Beyond the Core (The Starborn Series Book 1)

by K. R. Cunningham

  “So why did you?”

  “I like you. More than him, anyway.” She jabbed a thumb at Colt.

  “I’m standing right here,” Colt muttered.

  “Well, do you blame me for feeling that way? You don’t trust me.”

  Colt chuckled in annoyance. “I get it. You saved us twice. We owe you that many times.”

  “All I ask for is your trust.” She stopped and looked at them both. “You both saved me. There’s no owing anyone anything. You helped me out of a situation I thought I was stuck in.”

  A strong, comforting energy flowed from Gilda, and Owen smiled warmly at her. “I trust you.”

  When he looked over, Colt sighed, his shoulders falling. “Right, yeah. Suppose I trust you. I mean, you can fight all right. Better than him.”

  “Honestly, Colt?” Owen punched him lightly in the arm.

  Their moment was cut short when someone shouted at them from the end of the tunnel. Seeing Brom down the way, they all picked up their pace until they joined him in a room where two tunnels split off from the main one.

  “There are three tunnels,” Brom said, panting. He was almost unrecognizable under the filth that covered his face. It seemed their fight with the ferals made them all appear as madmen, stricken with blood and grime. It did not help that they stank. “I made it down the far left before having to turn back. It’s too dark down there to see.”

  Gilda crossed her arms. “Well, it took you long enough to figure that out.”

  “Gods, woman, you must forgive my dallying. I stopped to eat tea and biscuits along my way back out.” When she rolled her eyes, Brom said, “We could all try and dig out through the holes letting in light.”

  “And cause a cave-in?” Colt looked up at a hole spilling light, but it was too small. “There’s no telling what’s up there that could come crashing down on us.”

  “We’ll make it a last resort, then.”

  “Why not try the middle tunnel?” Gilda said. “I can feel a draft coming from that way.” Brom put out his hand and nodded. “Oh, right. That makes sense. You know, I’m glad I decided to let you come along.”

  “As if I needed your say so.” She led the way into the tunnel.

  As Brom and Gilda took the lead, Owen looked behind him, feeling another presence in the air.

  “What is it?” Colt asked.

  “I feel something strange down that way,” Owen whispered.

  Colt glanced down the far-left tunnel. “Let’s not linger, then,” he said, pulling Owen down the middle passage.

  They both caught up with Brom and Gilda. The remaining light in the tunnel was fading behind them as darkness loomed ahead. They would not have much time left before it ran out.

  They pressed onward, hoping to lose whatever may be following them, until they met with blackness. The tunnel sloped downward, and with each step came a tumble of loose stones. Brom caught the side of the wall as he slipped. It was so dark that Owen could only see the faint outline of Colt before him.

  “Well, shit,” Brom said.

  “Are you trying to kill us all?” Gilda snapped.

  “Forgive my incompetence, woman. I didn’t know the floor would give out beneath me.”

  “We’re going to have to feel our way through this tunnel. Everyone hang onto each other.”

  Gilda grabbed Owen’s hands, and Owen placed his hand in Colt’s.

  “Stay together,” Brom said. “I’ll be going slowly.”

  Owen’s heart beat in his temples. He squeezed Colt’s hand tightly. As they made their way along the wall, a thought came to him. Letting go of his companions, he felt for his dagger before he carefully slipped it from its sheath. He held it firmly in his hand.

  “What is it?” Gilda asked him.

  Despite the darkness, Owen closed his eyes. “Just hold a moment. I’m going to try this again,” he said. He held the hilt with both hands and opened his mind to the power within him. He felt it flowing through him like the roots of a tree, from the big, thick stems to the thin, hair-like fibers that dug deep into the ground. Heat surged through him as the pathways of his power opened, but he did not channel the stagnant air, nor any objects around them. Instead, he channeled his power through the dagger.

  Yellow light lit the tunnel, glowing from the blade.

  His companions looked at him, wide-eyed.

  “Incredible,” Brom stated.

  “You did it!” Gilda cried, grinning.

  Colt placed a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “Gods be damned, you’ve got some powerful stuff, yeah?”

