Another piece of the story she couldn’t yet grasp.
She lifted her gaze toward the storm, the ship far beyond the clouds now and still running on full power.
“Kale and I tried to leave so no one’s life would be at risk because of me.” The clusterfuck of energy under her skin made her sick. Éli’s Flame suffocated everything, rotten oil she couldn’t rip out of her veins no matter how much she hated it. “But it didn’t matter, I guess.”
“You asked how I knew your name.” Braygen touched a stray hair, caressing it back from her head. “I’ve known your face since before I could walk, the woman who healed Sandaris. Your image was in every hall, every library and on every screen.”
“And now I’m a Guardian statue in practically every city,” she muttered and pulled away.
The fire of Jon’s kiss whispered across her mouth. She needed Kale in the cockpit, Jon by her side—and yet Braygen was another link to the life she’d once cherished.
What a fucking mess.
The horses trotted through deep puddles, mud splashing up their legs and onto her boots. She needed time to heal from the lonely ache in her heart, not feel the fire of intimacy from every man who touched her like it was her last breath.
She nudged Agnar faster to get away from Braygen and breathe the fresh jungle air. Like with Jon, Braygen’s touch elicited a gentle heat that was hard to ignore, and she didn’t need to complicate her life any further.
As they broke through the tree line, a triangulation sensor stood in their path, gleaming silver in the storm.
A blue light flashed on top.
“Shit.” She ducked her head. This was why Frank’s ships kept flying back and forth. His men were setting up sensors to locate her. “Frank has no idea where I am.”
Braygen dropped from his horse and flipped open a panel on the sensor pole. He pulled out a wire, shoving it into a datapad he slid from his tunic.
“You have a datapad?” The sight of it straightened all the hairs on her neck.
These people saved Ashe’s life, but was it all a ruse to get her closer to Frank? Using the zankata to lure her in was definitely a dirty enough trick for Frank to orchestrate.
After several minutes, Braygen closed the panel and returned to her side. “Someone’s sectioned off parts of the coast. Whoever’s in the sky, they’re looking for something.”
He handed her the datapad. The screen showed a half-formed map of the jungle with a honeycomb of triangulated sections. She could almost see their route from Naréa’s ship to Felaren, but the map was far from complete. And if she was reading it right, beyond the tower was out of range, until Frank’s men planted more sensors.
“We have to get beyond that line of bushes.” She handed the datapad back to Braygen, thankful she had gloves on so the system didn’t try to read her biometrics.
They rode past the sensor tower and into a muddy field. Jon and the others were still back there, somewhere on Frank’s map.
She glanced at the trail behind her. Come on, Jon. Where are you?
Eventually Frank would map all of the Dark Isle. But that could take him years, and he certainly didn’t have such patience. She imagined him yelling at his pilots and threatening their families if they didn’t find her soon.
She searched the sky for starship light, but only low storm clouds greeted her. “Braygen, how did you even find me? It can’t be a coincidence.”
“A rumor from the north. A Tahiró sent a message claiming the Guardian Herana lit up the harbor and killed a silver sky beast. Our brothers and sisters fled to the coast to find you. One spotted you on a barge two days before I found you near sahirana territory.”
“The silver sky beast was a scout craft, and the asshole flying it is the one who started this whole mess we’re in.”
They rode in silence until the others were in sight.
Braygen’s features softened. “We are like the wind now. You will not be seen unless you wish him to find you.”
If only she could believe that.
CHAPTER 43
Felaren
Jon clutched his side, stumbling down the long, stone hallway. Guards dressed in black uniforms with bright feathers painted on their breastplates pressed themselves against the wall so Jon and his crew didn’t touch them. They all believed he had some kind of plague, and none of them wanted a human in their prison anyway.
“You’re a damn genius, Thomas.” Jon leaned heavily on the younger man.
“We can’t ever return to this city, Captain.” Thomas kicked open the door to find rainy drizzle over the foggy metropolis. “Took selling nearly everything we had to bribe that idiot.”
