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

by Casey Lea

  Zak hit the ground at the same time that Mac and his companion floated free. They were curled together, pressed close within the protection of a dual com field. However, as they left the ground drops of red formed streamers that drifted around them. The bloody strings split and spread to bring a metallic tang to the air.

  Haze stepped back, carefully bringing to bulky generator to a new position that tethered the couple at waist height.

  “Laddie,” Mac rasped through grey lips, then his eyes shifted to Haze. “Boss.”

  There was no point answering and no time to waste on greetings. Zak followed the largest blood flow to Mac’s inner thigh. His femoral artery had been crushed, which had probably saved his life. It hadn’t started bleeding until Mac’s med-field had tried to fix the blood vessel. It had mended the very damage which had been pinching the artery shut. Since the healing started he’d been bleeding out and it was lucky they’d found him so fast.

  A dedicated med-strip slurped into place around Mac’s leg and Zak’s mind dived into its interface to direct the healing. He sealed the artery and pulled back to let the strip finish stimulating the growth of cells to replace any crush damage.

  Mac stirred and his eyes focused on Zak. “Help Jinner. We were on recon. Just looking. Something dragged her into a cave. When I found her… It’s not good.”

  Zak turned to the young woman bobbing beside him and had to agree with Mac. She didn’t look good at all. His com pulsed to send cleansing waves over her and the dirt fell away, along with less visible germs. She turned from grey to a mosaic of red and white. Whatever had attacked her had done its best to strip her legs to the bone. The result was ugly, but fixable, at least once he got her to the hospital. He slapped stasis fields into place and turned to her torso.

  Jinner’s face was as pale as bone too, but any damage to her body was hidden under a skin-tight camo-suit. Zak tried to peel it off, but it stuck. Not a good sign. He used all of his com power to create a stasis field for the entire patient. He needed to get her stabilized and into Justice.

  “Haze,” Zak said and his brother grunted. “Give me the generator. I’ve got to fly them to the hospital. Full speed.”

  “Understood,” Haze said with a gulp and the boy looked pale when he let Zak take the anti-grav machine.

  “I’ll do everything I can,” Zak promised.

  Haze gave him a haunted look. “I hired Jinner. And Mac. Everyone else was ignoring the animal attacks and I thought I could help. I’m responsible.”

  “Damn right,” Mac rasped. “And it’s just as well. There are more burrows in these mountains than under a POW camp and we can’t assume that whatever’s hiding underground will stay there. We need to stop it, lad. Give me a hand.”

  Mac tried to right himself, but spun helplessly in mid-air. Zak was finalising a tether to keep Jinner close while he flew, but glanced at his com to check Mac’s progress. The femoral artery was fully healed, but his blood volume was still low. He looked up, straight into Mac’s glare.

  “Don’t even think it, laddie. You stick me in a hospital and I’ll be tunnelling out. Put me down. Now.”

  Mac’s mind was adamant and Zak didn’t waste time arguing. He re-targeted the anti-grav generator, so Mac landed on the ground. The human grunted and rolled to his feet. Zak was already in the air, but paused to shout back to Haze.

  “Keep the stubborn old hornbill here until his blood volume reads eighty percent.”

  Mac smiled beatifically. “No worries. I’m not heading back to those hills without a proper strike team, so I’ll wait here till they arrive. And Zak, thanks for coming out to find me. It was a better surprise than Christmas stockings filled in an adults-only store. Why did you though? I thought you wanted to stay well away from the hunt.”

  Zak had to yell louder as he accelerated away. “I’m here to back you up. Not get prissy about the fine print in my contract.”

  The wind whined past as Zak drove hard for Justice. He still had no idea where the hospital was, so he sent out an emergency call. It was answered at once and at his request a searchlight appeared ahead to mark its roof. He swooped to land on a multi-story box of a building near the heart of the town, with his patient safely in tow. Figures poured from the rooftop entry to surround Jinner.

  She was loaded onto a scanning bed and every sensor it had went straight into the red.

