Broken Moon Series Digital Box Set

by F. T. Lukens

  Asher made a noise in his throat. “Your eyes are tinted blue.”

  “My eyes are brown,” Ren said, automatically.

  “Not right now they’re not. What have you been doing?”

  “I’ve been working on getting us out of here. Or don’t you want to escape?” Ren snapped back, lingering irritation crawling up his spine.

  “I do, but not at your expense.” Asher leaned on the bars and wrapped his fingers around the iron. “Ren,” he said, softly, “You’ve been overdoing it, using too much of your power.”

  Sighing, Ren pressed his fingers against his closed eyelids and saw the electricity reflected there.

  “Why do you think that?” Ren asked.

  “You’re not yourself.” Asher’s tone was steady and sure.

  He was right, and it made sense: the lack of empathy, the calculating way Ren was considering their escape, the barrier he felt between him and the others. “I was a cog to Sorcha. Like a big one.”

  Asher let out a relieved chuckle. “She’ll forgive you.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Don’t worry about it now. Get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow.”

  Ren dropped his hands and blinked. Asher’s companionship had banished the last of the star’s influence. He sat on the mattress and leaned against the wall, kicking out his legs. “Hey, it’s your turn.”

  “My turn for what?”

  “Tell me a story.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, I want to hear one. Take my mind off everything.”

  “Well, I do have a good one about my sister and me accidentally setting off a ventilation alarm on our home drift.”

  “I want to hear all about it.”

  Asher launched into his story; the cadence of his voice soothed Ren’s turmoil. And for a while, he allowed himself to relax and set aside the burdens that rested on his shoulders.

  * * *

  “Abiathar wants to see you,” Oz said, as he entered the dungeon the next morning.

  Ren shot up from his mattress. “What?”

  “You heard me. He wants to talk to you. Probably about you going supernova in the courtyard the other day.”

  Asher and Ren exchanged a worried glance. Asher stepped forward and wrapped his hands around the bars.

  “Are you going to bring him back?” he asked, thickly. He sounded scared, and Ren knew the feeling.

  “I don’t know. Sorry.”

  Ren pulled on his boots. He adjusted his threadbare shirt and brushed off his trousers. He pushed his brown hair out of his face. He desperately needed a haircut and a bath, but there was nothing to be done about that now. He walked out of the cell and held out his arms for the shackles.

  He turned to Asher. “I’ll come back. I will.”

  “You better,” Asher said, forcing a grin. It didn’t reach his eyes, and Ren ached with the worry he saw there.

  Before he left, he stood in front of Asher’s cell and leaned close with his voice pitched low, “Sorcha is going to come tonight. If I’m not back, you know what to do.”

  “I won’t. Not without you.”

  “You will,” Ren said. “You have to. For Liam. Promise me.”

  Asher nodded. “I’ll try. I promise.”

  “Good.”

  Ren followed Oz out of the dungeon. However, instead of going to the courtyard, Oz took him a different route into the keep. Ren tried to keep track of the turns and corridors, but his attention strayed to thoughts of what awaited him.

  The castle was far bigger than Ren had thought. Electric lights illuminated their way, and tapestries hung from the walls. The hallways widened as they approached the center of the keep, and the rooms became larger.

  They stopped in front of an ornate wooden door, and Oz knocked twice before stepping back.

  “Enter.”

  Oz opened the door. He squeezed Ren’s shoulder in a surprising gesture of friendship.

  Ren didn’t get a chance to process Oz’s actions before he was beckoned over the threshold. Cautiously, he entered the room.

  Abiathar had a large polished desk with a high-backed chair behind it. Rugs carpeted the floor. Tapestries adorned the walls. And Abiathar sat at his desk, looking down as he wrote on a techpad. The glow highlighted his hawkish features. He finished with a tap and a flourish, then raised his head to stare at Ren. His eyes pierced Ren to his core.

  “Sit,” he said.

  Ren inched forward and sat in one of the plush chairs facing Abiathar’s desk. He kept his back straight and his legs under him, on guard, though he knew he could do nothing against Abiathar. The chain of his shackles hung between his knees.

  “No need to be frightened,” Abiathar said, folding his fingers together. “I merely wanted to speak with you about the incident in the courtyard.”

  Jakob, Ren wanted to say. When you killed my friend, Jakob. He kept his lips pressed together.

  “It was an impressive display. You managed to disable quite a few devices.”

  “It was an accident.”

  Abiathar pursed his lips. “Of that, I am sure.” He heaved a breath. “Do you know what you are?”

  Ren studied one of the tapestries on the wall. It showed a battle. A man on a horse charged through an army, sword slicing through the air. To his left rode a sorcerer, bedecked in robes, with lightning forking from his spread fingers and dark clouds swirling overhead.

  “No,” Ren lied.

  “You are a technopath. A powerful one. I’ve never seen one able to merge with machines from a distance. All the others have to be touching the object they wish to manipulate.”

  Ren snapped his gaze back to Abiathar. “Others?”

  “You’re not the only one in the Baron’s service.”

  Ren knew of the girl who had been in the cell before him, but Asher hadn’t mentioned others. How many were there?

