Relinquish: Book II of the Rising Trilogy

by Miles, Amy

  I turn to look at him, startled by the tension in his voice. “None of them?”

  He shakes his head, his mouth set in a grim line. “We lost four ships already. I refuse to send any more.”

  I push off the table and cross my arms over my chest. It doesn’t make sense. What sort of place can have such extensive amounts of firepower? None that we have encountered so far have even come close to being that well stocked. “What does this place run?”

  “Everything,” Eamon replies.

  I stare at him with a mixture of horror and annoyance and then finally turn away, shaking my head as I try to gather my thoughts as they tumble through my mind at accelerating speeds. “How could we not have known about this, Kyan? This is huge!”

  “We know,” he responds. I can hear the clipped tone in his voice and feel slightly mollified. He was just as much in the dark as the rest of us. At least I can be thankful for that. “But now that we know of its location, it won't be long before they strip it down and move everything again.”

  “So then what’s the plan?” I plant my hands upon my hips and take in a calming breath. If I stop to think of how close we came to Drakon and let him slip through my fingers, I’ll begin ranting, and it’s not fair to any of the men in the room. They all fought alongside me; their friends shed blood just as mine did. No one in this room is at fault, yet I feel as if the weight of this revelation falls heavily upon my shoulders.

  I’m the one everyone looks to for leadership and I failed them. I should’ve known, should've seen it somehow. Maybe if I hadn’t been so weak in dealing with my personal life I would have.

  “We’re going to take it,” Toren says in a tight-laced, no-nonsense kind of voice.

  I glance over at him and see a hint of the boy I grew up with. Toren was always a natural-born leader. We all saw it and respected him for it. He did his best to guide us as we lived in the caves after the last of the parents did, but when the Caldonians fell into our laps, he knew he was out of his league. Since the day we entered Kyan’s camp, Toren began relinquishing that leadership to him.

  I’m sure it wasn’t easy for him in the beginning. No trueborn leader likes to step aside and take orders, but Kyan has proven himself to be someone worthy of our trust. Looking at Toren now, I see no hint of wounded pride or desire to reclaim power. I see a man filled with blind belief in a cause. Our cause.

  I smile at him. I’ve seen very little of him over the past few months. We seem to always be going in opposite directions—him to fight with the southern regions and me with the plains. It is good to see him again. “How many men am I taking?”

  “This isn’t your mission to lead.” Eamon protests loudly enough to capture the attention of several soldiers nearby. He doesn’t seem to notice the disruption, but Kyan does.

  He motions for us to all follow him back outside. Once the doors are closed firmly behind him, he turns on Eamon. “Your reservations on this mission have been noted countless times this past week, Eamon, but I will remind you that this is my command and I will not accept disobedience in front of my men.” I blink, shocked at the stern, lashing tone in Kyan’s voice. Apparently I’m not the only one frustrated at the moment.

  Eamon’s neck reddens as he looks from Kyan and then back to me. A vein pulses down the center of his forehead, peeking out through his mass of curls. Was it really only a week ago that we put aside our differences for a few precious moments to embrace? There is no part of him now that I recognize, beyond the pain and fear that sharpens his features into a grimace. “This will end badly and you both know it.”

  “Illyria is capable of handling herself,” Kyan says with no small amount of restraint. His hands clasp at his sides, tightly enough to whiten his knuckles. “She has proven that time and time again.”

  “She nearly died!” His shout echoes around the deserted room.

  I open my mouth to protest, but Toren holds up a hand to stop me. “This will get us nowhere. Time is short and we must focus on the task at hand.” He turns his back on Eamon and faces me after getting a nod of agreement from Kyan. “The plan is simple. You will be part of a small team that will infiltrate the base. We have planted some of our people within their ranks who will make sure you are able to get in and out without any trouble. As Eamon so eloquently pointed out, this is not technically your mission. However, your role is vital.”

  “Bag Drakon and bring him back. Got it.” I nod.