“At least it worked. We have to find Jàden.” Jon couldn’t feel more than a hint of her now, only anger and bitterness suffocating everything within him.
“Found this near the bathhouse.” Thomas held out one of her daggers, blood dried against the blade. “I’m sorry, Captain. Couldn’t find her or Ashe anywhere.”
Jon picked up the dagger, the pain in his heart echoing the day he’d seen his family’s ashes. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t protect his family. Not his sisters, not Mather.
And now Jàden was missing.
“She better be alive.” He growled and flung the knife, the blade slamming into a nearby tree. This was Malcolm’s fault, and the anger ripped through his chest as he tackled the old man to the ground and clutched his neck.
Tears burned in his eyes, but the merest whisper of her soft breath wove through his skin. It had to mean she wasn’t gone yet, but that didn’t explain the swallowing darkness unless Frank had done something to her.
The pain in Malcolm’s eyes reflected his own. “Forgive me, son. I didn’t know she was your wife.”
“No one knew!” Jon clenched his jaw to rein in his anger.
“Those two better be alive, or you and I have a real problem.” As much as Jon wanted to beat the shit out of him, Malcolm was a damn good tracker. If anyone could find Jàden, he could.
He retrieved Jàden’s knife as the prison guards lined up behind them, likely to usher them out of the city.
His horse pressed a soft nose against his cheek and snorted his displeasure. No more familiar saddle on his back, just a blanket and Jon’s bags laid on top with Jàden’s. “Sorry, buddy. Wasn’t my fault this time.”
Jon climbed onto the stallion’s back and shoved her knife into her bags where it wouldn’t accidentally cut him. His fingers traced across her clothing, and the pain of loss tightened his heart again. Whatever had a hold of him was like a bad sickness sucking the light from his body.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
With no idea where to go, they returned to the bathhouse.
Malcolm hadn’t said a word, the root of his silent brooding likely his guilt. It took him damn near an hour, but he finally found norshad hoof prints that led to the river.
“Two sets of prints,” he muttered as they reached the other side. “Lotta smaller horses here, leading the way, looks like.”
Jon’s conscious thoughts slipped in and out as they followed the tracks. He jolted awake hours later, no idea where he was except somewhere deep in the jungle. Flames crackled from a nearby fire, root potatoes roasting on a set of skewers.
“Cigarette,” he muttered, trying to sit up.
“Rest, Captain.” Theryn laid a hand on his shoulder and tried to keep him down. “You can’t keep pushing yourself.”
“Give me a damn cigarette!” He tried to swat Theryn’s hand away.
Someone stuck a cigarette in his mouth, and he sucked in a lungful of smoke, the pain in his chest easing.
“Jàden.” He forced himself upright, leaning against a large boulder. “Where is she?”
“Has he asked about Ashe, yet?” Andrew paced on the far side of the fire, fists clenched around a set of daggers so tight the deep brown of his skin turned pale. “My brother is missing to
o.”
Theryn rolled his eyes. “We found two of Éli’s men dead. They’re over by that tree, weapons stripped and left where they fell.”
The air went out of Jon’s lungs. He couldn’t seem to get a single thought straight in his head. If Éli had her, she was in far more danger than she might be with Frank. He grabbed Theryn’s shirt and pulled him close enough that he could see the rain misting across his umber cheeks.
“Tell me Éli doesn’t have my wife.”
He was going to kill that mother fucker.
“Captain!” Thomas drew his sword as several bright blue birds flew together and melted into the shape of a short, bald man with a long beard.
Jon stumbled to his feet and gripped his daggers, the trees spinning as he tried to focus. The rest of his men circled around the stranger, his bowmen with arrows ready to fire.
The shifter held up his hand, a piece of cloth between his fingers. “I bring you a message from the Guardian Herana.”
