Destiny's Blood

by Marie Bilodeau

  “You shouldn’t have let her die. You couldn’t have let her die,” the Kilita’s voice remained as calm and as steady as his hands, only his unblinking eyes betraying his intensity.

  Josmere’s green hair flicked her arms as she shook her head, as though at a loss for words.

  “She would have killed us,” Layela said.

  “She would have killed you,” the Kilita answered, his eyes still on Josmere. Layela dared to lower her hands, which the intent Kilita appeared not to notice. She held her breath. With or without mists, she was certain he meant to kill them.

  “She would have killed you, but you would have lived!” He hissed, as though only breath was left to him, his voice as lost as the look in his eyes.

  Josmere kept shaking her head and Layela didn’t bother wondering what he meant. She reached for her gun and fired it, striking the Kilita in the shoulder. Orange blood oozed out and mixed with the green. He returned fire from his wounded arm, the bullet ricocheting harmlessly on the wall beside them. Even with his shoulder wounded, he was fast. He switched his gun to his other hand and fired again. The bullet struck Layela’s gun and grazed her flesh as she fell back against the wall.

  “Run!” Josmere screamed. She grabbed Layela and pushed her, first down one corridor and then another. Bullets followed them closely.

  “He’s slow but determined,” Josmere whispered through gasps. She hobbled behind Layela at an amazing speed. “Just keep running!”

  Layela didn’t bother replying, her ragged breath echoing in her ears. She turned down several corridors, passed by what she thought might be her room, and kept running. Soon, she was hopelessly lost on the big ship.

  Turning down another corridor, she realized the gunshots had stopped. She chanced a glance back as the main lights flickered, and then they died, leaving only the eerie flash of red lights. Her blood turned cold.

  Somewhere along the way, Josmere had stopped following her.

  Her heartbeat quickened further as she turned around and ran back, fearing her wounded, foolish friend had decided to take on their foe alone.

  i

  A few corridors and some minutes back, Josmere had ducked into an entryway and watched Layela vanish around a corner. Her own footsteps and ragged breathing would be enough to fool her into thinking the two were still together.

  She pressed herself heavily against the cold metal wall as the Destiny lurched again. The main lights flickered twice before dying completely. Only the eerie glow of the flashing red lights remained. She was Berganda, and her sight depended greatly on daylight. She wished she knew if the Kilita, being an ether race like hers, faced the same limitations. Still, she could see well enough to battle, and the darkness might yet be to her advantage.

  A grunt around the last corner alerted her that he was coming and she pulled her gloves free.

  Cover all exits. Yoma had often repeated as the two snuck through the shadows, wraiths rarely seen but with great consequence. And success. The memories of her oldest ally made her grin and feel stronger as she pulled her knife from her boot.

  In her grief for the family she could now never have, Josmere had almost forgotten about the family she did have: the Delamores. Josmere’s hesitation could have cost Layela her life. She was all she had left right now, and she didn’t intend to lose her, too.

  She clutched her knife tighter. She wasn’t certain her powers would work, but her long blade always did.

  The smell of sap overpowered her senses, and a second later he passed without noticing her in the shadows, his gun trained forward on Layela’s path of escape.

  I hate heroics, Josmere thought. She jumped out and slashed down toward his neck. The Kilita moved sideways swiftly, the failed blow sending her forward and throwing her off balance. He turned around, victory flashing in his eyes. He had set a trap of his own.

  And she had leapt right into it.

  CHAPTER 27

  Layela ran towards the Kilita harder than she had run away from him. Her chest throbbed and her breath burned, but still she ran. Her footsteps echoed on the metal, and she did not care.

  She tried to figure out how long it had been since she had heard Josmere behind her. The answer frightened her and she pushed herself even harder. She had no weapon, but the sight of Josmere’s wounded leg and the flash of her grin was all she could think about.

  She turned the next corner so quickly she rammed into the wall. Josmere was at the end of the corridor; the Kilita’s gun was drawn.