  “No.” Toren shakes his head. Waves of walnut hair fall over his forehead and he sweeps them to the side. He has let his hair grow out. I pause only a second to wonder if he’s trying to grow into his adulthood or if Aminah secretly prefers longer hair. “You’re not going for Drakon. By now he is probably long gone. We want you to retrieve a ship.”

  “A ship?” I repeat out loud, just to be sure I heard him correctly. When he doesn’t deny the claim, I laugh. “Oh sure, no problem. Do you want me to just back up a truck and haul it all the way home?”

  “No,” Kyan says, stepping forward. “We’re sending someone with you to pilot it back.”

  My hands drop to my sides as I shake my head. “There’s no way we can get past their perimeter without being seen. We’ll be shot on sight.”

  “That is why you’ll be invisible when you leave.” Kyan smiles.

  Six

  I can hear him calling my name as I round the corner of my street, but I don’t turn back. Whatever Eamon has to say to me will only make me angry, and right now I’m too stunned to think of anything else.

  Kyan wants me to waltz into the largest enemy base that we’ve come across, steal a ship, and magically make it disappear. Poof. He is insane!

  “Illyria, stop!”

  “What?” I growl, rounding on him. His eyes widen with surprise as he slams into me, knocking me backward onto the ground. My teeth pierce my lower lip as my tailbone slams to the concrete.

  “I didn’t think you would actually stop,” he says as he holds out a hand to assist me.

  I grip it with enough force to crimp a couple bones, muttering a long string of curses as I release his hand and brush myself off. My backside throbs painfully as I shift my weight, trying to hide my discomfort. “What do you want?”

  “We need to talk.” I roll my eyes and turn to walk away. He follows close on my heels. “I’m serious. This isn’t going to end well.”

  “Why?” I jerk to a halt and turn on him. He nearly bowls me over a second time, but I shove out my hand and push him back. He teeters on his toes before rocking back onto his heels. “Because you wasted time looking into the future again? What can’t you just leave it alone?”

  “Because I can’t,” he spits back. Anger disfigures his handsome face, drawing his eyebrows into a deep V. “I can’t stop looking because I need to protect you!”

  I step back, shocked at the vehemence in his tone. His chest puffs with anger as he turns and slams his fist into the brick wall. To his credit, he hardly makes a sound as his knuckles shatter. Blood trickles down toward his palm.

  I sigh and pull his hand into my own. A ripple of warmth floods down my arm and a golden glow spirals over his hand. A moment later, I step back, all hint of injury vanished. “Was that really necessary?”

  “No,” he mutters, clutching his hand to his stomach, “but it felt like the only thing I could control.”

  I lower my gaze and breathe out a weighted breath. “I really don’t want to do this again with you, Eamon. I’m tired of hurting, of being alone, of feeling like you’re always looking too far beyond me to even see me standing right here in front of you.”

  He steps forward and grips my upper arms. His grasp isn’t painful, but it is firm, demanding. “I know where this leads, Illyria. If you go, you won’t be coming back.”

  “You don’t know that,” I whisper.

  “I do.”

  “How?” I look up into his ice-blue eyes for some hint of the man I love. Only deep, profound sadness looks back at me. “You told me my future
is veiled from you.”

  His grip tightens as he draws me close enough for me to feel his heart pounding in his chest. “I don’t need to see the future to know. I can feel it in my gut.”

  “Well, your gut isn’t my commanding officer, Eamon.” I push back from him, nearly losing my resolve as he crumples before me, as if a great weight presses down upon him. “I’m sorry, but I have to go pack. Carleon will be by to get me soon.”

  I glance at him one last time and turn my back. I keep my head held high as I walk away, each step resonating loudly in my ears. He doesn’t call out for me, but I can feel him watching, silently begging. I can’t listen. Not when there is no point staying.

  I swat at a swarm of mosquitoes that seem to have a rather large appetite for my blood. They’ve hovered about my head for the past couple of hours, dive-bombing the instant I stop swatting to give my weary arm a break. Shouldn’t these things be dead by now?

