Broken Moon Series Digital Box Set

by F. T. Lukens

  “Well, I’m nervous,” Ren said. “I’m actually terrified this won’t work and we’re leading all these people to their deaths.”

  Ren was close enough to see Asher smile slightly, though he kept alert, his gaze darting about. “Have a little faith,” he said, quietly.

  “This from the guy who told me to give up.”

  “Yes, well, I may have seen the error of my ways. There was this annoying duster in the cell next to me who wouldn’t shut up about escaping. He may have influenced me a bit.”

  Ren flushed, pleased and embarrassed, the heat of it working up the back of his neck.

  They stopped at the wrought iron door. With fumbling fingers, as adrenaline pulsed in Ren’s veins, he tried the first key on Oz’s ring. It didn’t fit. Neither did the second or the third. The crowd behind him grew anxious; their murmurs increased in volume and intensity.

  “Be quiet,” Asher whispered sharply.

  The fourth key slid in, and Ren heard the tumbler of the lock engage. He blew out a relieved breath and unlocked the door. Wincing as the hinges creaked, Ren pulled it open, Asher assisting, his body a wall of heat and comfort at Ren’s shoulder.

  As they opened the door, revealing the force field, Sorcha arrived with a large group of recruits. Ren felt the tension of the people waiting behind him, errand boys, kitchen girls and recruits all standing and waiting, with freedom a palpable possibility.

  “You can do this,” Asher said, as Ren pressed his fingers to the control panel for the field.

  Taking a deep breath, Ren closed his eyes and searched for the switch to the energy source. He found it quickly and turned off the force field. It powered down, the crackling hum receded, but another field lay at the end of the tunnel. Ren could feel the fine buzz of it trembling down his bones.

  The whispers around him grew, but he blocked them out and focused on the distant whine of the circuits nestled in the stone. Fueled by fear, Ren allowed the tendril of power to turn into a stream, and he was racing along the wires to the end of the tunnel. He could see the blue flicker of the field and feel the static, and with a thought, the field dropped.

  Pulling back down the tunnel was difficult, but he managed it, and when he opened his eyes, it took a few blinks before the courtyard was no longer tinged blue.

  Asher stared at him, something akin to awe written in his features.

  “I did it,” Ren said. He shoved the keys into Asher’s hands. “Go. Lead the others down.”

  “I’m not leaving without you.”

  “No, you’re not. Don’t worry.”

  Asher gripped the keys. He turned to the group behind him. “Follow me. Once you hit the outside, scatter.”

  “There’s a small wood,” Ren added. “South of here. It’s not far. It’s harder to be caught in the trees.”

  Asher ducked into the opening and disappeared down the tunnel. One by one the others followed. The procession was slow going due to the cramped space. Ren stood by the door, arms crossed, keeping watch, looking for any movement from the other entrances to the courtyard. He regretted leaving Oz’s prod, but he guessed he’d be all right without it. He could make them malfunction at will.

  Sorcha came and stood beside him.

  “I can’t believe we’re going home,” she whispered.

  Her words sank in and Ren inwardly cringed. “I’m not going home.”

  Sorcha rounded on him, her mouth twisted in a frown. She shoved him in the shoulder. “What do you mean you’re not going home? What about your mother? What about Liam?”

  “You will have to tell them I’m all right. But I can’t go back. Abiathar will follow me and it will put them and you in danger.”

  “But where are you going to go?”

  “With Asher.”

  She stuck out her chin. “Then I’ll go with you.”

  “You can’t, Sorcha. You have to go back to the village. You have to warn them.”

  “It’s true then? What Asher told me about the five fiefs and about them wanting to use you to attack the drifts?”

  “It is. It’s why I have to go with him. And you have to make the council listen to you.” Ren rested his hands on her shoulders. “You have to tell Jakob’s family.”

  Sorcha sniffed and wiped the unshed tears from her eyes. She took a breath, then nodded. “Okay. I can do it. But,” she said, punching Ren in the arm, “you have to come back. Promise me you’ll come back after whatever it is you have to do.”