  Josmere crouched, about to jump. The Kilita screamed deeply and fired. Josmere’s leg failed her and she stumbled, her eyes wide and impossibly white against her green skin despite the ship’s flashing red lights.

  Layela’s gasp burned her lungs. Josmere’s body was flung against the side of the corridor, hit in the centre of the chest. Her green blood coated the wall as she slowly slid down it, her eyes closing. Her head collapsed forward on her chest.

  “Josmere!” Layela screamed, the sound mixing with the Kilita’s holler.

  The Kilita turned around. His pupils were devoured by grief and his eyes glowed such a deep red that Layela took a step back.

  i

  Romero aimed his gun like it was an extension of his limb. He wondered if the girl had seen her own death, and if this would be it.

  With the scent of sap still filling his nostrils, he suddenly longed to feel the girl’s ether again, to force her mind to travel past the brink of death and show him the afterlife he now needed to believe in.

  Her eyes met his with a chilly sadness in them. She was seeing his death again, he knew, and he wished the ether still courted him and allowed him to remember more of her memories and visions.

  He felt relief as he aimed and pulled the trigger. This wretched pain would soon end, one way or another.

  i

  “Our shields are gone and I’m losing too many guns!” Avienne shouted over the explosions.

  “We’ve lost two starboard engines, Captain!”

  “What you have is all that’s left, Ardin. We’ve used up our fuel supplies.”

  “This is fun,” Lang muttered from his console. His eyes grew wider and wider as he tried to count the number of destroyed ships, ally and foe.

  Avienne sucked in her breath as the shields went out completely. From his console, Cailan saw the same. The captain leaned back in his chair.

  “Armour won’t hold long without energy shields,” Avienne whispered.

  “We’ll have to run for now,” Cailan said, sitting up in his chair. “Ardin, I’m giving you all we have left. One boost, and if a hit doesn’t stop our momentum, we might make it within Mirial’s shields. We’ll be safe there.”

  “You mean just run?” Ardin asked incredulously.

  “First he wants to save the girl, then he wants to save everyone else…” Lang took a swig from his flask.

  “The Victory’s already through, Ardin,” Cailan replied, not interrupting his work. “We can’t access engineering, and we’re almost done for. We can help Layela on the planet. She’ll need our help.”

  The last argument seemed to convince Ardin, who turned back to his controls. “On your orders, Captain.”

  “Put her on full and let’s see how far she takes us.”

  Avienne took a deep breath and watched the screen. The purple beast that would save them grew sharper.

  i

  The Kilita raised his gun without expression, looking through Layela as though not seeing her.

  Sap. All I see is sap! Had she not managed to save Josmere by killing the other Berganda?

  He pulled the trigger. Mist clouded her vision as the shot thundered. She closed her eyes and waited for the impact, but it wasn’t a bullet that hit her. Someone tackled her from the right.

  She opened her eyes, only to see a dark shadow closing in on the Kilita, not slowing as more shots were fired. A flash of light ran down the shadow and struck the Kilita, and the gap was closed. Layela heard a gurgle and the Kilita fell
over, orange blood shining almost as red as human blood in the dim light.

  She looked into the Kilita’s dead, sightless eyes. She remembered the hunger akin to lust in them, the feeling of his coarse hands on her skin as he forced ether from her, and she wished she could feel relief at his death.

  But there was no time for even a sigh. Layela pushed herself up and ran to Josmere. The front of the Berganda’s shirt was covered in blood, releasing the smell of a thousand freshly cut plants. It reminded Layela of happier days at Sunrise Flowers and how she had initially greeted Josmere with suspicion. It reminded her of how precious her friendship and her smile had proven to be.

  “Josmere,” Layela whispered, kneeling by her. She pushed hair out of her way to see the tight, drawn face. Even in the red light, Layela could see it was more yellow than green.

  She tore her eyes away and focused on the wound on her chest, just below her right breast. Gently, without moving Josmere from her slumped position for fear of causing more harm, Layela pulled the broken strips of shirt aside.

