Hawk’s brow furrowed and his hand hovered a few inches over her skin as though sussing out an aura. “No.”
“Where’s Amanda?” Sky asked, shivering. It certainly felt like his hand had connected to something in the spirit realm.
“Sitting in the Bobsled,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Is she going to get sick now, too? Contagious?”
“No idea,” Sky sighed, dropping her head against the cushion. If Sky wasn’t going to fly away, she needed to get the Bobsled back into the bay before some animal crawled in and built a nest in it.
“We need a doctor. It’s time to stop searching for Quin. Let’s go straight to Cordova,” Hawk said, tugging her arm. Sky shook him off.
“You don’t know how to get there, do you?” he asked.
“Not exactly,” she grimaced.
“So all that talk about saving Rocan . . .” Hawk whispered, sinking to his knees and resting his head on the arm of her chair. Sky pet his head instinctively, then caught herself and retracted her hand. She had never intended to return to Rocan either way. Saving Hawk’s people from extinction was a long shot, but it was a hope she perpetuated to keep Hawk in line.
“Hawk, I know how to find it again. I just don’t know the way off the top of my head,” she assured, kissing the top of his head and rising from the chair. “I’ll get Amanda. Make sure Tray eats something before he falls over.”
15
Brishen knelt by the river and splashed the cool water on his face, trying to alleviate the heat of his tears. After all the years of dreaming about strutting confidently into the Nayak village and reuniting with his children, he hadn’t made it past the gate. He meant less to the Nayak than he did to the Drava. Diving into the shallow pool, he let the current carry him downstream, the rocky riverbed snagging his clothing. The river dropped underground after a half mile, and Brishen was left lying on a rocky bank. How far would word of his humiliation travel? Would scouts of other tribes even consider it worthy of a report?
Closing his fist around a small stone, Brishen rolled on his side and chucked the stone as hard as he could into the forest. Birds went flying, and the stone chinked against something metallic.
The visitors. When the rains came, this river flooded into the lakebed where their vessel was parked. Ambassadors had been going to the Trade Circle for days, waiting for them to initiate peaceful contact, but thus far, the visitors kept to themselves. Wiping his face, Brishen crawled away from the river and into the dense brush. There would be scouts and likely guards in the area, observing the visitors. A body floating in the river would warrant investigation.
Brishen scanned the area, but if anyone was out there, they were not interested in finding him. He should have felt relieved, but he felt neglected. Taking off his shirt and shoes, he rung out the fabric. He did his best to press the water from his pants without removing them. The old man had spat the word ‘eunuch,’ and the mutilation that Brishen had worn as a testament to his defiance for so many years became a source of shame. They’d done it to themselves—he and the other prisoners. They knew the Nayak would let them go if they could no longer be used to procreate.
“I am a man,” he whispered to himself, shivering as a breeze chilled his damp clothing. He rummaged through the brush, finding another stone, and throwing it as hard as he could. He had grown tall, but not strong. After the castration, his voice had stopped maturing. It still cracked sometimes, but the only person he conversed with long enough with to notice was Laos, and she didn’t care.
He wanted to scream, but he picked up more stones and kept throwing until he heard someone else scream.
The woman’s voice echoed through the forest and Brishen’s protective instincts flared. Charging through the trees, he paused at the bank of the lakebed where the visitor’s ship was parked. The larger ship seemed to have birthed a smaller one, and the smaller vessel was lying on its side.
The young woman that Brishen and Laos had seen the night before had climbed into a small vessel, taking refuge in its cockpit. The seats were upside down and angled in such a way that she couldn’t sit on them, so she propped herself on the lip of the compartment in an odd crouch. Her eyes followed his movements through the trees. He tried to convince himself that he was being paranoid, but when he raised and lowered his arm, her eyes followed his hand. Clenching his fist around his knife, Brishen crept closer to the vessel.
“Are you hurt?” Brishen whispered. Glancing sideways, he made sure there were a litany of trees he could disappear into should she cry wolf.
The woman held up her hand, showing him her burnt fingers. “Hot. Don’t touch,” she answered in Lanvarian.
