Song of the Worlds Boxed Set

by Brandon Barr

  “Strap in quick,” said Karience. “I need to have an impromptu meeting with you and the rest of the Missionaries—there are big changes coming our way—and as soon as the meeting is over, I’m off to Damien’s. I can’t be late for my date tonight.” She smiled and winked at Winter.

  When she docked the ship at the underwater facility, she and Winter hurried to the common room. Arentiss was there, eating a bowl of something hot and steaming. Across from her sat Hark.

  “Where’s Rueik?”

  “He’s been gone since this morning,” said Arentiss.

  “I’m right here,” said Rueik, entering the common room. “Went for a run to Vale Lake. Arentiss, you up for a run some morning?”

  “Certainly,” said Arentiss. “As long as you don’t mind a little dust in your face.”

  He brushed a line of sweat from his brow. “We’ll see about that.”

  Karience gestured to the tables. “Have a seat, Rueik. I have news from Higelion. You too, Winter.”

  She waited for Winter and Rueik to find a chair, then proceeded. “I have a major announcement. The Magnus Empyrean has decided to remove Shield Force from Loam.” She watched as the significance fell upon each face. She continued, “Higelion believes the quorums need to see the consequences of leaving the charter. He thinks it will help them realize the significance of their choice.”

  “We just had a major catastrophe,” said Hark. “Shouldn’t we be lenient?”

  “Personally, I think you’re right,” said Karience. “I argued a similar case before Higelion. But higher command dictates otherwise. Shield Force has already been notified. They’ll be gone by day’s end.”

  “Are we being sent back?” asked Rueik.

  “If the charter is overturned, then yes,” said Karience.

  “Did Higelion give thought to your proposal to extend the timeframe?” asked Arentiss.

  “No. But I believe there’s a chance the charter can be kept. Higelion has given me a little leeway, but not much. My dinner with Damien tonight will be crucial.”

  “What leeway?” asked Hark.

  “One year for the quorums to enact a mandate, meeting the terms of the charter by the end of the prescribed term. Those are Higelion’s exact words.”

  “I hope your meeting with Damien goes smoothly,” said Rueik. “If anyone can fix this mess, it’s him.”

  “Convincing him may not be easy,” said Karience. “I’ll let you know of my success or failure tomorrow.” She noticed Winter staring down at the table. Winter had been quiet since coming back to the facility. Karience sensed the pressing thoughts spiraling in the young woman’s head. Winter was going to jump through the portal.

  She would miss the girl dearly. Perhaps it would be just as Winter said.

  The charter would be saved, and sometime in the future, Winter would return to Loam with a story as large as the galaxy.

  It was a pleasant thought amidst so much uncertainty.

  --

  ARENTISS

  She found herself alone in the common room once Rueik and Hark left. Before Karience had come with the news of Shield Force, she and Hark had been talking about the subjects of family and of love. She thought of Hark’s wife and child and how protective he was of them. And how loyal.

  Once Arentiss made a decision, she knew there were few as dedicated as her. Her test scores were evidence of this.

  Arentiss recalled the initial excitement she’d experienced reading through Aven’s psychological profile. They were such a good match. She remembered the stimulation of Aven’s hands in hers. He would make an excellent life partner, and she would be a sound, serious wife—she was convinced of it. And children…she wasn’t certain Aven wanted any, but if he bore the cultural markers of Loam, then offspring would be highly prized. Hark had decided to send his wife and child back to his homeworld because of the tense circumstances on Loam. They’d left yesterday and she could see the melancholy in his demeanor. She tried, but failed to imagine what it would be like for her to have children with Aven.

  She would have to work on mothering skills, just as she would have to learn to cook.

  Last night, she’d spent many of her normal sleeping hours awake, scrutinizing possible scenarios to track down Aven. In the end, only one was plausible. Taking the majority of her earnings as a Missionary, she could use them to hire the pilot of a good spacecraft to take her to some of the inhabitable worlds surrounding Loam. The mercenaries who’d captured him might well be notorious. If so, it would be easy to gather information on them. Additionally, she remembered their dress and the markings on the craft. Someone would recognize those markings. The chances of Aven coming back through the portal seemed unlikely. Better to be proactive.

