Dominion Rising: 23 Brand New Science Fiction and Fantasy Novels

by White, Gwynn

  "Then you should know they're not the ones to get answers from. All they want is to release their mental demons. If you stay, it must be to fight. They'll infect your mind and take you away from your mother and friend for good."

  Emmit didn't want to believe her, but the prospect terrified him. The presence hiding in the unseen places behind trees and bushes scraped like a claw over gooseflesh. Maybe it was foolish to pretend that claw was meant for anything other than harm. How do I fight?

  "Push them away. They're a swung fist. You either dodge or deflect. If you can, once they're off balance, then you strike or run."

  Thirty meters away, a tuft of hair passed behind the blades of a young tree, only to hide behind a thicker one.

  "If you've seen one, now is your chance. They rarely make that mistake."

  The need to run filled him.

  Adi broke off at a run, snapping a stick on his first step. The nervous fear in Emmit's veins lessened, as though the claw had been pulled back, but their cover was lost. His best course was to follow.

  His mom started to turn away, but stopped, staring behind him. Her machete-wielding hand rose, and she took a determined step forward.

  Emmit was torn between running and turning to see the threat. As he neared his mother, his inclination was to stay beside her and fight. Too long had they been victims behind bars. The power he'd felt in the last few hours was too tantalizing to ignore. "Adi, stop!" He put volume and telepathic power into his shout, daring anyone to track his voice and enter the fight—if it would be a fight.

  Adi slowed abruptly, quick, uneven steps that would have sent him tumbling had he not found a tree to balance on. He turned as Emmit continued running for him. "We're not running."

  "No!" his mom yelled behind him.

  A shrill shriek rose from the bush beside him. Emmit spun. A woman with dirt and dried blood smeared from nose to throat leapt out, eyes wide and mouth open. He adjusted his feet to brace for impact, but his ankle twisted in the mud, making his knee buckle beneath him. Desperate, he swung his machete as he fell back.

  The blade struck the hard casing of her sleeve, and the machete jolted out of his hand. As she landed, she struck him in the chest with her other elbow, knocking him over. His breath left his lungs.

  An aroma of feces, old sweat, and every other odor one could accumulate from what he guessed was months without a touch of soap or mouthwash, clung to her. He gagged. Her wild hair fell over his face, blinding him, as she sucked in air. This was it. The energy emitted from her mind indicated a final strike.

  You will not! Even though he couldn't breathe, he still fought. She paused under his mental assault. He grabbed a handful of her greasy hair. His grip slipped as he yanked upward, and she drove her head forward. His nose exploded in pain, and his head found the mud.

  Adi shouted somewhere off to his right.

  A hand gripped Emmit's throat and pinched his airway shut. He tried to focus on the woman, but his tear-filled eyes let him see only a vague shape. Her weight and thick frame was too much to heave off, and his vision swam from the lack of oxygen.

  You picked the wrong kid to tackle.

  The hoped-for effect fell flat as her grip tightened enough to make him whelp out a precious store of oxygen.

  "I've crapped tougher squirts than you. Why don't you let me in so I can show you true power?"

  Her words bludgeoned through his meagre defense, and his mind filled with visions of death. A tree branch collided with a face, and the man's eyeball bloated... a machete impaled a boy not much older than himself... a girl drowned in a river.... Emmit fought back, straining to block the woman out before she convinced him he'd never escape. The woman's cackle echoed off the walls of his mind, as though to remind him that in his new imprisonment, her taunting would last as long as the assault of images did.

  The grip on his throat eased just enough to let in air to keep him alive, but her weight remained and he was too weak. He thought of his dad, and wondered how he could let this happen if he loved him, as he claimed.

  The images ceased. "Your dad is going to relive your death a thousand times after I'm done with you."

  Her elbow pressed on the pocket where Dy was hiding, but he couldn't afford the mental reach to see if he was okay.

  The reject's anger became sick glee.

  You think it's funny that I've succeeded where you failed? You're jealous—weak specimens, incapable of handling the evolution I've made real. Before she could recover, he forced his confidence down her mental throat, pinching hers as she had his, and tapped into every second of rage suffered during his years in prison. Her weight eased, then fell off him.