  A harsh orange light overtook the soft yellow glow, casting shadows against their faces as they looked up in surprise.

  “Not powerful enough,” came a new voice.

  Owen squinted. Elian stood before them, a Core in one hand and a lantern in the other. Next to him was Rhielle, wielding a long, curved sword.

  “This is over now,” the Wielder said. “I’ll no longer let anyone stand in my way.”

  Brom stood in front of Owen, slowly drawing his sword. When Gilda came forward, too, Owen went to protest, but Colt pulled him back.

  “Run, Owen,” he said.

  “I’m not leaving you all here,” Owen said. “I’ll stay and fight.”

  “It’s all right.” Gilda held out her hand. “We’re much more powerful than his little mechanical orb.”

  Elian’s nose twitched in the shadows, his face drawing up in a scowl. He slammed the Core against the wall. Sparks of blue electricity climbed up the side of the tunnel, cracking the wall up to the roof.

  Gilda and Brom watched, wide-eyed, as chunks of dirt and rock fell on them all. Colt backed away, the crack from the Core deepening, throwing more debris on them as they struggled to get away.

  Owen stumbled over his feet, tripping to his knees. Then Elian yanked him up by his collar and pulled him away.

  The dim glow of Owen’s dagger had faded, and now only Elian’s lantern lit the tunnel. Owen looked back at his companions, who struggled to stand from beneath the piles of fallen debris. A streak of blood ran down Gilda’s head. She leaned against the wall, panting, while Brom got to his knees.

  Colt slowly got to his feet, taking a step forward, but Elian held his Core out, threatening them all with the spirals of blue static so strong that even Rhielle kept her distance.

  He’ll kill them, Owen thought. He struggled against the Wielder’s grip on him, but he was no match for Elian’s strength. Instead, he threw out his arms, focused on the rest of the ceiling that was close to caving between them, clenched his fists tightly, and pulled down.

  As clods of dirt rained down, Colt dove forward, knocking Elian so hard he hit the wall with a grunt and let go of Owen. The rest of the roof gave way, falling until there was nothing more than a wall of dirt and rocks blocking the path before them.

  On the ground, Rhielle coughed and spit the debris from her mouth.

  “Owen!” Gilda called. “We can’t get through!”

  There was a bit of space at the top of the pile, barely big enough for Gilda’s fingers to fit through. There would be no going back now. Owen and Colt would have to trudge on alone.

  “We’ll find a way around!” Colt called.

  Taking advantage of their enemies being stunned, Colt grabbed Owen’s hand and fled back the way they came.

  “We’ll go down that other way,” Colt said, coming back to the room where the three passages split off. He pulled Owen toward the far right tunnel. “Come on.”

  The light of the lantern seeped away as Colt pushed them quickly along in the darkness. Owen ran into walls, bumping his shoulders around every twist and turn. The ground became wet and slippery, making it hard to keep up.

  “Owen!” Elian called out behind him, his voice echoing down the shaft.

  Footsteps thudded after him.

  Hot sweat built on his brow. The air was almost as suffocating as the darkness before him. Owen held tightly to Colt’s hand, but his companion was too quick, and
he slipped and fell so hard he tasted blood in his mouth. He lay still for a long moment, trying to catch his breath. The ground was soft; his fingers grasped at mud. The air was damp and reeked of soiled fish.

  Colt’s hands pulled him up.

  Getting to his knees, Owen gagged. His arms trembled as he felt for the wall. He tried to bring himself back to his feet, but his legs shook violently and he shrank back down.

  “We have to keep going,” Colt whispered against his ear.

  The sensation made Owen shiver. He nodded and got to his feet.

  The incense and pine energies that Gilda and Brom put out were distant, but still there. They have a chance to get out. Keep going. The blackness stretched on before him, and the footsteps behind him were slow. Somehow, they had gotten ahead of Elian.

  The feel of Colt’s warm hand comforted him briefly. The deeper they went, the narrower and tighter the passage became. The air choked his lungs. He dug his fingers so tight against the wall that he could feel the pain beneath his nails.

