Michael blushed furiously. “I’m neither, yet both. My parents just referred to me as it or the child. Call me what you wish.”
Jael grasped his chin to force it up, but Michael still averted his eyes. “Those we select to become dragon-horse warriors hold their heads up and look people directly in the eyes. You will have to learn to do that.” She knew Han had told him of the mythical warriors but left it to Jael to approve his chance to bond.
Those mismatched eyes, blue and green, locked on hers. “A…a dragon-horse warrior? Me?”
“You have the gene. Han tells me that despite your efforts to hide it, you are an accomplished pyro.” She dropped her hand and suppressed a smile when he straightened his shoulders and thrust his chin out. “But the bonding is risky. You must train hard because you only get one chance. If you fail, you could be a pile of ashes in less than a minute.”
Michael’s eyes gleamed with a spark that hadn’t been there before. “Please. I can do it. I know I can.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. A dragon-horse warrior would know who they are. They wouldn’t leave it to me to decide.” Even though much had evolved in society, there still was no pronoun for the rare third-gendered person. And the third-gendered people who seemed to constantly pop up in her past lives usually leaned more toward one or the other of the common genders.
“He,” Michael said quickly, then hesitated. “I’m unable to bear children and have no interest in frills or babies. So I’m more comfortable presenting as male.”
“Good. Women already outnumber the men in this Guard. It will give us a little more balance.”
The hand that cooled her cheek brought her back to the present.
“I can see why you’re a good leader. Michael worships you. Hearing that you need him gives him a sense of belonging he finds nowhere else. He would lay down his life for you or any of The Guard.”
Of course, Alyssa would be able to sense that. Jael nodded and brushed her lips against Alyssa’s as she stood. She had much to do and no time to linger over deep thoughts. “I hope he won’t have to.”
*
Kyle lingered, clearing the dishes as quietly and unobtrusively as possible. Any bit of information that would help her escape would be worth the reprimand, even if her punishment was to clean the men’s toilets again. She shuddered. Last time she’d drawn that duty, she’d had to clean urine splashes off the floor and walls and even the lavatory. She’d been tempted to ask for a hazard suit and pressure hose. Will said only a handful of them were nasty. He said some wouldn’t even bother to flush their own dung. But if any of the other men complained, the messy ones ridiculed them, calling them “girly” for wanting clean facilities.
“How many men did we lose in that forsaken place?” Cyrus asked.
Kyle put the dishes she’d collected on the cart to be wheeled into the kitchen car, then grabbed the coffee carafe from the sideboard. The number didn’t matter, but she wanted to hear if they said anything about Will. It had taken her several days to confirm that he didn’t make it back on the train. That was one more person she needed to eventually look for—her mother, her brother, Will, and her baby sister who was still at The Natural Order camp they’d left several weeks ago.
“Only three. One was that boy your daughter fancied.” The man providing the information glanced at Kyle.
She felt her father watching her, so she ducked her head and feigned brushing away a tear. She did, indeed, miss Will’s company, but she had no doubt that he could take care of himself.
“But we lost the six crates we’d already unloaded from the cars.”
Cyrus drummed his fingers on the table. “Kylie, tell Ruth we are ready for dessert,” he said.
Kyle intercepted Ruth, who surprisingly appeared at that very minute with a huge cream fruit roll she’d baked. She entertained a fleeting thought that maybe Ruth was gifted with foresight since she always seemed to turn up at the right minute, then dismissed the idea and traded the dessert for the empty coffee carafe. “I’ll serve if you can bring more coffee,” she whispered.
Cyrus watched Ruth leave. She was doing a good job instructing Kylie in proper feminine behavior. He nodded his approval when Kylie served him first, and then he turned his attention back to the men. “Three believers? Their reward will be plentiful when their service is judged by The One.”
Their train had at least thirty cars, and a second engine pulling fifty more trailed them. All had been filled at the central warehouse, and they’d probably emptied only a third along the way as they stopped to distribute supplies among those who swore allegiance to The One. Potrerillos was the only town or village that had offered any resistance or questioned the source of the supplies.
“We can make changes,” another man offered. “No unloading crates. We can distribute supplies straight from the cars. If there’s a disturbance, we can just close the doors and pull out.”
“Good idea,” he said, digging into Ruth’s cream fruit roll. She was a great cook and would never serve him that tasteless prepackaged stuff Laine would leave for him while she was working.
“We’re just wasting time,” Simon growled. “When I suggested this train trip, I told you we should stop only at major cities.”
Cyrus scowled at him. He’d spoken to Simon more than once about contradicting him in front of the men, and his patience was growing thin. He was The Prophet. The One spoke directly to him, not Simon. In fact, The One was in his head more often than not lately. It was as if they were merging. But he would keep that to himself for now, and The One was not finished using this irritating man. For now. “Perhaps you’d like to elaborate, Simon?”
“Every hour that we tarry, those dissidents are out there gathering forces against you. We’re spending time and money stopping in every little mud hole between here and Brasilia, and you have no guarantee the people you’re providing supplies are even giving you a second thought once you leave.” He activated a holomap from his IC. “We need to take control of this area. We should hire men, lots of men, to guard the remote warehouses and resume shipments. We can start here, and here,” he said, pointing out locations. “We’ll sell the supplies and give a cut of the credits to the guards to keep them loyal. The rest will come back to us.”