  Rubbing the sore spot, Ren smiled softly. “Okay. I will. Hey, tell Liam for me—” A commotion on the other side of the courtyard cut Ren off. A handful of guards burst out of the passageway from the keep, spilling into the square. Weapons out, they pointed at the open siege door and started yelling. A warning bell clanged from a tower, alerting everyone to the escape.

  “There they are!”

  “Stop them!”

  “Cogs,” Ren breathed. He pushed his way through the line and yelled down the tunnel. “Go faster! Guards are coming.”

  The line of captives collapsed into the tunnel and Sorcha and Ren packed the younger kids in. The first stunner blast missed and hit next to the door, sending chips of stone raining down on the group. The second blast caught a former recruit in the back. He toppled forward, and Sorcha caught him around the waist.

  “Go!” Ren yelled, ducking from another shot, the electricity crackling in the air, the smell of ozone thick. “Go. Take him and go!”

  Sorcha didn’t protest. With help from another girl, they dragged the incapacitated boy into the tunnel. They were the last of the line. Ren stepped in. He slammed his hand down on the control pad and urged the force field to sizzle back to life, just in time for an energy blast to smash into it. Ren flinched, but the field merely shimmered; blue veins of energy spidered out along the barrier. A guard ran forward and skidded to a stop. He angrily smacked his fist against the field, but it held fast.

  Connected to the system, Ren accessed the password and changed the code to a random sequence. It would take them some time to follow, but that didn’t mean they weren’t already utilizing other exits. And Ren could do nothing about those.

  He turned and ran down the tunnel, and at the end, he found Asher helping Sorcha through.

  “There you are,” Asher said, grasping Ren’s arm and yanking him out on the other side. “Took you long enough.”

  “We need to hurry. Guards are right behind us.”

  Asher handed the keys and the kitchen knife to Sorcha. “Just in case,” he said, and she slipped them into her apron pocket.

  “This is where we part ways,” she said. She gave Ren a hug. “Be careful. I’ll see you soon.”

  Ren hugged her back.

  She let go and then hugged Asher, who stiffened. She kissed his cheek. “Take care of him.”

  And then she turned and followed the others as they disappeared in the line of brush. And she was gone.

  Ren watched the space where she disappeared for a long moment before looking back to Asher.

  “Are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  Ren nodded. He took a breath, and together he and Asher ran.

  7

  The chaos of several groups of former captives splintering in different directions allowed Asher and Ren to flee across the open countryside. While the majority of their companions headed for the tree line pursued by floaters and guards, Ren and Asher ran for the rolling hills. They sprinted away from the back of the castle with the glow from the broken moon of Erden and the stars their guiding light. Their route was the opposite direction from where Ren and the villagers were brought in, and Ren made sure they also veered away from the direction of the hangar. He didn’t want to risk encountering anyone associated with the Baron or Abiathar while he and Asher made their way toward a spaceport.

  Cutting across
the landscape, they managed to ditch the lone contingent that followed them by finding a copse of trees and barreling through it, using low-hanging branches, the new spring growth and shadows as cover. They darted through the saplings and old trees, avoiding stunner blasts by tracking the sporadic light they emitted. They ran until the sounds of electric charges and yells from the guards faded, and the only noise was their steps in the bracken and their own harsh breathing.

  They fled until the morning sun breached the horizon, spilling light across the land like molten gold, and only then did they stop.

  Asher doubled over with his hands on his knees, gasping. Sweat glistened in his hairline and wet the fabric of his shirt. Ren wasn’t much better. His clothes clung to his body, his feet ached and his hands bled from stumbling in the dark and scraping the rough bark of trees. His chest heaved as he fought for breath.

  “I’m dying,” Asher said between pants. “Go on without me.”

  Ren would have laughed if he had been able. “Never. You didn’t leave me. I won’t leave you. Even if your physical stamina fails.”

  “I’m so out of shape. My superiors would be disappointed if they saw me now. Weak and winded like a spacer used to low gravity.”