  A scream climbed up Owen’s chest, close to erupting, when he saw a faint blue glow ahead. The passage opened up into a new circular room where blue-green light emitted from hundreds of glowing mushrooms. The fungi lined the walls, the corners of the floor, and the high alcoves that climbed so far into the ceiling that eventually they were lost in the darkness above.

  They made their way to a ledge where water streamed in from somewhere hidden and trickled down the rocks below. Owen was ready to go forward, but Colt held out a hand, stopping him.

  Owen held his breath as he took in ten or more ghoulish-looking creatures in the glowing light of the fungi. Though none of them saw him, Owen froze. He watched as many of them pulled fish from the water and ate them raw, while others washed themselves or slept on the drier parts of the rocks. They seemed to move slower than the others that had attacked them before, their bodies fuller and their hair thicker.

  Owen and Colt stepped back slowly until they came back to the glowing room. There were enemies blocking them on all sides.

  Whispers came down the passage behind them, voices he recognized. Voices that made him release his dagger once more from his sheath. His heart pounded as he turned to face the Wielders. He would have to fight to get through.

  When Elian came into the room, he glanced around before settling his eyes on Owen. The shadows under his eyes told Owen that the Wielder was worn and annoyed.

  Owen’s breath caught in his throat. His hand tightened on his hilt. He did not want the Wielder to see how drained of energy he was. He had to take the time to build his strength. Beside him, Colt brandished his sword; the blade was stained with blood from the ghoulish creatures.

  “You know,” Elian started, pausing a moment to take a breath. He pointed his finger at Owen. “You’re a real piece of work. Leading me into this ridiculous cave and ruining all my plans.”

  Stepping up beside him, Rhielle unearthed her own blade, but her eyes were unsure.

  “I’m done here.” Elian nodded at Colt. “Rhielle, kill his friend.” When Rhielle hesitated, Elian glared at her, his eyebrows raised. “Rhielle, I said kill him!”

  Rhielle’s jaw tensed, but she strode forward. Colt bared his weapon as she advanced on him, catching her blade against his before he pushed her away. Rhielle slashed at him. He rebutted the attack.

  His weapon was no match for Rhielle’s sword, as she quickly learned his defensive tactics. After faking an attack on him, she side-stepped and nicked Colt’s hand enough to release his hold on his blade. She kicked him forcefully in the groin, making him double over with a loud groan. He dropped his blade and pressed his right hand against his left wrist, where blood ran down his arm into his sleeve.

  Owen tried to channel his power, but Elian caught hold of him first. When the power of the Core latched onto him, he found himself unable to move.

  “We had a deal, Owen.” Elian’s voice was deep. “You broke your promise to me.”

  “I don’t even know you,” Owen breathed.

  “Walk this way. Come on.” Elian moved the Core, gesturing for Owen to move. A crooked smile appeared on his shadowed face.

  The power of blended Astran power within the mechanical sphere forced Owen to move involuntarily. It was a strange feeling, to be controlled by a power that he held himself. It did not seem plausible.

  The air quieted as Owen walked forward. In the corner of his eye, he caught Rhielle’s hesitation as she wiped her nose on her sleeve. Owen ground his teeth. He had no idea where his companions were, but he did not intend to leave them behind. There was no way, after all that they had been through together, that he could let it end like this.

  “I hate that you couldn’t just comply.” Elian narrowed his eyes at Rhielle, his hand stiffening around the Core. “Do I have to tell you a third time to kill him?”

  “Then what?” Owen seethed. “Leave his body here and pretend like you’re a saint to everyone you know?”

  Elian cocked his head. “I don’t give second chances.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “Fight,” came the voice—it was not his own, and it made him wonder if such a voice was linked to his dagger. “I can sense your tension. Use the power the gods gave you and beat the shit out of whoever is doing this to you.”

  His mind opened. Everything is connected. Nothing is closed, he thought. No, he would not become a spectacle in this moment. He would not let this man take him away. He would finish this.

  Elian nodded to Rhielle.

  As she readied the blade against Colt’s throat, her hand trembled.