Cyrus frowned. “But these stops are spreading the message. These supplies are meant for believers, not just anyone with credits.”
“Yes, yes.” Simon drummed his fingers on the table. “How about this? We’ll have the guards take control of those pagan temples where people go to meditate and whatever. You can staff them with your people and make services mandatory. If they aren’t on the list as having attended the meetings, then they can’t buy supplies no matter how many credits they have.”
As much as Cyrus was beginning to dislike this man, the plan made sense. Still, he loved standing on the train car and delivering his wisdom to the wayward masses. He was The Prophet.
Simon seemed to read his thoughts. “You can save yourself for the large cities, the stadiums filled with thousands instead of a few hundred farmers standing next to a train. When we return to the Third Continent, we’ll have gleaned enough credits from the warehouses to build a golden temple where we can broadcast your message to every IC on the digital network.” Simon smiled. “You’ll reach billions around the world.”
Billions around the world. Cyrus sucked in a breath. Yes. He was The Prophet. He was the one who would bring salvation to the world.
*
“I don’t understand. There was always food for everybody when it was shared. Why would these men take our allotment when they surely have their own?” The woman shook her head in disbelief, a sentiment apparently held by the dozen or so citizens gathered under the trees of the small square. Michael sat at a table outside a small café, sipping a local ale he’d purchased and listening. The group cast surreptitious glances his way, recognizing him as an outsider, and he made no effort to hide his interest in their conversation.
“
A man who calls himself The Prophet says the food is only for people who join his group. My mate’s brother said they’re taking our food shipments on a train to Brasilia, but they stop at villages and hand out some of it to people who swear their allegiance to their cause,” one man said.
A second man frowned. “What is their cause?”
The first man shrugged. “This Prophet says we should turn away from The Collective. He says our sharing equally has subverted the natural order of nature to reward the strong and eliminate the weak.”
Their faces flashed with surprise and disbelief. “It makes no sense,” a woman said. “We are stronger together. Who is this Prophet?”
Michael saw his chance and left his table to join them. “This man is one of the badly born, a learned professor of ancient times, when it was greatly believed that each soul has only one life to live. He suffered the devastating loss of his son in a mud slide where his family lived on the Third Continent. The loss has driven him mad. He is convinced that the ancient society where only a few held power over many is what he refers to as the true path. His insanity, unfortunately, has been given wings by other badly born who crave to be one of those few with power.”
One woman scoffed. “Who would listen to such drivel?”
“Anyone tired of listening to the cries of their hungry children. People who also have suffered and are desperate for answers for the recent weather disasters. If you would take the d-tablet from your children occasionally and watch the information broadcasts, you would know that.” The tall woman who spoke pushed to the front of the group. She eyed Michael, her gaze challenging. “We’re an agricultural region and rarely of interest to travelers. Yet we’ve seen many in recent months. What brings you here, stranger? What do you know about our missing supplies?”
Michael fought the impulse to shrink under the crowd’s scrutiny. He’d flourished in the covert life of a dragon-horse warrior because he hated attention. Their stares were like needles prodding him back into the safe shadows.
“…dragon-horse warriors hold their heads up and look people directly in the eyes.”
He raised his chin and met the woman’s eyes. “I serve The Collective. These people who call themselves The Natural Order are a growing threat. The Collective Council has called an army together to stop them and restore the sharing of world resources.”
“How do we join this army?” The new voice was a young woman with fierce eyes.
“For now, we have all the warriors and support personnel we can train. But you can help by keeping your eyes open and relaying anything you observe that may be connected to this group’s activities. Today, I’m seeking information about a member of our army who has disappeared.” He activated the IC strapped to his forearm and projected an image of Diego.
Several heads shook in the negative. They hadn’t seen such a man.
“He was seeking to buy supplies from the communities in this area.”
“Was he at Potrerillos when the train came through?”
“What happened in Potrerillos? I heard you speaking about a train.”
“Two trains,” the man said. “My mate’s brother said two engines were pulling a line of cars that stretched farther than he could see. People said the cars were loaded with food and other supplies. But this food doesn’t belong to the people on the train. The boxes were marked for our warehouses, and the villagers attempted to take the supplies back. The men from the train had weapons—stun sticks—but the crowd was too many and overpowered them. They abandoned the supplies they’d already unloaded from the train, and all but four escaped.”
Four prisoners. This was good news. Jael could probe their minds for information. “What happened to the ones who didn’t escape?”
“Two were killed.” The man shrugged and stared at the ground. “The people were angry. They’d been listening to the cries of their hungry children for weeks, and these men were the cause.” He looked up at Michael. “That’s all I know.”
Michael nodded. He wasn’t here to pass judgment. “Your information is very helpful.” He activated the IC strapped to his forearm, then surveyed the crowd. Most were dressed for fieldwork, but one merchant also wore an IC. He held his arm out to her. “This is the information you need to contact me if you learn anything more that’ll help us restore order and return your supplies.”