  “Good thing they’re not around.”

  Asher cracked a smile. “Good thing.” He straightened, wobbled and leaned hard against a tree. Ren mirrored the pose, legs shaking.

  “We need to find water.”

  Ren licked his dry lips. “In a minute. I don’t think I can move now that I’ve stopped.”

  “A few minutes,” Asher agreed. He tipped his head back and sucked in a lungful of air. “It’s been a year. It’s like a dream,” he said, smiling softly. “I never thought I’d be happy breathing in unrecycled air, planet-side, while standing in a beam of radiation, but here I am.”

  The sunlight glinted on the strands of Asher’s gold hair, caressed the slopes of his face, the line of his nose, the pout of his mouth, and Ren couldn’t help but think he looked otherworldly. Ren’s mother had often told him of angels, beings that descended from the heavens, and in that moment, luminous and beautiful, Asher met the description.

  Ren looked away, studied the sun-dappled landscape, and squinted to see if there was an obvious water source nearby. In the distance, he saw a flash and a sparkle along the ground.

  “Over there,” he said with a nod, too tired to raise his arm and point. “I think I see a stream.”

  “Excellent.” Asher pushed off from the tree. “We need to keep moving. Abiathar is going to look for you, and the sooner we find a spaceport, the better.”

  Ren followed on wobbly legs, feeling like a newborn lamb, gangly and uncoordinated, especially next to Asher’s military stride. They found the water, a muddy puddle near the roots of a tree, and stared at it. Asher wrinkled his nose.

  “I think I’ll pass.”

  “I don’t know when we’ll find water again,” Ren said, feeling as unenthusiastic as Asher looked. “We’re dehydrated already from the run. We shouldn’t risk passing it by.”

  “We shouldn’t risk drinking it.”

  “Take it from the duster,” Ren said, kneeling to the ground. “It’s probably safe.”

  “That doesn’t sound confident at all.”

  Ren dipped his finger in the water. It was tepid and the silt stirred at his touch, turning the water even browner. He stood. “Okay, you’re right, I’m not drinking—”

  The sound of voices nearby had Ren swallowing his words, and Asher wrapping his arms around Ren’s frame and pulling him down behind a tangle of bushes. Ren bit his lip to keep the squawk of surprise from tumbling out of his mouth.

  They crouched together, hidden in the itchy twigs. Asher put a finger to his mouth and gestured toward where the voices were gaining in volume. Heart thumping hard, legs trembling, Ren watched and waited, desperately hoping the voices didn’t come from the Baron’s guards.

  When they came into view, Ren released the breath he’d been holding and Asher shot him a wary glance.

  The villagers wore work clothes and hats and held old bolt-action rifles. It was a hunting party, scaring up game, probably for a summer celebration for their village. Their conversation centered on bagging a deer or a few rabbits, maybe a quail.

  Ren shifted, about to stand, but Asher grabbed his arm in a vise-like grip, fingers digging into Ren’s flesh, surely leaving bruises. Asher shook his head.

  Confused, Ren tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. Ren and Asher could ask for help or directions to the nearest space dock. The villagers could help, and it wasn’t as if they were agents of the Baron—their speech and their clothes attested to that.

  Asher glared, jaw clenched, mouth in a firm line. He shook his head again, and pointed his finger at the ground.

  Ren hunched further. Together, they waited for the hunters to move on. The group walked past Ren and Asher’s hiding spot, laughing about someone’s wife’s cooking, not noticing them. Ren didn’t have high hopes for their hunting expedition.

  After their voices and the crunch of their footsteps faded, Asher pulled Ren up with him. Ren tried not to stumble; his joints ached from crouching so long.

  “They could’ve helped us,” Ren said. He didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but exhaustion and thirst and hunger affected his tone. “We could use their comms to send a message to your sister.”

