Beno’s voice was hard. “There’s nothing remotely Ylian about this place.”
A gruff voice barked suddenly from the communication unit on the console, speaking in a guttural language that Sera’s translator earring did not decode for her. Beno clenched his teeth and his fists. Elina responded in a lilting variation of the same tongue, and after a moment, the other voice responded with a quick statement. With a satisfied nod, Elina turned the shuttle toward a white-paved expanse within the walled city.
“What did you tell them?” Beno asked.
“I said that I was coming with new livestock,” the pilot said simply.
Asa frowned. “Told who?”
“The Taluan guard station.” Itan glanced at them and spoke while he punched numbers into his controls. “They monitor every shuttle in and out of here.”
Elina did not turn around. “If I’d told them I had two full-blooded bond mates on board, they would have seized the shuttle.”
In her mind’s eye, Sera once again saw Beno’s memory of Taluan torture. The scars on his back were reminders of the very personal reasons he had for hating that destructive alien race. Even now, Beno was thinking back to that interrogation and those long hours in the Taluan holding cell. She wanted to reach out for him, to take his hand or do something to pull him back to the present and out of that remembered distress. She was helpless.
Theyn spoke softly to him in their minds, his mental voice soothing. ‘You have survived the worst part of them. You will outlast them all. You are stronger than any pain they can cause you.’
Beno turned his brilliant green eyes onto his bond mate. ‘Do you really believe that?’
‘Yes. But it only matters if you believe it, too.’
‘For what it’s worth,’ Sera told them, ‘I believe it’s true. They won’t win. You won’t let them.’
Beno snorted softly in derisive disagreement and ducked his head, closing his eyes. He took a steadying breath. ‘They’ve won already. Ylia is gone.’
‘Ylia is where we are,’ Theyn told him.
The shuttle swooped between a pair of white towers, their spires topped with golden flags. The image of a phoenix was clearly embroidered onto each flag, and Sera wondered at the unlikelihood of two civilizations from two different planets having legends of the same fictional beast.
‘The Phoenix isn’t fictional,’ her golden lover advised her gently. ‘It is universal. Many cultures across the cosmos know of its existence.’
Their conversation was interrupted as the shuttle touched down in a paved area in the middle of an ornamental garden. The landing pad was concealed by tall bushes that were heavily hung with gaudy purple flowers, and as their pilots powered down the vessel, the walls of the shuttle became transparent so that the passengers could have a good look around.
The sky over Bruthes wasn’t blue; it had an orange tint, as if the entire world was being viewed through amber glass. Long, stringy clouds traced through the expanse above their heads, shaped unlike any clouds Sera had ever seen before. The bushes were also alien to her, which stood to reason. The flowers were the size of dinner plates, with five triangular petals around a single green center. She imagined that the showy things had a heavy scent, the kind of perfume that verged on stink.
There was grass, and it was green, but each blade had a single orange stripe down the middle that gave the lawn around the landing pad a variegated look. The garden they had landed in abutted a white stone building of Ylian design, and it looked so like the palace on Itzela that Sera wondered if they had the same architect. There were more phoenix banners hanging on either side of a towering double door that led into the palace before them.
Those doors opened, and a group of Ylian women, all dressed in black jumpsuits and holding vicious-looking long firearms, trotted toward the shuttle. Elina left her seat and opened the hatch, striding out to meet them. Itan reached into a compartment above his head and pulled out a handful of black cloth.
He approached Joely first, and she pulled away from him as well as she could, given the grip that the seat still had on her body. “What are you doing with that?” she demanded.
“Hiding you,” he said. Without another word, he took one of the black cloths in his hand and shook it out. It was a wide, deep bag. He tugged it over the protesting human woman’s head, then moved on to hood all of the other prisoners. Beno glared at him with such ferocity that Itan hesitated, but he put the hood over the Martial Ylian, too.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” Sera warned him.
