  “So lovely,” she whispered.

  Nikareon rose from a seat under the largest window and smiled. “Thanks. I know I am. Would you like to sit?”

  He gestured at the sofa, but Amber shook her head and backed away. Something fluttered in her gut and it might have been panic. The Beserk seemed truly calm, so what was she doing here?

  “Did you want something?” he wondered and Amber tried to smooth her torn dress, which made it slip from her shoulder on one side. Nikareon’s smile grew and his eyes sparkled. “Some new clothes perhaps?”

  She realized she looked ridiculous, which was enough to strengthen her resolve. “I was concerned for you. Are you well?”

  His smile vanished like an abandoned mask, to leave only his game-face, tight and cold. “Not in the least. Do you care?”

  “Not in the least, but you did save us, so you have my gratitude.”

  “It would be nice to have more.” Nikareon walked the length of the room and Amber struggled to moisten her throat so she could excuse herself, but he reached her before she could flee. His smile returned, but it was softer and more wistful than usual. “Can we be friends, Amber?”

  Something about the way he said her name came close to inducing panic. He didn’t seem to be mocking her, but she had no idea how to cope with an apparently genuine Nikareon. “We’re allies. At least for now. Isn’t that enough?”

  “What I get from you is never enough.”

  “If you want to be my friend you could stop the sleazy flirting. I don’t like it.”

  “I know,” he sighed and lifted a hand until his fingers slipped across her bare shoulder. “I should be much more calculating. More charming, but serious. Captivated by your insights and craving your conversation.”

  His palm settled flat against her front, just under her throat and although the touch was light, its warmth held Amber locked in place. She tried to glare, but looked into his eyes and that was a mistake. Nikareon’s smile was gone again and his face was very close.

  “When I’m with you I have to flirt and joke and tease,” he said. “It’s my safety valve.”

  “Safety?” she whispered, in a world that was suddenly all eyes and cheekbones and perfect nose.

  “Hmmmm?” Nikareon murmured back. Amber could feel his breath on her lips and her eyes closed of their own accord. His mouth was so close that when he spoke it brushed against hers.

  “I need an escape. A vent to keep me still. Because every time we’re close I want to put my hands on you. I want to carry you backward and pin you to the wall and do rude things to you.”

  His hand shifted lower, pushing her top down, so his palm could rest on the bare swell of her breast. His lips settled over hers, which parted in response. Amber had to struggle to concentrate on the words still drifting between them.

  “Very rude things,” he breathed. “Things you would doubtless find offensive, which is why I don’t understand this craving. Not at all. You’re a pretty little thing, but aggravati
ng and so prim-”

  Amber’s hand swung hard, to slap Nikareon’s recently healed jaw with full force. It was a gesture of panic and insulted pride that happened far too fast for her to stop. The exotic matter in her cells cut straight through his personal shield and the kiss dissolved when he spun away sideways.

  She jumped back too, caught in her own agony. Her hand stung as if she’d dipped it in lava, but her mind was in greater distress. What had she done? She’d never lost control like that before. Not in any of her past lives.

  “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what… I mean, I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to help. Can I? Help?”

  Nikareon looked bemused and absently pressed his fingers along his reddened jaw. “No. Luck, no. Any more of your comfort might cripple me.”

  “I’m truly sorry.”

  “So am I. It won’t happen again.”

  “Good, good. Great. I should go then?”

  “Please.”

  Amber staggered from the room and returning to the nest was like stepping into another world. It was so tranquil her tension spilled away at once, but something about her appearance caught Falkyn’s attention and he lifted his head to stare at her.

  She smoothed her clothes and amusement seeped from his fronds, so she tried a carefree smile. “That went well.”

  He laughed in response. “Such was my suspicion.”

  “I meant I survived it and learned a valuable lesson. I’m going to wait by the hatch with Zak.”

  Amber turned, tripped on her ripped hem, stumbled then righted herself, and finally fled with her dignity as tattered as her dress.

  A golden halo of light coated the tunnel that linked the nest with the rest of the ship, but everything was a blur to Amber as she wafted along it. She was in no hurry to see Zak or anyone else. She’d had enough of this life and just wanted to get it done. The altar. The knife. And an end to the Devourer.

  A flash of color dragged Amber from her thoughts just before she collided with something floating in the middle of the link. She fired a pulse from her com to stop, but her head still hit the hazy red spot in front of her and it spun away, pieces trailing from it. She snapped out a hand to grab the slowly twisting object and discovered it was a flower. An Earth flower. A rose, she believed, but much larger than usual, even thought it was only a bud. Who was leaving red roses floating around a Beserk ship?

  Amber looked further, along a trail of floating petals, and saw a square of white that had separated from the flower. She trailed after it and plucked it from the air. It was a small card with a brief message.

  Never forget you’re important to me.

  The note was handwritten in a thin, spidery style. Amber flipped the card over, but it simply had two words on the front.

  To Brosia.

  Was this some sort of joke from Nikareon? Or perhaps Falkyn had-

  Understanding came and Amber’s hands convulsed. She crumpled the note in one fist, while pain sliced the fingers of the other. It seemed the rose she gripped still had thorns, which was truly appropriate. Only one person in this life called her Ambrosia. Pierce, her ex-husband, more recently known as the Devourer.

  Amber twisted in midair and her com sent battle strength to her muscles. Her senses threw data at her brain, but none of it was dangerous. She was alone.

  The only thing she could hear was the rapid thump of her heart and there was nothing to see… except a hint of silver drifting toward her. She tensed and magnified the trace of light, so the image grew, to become a hazy thread. It hung limply at one end, stirring slightly in the breeze of Amber’s movements, while the other end was still anchored to the curved wall of the link. A cobweb.