  “The fewer people who know about us, the better. Especially you. Abiathar will have guards combing the countryside looking for a technopath. Villagers might not remember the specifics of your appearance, but they will remember a stranger. That’s the only clue Abiathar will need to track us down.” Asher began moving, stepping over a fallen log. “Also, they’ll be scanning all frequencies. Any message we send will have to be coded.”

  Ren scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt, feeling every inch the stereotype of a naïve duster. “I didn’t think about that.”

  “Well, that’s why you have me. Come on, their town must be that way,” Asher said, pointing in the direction the hunters had come from. “And a village means water.”

  Ren’s throat ached at the thought of cool, clean water, and they set off together with renewed vigor in their steps.

  * * *

  They found the village, and a stream that ran along its perimeter. They also found an unguarded clothesline with shirts and trousers flapping in the breeze, and Ren felt only slightly guilty when they stole freshly laundered outfits. There was also a bucket nearby with a cake of soap, which Ren snatched as well.

  “Good thinking about the soap,” Asher said, as he scrubbed his hands through his hair, soap frothing in the strands. He rubbed the hinge of his jaw, where a scruffy line had grown since the last time the guards had allowed him to shave. “We’ll be much less conspicuous if we’re bathed and wearing decent clothes when we get to the space dock.” Asher ducked his head in the stream and gasped, shivering when he tossed back his wet hair. His identification tags gleamed in the light and bounced as he moved, clinking delicately.

  The stream wasn’t swift or deep, but it was cold, especially in the shaded, secluded place Ren and Asher had found to bathe.

  Ren gingerly stripped off his shirt. He knelt beside the water and splashed it over his arms and chest while goosebumps bloomed over his skin. The stream was refreshing, and Ren scrubbed off the reek of captivity with fervor. Asher did the same. His skin was pale, except for the angry red scar that ran from his collarbone over his shoulder and sliced through the black ink of the Phoenix Corps tattoo on his shoulder blade. Ren had caught Asher grimacing in pain from time to time while in the cells, and now, as he watched Asher gingerly roll his shoulder while water sluiced over his skin, he remembered the spark he had felt when he touched Asher’s hand.

  “I wasn’t thinking about being presentable,” Ren admitted, catching the soap Asher tossed his way. “I
just didn’t want to stink anymore.”

  Asher laughed for the first time since they had escaped, and it was loud and brash. “Stars, this feels good. I wish it wasn’t so cold.”

  Ren rubbed the soap over his skin and remembered when he last saw Liam, how they had splashed in the cool lake—their first time that spring.

  “The last time I saw my brother,” Ren said, sticking his feet in the water, “we had gone swimming in the lake. It was too cold to stay in long, but we were stupid and impatient.” Ren frowned. “He went home before me because he didn’t want to sit around and hear me whine about not being able to go to the space dock near our home. The floaters came, and I went looking for him. He managed to get away.”

  “That’s how Abiathar knew you were different, right?”

  “The prods didn’t work,” Ren said. “But they captured me anyway.”

  “I’m sorry,” Asher said. “But on the bright side, you did meet me.”

  Laughing, Ren slapped his hand in the water and splashed Asher, sending droplets spilling over his chest. “You are so arrogant,” Ren said. “Are all drifters like you or are you special?”

  “You are going to find out soon enough. I’m not going to ruin the surprise.”

  Excitement warred with guilt in Ren’s mind. Here was the chance he so desperately wanted, to leave the planet, yet the circumstances were less than ideal. “I hope so. I can’t wait to get off this stars-forsaken planet.”

  “Soon,” Asher said. “We’ll find a space dock and get a message to my sister. She’ll buy us passage or she’ll come get us herself, and we’ll be blasting off this planet quicker than a York Drift minute.”

  Ren had no idea what that meant, but he liked the sound of it.

  %

  Three days of wandering around the countryside and Ren was exhausted. He was also hungry, and he lamented that he had given away his pillow case of fruit so many days ago. Nuts and the overripe fruit they foraged weren’t enough for them to subside on, especially with the energy they burned traveling on foot. He followed Asher, stumbling occasionally through the underbrush, leaning on trees to rest before pushing off and carrying on.