  The glee became his as he freed a leg enough to kick her onto her back. He opened his pocket and checked. Dy's eyelids opened as he looked up to find Emmit. Sorry, Dy. He stroked his little gecko's head and closed the pocket. His eyes stung from sweat, but with muddy hands, he had to use his sleeve to wipe them clear.

  The reject twisted her head to glare at Emmit.

  His mental grip clenched her throat and kept her down. The word "Cherl" entered his mind. Her name. Hi Cherl. I'm the son of war you didn't see coming. But I won't kill you if you and your group of failures want to join us.

  "Emmit!"

  Emmit spun. Adi rolled away from a teenage boy who scrambled to catch Adi and yank him back.

  No! Emmit mentally stabbed the teenager in the sternum. The boy bent under the blow and grabbed his chest right where Emmit had imagined himself striking. After a split second of amazement, Emmit threw another punch, this one into the boy's gut, into his face... Emmit stepped closer with each attack.

  A jolt hit Emmit in the back, throwing him face first into the mud. Weight descended, keeping him down and preventing his face from escaping the mud.

  I didn't say you could get up! he told Cherl.

  The weight holding him down released with a shocked cry. He swung his elbow into the woman's ribs as he opened his mouth to suck in a breath. Extending his hand, he grabbed the side of her head and slammed it into the mud as he twisted out from under her and reversed their positions.

  Everyone stop! he shouted to every mind aimed at harming him, his mother and Adi.

  Adi rose and lifted a foot to stomp on the teenager lying on his back.

  "Adi!"

  His friend stopped, knee bent over his waist, and looked at Emmit, curious.

  "Wait." Emmit turned to find his mother. She wasn't where she'd been. He stepped around the path of a tree that blocked his sight. His mom was nowhere near the path they'd taken. "Mom?"

  Mom?

  Stepping away from Cherl, his reach diminished. He still held the rejects within a fifty-meter range, but his mom's connection had slipped away. His head throbbed as those he held captive tried to resist.

  "Adi. Come here." The distance between them might be too great to traverse before he lost his hold. He ran, and felt Cherl rising outside of his control.

  * * *

  "Over here!"

  Cullen spun, rifle leading and finger on the trigger. A black monkey swung from a vine and leapt onto a tree trunk ten meters up.

  The voice issued a phlegm-clogged laugh.

  Cullen raised his rifle to his shoulder and put his red sight laser on the middle of the bush.

  "Nope. Try again."

  Cullen wasn't so sure. I've got ammo. He fired into the heart of the bush, drawing a small circle of fire through its leaves.

  But that was it. No body.

  And then one jumped out from behind a tree, too close for him to get his rifle up. The man's weight caught Cullen's arms and drove him hard to the earth. His hands were pinned as the wet dog-stinking man growled into his face. "Cullen Re, son of the Star General."

  "How do you know that?"

  And then he knew, as the man's name and past washed through him: Justin, a Rucien with no memories of home.

  "Join us. Take us back home."

  How? was his first thought, conceding i
mmediately the desire he shared with Justin. He was Rucien too. They deserved to go home.

  A bush shook as a woman Cullen's age broke cover. Her name, Scanis, entered his mind as easily as an old memory.

  She had been sent out by his father on the Sincaid to scout the Osuna progress. The ship had been intercepted and rescued from deep space after it was wrecked and depressurized. She and Justin were the sole survivors. "Schaefer bought us from the Osuna after we were tortured."

  More rejects broke cover from under moss camouflage: thirty, maybe more, within ten meters. Relief eased into smiles as they made eye contact with the one they had come for. Their collective memories shared that they'd sabotaged the train tracks in order to get him alone before he arrived at Fel Or'an.

  "And now you're here," Scanis thought. "Come. We need to get you to Willo."

  Mention of Willo's name evoked a twinge of concern. Scanis raised a gentle hand. "Don't worry."

  Under her influence, he didn't.

  "Come."

  The group led him into a narrow valley at the bottom of the hill. A shallow pool of water rested in the basin, shallow enough to leave dry sections on both sides for them to run along. The rain faded to a faint sprinkle on its muddy surface. Cullen ran behind Scanis and her flowing hair.