  A tall woman, with a nurse’s staff on her collar, straightened from examining Jinner and fixed Zak with a cool expression. “What happened?”

  “Animal attack. Species unknown. We need a soluble spray and full med fields ready for stasis exit.”

  “You stabilised her?”

  “I thought so, yes, but her vitals have deteriorated since lock down.”

  The nurse’s expression grew sharper. “That’s impossible. You must be mistaken.”

  “I hope so,” Zak said and sent her his medical credentials.

  Her lips tightened and she read them twice, before ducking her head in acceptance. “You heard the doctor. Get her inside to I.C.”

  Everyone moved and Zak went with them. The building was bare and plain, but at least what they did have was brand new. They dropped down a link that carried them straight to intensive care and a good range of scanner and cellular support fields. His heart lifted, despite what he sensed of Jinner’s hurts. With this array he could fix anything.

  A med soak powered up around the patient’s bed, while a spray dissolved her clothing without damaging the tissue beneath. Zak bent over her and something tightened in his gut. She smelled of grathol and blood, neither of which turned his stomach, but her torso had been shredded too. The lacerations crossed her body repeatedly and he straightened to get a better view.

  Seen together the rents still made no clear pattern. There was no regular spacing consistent with claws, even impossibly large ones. He frowned and held his hand over her torn body, measuring the cuts, while a regen field settled more tightly around her.

  “Starting blanket regeneration,” the nurse announced, but Zak raised a hand.

  “Wait. Don’t drop stasis yet. Look.” He pointed and the handful of people in the room leaned over to see the impossible. There was movement. Inside the stasis field.

  “What is that?” the nurse whispered.

  Zak swiped for greater magnification and studied Jinner’s upper arm. Two welts crossed either side of her biceps and green liquid oozed from them. It kept welling from the strange cuts, while black streaks covered her injured arm. He could see the tissue necrosis spreading across her torso. Its dark lines thickened steadily. Despite the fact that every cell she had should have been metabolically inert.

  Zak swore and backed away. The nurse looked round in surprise. "Doctor?"

  "Stasis has failed. Start realigning and transfusing. I have to make a call." He turned away from her frown and ignored the disapproval her human mind was shedding. He could add it to his weekly file, but in the meantime he had a situation more serious than being misunderstood. He entered a com code most doctors didn't have and waited. Patiently. For at least ten seconds.

  Zak slammed the side of his fist against a pristine wall. "Stop drakking your secretary and answer," he demanded, drawing more condemnation from the nurse, but also a response from his com. An image of Lord-Justice Nikareon appeared above Zak’s wrist.

  Nikareon smiled with his mouth, but the rest of his face was frowning and his short blonde hair was blowing sideways. "Why would I push my secretary off my desk just for you, Zakareon?"

  "Love you too. Got a dying hunter and have to get back to her. She's been ripped apart. She was dragged into a cave and suffered a devastating attack. By something vicious."

  "Snow tiger?"

  "Worse. Bigger, or quicker with its cuts. Maybe both. It’s like a sword attack, but the edges of the cuts are more ragged than those of a blade."

  Lord-Justice Nikareon narrowed his eyes, although his smile stayed plastered in place. "Please tell me you're drunk, drugged,
or joking."

  "Too far from all three. This is drakking real."

  "The patient must be a jig-saw if you can't put her back together."

  "I'll try, but there's some kind of venom in the wounds. It's eating away new tissue. This is nasty. I've got to go, but something's loose on Blizzard and you need a general alert. Now." Zak broke the connection and spun back to the dying woman. He’d try like hell, but he knew when someone was royally screwed. It looked like his father's dream city had a nightmare visitor and was about to face its own particular trial.

  31

  Reunion

  Hours later Zak had to give up. He held his patient’s hand for another ten minutes while she finished dying.

  He notified Mac, but there was no response, so he was probably hunting whatever had killed Jinner. At least he had a properly prepared team with him this time.