  But before she could discuss her plans with Karience, she needed to secure Winter’s approval. Yes, Aven had held her hand, but without Winter’s approval, any attempt at securing Aven’s full affection would be a broach of Loamian protocol and disrespectful to Winter and Aven’s relationship.

  Winter’s consent was the firewall to her hopes and plans. Arentiss could see the possible future, Aven as a farmer, and herself, serving the Guardians in some fashion from their hovel.

  She wondered what kissing Aven would be like. It would be her first time, and…from her limited observations of the act of kissing, it somehow surpassed the bodily sensations of holding hands. Beyond kissing, she could scarcely contemplate physical intimacy. She understood the biology and anatomy of what was properly termed coitus, but the exact mechanics of the procedure remained a mystery.

  One step at time, she told herself.

  She stood and walked briskly to Winter’s room. She knocked lightly, then pressed the button to open the door.

  Winter turned from a porthole she’d been peering through. Arentiss stepped inside the door. “Would now be a good time to talk more of Aven and I?”

  The twist on Winter’s lips and the scrunch of her brows told Arentiss that she’d just broached some minor social convention of Loam—or more specifically, the Loamian farm culture. Whatever it was, she couldn’t detect the details of her blunder.

  “Hi, Arentiss,” said Winter. “Yes, come in.”

  Arentiss came up beside Winter and looked out the porthole. She recognized that the social convention did demand she now say something more on the topic of Aven. Something that would cheer Winter.

  “You might be pleased to know I’ve already begun reading up on cooking. I purchased a local book on recipes that focus on the more rural culinary fare.”

  Winter frowned and Arentiss could tell her VOKK was processing something. Then Winter suddenly laughed. “Very nice,” said Winter, “but you don’t need to impress me anymore. I’ve made my decision.”

  Arentiss teetered in suspense for a moment. “And what have you decided?”

  “I approve of you and Aven’s matching, as long as he agrees.”

  Arentiss felt a tremble run through her body like a shock wave. “I am honored to receive your approval, Winter.”

  Winter hugged her. “Now we just have to find Aven to see if he agrees.”

  “Yes,” said Arentiss. “You’ll be pleased to know I have a plan for that.”

  Winter stepped back. “You have a plan?”

  “With your approval now secured, I’m going to leave my duties here. I’m going to search for your brother.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “I will hand Karience my temporary leave notice, then hire a ship on my homeworld of Birth. Fly through the fleet portal just outside our system. Then, find your brother.”

  Winter felt a wild hope grow inside her. “Is what say truly possible?”

  “It is. But I love your brother. I will find him, and I will bring him back to Loam.”

  HEARTH

  I’ve lived the lifetimes of two men. I’ve loved a good wife and lost her. I’ve married again only to lose her at the age of seventy years. I’ve watched my sons and daughters grow old and die, and now
their children too have passed away. And yet I live on. My bones ache. My skin sags. And for all the life I’ve lived, I am the happiest old, decrepit man that ever lived past one hundred and twenty.

  It is a human duty to be happy, and it’s far and wide more enjoyable than grumping around like old people are prone to do, complaining like unfed goats, and surly as wild hogs.

  I refuse to be a miserable drizzle when I can be a light cutting through the storm clouds. Happiness is not burying your brain in the sand and saying everything is perfect. Happiness is turning your eyes away from the mirror and thinking of something other than your misery or misfortune. There are other people in this world with troubles of their own, and if you can turn your eyes from your hardships and see the delightful and good surrounding you, you can be the bringer of smiles and laughter to help put the afflictions of life in their proper place.