Brishen smiled. The Nayak and Chanti spoke Lanvarian, but the longer the groups remained separate, the more their dialects diverged.
“What are you doing here?” Brishen asked. An ambassador might have asked the question more poignantly, but Brishen couldn’t run off to retrieve one. No one had ever tried to defect from the Drava in his lifetime. He didn’t even know if he’d be allowed to go home.
“Sitting,” the woman answered, shifting foot to foot in her squat and twirling her hair around her finger. “This is Danny’s ship. I don’t want Sky to take it.”
He should have asked her name, or perhaps introduced himself. Her name did not seem nearly as important as her safety at the moment.
“Does Sky take a lot of Danny’s things?” Brishen asked.
“She tried to kill me,” the woman said plainly.
Sky was a woman. “Are you safe with Danny?”
The woman squinted, lifting her chin and eying him warily.
“Do you want to come with me?” Brishen said, dropping his knife to his side and holding out his hand. The Drava would care for her, and they’d surely welcome him home as a hero for rescuing the woman.
“Do you know the way to the tunnels?” she asked, sliding out of the cockpit and taking two steps toward him. The fabric of her dark, red coat snagged on the metal.
Brishen shook his head, confused. “There are no tunnels here.”
The woman took a step backward, wincing when her burnt hands touched the lip of the small vessel. “Am I not on Terrana?”
Brishen reached out again, but the woman’s attention shifted to the airship. A fraction of a second later, the latch on the ship’s door clanged and the door was thrown open. Brishen ducked back into the brush then ascended into the nearest tree. Moving stealthily, he tree-jumped until he was well hidden. His pants were still dripping water, but unless someone stood directly under him, no one would notice. The dripping sound would be lost under the sounds of the river.
Another woman came out of the vessel; she was pale like the first, and her clothing gleamed white like snow. She carried an imposing pistol that had pink stripes along the barrel, as though it were used for entertainment and not murder.
“Amanda, did you see someone?” the second woman asked. She was taller and stronger than the first and she spoke Lanvarian as well.
“I see you, Sky,” Amanda said, smiling playfully. Her knees wobbled, and she kept her hand on the side of the vessel for support. “Something is wrong with my gravity.”
“Did you see someone in the woods just now?” Sky asked.
Amanda looked to the brush where Brishen had been, then she lifted her eyes to the trees. Brishen ducked behind the trunk, but there was no mistaking the fact that she was staring directly at him. Alighting to another hiding spot, Brishen peered again. Amanda smiled at him, then ducked her head.
“No one else,” Amanda whispered, sitting gracelessly on the ground and massaging her head.
Sky did not believe her. Coming to the edge of the woods, Sky scanned the trees, but did not spot him. “Are you a scout or ambassador?” Sky called.
Brishen stayed quiet. Scouts were not supposed to make contact. He’d failed to rescue the first woman; in fact, now that he’d seen Amanda with Sky, she did not seem to need rescuing. Sky waited, scanning the woods, weapon
at ready.
“How many did you see?” she asked, glancing sideways at Amanda.
Amanda held up her hand, showing something to Sky.
“I found a lumie,” she said sweetly, then lowered her hand so she could admire whatever treasure was in her hand. “It’s broken. And furry.”
“Only Elysian caterpillars glow,” Sky told her, taking the caterpillar and tossing it into the trees. Brishen’s Occ picked up a rustle in the leaves—another scout. Sky noticed, too, and she dove into the brush, emerging a second later with a young Nayak scout. The boy was new to the field, and he didn’t even look ten years old.
“You are a scout,” Sky smirked, drawing her pink gun. “How close are your people?”
Brishen tensed, looking for a way to grab the young scout without getting shot himself. Sky seemed to know the difference between ambassadors and scouts, but she still had a weapon on the boy, expecting him to talk. Brishen heard a distinctive bird call—another scout signaling he was ready to strike. A moment later, a pistol fired and a bullet grazed Sky’s arm. Brishen rushed from his hide, snatching the crying Nayak.