  When I first heard about this assignment, I was thrilled most about being back in the woods. Kyan told me to pack light but to prep for a hike. That means trees, fresh air, and a campfire. Pure bliss. At least it would have been if Kyan had been a bit more forthcoming as to whom my companions would be on this little trek.

  I march at the back of the group, fuming in silence. How could Kyan not tell me that Eamon was leading this group?

  I should’ve known there was a catch. It was probably the only way Eamon even considered agreeing to let me go. One thing continues to nag at me as we wind our way down the side of the mountain, keeping to a steady pace.

  Eamon hasn’t been trained to fly a Sky Ship. Nor have any of the other men in our group. Quickening my pace, I whistle softly and Carleon hangs back. “What’s up?”

  “You want to tell me what I don’t know?”

  Carleon attempts to keep a straight face as he shakes his head. He shoves a branch out of his face, nearly letting it swing back to smack me up the side of my head, but he catches it at the last second. “Why do you always try to get me in trouble?” he hisses as he rises onto his toes to see Eamon storming through the woods at a clipped pace.

  Everyone is struggling to keep up with his grueling speed, but no one complains. Not loud enough for him to hear, at least. It is thick in here. The brambles sprout angry-looking thorns the size of my thumb and errant tree roots appear out of nowhere to trip you when you least expect it, rising from the newly fallen snow.

  “Just spill it. You know I won’t tell anyone who told me.” I adjust the straps of my pack against my back. Its weight is draining on me, rubbing my shirt against my stomach. It rises a few inches over my head and straps about my waist, brown to match the barren trees. I have everything I need to survive for at least a week on my own. A tent to pitch for inclement weather, three changes of clothes, a sack of food and pots to cook with, a few hunting knives that I’d sorely like to use on Drakon as target practice, and a comm unit to signal for help. Everything else the forest can provide.

  “Oh, come on, they all know how close we are. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out who told you.”

  I grin over at him and reach out to ruffle his hair. “I wonder if Anwen knows that sometimes you suck your thumb at night while you sleep.”

  His ears flame on cue, and I chuckle, deeply pleased to be able to throw out that tidbit of blackmail at the perfect moment. I’ve been holding on to it for a while. “That’s below the belt, using my girl against me.”

  “All is fair in love and secrets.” I grin.

  Carleon motions for us to slow just a bit to add more distance between us and the rest of the group. I don’t really know the other men in our team, only by name and reputation. “Eamon is escorting you to a pick-up point. That’s all I know, I swear.”

  “And the others? You?”

  “We’re just your hot bodyguards.” He beams and ducks to miss my wild swing. He prances away, grinning from ear to ear. I shake my head, laughing at his antics.

  Anwen is a lucky girl, I muse as I grip the edges of my pack and plod forward in silence.

  Not long after the last glint of the Shard is concealed from sight by the dense timberland, night begins to fall. Weariness from disuse settles into my muscles, and I begin to fuel myself with the anger I’ve held on to for the past three weeks. Before my injury, I was in peak form. Now I find my breathing labored and my back screaming in protest of the long hike.

  As the stars begin to dot the partially clouded sky overhead, I realize what the other men must have already known. We aren’t stopping to rest.

  There are no lanterns to light our path as we weave through the brush, our pants snagging on unseen bramble patches. Only the dim green glow of laser guns, pointed to the ground, reveal the location of my team up ahead.

  The walk is treacherous as we begin our descent into the foothills. The ground is moist and easily unsettled with a wrong step. I take a knee several times before releasing the first of many curses for the night. The full moon hangs high, swollen in the sky, but the dappled light that manages to peek through the canopy is hardly helpful.

  Carleon hangs back from the group, halfway between me and the rest. My pace is slowing; I can feel it with each shaking step that I take. I knew I should’ve eaten something before we left, I silently berate.

  But it isn’t completely my fault. Eamon made the decision not to stop either. Surely I’m not the only one among us that’s starting to feel drained.

  We march long into the night, attempting to cover as much ground on the first day as possible. I wish I knew exactly where the extraction point was meant to be. The only thing I can tell by the flight of the moon is that we’re heading steadily due south.