  “Captured, you mean.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Drafted. You and your fellow villagers are assisting a great man to reach his destiny. You should be proud your powers will be used to bring forth a new world.”

  “If he’s so great, where is he? Huh? And why can’t he do it himself?”

  “It is not your place to question.”

  “Then what is my place? To die in your war?”

  Abiathar leaned back in his chair. “You are to be reassigned. You will be on the first wave of ships to bring justice to the corrupt Drift Alliance.”

  “I won’t.” Ren gripped the arm rests of his chair so tightly his knuckles went white. “I won’t do it.”

  “You will.”

  “I won’t.”

  Abiathar clenched his jaw. His eyes glinted brighter, and, when he spoke, the words crawled down Ren’s spine.

  “You will. I will compel you.”

  Ren gasped. As before, Abiathar’s voice slithered into his ear, and for a moment, Ren would. He would. He’d do anything Abiathar asked.

  When the voice dissipated, Ren shook his head and stared at Abiathar.

  “Your trick. You’re a star host too. Aren’t you? It’s how you can get into my head.”

  “It’s called suggestion. And I will bend you to my will when the time comes. For now, however, you will be kept in the castle until such time as you will join your comrades on the ships.” Abiathar pressed a comm. “Come collect the boy and take him to his new quarters.”

  When the guard opened the door, Ren stood and was waved away by Abiathar as he returned to his techpad. The guard wasn’t one Ren knew, and she grabbed Ren’s chain and yanked, causing him to stumble on his way out of the door.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To your quarters.”

  “Wait,” Ren dug in his heels, yanked back on the chain. “I want to go say goodbye to my friend in t
he dungeon.”

  The guard laughed. “No way, kid.”

  “But—”

  “No,” she said, gripping his wrist and hauling him forward. “We all saw what you did. Do you think I’m stupid? Come on.”

  She dragged him down the corridor and stopped at a thick double door. She disabled the force field, then pulled out a heavy iron key for the lock. Once the door was open, she shoved Ren in with a push to the center of his back.

  “Enjoy your new home,” she said with a smug smile before she pulled the door shut. Ren heard the key and then the hum of the field rising into place.

  * * *

  The new room was more spacious than the cell, even opulant in comparison. There was a bed instead of just a mattress, and plush carpets lay over the stone. A table held fruit and a pitcher of water, and a low fire crackled in a hearth, fending off the spring chill. However, as nice as it was, it was still a prison.

  Ren tried the door, but no jiggling of the iron would loosen it. He could hear the hum of the force field. He could disable that, but he could do nothing about the lock itself.

  Despair washed through him. Hours had passed since he was locked in. Dinner had come and gone and the sun had set, which meant Sorcha had already freed Asher. But they would not be able to access the siege tunnel without the code to the fields. And without Ren, they wouldn’t get far. He ached at the thought of possibly having sent his two friends to their deaths.

  But he couldn’t dwell on that now. He had to find his own way out, or he would become part of the Baron’s machine of war, and much sooner than he had thought. He walked around the room, checked the desk drawers and peered out the lone window. He found nothing that could help. He brushed back a tapestry, and lightly pressed his fingertips to the stone. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pushed out, but he only felt the lights embedded in the walls, and even those circuits were dimmed by the massive amount of material between them.

  Ren blinked back frustrated tears. Escape appeared impossible.

  Slumping down into a chair, he took an apple from the fruit dish and bit into it. At least the food was better. He had grown tired of stale bread and stew.

  As he took another bite, he heard footsteps on the other side of the door. He heard the force field power down and then the jangle of keys, and then the sound of the tumblers of the lock turning. He stood and waited, wondering if his time had already come.

  The door swung open, and Oz stepped in. He pushed the door closed behind him and flipped the lock, effectively bolting them in.

  “What are you doing?”

  Oz quickly crossed the room and grabbed Ren by the upper arm. He dragged him to the door and pulled out his prod.

  “Disable me.”

  “What?” Ren looked down at the shiny black handle of the weapon, but made no move to take it.

  Oz shoved it toward him. “Take it. Shock me. And then steal my keys and go.”

  Ren flinched away; the dormant end of the prod grazed his stomach. “What? No. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Take it!” Oz demanded. Expression pleading, he looked at Ren and dropped his voice. “You need to get Asher and get out of here. Abiathar is going to destroy you. Understand? He will burn you up until you’ve depleted your speck of star or he will drive you to insanity. Either way, this doesn’t end well for you.”

  Ren licked his dry lips and gingerly took the weapon. His hands shook. This was his chance, but he was terrified. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because you deserve better.”

  “Come with us,” Ren said. His voice cracked, beseeching. “You can help us.”

  Oz took a deep breath and shook his head. “I can’t risk it. My family… it would put them in danger. At least here, I can keep an eye on them. I can help them. I can’t do that if I run.” Oz guided the end of the prod to his ribs and placed the tip there. “I’ll tell them you wrestled it away from me and took the keys.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “You don’t have much time. Abiathar is going to cart you off-world in the morning. If you want to escape, you need to do it now.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  Oz grinned softly. “How about not sparking me too hard?”