“Where is she?” Jon growled then bit his tongue. He didn’t need to scare the man off before he spoke, but Andrew and Malcolm disappeared, likely to find any other shifters lurking in the trees.
“You are Jon,” the bald man said and pushed up his sleeve, a zankata inked into his skin.
“Mother fucker.” He let go of his daggers. “Where the fuck is she?”
The man held out his hand, revealing a piece of her shirt with the bloodflower on it.
Jon turned it over, bloodflower on one side, “We’re safe” on the other. It definitely belonged to Jàden. “You still ain’t answered my question.”
“The man was poisoned by Rakir and fights to stay alive. Alida is taking them all to Veradóra, three days’ ride if you follow the wind.” He crouched next to the fire and drew a makeshift map in the mud. “You are here. The Rakir are here. You must travel the flooded plains to here—Veradóra.”
Jon crouched beside the man to study the map as it related to the road. Éli had tried to kill another of his brothers, and the anger burned black inside his heart. He was going to have to put that bastard in the grave if he ever hoped to have a moment of peace.
“Jàden and Ashe weren’t kidnapped.” Theryn tightened his jaw and eased the tension on his arrow.
“They followed,” the bald man said. “She is Herana, always safe with the Tahiró. Follow the wind. You will find her.”
He broke apart into a flock of birds and disappeared into the trees.
But Jon clenched his fist, and the slick magic flowed like oil in his veins.
“He was telling the truth.” Thomas cursed under his breath and sheathed his sword. “If Éli’s ahead of us, he might find them first.”
Jon tossed his spent cigarette aside and followed the lines of the map. The alternate route would take them several days to find Jàden. But with Éli ahead, they could run into trouble. And damn if Granger wasn’t nearly as good a tracker as Malcolm.
“By her own hand, she’s safe for now,” Jon muttered. “Keep on Éli’s ass. Time to pay him back for what he did to Mather and Ashe.”
A wave of dizziness crashed over him as he fell to his knees, darkness sliding through his veins on a wave of rage.
“What the fuck is happening to me?” he said.
“We don’t know, Captain.” Theryn poked the ground with one of his arrows, a rare serious expression on his face. “We thought it might be poison, but then Dusty spotted this.”
“Think this might have something to do with it.” Dusty forced open Jon’s fingers.
Black and smoky flecks drifted away from Jon’s palm. A single white spark twisted upward then dissolved into the afternoon air.
Another bond—not his. Was it possible?
He cursed under his breath. He’d never known Éli to possess power like the high council, so it must have been whoever Jàden was with now.
“Someone else bonded her.”
Or as she would say, tied their energy.
An engine roared in the sky as orange light filtered through the canopy. One of Frank’s ships still searching for her, about the only good news he had right now. If she got trapped in a sky beast, he might never find her.
Plus, he wasn’t sure how to kill Frank yet without learning how to use one of those weapons.
Jon closed his hand and leaned his head back. His chest tightened like a vice.
The blackness gripped his senses as he closed his eyes, trying to hold on to that single spark of light and Jàden’s soft, sweet breath on his skin.
Jàden’s voice came back to him from the bathhouse, adding a layer of clarity. If I lose control of my power, you’ll die.
Maybe this wasn’t a bond but a loss of control.
“Jàden’s in trouble,” he whispered, his cheek hitting the mud.
CHAPTER 44
Dreamwalker
Herana.
A soft voice whispered in Jàden’s thoughts. Pain pounded against her temple, but each time she tried to open her eyes, heavy darkness sucked her back down.
They’re coming for us. We can’t hide any longer. A gentle hand pulled her from sleep into a vivid green meadow filled with bright sunshine and tall màvon trees. Her hair ruffled in the breeze as a pale entity with brown eyes watched her.
Panic squeezed her chest. She recognized the slender figure who rode with Éli. She tried to step back, but the wind only blew harder, curbing her to the meadow. Who are you?
Evardo. Their eyes filled with tears, mouth unmoving as they spoke with a gentle mind voice. I have heard your screams my whole life, Herana. You and thousands of others who cannot escape the sleep between one life and the next.