  Lukewarm green blood covered her hand, black in the red light, and Layela tried to get a closer look. But any attempt to examine the wound was blocked by the dimness of the light emanating from the red alarm.

  “Here,” Layela jumped as Zortan knelt beside her, a bit of blood trickling down his cheek. He handed her a pocket-sized flashlight. A splattering of orange blood clung to his gloves.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled. She turned to Josmere, shining the light onto the wound. Thicker blood oozed lazily from it. As Layela watched, the Berganda stopped bleeding altogether. She moved nearer to Josmere’s chest to get a better look.

  “A bit close, don’t you think?” Josmere slurred, and Layela jerked her head away and looked at her friend.

  “Josmere, are you all right?”

  “Been better.”

  “I’m so sorry, Josmere,” Layela said as she fought the urge to hug her friend and simply kissed the top of her head.

  “My choice. Stupid heroics.”

  Zortan stood and Josmere lifted her weary head, leaning back against the wall.

  Layela allowed herself a smile, which Josmere returned weakly.

  A second later, the great engine of the Destiny stopped rumbling in her core, and they were plunged into deathly quiet darkness.

  i

  “She’s dead in the water,” Ardin whispered from his station. Avienne knew he had tried everything, punched every button, pulled every lever. Destiny shook and then groaned mournfully.

  “Her armour’s hurting bad,” Avienne reported. She wished she had left the ship and dragged Ardin with her when she had the chance.

  “The good news is,” Lang leaned back, hands interlaced behind his head, “that there are a lot of ships shooting at us right now, so this should be fairly quick. I hate suspense.”

  Cailan also sat back from Travan’s panel. There was no power left to redirect, and they were without the one person who could revive the Destiny’s sputtering engines.

  “If anyone cares,” Avienne said as new readings scrolled on her screen, “thirty more government ships are approaching.”

  “The more the merrier!” Lang laughed.

  “Could all insane crew members please be quiet?” Cailan ordered softly, eliciting a few more chuckles from the navigator. But the captain ordered nothing more, leaving Travan’s old station to sit in his chair. The panel before him flashed red with complaints from all Destiny’s systems.

  He turned it off.

  “Three torpedoes are heading straight for us,” Avienne whispered. She didn’t mention that they were nuclear warheads.

  “Fasten your seat belts,” Cailan whispered. Ardin complied, while Lang muttered about adequate death safety rules. Avienne looked at her brother, who looked back. She gave him a crooked grin and he smiled back weakly. She saw regret in his eyes and wished she could relieve his final moments of it.

  All in all, as bad as living on a ship is, Avienne decided, dying in one is, without a doubt, even worse.

  CHAPTER 28

  Thirty more of our ships have arrived, Colonel.”

  Dunkat sat in his chair, no longer excited nor intrigued by the battle around him. He had it on good authority that the girl had been on the ugly ship, long swallowed by the shields of Mirial.

  Dunkat had been tempted to order some of his ships to follow, if for no other reason than to relieve some of his annoyance, but he remembered what the shields of the First Star did to wayward ships that did not originate from Mirial.

  Instead, he fought a meaningless battle with meaningless ships to dull his anger. It did help a bit.

  “Minister Noro is on the line,” a young, useless soldier reported. His features were pale, as drawn as a well-made army bed sheet. Dunkat hated him for his uselessness. He hated all of them.

  “Patch it in to my private office.” His long strides quickly brought him to his small room, equipped with the latest in holo-screen technologies. The small light on the table indicated a communication was waiting.

  Waiting impatiently, Dunkat thought. He stood by the viewing screen, ignoring the light as he stared at the stars, looking away from the purple beast that clouded his vision on the right. A ship exploded not far from him, but his ship’s energy shields were strong. He could withstand twenty more hits like that.

  But not the shields of Mirial.