  A powerful surge of anger boiled inside of Owen. It rose higher than the panic and fear he had felt with the feral people, and was bigger than the anger and sadness from when he had lost Amias. The overriding need to protect his companion overcame him.

  The force that coursed through his veins broke the hold of the Core.

  Power surged through his blood and stretched out, almost visibly, toward his enemies. The release of energy tossed Elian to the ground, and sent Rhielle flying against the wall, where he held her in a bind so strong that she could not move.

  Owen imagined himself closing his hand around her neck. He squeezed his fist in the air, and her face turned red.

  Elian flung his arm forward several times, but the Core had no effect on Owen. The Wielder growled and drew out his knife. When he charged, Owen held out his other hand instinctively and threw Elian back. The Wielder slammed into the wall with a gasp, his blade falling against the ground with a clank.

  Owen’s power was his own, and at that moment he understood it well.

  A loud hum filled his ears as he picked up the natural noise of the earth. From the glow of the Core on the ground, by the light of the mushrooms, he watched as the woman before him seemed to move like the waves of heat upon the horizon.

  “Give in to the power. It’s your own,” came the voice, sounding more powerful this time, whispering and echoing off the air.

  “Owen!” Colt called from beside him, but his voice sounded distant.

  The only thing Owen focused on was his desire to eliminate whoever stood in his way. He was vaguely aware of his surroundings as they took on a different tone. The small pebbles around him rose into the air, and a vibration echoed softly throughout the room as the sound of energy audibly resonated. The room rumbled, bits of rock and dirt falling from the ceiling. His own body gave off a glowing white aura, causing his whole body to tremble.

  Rhielle’s eyes rolled, her body ceasing its struggle as her face turned purple.

  It was as if a dark force had dug its way deep into his heart and gripped it with the overwhelming sense to kill, and with every clench of his fist, his power squeezed harder. Something warm trickled down from his nose and traveled to his mouth, metallic, sticky.

  Owen licked his lips and his senses spiked; they were everywhere in the room, from the honey-lemon exuding from Colt to the strange taste of stale cinnamon from Elian.
And then Rhielle, who expelled a scent of fresh rain.

  He drew his arm back suddenly, unfurling his fist. Owen collapsed to his knees, feeling as though something had thrown him forcefully to the ground. The rushing blood in his ears gradually calmed. Panting, he looked up at Rhielle as she lay coughing on the ground. Elian helped her sit up.

  Colt rushed to Owen, his eyes wide with concern.

  Owen looked down at his shaking hands, turning them over. “I—I didn’t mean to . . .”

  “It’s all right.” Colt helped him to his feet. “You’re all right.” He picked up the Core and gave it to Owen.

  The Core was heavy in his weak hands, and he nearly dropped it.

  “Your dagger.” Colt held it out to him by the blade.

  “Owen,” Elian said, his voice cracking. “Don’t.”

  Owen looked down at his weapon, which seemed to hum, then at Rhielle. Regret for what he had almost done hit him as hard as leaving Amias behind. “Give me a reason not to.”

  “You could be Starborn,” he huffed. “The Legion wants you. If you are, the Cleansings could stop, or at least be delayed.”

  His chest tightening, Owen hesitated. He closed his eyes as Amias’s words rang in his head, of his father possibly being Starborn, as well as himself. Hearing the Wielder say it confirmed that what Amias told him was true. The Legion did not treat the idea of Starborns as a legend, but as reality. If Owen was Starborn, then he could give children like Rose a chance to grow into adulthood before undergoing a dangerous ritual. Was this why the Legion searched for them, those with the blood of the goddess in their veins? To stop the Cleansings? For what reason?

  “You’re full of shit,” Colt spat, picking up his sword from the ground.

  “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” Elian hissed. “Either way, someone else will find you.”

  All they would have to do was cut the Wielders down, and they would be gone. But what if Elian was right? What if another Wielder found him? He would have to take the risk.

  Shrill screams and growls echoed through the tunnel.

  “Owen! Colt!”

  Looking over, Owen squinted his eyes at a hole in the wall of the room, where Gilda stood.