  -Seethus’s journal, My Old Wrinkled Wisdom, page 892

  CHAPTER 31

  SAVARAH

  A thrashing sound rumbled through the small tear-shaped valley near the base of the foothills. She clenched her teeth in anticipation—the creature was close now. The horse she rode fought hard to meet her demand for speed, abandoning safety for the fastest, most perilous path down the side of the hill.

  She’d seen the large creature leave the ship. The animal was enormous. And it was hers to have according to the gods. Her mount finally reached the valley floor.

  Ahead, a tangle of trees and bush lined a small stream.

  A tiger’s roar sounded from the brush and Savarah’s hand went for her arrows and the bow she’d taken from Harcor’s home. He’d kindly abandoned it amidst the fighting that had taken place while she lay dying. Maybe one day she’d have the chance to return the favor and pin his heart with an arrow.

  A long sustained growl issued from the underbrush ahead. Suddenly the leaves shook violently, and a high bellowing roar ended in a desperate cat’s cry. Savarah slowed her horse, which was snorting in agitation, having caught wind of a discomforting scent. Savarah bent to stroke her horse when the brush erupted in motion. Her horse reared back, flinging her airborne.

  She hit the ground on her back, the momentum rolling her backward, over her head and onto her hands and knees. Quickly, she found her feet and crouched low. Her eyes stopped on the form of the animal before her. She’d only seen it from afar as it left the ship, but here, its body half emerged from the thicket, the animal’s size was unbelievable.

  A shuddering motion came from its long snout, and it was then she noticed the creature trapped in its jaws.

  A black tiger.

  The head of the tiger dangled from teeth that had pinched through the cat’s body like needles. The tiger’s body shuddered again. Then the huge creature lurched its head forward and the tiger disappeared within the throat of the beast.

  Something about the head of the monster disgusted her. It had a reptilian quality about it. The rest of its hulking form was lined with sparse patches of wiry black hair. The creature looked like no animal she’d ever seen on Hearth.

  The creature eyed her, its big round pupils resembling that of an intelligent being.

  A picture intruded into her mind from outside. Pressing down upon her. Stealing the breath from her lungs.

  Her head hung just like that of the black tiger, blood dripping from her hair to the ground.

  A chilling thought pushed through the intruding vision and brought a shiver down her spine.

  Had the gods betrayed her?

  She fought against the strange vision and jumped to her feet, managing to remain partially aware of her surroundings. Again the image shoved its way before her mind’s eye, and she fought for control of herself, seeing both the mirage—her bloodied body in the creature’s teeth—and the reality of a monster moving fully out of the brush. Moving fast. Racing straight for her. She focused her mind and flexed her full power against the invading images.

  Then she turned and ran.

  The creature’s mental hold snapped and she found her mind fully returned to her as she sprinted for the closest refuge. A tall, red-barked tree that was wider than her frame. In one leap her foot found a low branch as her hands found a hold and she scaled the tree like a frightened squirrel.

  Snapping and scratching sounded just below her. Could the monster climb?

  She turned at the noise. The creature’s snout hung a mere branch lower than her foot. It stood on its hind legs, forelimbs thrashing at the branches, claws shredding the trunk.

  Savarah stared down at it.

  There was no larger animal on Hearth. Her master must have purchased this animal—there was no other explanation for it being aboard the mercenary vessel.

  Savarah wanted to look to the sky and spit at the gods, but she could not tear her eyes away from the terrifying sight below. The gods had healed her and then thrown her to this creature like meat to a dog.

  The creature had grown quiet below her. Its head was cocked, and one eye looked up at her. An image flashed in her mind. A picture of her falling from the tree into the creature’s mouth. As she pushed the intruding thoughts away, she looked again at the monster. Its eye watched her, calculating and predative. The lips pulled back, revealing an arsenal of long, yellowing teeth.

  Savarah climbed up higher in the tree.

  Before long, the creature became weary of her, and began pacing around the tree trunk, sniffing the ground. Its head finally lifted and it trotted away, up through the tear-shaped valley. She had a good vantage point from her perch high in the tree, and she finally looked away from the retreating animal and out toward the waste. In the distance, she saw a portion of the broken starship. The animal was moving away from the ship, deeper into the foothills.