  The console beeped, trying now to catch his attention through sound. Dunkat ignored it still, staring at the stars — so far, so beautiful, yet none as stunning as the First Star. He had not seen it in almost twenty years.

  “I know you can hear me, Dunkat,” Noro’s voice boomed into the room. Dunkat did not turn, making a mental note to reprimand the communications officer for overriding the voice circuit without his authorization. Minister or not, Noro held no rank as long as he wasn’t on this ship.

  The simpler the system of rule, the better the results.

  “Your actions led to the destruction of one of the oldest tunnels, Colonel,” Noro spat the title. Dunkat waited as patiently and quietly as the faraway stars. He was already well aware of Noro’s plans. He had, after all, been planning for a long time.

  “And led to the destruction of a ship bearing royalty from Thalos, making an already shaky alliance even more expensive. And all for a little revenge, Dunkat.”

  “Get it over with, Noro,” Dunkat said, his anger piercing through his pretence of peace and shattering it. He turned away from the sky and stared at the lighted comm unit.

  He could feel Noro smile and he hated the man. Hated him for his pettiness, for his lack of foresight, for his small-mindedness. Revenge? Was that truly all they thought he sought, when they had also witnessed the wild destructive powers of the First Star and what it could mean to their people?

  “You’re relieved of duty and rank, and are to be tried for a higher offence in Solaria.” Noro paused, and Dunkat knew the worst was to come. “And you’re forbidden from using the name Groosh until further notice. I’m sure your father would agree, it is better not to soil his name by associating it with your shame.”

  Dunkat clenched his jaw, turned around and punched the view screen. The skin of his knuckles broke and blood trickled on the screen. He kept his fist there, breathing deeply. Droplets of cold sweat ran down his back.

  Noro was already gone, he knew, satisfied that he had crushed him. He looked at the blood on his own knuckles — his blood, his father’s blood. It bore a hero’s name, which was his own. Following the blood’s dripping trail led him to the sight of one of the Mirial ships. It was small, worn, and dead in space.

  He lowered his fist and straightened his shirt. The ship was just outside their energy shields, blue flickers bouncing off of it.

  It was a useless relic to any man but one hunting the past.

  i

  The air shimmered around them and coated them, the Victory gliding effortlessly through the sky. Yoma remained in the captain’s chair and Gobran
held onto the back of it protectively, as though he feared Yoma might fall or vanish. Now no longer worried about her sister, Yoma found she could relax and enjoy the comfort of the Victory and Gobran’s company.

  She swore he smelled of old maps, the dust on his jacket reminding her of the thousands of old parchments he had meticulously kept.

  “What about your maps, Captain?” Yoma asked him. It was good to hear some sound, even if it was only her own voice.

  “Those maps were nice, but I have so many more on Mirial, Lady.” His eyes twinkled with such excitement that she didn’t even bother telling him again to call her Yoma. “On Mirial, I had the oldest maps, the rarest and the most accurate, plotting much, much farther than even Solari has, and maps showing Mirial as perceived through various worlds.”

  His excitement was contagious and Yoma found herself smiling at him and sitting straighter. She wondered why he believed his maps would even still be in one piece, or why the planet named after its sun would still exist, but she held her tongue. If nothing else, her own visions showed her that something yet lived near the doomed star.

  The captain continued, gesturing widely as he described various maps, materials and mythologies. “I even have one that shows the journeys of the ether creatures. There’s the Lorpas—which actually continue to live, despite popular belief, but they’re very shy; and the Kilita, a nasty little folk, really. And my most beautiful one spans four entire walls in a very large room, and shows where the Berganda have dwelt and dwell still, and the impact they have on the plants around them.”

  Yoma smiled at the mention of the Berganda, thinking of Josmere, picturing her friend’s quick smile. She could smell sap. Why could she smell sap on a ship? She looked around her, her smile fading, and Gobran wavered in her vision as she rose to her feet.

  “Can you smell that?” She looked around the bridge and under stations. The crewmembers moved away in advance of her as if she were royalty, or insane.