“Shh. You’re safe, scout. We’re all here for you,” he whispered, hiding behind the thickest tree trunk he could. He felt an incredible force as Sky’s weapon fired and the beam hit the tree. He’d seen it take clear out an entire field of bugs the other night, and he couldn’t risk running with weapons in play, and the other scouts in the area would defend their ground.
Swearing in strange languages, Sky dragged Amanda into their small vessel for cover. The vessel lifted off the ground, leaving a deep indentation in the mud. Within moments, it and the two women were locked safely inside the larger vessel.
“She’s gone now,” Brishen said, letting his hand off the boy’s mouth.
“Is he hurt?” a Chanti scout called, holstering her weapon and reaching for a medicine bundle. She was an older scout named Myra, and she knew more about plant medicine than anyone Brishen had ever met.
“Just frightened, I think,” Brishen replied.
“What’s your name?” Myra asked, kneeling in front of the boy, thumbing the tears from his eyes. The boy cried harder.
“He’s an idiot,” another Nayak scout named Shray groused, reloading his pistol, keeping his eyes toward the airship. “We should have let her take him.”
“We’ve all had mishaps in the field,” Brishen snapped back.
“Say what you want, Drava,” Shray spat. Shray was as tall and slender as Brishen, but his voice was deep, his jaw square, and his features more mature than Brishen’s would ever be. “Scouts don’t initiate contact with visiting tribes. I can’t believe you spoke to that girl.”
“You’ve never talked to girls before, Nayak? No wonder your people have to buy children,” a Drava scout named Hydyl criticized, coming to Brishen’s defense. “Are you so hung up on the fact of the conversation that you’re overlooking its content?”
“The caterpillar?” Myra asked, standing and taking another lookout position so they could continue to console the boy without being caught off guard.
“The golden one, you moron,” Shray carped. “She was called Sky . . . the Bandit.”
“No one called her ‘Bandit,’” Hydyl said testily. He was a pudgy scout who had left the hunting squad after taking an arrow to the calf. He was a year older than Brishen, but he’d already taken a primary and a secondary and had three children between them.
“How many other golden ones do you think there are bearing that name?” Shray sneered.
“In a tribe of pale-skins—” Hydyl began.
“The Bandit traveled this land before most of you born,” Shray said. The other Nayak boy whimpered and cowered into Brishen’s embrace.
“And you were what? Three?” Brishen countered, putting a comforting arm around the boy. “But he’s right. We were all warned by the scouts that went before us.”
“She’s a deadly one,” Hydyl added. “She kills quietly, and then she leaves.”
“And the weapon she carries is stronger than any pistol,” Myra added, climbing into one of the trees. “It could take out ten of us at a time. We’d have to surround her to overtake her.”
“Sky the Bandit stole a Seer from the Drava,” Brishen said.
“You mean that girl who was raving over the caterpillar used to be a Drava Seer?” Myra chuckled.
“No. The spirit,” Brishen clarified. “Sky left the vessel and took the spirit with her.”
“But how can the two be separated?” Myra asked.
“They can’t without killing the vessel,” Shray argued. “If Sky took the spirit, she still has it.”
“She still has her eyes. It must be terribly confusing for the spirit,” Myra said sympathetically.
“Your clothes are wet,” the terrified Nayak whimpered against Brishen’s chest. His accent was so strong that Brishen was sure he’d been traded into the tribe relatively recently.
“I went swimming before I came to rescue you,” Brishen whispered, hugging him warmly. “What’s your name?”
“Lakshya. The Chieftain tried to rename him when we bought him, but he won’t respond to anything else,” Shray answered, heaving a sigh and rubbing the boy’s cheek.
“Perhaps you should take him home,” Brishen suggested.
“If I knew where his home was, I’d take him back,” Shray said, tugging Lakshya’s elbow and dragging him out of Brishen’s lap. Brishen almost intervened, but then Shray pulled the boy onto his back and Lakshya relaxed against him. Shray was abrasive, but he’d adopted his new brother and Lakshya clearly trusted him.
“Are you staying?” Hydyl asked, tapping Brishen’s shoulder.