“We don’t want them to see your eyes.” He brought the hood down over her head, obscuring her vision completely. The sack smelled like chemicals, and she coughed. Itan spoke again, still standing near her. “Now behave yourself when we tell you to walk, or we’ll have to stun you again.”
She thought of the nearly uncontrollable urge to mate that the stun blast brought out in her and scowled inside her hood. “No, thanks.”
She could hear footsteps coming up the ramp, and then Elina said, “All right. A hovey is coming to take them to the base.”
Asa’s muffled voice drawled, “What in the tarnation is a hovey?”
“Hover car,” Elina answered, sounding distracted.
The seat began to loosen its hold on Sera’s body, and she surged to her feet. A pair of hands promptly sat her back down again, firm but not unkind.
“Sit down, Selected,” Itan advised her. “We won’t tell you twice.”
‘Sera,’ Theyn said to her. ‘Don’t resist. Do as they say for now.’
She reluctantly allowed them to put energy manacles on her hands, cuffing her wrists behind her back. The manacles tingled unpleasantly.
“Is this necessary?”
Itan responded, “Yes.”
Once the prisoners were all hooded and bound, they allowed themselves to be guided off of the shuttle and into the waiting hover cars. Someone put a hand on top of her head as she was being pushed to sit down, and she felt like a criminal being put into the back of a police cruiser. She scowled against the thought and resisted the urge to give the person handling her a solid kick in the shins.
The ride seemed to last forever, and Sera lost track of the twists and turns of the journey. She was the only occupant of the hovercar, other than the pilot, and she wondered if she was being sent to the same place as the others, and if Kira would be there, too. Thinking of her baby made her desperately angry.
‘We will find her,’ Beno told her, his mental voice firm.
‘Where are you?’ she asked.
‘In a hover car, presumably following you.’
‘Are they taking us to the same place?’
Theyn answered, ‘I would expect so.’
The vehicle slowed to a stop, and Sera heard the pilot leave the controls and walk to her door. A firm hand grabbed her elbow and pulled her out of her seat. She tried to pull her elbow free, but the manacles hampered her movements. Her captor chuckled at her efforts. The hand on her arm tightened, and she was dragged forward.
She was taken down a short flight of steps and into a place that was cool and silent as the grave. She felt like she had just gone into a tomb, like the one where she had found Theyn. She reached out for him with her mind, the action instinctive and automatic. She found him, and they wordlessly comforted one another.
A woman’s voice spoke quietly in Ylian. “Release them.”
“Mother,” Itan said, “is that wise? They’re manacled for a reason.”
“Do not question me, child.”
Sera’s wrists were freed, and she brought them around in front of her to rub at the places where the energy bonds had made her skin tingle. Something nudged up against the backs of her knees, and she was gently but firmly pressed down into a chair. To her right, she heard the sounds of a brief struggle that ended with an electronic whining sound. The room went silent.
“Leave us.”
There was a soft scuffle of retreating footsteps, then Sera could hear
the click-hum of a door lock activating. She had heard a similar sound on Itzela.
‘Beno?’ she asked. ‘Theyn?’
There was no response.
She heard someone walking closer to her, and the hood was gently pulled from her head. The room was too bright after so long in the dark, and she squinted against the glare. Before she stood a full-blooded Ylian woman with glowing yellow eyes and coppery scales on her deep brown skin. Her white hair was shaved on the sides but long and straight from her forehead down her back. Intricate tattoos of shapes and sigils adorned the skin of her exposed scalp, and she was dressed in blue robes not too unlike a toga. A bronze armlet circled her right bicep, and she smiled kindly at Sera.
“Welcome to Bruthes.”
Chapter Twelve
The room looked like the military bunkers she’d seen in a hundred movies, with maps on the walls - albeit it holographic form - and a desk littered with tablets and reports. She was seated in an armless desk chair, and to her left Theyn sat with his hands gripping his knees. To her right, Beno slumped in a chair of his own, his eyes closed and his face lax.