  When she felt it safe to climb down the tree, she hoped to find her horse again, then go and investigate the wreckage. She needed that horse for her ride across the wasteland.

  Savarah looked at the smoke plume rising into the air. Nightfall was close. She began shimmying down the tree. No sense waiting any longer. She’d met the monster. Now, if she met the monster’s friend spoken of in the prophecy, she’d know either to stay clear or be ready to spill his or her guts with a flick of her knife.

  CHAPTER 32

  AVEN

  The intensity of the sunlight outside made the insides of the ship even darker. Slowly Aven’s eyes grew accustomed to the shadows. He was fortunate the bridge had been severed where it had. The light pouring into the broken entryway lit the hall lined with doors to the mercenaries’ personal quarters. He found the room with the food under the bed and quickly stuffed his bag so full, it was almost impossible to tie up without losing some of the bounty.

  Leaving the remaining food hidden under the bed, Aven ventured back into the hallway. The sunlight outside lit the corridor well enough, but a darkened opening at the far end marked the junction that would take him toward the cell where he’d left Piz’s body.

  Aven pressed forward into the shadows of this second corridor that made a left angle to the first corridor. The light was so faint here, he only caught a hint of the indistinct gray walls on either side of him.

  Halfway down the hall, Aven paused to listen. He thought he’d heard a noise. In the silence, he heard nothing. Slowly, quietly, he continued forward. The lightning weapon was what he needed. But what would he find ahead? Piz would still be locked inside the cell, but what of Pike? Where did he go after leaving the cell? How had he fared during the crash?

  Aven reached out with his hands into the dark, sensing the end of the present corridor and the beginning of another. His fingertips touched the wall, and he recalled needing to turn right. This third corridor held the cell on the left hand side, and further down, the pen where the kiehueth had been held. There he should find weapons. He recalled the two mercenaries who’d fled to the bridge, dropping their weapons at the door of the pen. They should be somewhere in that hall.

  Aven crept slowly down the new corridor, his left hand
tracing the smooth wall, his right reaching out ahead of him for any objects in his path. The darkness was complete here. All Aven could hear was his own breath, and the pulse of his heart in his ears.

  His fingers running along the smooth wall bumped against a cold metal bar. He was at the cell. He stopped and listened. No sound came from within. He wondered if Piz was alive in there. If he was, the mercenary’s only hope of getting out was the key in Aven’s pocket, but the quiet was disturbing. Aven wasn’t about to simply open the door.

  He knelt down and took off his pack, recalling something he’d stuffed inside from the one mercenary’s quarters. Aven dug his fingers into an outer pouch and felt for the cold metal cylinder with a single button on the side. Grasping it, he thumbed the button, and fire sprang to life out of the top of the cylinder. The sole flame cast an eerie glow on his surroundings.

  Aven peered into the cell, uncertain of what he’d find inside. But it wasn’t what was inside that caught him off guard. It was the metal bars themselves, twisted, wrenched open wide enough for the kiehueth to enter.

  Aven stood, leaving his pack on the ground, and scanned the insides of the room. The shadows within were indistinct in the crimson light of the flame. Aven moved closer, coming to the gaping hole. He stepped on the bent metal bars that had been contorted forward. They moaned sharply under his weight, cutting through the quiet and grating in Aven’s ear. But he didn’t care, and moved forward under the shriek of metal.

  The light shone on the sharp, twisted ends of the bars. Aven ducked past a row of jagged metal as he passed through into the cell, searching for forms in the glow of his flame.

  Nothing. There were no bodies in the room. Where was Piz? He crouched down, pressing the flame close to the floor. A slick sheen covered the metal tiles. Aven knew what it was, but he ran a finger in it anyway and drew his hand up beside the light. Against the flesh of his skin, the dark red liquid felt sticky and thick.