  Zak left to find a drink. That was one hunt he knew would end well. He trotted down the steps of the Justice Medical Hub to jog straight across the road and into a bar. There were plenty to choose from and this was one of the darker, less welcoming examples, but he had a strong feeling he should stay close to the hospital. He completed a rapid recon while walking down the three steps from the entrance and chose a seat with its back to two walls, in the corner closest to the door. He slid onto a high stool that would be easy to launch himself from if necessary and tapped the menu.

  Zak tipped his head back to slump against the wall. He heard his drink arrive, but ignored it. The alcohol was a weak local brew - a treat, not a necessity. He just had to be somewhere that covered the hospital smell of blossoms and potpourri. That sweet crap turned his stomach.

  Someone stopped in front of Zak, but he didn't open his eyes. He wasn't nearly relaxed enough to be interacting with strangers. The music was loud and made conversation difficult, which suited him just fine.

  "Hey, Zak," a familiar voice shouted and all of Zak's tension returned. He kept his eyes closed, but felt his face drop into the stillness of battle, the bland mask that every Beserk wore in combat, at least until the fury took them. The intruder hesitated, but then dropped into the seat next to Zak anyway.

  “Two grathols, straight,” the new arrival yelled to the bar-tending strip, but Zak ignored him. He didn't look round, not even when the male proffered him one of the drinks. Zak sat up straight instead, and leaned forward to take a swig of his ferment.

  He swallowed, taking his time and staring at the opposite wall with a frown. “What do you want, Nikareon?”

  “To get you drinking like a male again. What the crap is that?”

  Zak laughed. He couldn't help it. He finally turned to look at the person who had raised him.

  “I’m sorry you lost your patient,” Nik said and Zak flinched. “I'm told it wasn’t your fault and no one could have saved her.”

  “I don’t like to lose anything, especially a person.”

  Nikareon looked thoughtful. “A trait I remember and I’ve got the scars to prove it. I hear you're an excellent healer.”

  “Yes. They taught me that. You taught me how to fight, but my true family tried to make me more well-rounded.” Zak smiled sardonically and hoped it hid his sorrow. “I'm a real boy now.”

  “Son,” Nikareon reached out, but Zak pulled his arm back and the Beserk paused. “I'm sorry. I hoped that we could talk and perhaps find clear air between us, before pirates, monsters, or the mistwind distract us again. I know any apology is too little and late, but I am truly sorry.”

  Zak jerked his head in rough acknowledgement. Why was this sort of thing always so drakking hard? “You saved me when Lamidia wanted me dead and for that I'm grateful. But you never gave me back. Not until I forced your hand. You saved my life, but you stole it too. Did you ever think what I could have been if I was raised by Wing and Darsey? That I might have known better than to- never mind. You could have sent me back to a safe home, but instead you used me.”

  Nikareon dropped his gaze and his answer was almost too soft to hear. “I was tempted. You offered so much and you were a handy bargaining chip. Then, later, I was scared.”

  “Scared?” Zak couldn't keep the sneer from his voice. That claim he didn't believe.

  “Truly. I knew if I gave you back then soon or late you'd grow to understand what I'd done to you. I didn't want that. I couldn't cope with you looking at me... well, the way you are right now.”

  “Yet you're still drakking alive. It hasn't made you drop dead.”

  Nikareon's voice fell further. “No, it just feels like it.”

  Zak finally threw back the shot of grathol and it burned his throat in a much more satisfying way. “Wing’s my true father, You’re just a dag. A few genes dangling off my butt.”

  Nikareon threw back his drink too. He grimaced, but Zak knew it wasn't because of the alcohol. “I’ve been called worse. It didn’t take you long to embrace the kres though. Was it love at first sight?”

  “Close. Love at first punch.”

  Nikareon choked on his second drink. “You hit Nightwing?”

  Zak laughed at that. “I wish. No, he taught me respect. Starting with him and ending with me. Turns out respecting yourself is actually quite different to loving yourself. Less fun, but ultimately more important.” He shrugged and wondered how the conversation had got so deep, but did his best to keep swimming. He wasn’t about to flounder in front of Nikareon. “Wing taught me I could be a better person. Try to redeem myself.”