“No. I was passing through when I heard the screaming.” Brishen waved dismissively and hurried back toward camp.
“So I shouldn’t mention your presence to the Scout Chief,” Hydyl checked, trotting to keep up.
Brishen laughed and shook his head. Laos had ways of finding things out and this was hardly the worst thing he’d done today. “You can. I will. I’m surprised she wasn’t already here.”
Hydyl nodded, glancing back toward the ship, but keeping pace with Brishen. “Sky the Bandit killed my grandmother.”
Brishen looked skyward, wishing for a way out. He had enough on his plate, and he wasn’t ready to be a confidant.
“Your grandmother was Chanti, right?” Brishen asked. “But you are Drava. Sky the Bandit never came to the Drava.”
“Maybe she returned to—”
“Scout, trust me,” Brishen said, stamping his foot and turning to face Hydyl. Where Brishen had height, Hydyl had weight, but that didn’t mean they were evenly matched. “Even if she carries the name, she is not the person who killed your grandmother. She would have been a child then.”
“Unless she isn’t human,” Hydyl said, kicking the dirt and backing off. “They say the vessels don’t age when they carry a spirit.”
“No, they just decay like every other dead thing.” Brishen cocked his head, raising a quizzical brow. “You still practice your grandmother’s religion?”
“No,” Hydyl said quickly, losing his imposing appearance as he squirmed. “We’re Drava now. Drava don’t hold such superstitions.”
Hydyl was a terrible liar.
“I am sorry. I meant no disrespect,” Brishen said, confused by the wave of guilt that hit him.
“Yes you did,” Hydyl whispered. It was Brishen’s turn to squirm. Brishen had dismissed the Chanti as simplistic, superstitious people who viewed technology like magic. Hydyl understood science and technology. He was thoughtful and intentional. Holding onto his beliefs could not have been easy in the Drava culture.
Brishen couldn’t say why he grabbed Hydyl and gave him a bear hug. Whether it was Laos, the Nayak, or stupidly engaging the visitors, it was all too much. He felt the need to protect Hydyl from the bigotry that silenced him.
“I hate that we segregate and hide in our respective tribes, pretending we fit int
o perfect molds. You are one piece that makes up the Drava. Everything that makes you unique is important,” Brishen said, tears coming into his eyes as he pictured the wife and children he’d never have. “If you try to live the ideal, you’ll just be miserable. Like me.”
Hydyl hugged him back, but the gesture was awkward and cold. “You won’t tell on me, will you?” Hydyl said, his voice cracking with fear.
“You shouldn’t have to hide,” Brishen said.
“But you won’t tell?” Hydyl asked more forcefully.
“No,” Brishen assured. He started to let go, but now Hydyl was holding onto him. “You should get back to your post.”
“I’ll walk you home first,” Hydyl said, keeping one arm wrapped around Brishen’s shoulders and leading the way.
“I’m not going directly there,” Brishen said, looking vaguely to the side, trying to roll out of the embrace.
“Yes, you are,” Hydyl said, leading Brishen more forcefully. It didn’t seem worth fighting to get away and Brishen was out of ideas for where to go. Also, it was nice to have someone care enough to drag him home.
16
Hunger pangs were not new to Amanda. The twist in her gut and throbbing in her temple were so familiar that she couldn’t tell if the hunger was fresh or distilled from memory. Her hands shook as she stacked cans of food in the corner, stockpiling for the oncoming famine. Bits of information floated through her mind, combining into confusion, making it harder to remember where she was or why.
Johann had said that Alex would protect her when she came to Aquia. Alex wasn’t here; Danny was. Now he was gone too, hanging dead and upside down in the Bobsled while Hawk held her back, preventing her from helping. Amanda could have saved him. She’d helped her mother set up a triage station after the Massacre on Terrana. Amanda knew something about saving lives. But no matter how much she screamed at Hawk, he wouldn’t let her go. He’d been holding her down all morning, doing everything short of tying her up. She didn’t even remember coming to the galley. She had to get back to the tunnels soon, or she’d be caught by the Guard.
Trade Circle: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 3) Page 12