The woman touched her IC to his for the information transfer, then grasped his hand. “My name is Terceira.”
He smiled at her. “Michael.” He hesitated and then opened his shirt to reveal the silver fire-retardant battle skin underneath and the dragon-horse crest emblazoned on it. “Our warriors bear this insignia. When you see it, you’ll have nothing to fear. We’re here to restore peace and order.”
Terceira held up her IC to capture the image. “Stronger together,” she said, reciting the mantra of The Collective. “Good speed to you and your compatriots, Michael.” She nodded to her fellow citizens. “These hills are filled with our families and friends. We’ll spread the news of your army and your need for many eyes.”
He bowed and then saluted their allegiance. “Stronger together,” he pledged.
Chapter Eighteen
Bright points of light. Eyes of a million souls. Jewels nestled in a dark velvet blanket. The stars were too many to count. Just like her emotions were too tangled to sort.
“How do you not feel adrift when you’re up there, among the stars?” Alyssa asked, never taking her eyes from the night sky.
“As sailors have for a millennium, we use the stars to navigate,” Jael said, her voice an anchor in the vastness.
Tomorrow, the next leg of their journey would begin. They would lead more than a hundred warriors hoping to bond with a dragon horse to the nest of the wild herd.
Tonight, however, was for them—her and Jael—before the demands of duty and leadership would take precedence.
Summer’s warmth still enveloped the hilltop meadow even though the sun had set, and she wished she could hold this minute for eternity. She wanted to let the world save itself while she stayed safely tucked in the circle of Jael’s arms. She closed her eyes, settled back against Jael’s chest, and listened to Specter tear the tender tops from the lush grass that surrounded them.
She opened her eyes again and the stars called to her. She wanted to know what it felt like to be high above the earth, far away from the realities of their mission.
“Take me up there, Jael.”
“Up where?” Jael placed a line of soft kisses along Alyssa’s neck. Apparently her mind was focused on a more earthly pursuit.
“I want to fly.”
“We flew up here.”
She’d flown several times, held tight by Jael as she balanced them on Specter’s back, but she’d always insisted they stay fairly close to earth because of the one-time attack of vertigo she’d suffered after her head injury. She was ready now to let go of her fear.
“I want to really fly, up there, high above everything where you can touch the stars.”
A sharp nip made the muscles low in Alyssa’s belly clench, and then Jael’s teasing lips stilled. She hummed against Alyssa’s neck. “That’s what I love about you.”
“What?”
“You have such a romantic view of everything.”
Alyssa could hear the smile in Jael’s voice. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You can’t actually touch the stars, silly. Not even Specter’s wings can take us that high.” Warriors could be irritatingly rational.
As if he understood their words, Specter nodded and then went back to his grass.
Alyssa turned in Jael’s arms to smile at her. “I want to try.”
“Are you sure? It’s pretty high up.” Jael’s blue eyes were bright with surprise, even in the soft moonlight. “But it’s amazing. The air is so thin you feel breathless, but the wind currents are so strong, it feels like floating in a river.” Her fingertips were rough against Alyssa’s cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you
. If you feel even a tiny bit of vertigo, you have to tell me right away.”
While Jael’s fingertips were capable of igniting into real fire, they also were adept at stoking a blaze of passion that burned through Alyssa so fast and hot that just thinking about it made her tremble. She kissed that amazing hand. “I promise.”
Specter left off his grazing and ambled toward them, apparently summoned telepathically by Jael. He extended his huge leathery wings, stretching them in the breeze and seeming eager for the opportunity to soar. He tugged at Jael’s belt with his teeth, and she nodded.
“Give me your belt,” she said, removing her own. “We’ll use them to fasten your legs to the base of his wings, so if we hit a rough spot in the air flow you’ll be secured.”
“Like a safety harness?”
“Exactly. We’d use harnesses similar to the ones the newly bonded warriors use when they’re first learning to fly their dragon horses, but I don’t have one of those with me now. The belts will work just as well.”
Alyssa frowned. “What about you?”
Jael chuckled. “I took a few unintentional sky dives when I was a beginner, but my legs are strong enough now to keep my seat during any of Specter’s aerial acrobatics. Still, I wouldn’t want to risk us sliding off if your full weight shifted against me.”
She blinked at Jael. “You couldn’t have fallen off. If you did, you wouldn’t be standing here today.”
Jael grinned and pressed her forehead against Specter’s. A mental image formed in Alyssa’s head, too, and she appreciated that she was including her in their conversation.
Alyssa was suddenly looking down at hands clutching Specter’s mane, the earth very, very far below them. The hands began to scramble for purchase and she felt jostled, then nothing but empty air, fast-approaching ground, and overwhelming fear. Then Specter’s broad back appeared under her, solid and warm.
When Jael drew back, Specter bobbed his head and curled his lip in a horsey laugh. Jael grinned, too. “That was the first time I fell off. Specter’s always saved me, but I don’t know if he could pick two of us out of the sky if we both slid off.” She held up the belts. “So, we’ll make sure you don’t.”
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