  His cleanliness made him feel distant from their bond. He slouched enough to swipe a hand through the water, deep enough to snatch some mud and tiny sticks, then smeared it on his face and chest.

  Cullen didn't have to ask why Schaefer had bought them. Their memories showed him experiments and efforts to make them telepaths with telekinetic powers. When they failed to produce consistent, usable results, he cast them into prison cells where further experiments were executed at the cost of lives. Those who survived broke out with Willo's help.

  Now they had accepted him into their cause, to return to Fel Or'an and disrupt Schaefer and Ocia's grand plan.

  What that was exactly, and how they would accomplish it, was hidden from the thoughts they shared.

  What about Ehli and the others who came with me?

  "That's up to Willo. This is their chance to prove their strength. Willo will address this when you meet her."

  He didn't ask any more questions. They picked up speed along the riverbank. They've shown strength, he told himself. They'll survive.

  "Most of us were part of the Kaimeran Army, or K.A. Rescued by the K.A. from the planets and ships we were captive on. The K.A. brought us here, and trained us under the banner of freeing other Rucien and Esune from the Osuna Oligarchy. That is—" Scanis paused as they jumped over a branch lying across their path. "We didn't know that our training and missions were only the first stage of his experiments, weeding out those who had potential to become ultras."

  Ultras? Is that what Emmit and Ehli are?

  "Yeah. It's the Ancients' term. We're just as much ultras as they are, but we prefer 'rejects' because we embrace not being part of Schaefer's plan."

  The anger that Scanis shared in that thought was the same as he'd harbored since his father let him be exiled. You are my people. I too am a reject.

  22

  Ehli's shoulder muscles burned as she hacked desperately at branches, trying to clear a path to Emmit. Her last attempt to 'path him had been deflected by a sharp pain in her head. The grip she now kept on his location made her stomach twist with nausea, but she wasn't letting go.

  She heard sudden footsteps from behind, but before she could turn, she was yanked her off her feet. Her mental grip on Emmit snapped. A reject had caught her, his mind set on revenge.

  As he bent over her, she caught sight of blue, bloodshot eyes. One eye was almost completely red, its light blue center chilling by contrast. Moving fast, he grabbed her hand holding the machete. The pain loosed her grip and he threw it into a giant purple bush.

  Before she could blink, he struck her below the collarbone with his other hand. Her breath coughed out as her chest and lungs seized. She hit her back, unable to catch another breath.

  What had Willo said? Sneak into the snake's mind? She tried to separate from the pain in her chest and blend into the man's strength. She inserted herself into the desire—

  "...to beat his wife into pulp and drink the prize."

  Being one with—Haritz—opened her to his memories: eighteen months of torturous nights and days parched under the sun, suffering from too many drugs and hallucinations, all in the name of Schaefer's trying to create a psi army.

  Her blood ran cold. How had she ever shared her bed with such a monster? No. She wouldn't tolerate explanations. The pain in her chest faded. New strength flowed into her.

  Except she doesn't love him. And came here to make him pay.

  To her relief, Haritz relaxed his fist.

  Ehli watched as she smiled up at him—not a soft "let's be friends" smile, but the one she imagined she'd give Schaefer when they met in person.

  Ehli's sight returned to her perspective. Haritz smiled and offered her a hand as he stood. She took it, and his great strength swept her off her back and onto her feet. "Thank you."

  As he released her hands, Haritz grimaced and doubled over in obvious agony. She caught him, straining under his weight. Groaning, she lost the fight to keep him upright. "Haritz, what's wrong?"

  "Go. Run." He stumbled forward, shoving her backward weakly. She spun, grabbed his hand and pulled her along.

  "Where are we going? My son. He's...."

  As she tried to reconnect with Haritz, she sensed the pain he ran from. Whatever her son was doing would have to be dealt with from a distance.

  * * *

  As Emmit and Adi ran, Emmit's mind pushing forward like a train bursting through sand drifts, the soggy forest floor sucked noisily at their boots. Even with their hands soaked from the storm, he clung to Adi. To his relief, Dy had emerged as a tickle on his collarbone. Sorry Dy. I hope this is over soon.