  Eamon pushes us hard, stopping only long enough to fill our canteens from a gushing spring before pressing on once more. No one speaks. The only sound that rises above the rustling of the forest is the breath that expels from our abused lungs.

  He leads with unfaltering steps, as if there were a line carved through the woods that only he can see. None of us question him. We just follow and attempt to keep up.

  By the time the moon begins to sink toward the horizon, my legs are on fire and my back hunched painfully. It’ll be a miracle if I’m able to walk straight tomorrow.

  As the first drops of color begin to spread along the eastern sky, Eamon raises his hand for us to halt. “We’ll set up camp here. I need three men to collect firewood. The rest of you start setting up tents. I want dinner done before dawn.”

  I sink ungracefully to the ground, feeling as if every muscle in my body has mutinied. Blisters along my heels have long since popped, leaving my socks plastered to my feet. I groan as I slip out of my pack and lean back, breathing heavily.

  A shadow rises over me and I open my eyes. “I know. I’ll grab wood,” I groan as I begin to rise, but Eamon kneels beside me and pushes me back.

  “Rest. The men can take care of it.”

  Resentment instantly flares to life. “I’m capable of doing my part.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” he says curtly, drawing his hand back from my shoulder. “But I can’t have you worn out. This mission will only succeed if you’re in top form.”

  I want to protest, to stand upon my given rights as a soldier to do my part, but even as the words try to form, I feel drowsiness beginning to tug me down. “Fine,” I mumble as the first yawn takes me by surprise. “But I’m helping tear down.”

  I don’t actually know how I ended up inside my tent. I suspect Carleon had something to do with it, judging by the care with which I was tucked into my blanket. He even gave me his pillow.

  I really am lucky to have a guy like him in my life, I muse as I pull back the flaps of the canvas tent. Ever since I first met him on the rooftop during the siege, and entrusted him with protecting Bastien while I went off to save Kyan, we’ve been close friends. He’s almost like the brother I never had. We bicker, spat, and make up all within a heartbeat.

  If not for his friendship, I’m not su
re I would’ve made it through the past year.

  Eamon has always watched our banter with open jealously, but I’ve never apologized for it. There will never be anything between Carleon and me, but he did help replace the hole that Eamon left behind when he leaped out of the friendship realm and into the turbulent waters of dating. If he were honest, I’m sure Eamon is jealous because of that reason mostly.

  Things used to be effortless between us. We knew each other’s thoughts without having to voice them. We would spend hours lying together on a hill to count the stars. Usually one of us would fall asleep and wake the next morning layered in snow or dew.

  It has been far too long since Eamon and I had that sort of a relationship.

  As I emerge from the tent, I realize Carleon has posted himself just outside, his mouth gaped wide in an almighty snore. I smile ruefully down at him as I nudge him with my shoe. “Wakey, wakey, princess.”

  “Go away.” Gripping the edge of his blanket, he rolls over and finds himself facedown in snow. He coughs and splutters, then slowly rises, swiping flakes from his face. “I was having a good dream, thank you very much.”

  “I can tell by the drool trailing down your chin.”

  “What?” His eyes widen in surprise as he wipes at his chin.

  He glares up at me as I laugh. “Why is it always so easy to get you, Carleon?”

  He scowls and runs his hands through his unruly locks. I love the way the fading light dims the auburn highlights in his usually black hair. His eyes are dark, like a pool of water on a moonless night, but there’s always life dancing in them.

  “See if I give you my pillow tomorrow,” he grumbles and snatches his blanket off the ground, shaking it before he begins to roll it into a tight bundle.

  “Thanks for that, by the way. I think I slept like the dead.” I attempt to comb my fingers through my hair but instantly give up, deciding to wind my tangled mess into a ponytail at the back of my head instead. I’ve learned to bring a lot string with me for this reason. It’s a mystery how I used to live in the woods and managed to avoid tangles for the most part. Maybe city living has softened me more than I thought.