“What did you do to him?” Sera demanded.
“He was fighting, and Itan chose to pacify him,” the Ylian woman said.
Sera went to her mate’s side and touched his cheek. His skin was cool and clammy. She had no medical or first aid training to speak of, and even if she did, she’d only have learned how to help a human being. She was completely out of her depth with trying to help a Ylian. She reached out to Beno’s mind, and he weakly, wordlessly reached back. His eyes slowly opened.
The woman watched them and said, “He’s unhurt. He’ll wake up on his own in just a moment. Please sit back down, Selected.”
“No. Not until you tell me where my daughter is, and what you’ve done with my friends.”
The woman ignored Sera’s request. She turned to Theyn and saluted him, bending her right elbow and holding her hand at the level of her heart, her palm parallel with the floor. “Your Highness, it is an honor to finally meet you.”
His jaw muscles twitched. “Who are you?”
“I am the Mother of Flames.” She smiled at Sera, who was still hovering over Beno as he groggily straightened himself up in his chair. “Do you know what that means, Selected?”
Sera shook her head.
“I am the High Priestess of the Burning One here in our little Ylian enclave. My given name is Alaia.”
“Well, good for you,” the human woman snapped. “Where is my daughter?”
Alaia smiled in approval. “Strong maternal instincts. I have heard that human mothers are dedicated to their young. But you aren’t really human, are you?”
“If you don’t give me back my baby, you’ll see exactly what I am,” she threatened.
“Your child is safe and being well cared for. She is with an experienced mother who will see to her every need.”
Sera scowled darkly. “She needs her parents.”
“And she shall have them again, in due time. As for your friends, they are with other members of the Resistance and will be cared for, as well.”
Alaia turned her golden eyes back to Theyn, who was watching her with a cold look that seemed out of place on his normally gentle face. The prince asked, “What do you want from us?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” the priestess smiled.
Beno looked up at Sera with clearing eyes as Theyn snapped, “If it was obvious, I wouldn’t be asking, now would I?”
She felt the heat coming from her fair-haired mate, and when Sera turned to look at him, his solar plexus was beginning to shine, the light emanating outward through the clothing that he wore. Alaia looked at the glow and smiled beatifically, like a nun having a religious experience.
“You truly are of the Burning One,” she said. “The priestess at the time of your birth thought that you were the One returned to us, but it was not to be. Perhaps your child...”
Sera sat down heavily. “What are you talking about? What about our child?”
Theyn’s knuckles went white as he clenched his fists. “I warn you, priestess.” He spat the title as if it was a curse. “Speak plainly and tell us the truth.”
The priestess sat before them on the desk that occupied much of the room, and she folded her hands primly. “What do you know about the Burning One?”
Beno found his voice. “This is not the time to preach about your god,” he growled.
“You don’t believe?”
He glared at Alaia. “No. The Burning One does not exist.”
“I agree.” Beno and Theyn were both clearly startled by her agreement. Sera, suspicious, looked on and said nothing. Alaia continued, “He does not exist. But he did.”
A growl, low and threatening, rose from Beno’s chest, and the priestess looked at him with the barest hint of alarm in her eyes. Theyn raised one hand and thought to his mates, ‘Not yet.’ Reluctantly, both Beno and Sera stayed in their seats, although the dark-haired Ylian was clearly finding it difficult to restrain his urge to beat Alaia to a pulp in his anger and frustration.
“Why does any of this matter now?” Sera demanded.
Alaia pursed her lips. “Selected… Your Highness. You asked me to explain what we want, and I am trying to do so. If you will be patient, and if you will control your Companion, I will finish my answer to your question.”
She clenched her teeth and felt Beno doing the same. Theyn nodded to the Ylian woman. “Go on.”