  “Okay. Okay,” Ren said. He ghosted his thumb over the switch. “Thank you,” he said and then he pressed the trigger. He allowed only a short burst, but it was enough to send Oz to the ground, body arching with the current. He writhed for a moment, then stilled, eyes closed, breathing shallow, but only stunned.

  Ren dropped the prod, and it clattered to the stone. With shaking hands and apologies tumbling from his lips, he took the keys from Oz’s belt and gave his friend’s shoulder one last squeeze before he stood. He unlocked his shackles. The heavy weight fell from his wrists, and it felt like freedom.

  With one last apology to Oz, Ren shoved the keys into his pocket. He ran over to the bed and shook the pillow out of the linen pillow case. Then he bounded to the table and dumped the bowl of fruit into the case and twisted one end shut. He would have to keep an eye out for a canteen along the way.

  After unlocking the door, Ren cautiously peeked around the frame. Seeing no one in the corridor, he stepped out. He closed the door behind him and started down the hallway. He didn’t know this part of the keep, and he hadn’t been paying much attention when he was brought to his new room, but he did know force fields were used to separate the keep from the servant areas. And he knew how their energy signatures felt. If he could find one, it could lead to a way out.

  He crept along, placing his hand on the stone, dimming the lights to elongate the shadows. Fingertips trailing, he reached out with his ability every few feet, searching for the familiar hum and crackle of energy.

  The process was slow, and several times Ren, pulse racing, palms clammy, sweat prickling along the back of his neck, ducked into a crevice or behind a heavy tapestry when he heard voices. If he was caught, he didn’t think he’d share the same fate as Jakob. Abiathar called him valuable, but he was certain the punishment, if not fatal, would be far from pleasant.

  Fervent voices echoed along with hurried steps, and Ren quickly ducked behind a curtain.

  “We have to find him. I’m not leaving without him.”

  “I agree, but we should think this through.”

  Ren moved the curtain to the side. He recognized those voices.

  “We don’t have time. It’s already been too long since the guard took him. He could be gone or worse, hurt,” Asher said, gesturing wildly, turning the corner. Sorcha walked next to him; her head barely came up to Asher’s shoulder.

  Ren could’ve wept at the sight of them.

  He moved the curtain aside and stepped into their path. “It’s about time,” he said, grinning widely.

  Asher yanked Sorcha behind him and dropped into a low crouch. A kitchen knife glinted in his grip. He blinked, then straightened.

  “Ren?”

  “In the flesh,” he said, arms open, smile so wide his cheeks hurt. “I see you two have met and managed to get free.”

  Asher straightened from his defensive pose. “Thank the stars.” He grabbed Ren into a firm hug, strong arms wrapping around his frame. Ren returned the embrace, happy and relieved, and thankful, finally, for a bright spot along the dark path his life had taken.

  Asher disengaged, his fingers gripping Ren’s shoulder. His gaze swept from Ren’s feet to his head. “Are you all right? You’re not hurt, are you? What did Abiathar want?”

  “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when we’re on our way out of this place.”

  “Good idea,” Sorcha piped up. She stepped around Asher, took the bag of fruit from Ren’s hand and threaded her fingers with his. “Let’s go.” She tugged. “This way.”

  “How do you know?

  “I’ve had to learn to deliver food a
round the castle. This is the way.”

  Ren gladly allowed Sorcha to lead them out of the keep. She didn’t let go of Ren’s hand and Ren reached behind him and took Asher’s as well, forming a chain. He took comfort in Asher’s strong grip and his warm skin as they navigated their way to the courtyard.

  There, Ren was surprised to see a small gathering of girls and boys huddled in an alcove.

  “From the kitchens,” Sorcha clarified.

  She beckoned them out and they shuffled over.

  “Are we really escaping?” one asked.

  Ren and Asher exchanged a quick look. Ren was glad they were no longer holding hands, because Asher would feel the clamminess of his palms, the anxiety building in his core.

  Pulling his shoulders back, Asher addressed the group as a leader would. “Yes. Right now.”

  Mindy stepped forward, eyeing the three of them. “My brother is in the barracks. I’m not leaving without him.”

  “You won’t have to,” Sorcha said. She passed the bag of fruit to another girl and pulled out a set of keys. “Is there a force field on the door?”

  Mindy shook her head. “Good. Mindy and I will go. You two,” Sorcha said, pointing a finger at Ren and Asher, “start leading the rest of them out.”

  “Meet us at the siege tunnel door,” Ren said.

  They split up. Asher and Ren led the small group across the dark courtyard. Ren was not worried about running into guards. When Oz had brought him back from the hangar, no one had been walking about but them.

  Ren allowed himself the luxury of observing Asher. He moved purposefully, with his back straight and his head held high so the starlight glinted off his blond hair. As they walked side by side, Ren noted that Asher was slightly taller and broader in the shoulders, and that the only indication he had spent the last year in a cell was the hollow line of his cheeks and the paleness of his skin.

  “Are you all right?” Ren whispered as they moved quietly into the corridor with the siege tunnel door.

  Asher raised an eyebrow. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. It’s your first time out in a year. You might be a little nervous.”

  “I’m Phoenix Corps. I don’t get nervous.”