  Some rejects had escaped his influence, while the rest remained within his grasp. He now kept them front and behind, a buffer in case those outside his control attempted to cross the line.

  "How long are we gonna run?" Adi thought.

  They had made it halfway up a tree-covered hill. The trees helped them climb when the slope was too slick.

  Emmit and Adi had done longer treks on Setuk daily, but Adi's reason for stopping wasn't fatigue, but a desire not to be chased. He had to admit, his headache was draining his own energy. Sprinkles, it would sure be nice to hear from you. Where'd you go?

  A woman's scream pierced the jungle, laced with fear and desperation. Sara! She was on the other side of the hill. Desperate to reach her, he grabbed a branch and continued pulling himself and Adi uphill.

  Navigating through the trees forced him to relinquish Adi's hand, and the pair of them clambered up the incline as fast as they could. Ahead, levitor beams lit the tree canopy in flashes of blue. As he crested the top, he paused to catch his breath, and scanned the jungle. Tree branches and bushes swished and cracked with activity, but he couldn't pinpoint Sara's location.

  Another blue levitor beam shot a blast of light through several bushes before cutting through a tree trunk in a blast of smoke and splinters. Nearby, a mara stalked around a bush, its belly close to the jungle floor. Its dirty white coat emitted a florescent blue in ripples of charging brightness.

  "Sara!" Emmit shouted, not caring if he alerted every mara and reject in the jungle. He shot a mental blast at the one stalking Sara. The mara's progress slowed, but it squirmed to get free.

  Adi arrived at his side and fit his hand in Emmit's. The contact instantly strengthened Emmit's hold on the mara.

  "Emmit!" Sara appeared, aimed her levitor to Emmit's left, and fired.

  Adi's grip slipped, weakening Emmit's hold on the mara. She just shot Adi! He spun, but Adi, who was on the ground and looked terrified, was unharmed. Emmit overbalanced and landed with a hand in the gristle of mud and weeds. Above them stood someone else, gazing at the smoking hole in their chest.
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  The scent of burning flesh mixed with a pervasive odor of sweat. Strands of wet black hair stuck to his grimy face. How had this reject come so close without Emmit sensing him?

  The man fell backward, coughing blood. More blood seeped out from between his fingers, pressed to the hole near his heart.

  "Emmit, come here! Quick!" Sara shouted.

  Emmit used his free hand to grab Adi's, and yanked his friend off his back.

  Once again, their contact brought the surrounding fifty meters into his awareness. Sprinkles! His wolverine sensed his call and headed up the hill toward them. The dying reject wasn't the only one nearby. Three were climbing the back of the hill, while another was between Sara and Sprinkles.

  I'm coming, Sara.

  The wet slope forced him to release Adi again so he could catch trees and slow his sliding. And he lost his grip on the mara.

  Sara fired off another long blue beam into shaking bushes.

  He leapt over an eroded chunk of the soil, and skidded on landing, both feet sliding out from under him. His head connected with an exposed root, and the world twisted on its axis. Hands pushed him up into a seated position. Ugh. The world spun.

  "Come on, Emmit. I can feel them getting closer."

  With Adi's arm around his ribs, he forced his feet to navigate the uneven slope. A snake slithered out from a yellow and blue dotted plant, its scales a pixilated collage of red, black and yellow. Emmit watched it weaving back and forth, so light in its touch that it barely left a swath of smoothed soil in its wake. Emmit slipped his mind into the unsuspecting snake's, diverting it over a clear patch of dirt to follow them. That's it, Pix. You're going to do well. And when we're done, I'll make sure you eat well.

  Sara ran up the hill, sweat and rain sticking her blonde hair to her face. Ten meters behind her, the mara broke cover. Its tail, pulsing with bright blue energy, was hooked around its hind leg.

  Pix was on its way, but nowhere near close enough to stop the mara. Emmit let out a cry to stop Sara, but the mara's tail whipped around, a bright ball rocketing from its tail. Time slowed as Emmit stared into the shimmering orb, its blue tendrils stretching its diameter and curling back inside while spikes shot up and down from the turbulence. Emmit's ears tingled and his teeth itched. He almost had it….