Jàden’s heart hammered with fear as she tried to piece together their words. You mean those still in hypersleep.
But that couldn’t be. Stasis was supposed to be dreamless.
And yet Evardo nodded affirmation, heavy grief etched into a face far too young to carry such weight.
There was a gentleness about them, a longing so deep she almost expected Evardo to break down into sobs. But still as a companion of Éli, she didn’t trust them.
You’re the dreamwalker. A snarl curled her lip as she thought about Mather.
Sunny trees faded to thin lines of light, a thousand colorful threads webbed together. Soft whispers pulsed along each thread, voices of all the people who had once suffered in Bradshaw’s cages.
Jàden could hear them—whispers, screams, aching hearts for all they’d lost. They’re still alive.
She’d spent two years trying to block out their screams. The pain and loneliness they’d all endured for the sake of Bradshaw’s ‘science’ still stabbed at the deepest part of her heart. Where are they?
Safe, sleeping. They will wake soon enough, and it will begin again.
The words hit her sharp as a blade. No!
I need to show you something. Evardo’s gentle voice filled with pain as the webbed lines melted away to steel walls.
Jàden hunched as if the walls would crush her, but slowly the truth set in. This was a dream or, at best, some unconscious space inside her head. Evardo was the dreamwalker from the north, and they’d pulled Éli into that young warden’s head.
You killed Mather.
I didn’t want to. Evardo squeezed her hand, so much pain and fear in their eyes she thought they might crumble. My owner made me do it. I am so afraid, Herana, that you will abandon us. If you do, I will be forced to do so much worse.
Nobody’s forcing you! She pulled her hand away from him. What Frank and Bradshaw have done is vile and fractures the essence.
Evardo stifled a sob as blue light traced through the seams in the steel walls. Jàden followed their path to the cockpit of a small cruiser, large enough to comfortably transport six people from one star system to the next.
“You ready, baby?” Kale sat in the pilot’s seat, a headset over his ear.
She settled into the navigator’s chair and c
lutched his hand. Lucie, her black-and-white collie, curled up on the floor between them, panting happily. “I’m with you until the end.”
It was the ship she and Kale prepped to leave Sandaris, but they’d never made it further than the Ironstar Tower. Wait, Evardo. This never happened.
No. Evardo hung their head as the cockpit melted away. That is the moment that nearly doomed us all.
Jàden rubbed a hand across her chest to dull the ache in her heart. She’d wished so many times for that moment, just the three of them together. But the dread in Evardo’s words gripped her. I don’t understand. This should be a happy moment.
The vision changed again, showing Sandaris after they’d disappeared from Hàlon’s radar. Without her, the moon started to die. Small seedlings carpeted the plains then withered once more as her tether with the moon stretched to the point of pain.
Its agony isn’t on the surface but deep within the core, Evardo whispered as the anguish of a dying, sentient technology withered away, its last breath slowing the flow of power through Hàlon’s core. The bionet generators exploded, and the Sandarin atmosphere disappeared, spacing thousands of citizens from the surface.
As if in fast motion, Hàlon became a graveyard. The cold black seeped through steel welds. The ship drifted slowly away from Sandaris until a fleet of Alliance ships dropped out of lightspeed.
Their engineers dismantled the starship and mined the moon until they found their prize.
The gateway core wrapped in a vessel Jàden couldn’t put words to.
The shape and color was so alien, and she’d never forget her time inside that awful place and the thousands of chrysalis-like pods clinging to every wall—and still occupied.
That’s their starship, isn’t it?
Evardo only nodded. The ship or creature—she couldn’t honestly say which—disappeared into a station built from Hàlon’s gutted remains. The station and the last of the fleet disappeared until nothing remained but a graveyard of bone drifting in the black.
This is our future if you leave, Evardo whispered. They were right to keep you here. You should have opened the gate the first time.
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