  They both studied their empty glasses. Nikareon’s mouth twisted in a mocking smile. “Is that your name for him, or do you call him patri? No. Don’t answer. None of my business and I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “Drakking right.” Zak tipped his seat back to lean against the wall again and closed his eyes, but his ex-father refused to take the hint.

  “What of Darsey?” Nikareon asked. “She’s a brave lady. Resourceful too. Everything a man needs in a mother.”

  “She’s not my mother.” The words were out before Zak could stop them and his eyes flushed, making his lids feel hot and sticky. He kept them closed and took a second to cool down. “I mean, I doubt she wants to be.”

  He waited for a flash of disbelief from his father, but the old man was too smart for that. Nikareon’s mind stayed quiet, although he pursed his lips. “Why do you think that?”

  “She gave me up.” Guano. What had he been drinking? The words just kept on flowing, and now he did feel anger from his father.

  “Not willingly.”

  “Ye, whatever. She managed to hold onto Jace though.”

  Nikareon’s anger was replaced by something more thoughtful. “That’s not fair and you know so. It’s a miracle she saved either of you. I was present and she kept on struggling, fighting to keep you close. I’d wager she still is, isn’t she, Zak?”

  Zak hunched forward again to stare at his glass, which Nikareon must have refilled, and silently cursed the Beserk. “Ye, she tries, but it’s a waste of time.”

  “To know your mother?”

  Zak’s head hurt and so did his chest. “To put effort into getting her to like me. Because it won’t last. She’ll get rid of me again. Once she knows.”

  “Knows what?”

  “Me.”

  He swallowed the drink and shoved his chair back against the wall. He rose before Nikareon could try to spread some shit about what a great son Zak was. He knew better. “It’s been a long day. Goodnight.”

  He moved round the table, but his father gripped him by the arm and he had to stop. His eyes were hot again, but there was no hint of silver vision. No anger came with the prickling, only pain.

  “Please, Patri,” he whispered. “I don’t need more rejection, not even when I deserve it.”

  Nikareon let go, but rested a hand more gently on his shoulder. “You may be right. Perhaps Darsey will turn away from you in the future, but find your courage and give her the choice.”

  Gods, now he was wallowing in unsolicited advice. Zak flinched, bu
t only on the inside. Letting his emotions show was unlikely to lead anywhere good. There’d been too much of that already. He shook himself free instead. “I don't need a shoulder to sob on.”

  He walked away, pushing through the crowd, but had to stop and wait for a gap at the foot of the exit stairs.

  “What makes someone family?” Nikareon yelled after him and Zak looked back. It seemed he couldn’t help himself. When the bloody Beserk spoke Zak still jumped to attention. He found Nik’s eyes above the crowd and the Holy-High-Lord-Almighty Justice’s thoughts came with that connection.

  Are people family because they make you happy? Far from true. No-one frustrates me more than my relatives. Is the bond a blood link? Some irresistible call that comes from shared genes and has nothing to do with actions? No, that’s not enough. They’re family because they’ve got your back. Always and forever. To your face and behind it. That’s family, Zak. Your family still survives and we’ve got a new nest. Just visit us sometime.

  Nikareon’s smile grew more ragged than usual and he raised his voice again. “Soon would be good.”

  Something that might have been panic closed Zak’s throat, but an urgent whistle from his wrist saved him from having to answer. The moment with his father passed. Zak gave a curt wave and turned away, lifting his com as he went.

  “Yes?”

  The answer was so quiet he could hardly hear it. “Help. Need help, lad.”

  “Mac? What’s wrong?”

  “Everything,” the human whispered back. “It took them. My whole team.”

  “What took them?”

  “Dunno. It. And now it’s chasing me.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Sending a ping,” Mac said and a tracker link hummed through Zak’s wrist.

  “I’m coming.”

  “Bring some friends, lad. It’s a party.”