“A millennium before you were born, Prince Theyn, the being known as the Burning One lived among us as a Ylian. As you know, all Ylians have at least one or two intangible abilities – telepathy, like your Companion, or the ability to heal, as you have. It is rare for any one Ylian to have more than that. The Burning One possessed every talent that has ever been given a name, and he was the one who saw that our race was failing and created the process of the Merging. With his intercession, we once again became numerous, and our continued existence was assured.”
Beno looked at their bond mate. “Is this story true?”
Theyn looked doubtful. “I’m familiar with some of it, but not all. I had no idea that he was a mortal Ylian once, or that his powers were based in our people’s natural abilities. I was taught that he was a god, not a Ylian male.”
Alaia spoke softly. “He was both. What is a god, if not the paragon and exemplar of our species? He was a symbol of perfection to which we could aspire, a leader who even after death helped to point our people toward his vision of peace and learning.”
“So he was just a man,” the darker Ylian man said sourly. “Nothing else.”
“He was something far more. Before his death, it was foretold that he would return to us at our time of greatest need, and that he would be reborn with all of the skills and abilities of our people in one body.” She smiled again, her eyes gleaming. She was enraptured by her own tale. “We have waited for centuries for him to return. When you were born, Your Highness, we thought that he had come back to us at last.”
He shook his head, incredulous. “You thought I was the Burning One?”
She nodded. “The Imperial line is descended from Him, and your blue eyes display your exalted bloodline for all the world to see. His rebirth was to come within your family, and when you were still an infant, you were examined by our clergy and found to have nearly every talent that a Ylian can possess. Energy medicine, or healing. Clairsentience. Precognition. Psychokinesis. Most importantly, you had the ability of pyrokinesis. The last Ylian to have the ability to control fire with his mind was the Burning One Himself. When you had so much trouble finding a partner, we all believed that it was because you were so exalted no other Ylian could come close to matching you on that soul level.” She glanced at Beno. “We expected your Companion to be from the Imperial line, as well, maybe even a member of the priestly class.”
The Martial Ylian huffed softly. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Your matching was unexpected, to say the l
east, but you brought with you the one talent that Prince Theyn lacked: native telepathy.” She sighed. “It was hoped that your bonding would help awaken that ability in the prince, and that he would take his place as the Burning One reborn. Alas, that was not to be.”
Theyn looked away. Through their link, Sera could sense him flipping through memories of his childhood. She saw a beautiful Ylian woman wearing a delicate gold crown, frowning at him in disappointment. She felt the frustration he had felt as a very young boy, struggling to master lessons he could never understand, and then weathering disapproval when he inevitably failed. She ached for the lonely, pressured boy her mate had been, and she began to detest the priests and priestesses and their ambitions.
“It makes sense,” Theyn finally said softly, his face still turned away.
“No, it doesn’t.” Beno frowned in his objection. “Why would you want the Burning One to return, anyway? Wouldn’t the temple just lose power then?”
“The true holders of the Sacred Flame want nothing more than to have the Burning One come back to us,” Alaia defended. “It would be the culmination of all of our hopes and dreams.”
“But Theyn wasn’t him,” Sera said.
“No. He wasn’t. Empress Kina was deeply disappointed, especially since she was never able to bear another son.” She looked at Sera. “The Burning One can only be reborn as a male. Only those of us in the higher echelons of the priesthood – like Empress Kina herself – know that detail.”
Alaia stood and went to the desk, picking up a tablet like the data pads that Beno had taken from Itzela. She called up a particular image and held it up before them.
“Do you recognize this?”
Sera looked, even though she knew she wouldn’t recognize whatever it was. The tablet showed a grainy image, fuzzy like an out-of-focus photograph or a picture out of an antique photo album. The image itself was of a smiling Ylian man with a handsome face and a familiar birthmark on his chest. It was the same mark that Kira had on her heel.
Theyn and Beno saw the symbol as quickly as Sera did, but they were better at concealing their reactions. The prince asked, “What about it?”
Ignition: Alien Ménage Romance (Phoenix Rising Book 2) Page 10