  The tunnel darkened, but Amber pushed back against shock and her senses returned. It seemed the Devourer was still spying on her. She made a rude gesture in the direction of the web and took off, firing her com at full power to burn down the link like a comet. Her bustwing ex was welcome to try to follow, but when he stopped toying with her - when they finally met again - she would be the hunter.

  13

  Darsey Two Times

  Darsey kicked through the dust now carpeting the old council rooms and wondered why Free had called her here. The place was depressing. Dark too. She strode to the nearest window, trailing a plume that looked like smoke and trying not to cough. She gripped the nearest curtain, which was draped from the ceiling far above all the way to the ground and tried to twitch it aside. Instead it ripped, the shriek muffled in that dull chamber, before one half tumbled onto Darsey in slow motion.

  She jumped back, away from the rotten cloth, but was blinded by the dust storm that followed it. The frond behind her left ear rose to waver over her head, so she could see the room in infrared. It was still empty.

  Dammit, Free. There was no answer to her mental hail. She let her frond fall and closed her eyes against the motes still floating past. What was up with Freefall? He was one of her best friends, but something odd had crept into their relationship. She’d caught him looking at her sometimes in a way that made her shiver. Frankly it gave her goosebumps.

  Darsey opened her eyes and raised her wrist, lifting her com to her lips even though it wasn't necessary to have it that close. “Free,” she instructed, but her call was refused. She paused and blinked, then considered her options.

  “Wing.” This time her priority tag took her to her husband's com, but he didn’t pick up either.

  Instead his version of Pertwing, their computer program's avatar appeared. The small, blonde image smiled warmly, but then wrinkled the golden blade of her nose. “I'm most sorry, Darse. He's in the middle of an aid mission and truly can't talk. I'll tell him to call you as-soon-as-can. Ciao.”

  Darsey wished she was more surprised. She thought they’d sorted this, but her busy husband remained as hard to catch as a cheetah on froth. She looked around one final time, before shrugging and moving impatiently back the way she’d come. Whatever game Free was playing he could finish it alone. The dust had drifted so deep in the corridor she had to wade into it. It puddled over her feet and rippled away to hide her tracks. She might never have passed through it when she first arrived. The strangely liquid floor sent a dusty surge ahead of Darsey to reach the next doorway and she stopped.

  That was odd. She hadn't noticed a mirror on the back of the door when she came through it. She studied her reflection thoughtfully and it studied her back. Then it smiled.

  Darsey breathed in sharply and her hand rose to her lips. No, she definitely wasn't smiling. That wasn’t an image at all. It was another person.

  Her doppelganger’s grin widened, before she darted forward. Darsey pivoted and ducked, but the attack was too sudden. The stranger leapt onto her back and a needle slipped through Darsey's protective field to pierce her throat.

  “Sorry I'm late,” a familiar voice said in her ear while Darsey struggled to stay conscious.

  She scratched at her attacker, hauling her forward and off her back, but the woman rolled easily to land on her feet. Darsey staggered and fell to a knee. Her vision constricted, until everything was black except her twin. She stood over Darsey, watching with a smug smile and looking unbelievably familiar. Darsey frowned and shook her head. Did she really smirk like that?

  Her lone supporting leg folded and she fell to all fours. Her arms trembled, while the dust around her seemed to spin. Great. She was about to be kidnapped. Again. It must be Tuesday. Except this time there was a complication that threatened everyone she loved. It was six foot tall, with red hair, dimples and a lousy approach to introductions. And there was no way she was letting that homicidal copycat anywhere near her family.

  Darsey lunged forward to clutch her attacker's knees, but the woman bent to grip Darsey's shoulders.

  “Sleep tight,” the stranger whispered, before lowering her into dust and darkness.

  14

  A Reckoning

  Amber let her head tip forward so the spray of her cleanser thrummed against her neck
. It beat at the tension there and she sighed. Today was Princess Goldown’s execution. Amber would have loved to avoid it, but she had to be present. Not just for duty’s sake, but for Falkyn. She had no idea how deeply overseeing his mother’s punishment might hurt him, but it had to be hard. The Princess had abandoned him before birth, but she was still his biological mother.

  The water sighed to a stop and a last cleansing field swept over Amber. She couldn’t delay any longer. It was time to dress and go. She stepped from the cleaning alcove and the final drops of water were sluiced from her skin. She reached for a silky white robe and threw it on.

  It tightened around her chest, as if random threads had suddenly been pulled hard.

  “Ow.” Amber scrabbled at the robe's tie, while thin lines pressed deeper into her flesh. She managed to tear the robe open, but it sucked at her skin to keep clinging to her breasts.

  “Drakkit.”

  Amber pulled harder and the thin fabric tore. Most of the robe ripped away, but strands still crisscrossed her torso. They felt sticky under her fingers and her horror grew. The remaining strips weren’t cloth. They were spider webs.

  No, no, no.

  Amber took a gasping breath. She had to stay calm. She was far too mature to panic like a chick. She pulled at the web again, but the strands were woven past each other to form a clinging hand with multiple fingers. It felt disgusting.

  “Stop it,” she grated to the empty air and the web finally fell away.

  It floated free to waft across the room and she grabbed another robe from storage. “Stay away. You gave me a year, remember?”

  There was no answer, of course, and Amber sighed. Genocidal husbands with god-like powers were enough to drive anyone mad. She stalked into her wardrobe, which was ridiculously large. A dark compression strip ran discreetly up the middle and was flanked by full-length mirrors, with seats in front of them, while all of the remaining walls were covered by preview-shopping screens. A girl could get lost in there.