But her smile quickly faded. The ship moved out over Kor Magna and she saw the desert ahead. There was nothing adventurous about this trip. It was dangerous, and Sage’s life hung in the balance.
Jayna gripped her armrests. Hang on, Sage.
“There’s a desert caravan.” Mace pointed out the long, narrow side window.
She spotted the line of animals and carts moving through the sand. She watched the desert pass by, and apart from a trading post and another group of travelers, there was nothing but sand.
“Can we make it all the way to the coordinates?” Jax asked the pilot.
The pilot kept his gaze forward. “Maybe. I’ve got extra fuel aboard, that’s the modifications we made last night. But I won’t lie, we’ll be pushing the ship to the limit, and we still need to get back to Kor Magna afterward.”
Jayna gripped Mace’s arm and he patted her hand.
“If the engines get too damaged, we’ll have to land. I’ve brought replacement parts with us.”
Mace leaned closer to Jayna. “The sand on Carthago contains a mineral that interacts with heat and engines. It causes a lot of damage. That’s why there aren’t many ships in the desert. Rillian’s been testing out this experimental ship for a while now.”
She nodded, staring out the window again. That was why it was easy for bastards like the Edull to hide in the desert. The sand stretched as far as the eye could see, blurring away into the horizon. All that sand…
The next thing she knew, she felt fingers in her hair and she blinked her eyes. God, she’d dozed off with her head on Mace’s shoulder.
“We’re getting closer,” he murmured.
She felt a low-grade tension fill the ship. The cyborgs were gearing up for battle.
“How long was I out?”
“A few hours.” He shot her one of his small smiles. “Guess I wore you out last night.”
“I can keep up with you, cyborg.”
His eyes flashed. “Oh, I know.”
Suddenly, alarms blared from the cockpit.
“Drak!” Dachard bit out.
“What is it?” Magnus demanded.
“Engines are failing. Been running over the limit for about an hour now.” The pilot stood. “Cyborg, can you fly this ship?”
Jax pressed a palm to the controls. “I’ve got it.”
“Hold us steady.” Dachard charged toward the back of the ship. “I need to rig a few things and see if I can keep us in the air.” He disappeared through a door.
Jayna gripped the armrests of her seat, her heart in her throat.
Acton rose. “I’ll see if I can assist him.”
The ship tilted and Jayna was thrown against her seat. Mace threw an arm out across her chest. She saw a tense look on his face, his jaw tight.
With a sickening dip, the ship tilted again.
“Jax.” Magnus rose, staggering toward the cockpit.
“I’m doing my best. We’ve lost one engine.”
Turning her head, Jayna saw a trail of thick, black smoke out the window. Bile rose in her throat. Behind them, Toren cursed under his breath.
Fear was a hot, ugly burn inside Jayna. “Mace.”
His fingers clenched on hers. “I’ll protect you.”
Jayna thought of Sage. It couldn’t end like this.
Dachard barreled out of the back of the ship, Acton on his heels. “Can’t fix the ship mid-air.”
More alarms blared.
“Everyone strap in,” the pilot yelled. “We’re going down.”
Mace undid his straps and her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“Told you I’d protect you.”
As the ship did a nosedive, and cursing came from the men in the cockpit, she saw silver flow over Mace’s skin. Despite the dire circumstances, she couldn’t look away. She’d never tire of watching his incredible abilities.
Then he threw his body over hers, curling around her. She clung to him.
“Hold on!” Magnus shouted.
Then impact.
Jayna was tossed around and heard Mace grunt. Swallowing a scream, she held on tight.
* * *
“Everyone okay?” Magnus’ deep voice rang out through the ship.
Mace heard groans from the other cyborgs, but it didn’t sound like anyone was injured.
He quickly levered himself off Jayna, letting his metal skin melt away. “Are you all right?”
She pressed her cybernetic fingers to her head. “I think so.” Then her eyes sparked. She slapped a hand against his chest. “You shouldn’t have unstrapped your harness—”
“I told you that I’d protect you.”
“But I don’t want you hurt in the process.”
He stared into her fierce face. This woman who was worried about him in a way no one had before.
Dachard stumbled past them. The pilot was holding a cloth to a gash on his head.
“Dachard,” Jax said. “How bad is that cut?”
“Pfft, it’s nothing.”
“The ship?” Magnus asked.
“Just ran a diagnostic.” The older man swiped at his bleeding head again. “Thank the sands, we didn’t sustain any critical damage in the crash. Engines are drakked, though. I need to get to work on fixing them or we aren’t going anywhere.”
Magnus frowned. “How long?”
Dachard blew out a breath. “A few hours, at least. Might be longer.”
Jayna made a small sound. Mace knew she was thinking of Sage.
“Toren, Acton,” Magnus said. “Assist Dachard.”
The two cyborgs nodded and followed the pilot into the back of the ship.
“Mace and Jax, we need to ensure the perimeter is clear of any unwanted guests,” Magnus said.
Yeah, they didn’t need any desert dwellers or sand pirates sneaking up on them. As they opened the side door of the ship, a rush of hot, dry air hit them. Jayna ducked outside, lifting her face to the afternoon sunshine.
But she wasn’t relaxed. He saw the tension in her shoulders.
“You’re thinking of Sage,” he said.
She nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m so worried about her.”
As Magnus and Jax moved away, circling the ship, Mace led Jayna toward some rocky outcrops. The ground here was rockier, only covered in a thin layer of sand.
“She’s running out of time,” Jayna murmured.
“We’ll get there. We have another day.” If Vron wasn’t lying.
Jayna crouched down, running some sand through her fingers. When she looked up, that ferocious Earth determination was on her face. “We’ll make it, and we’ll bring her home.”
He studied the lines of her face. “You aren’t afraid.”
She rose. “Hell no, I’m done being afraid, Mace.”
There were huge fighters he’d known who had less courage than this woman. They wandered a little and Mace scanned their surroundings. Just desert as far as he could see. No sign of any large or sentient lifeforms. He saw Magnus and Jax wave before the pair reentered the ship.
It would be the night in a few hours and that’s when they’d have to worry. That’s when the night beasts came out to hunt and roam.
“Oh, look.”
He turned and saw Jayna pointing at a small creature that was watching them, partly buried in the sand. It was covered in beige fur, about the size of his palm, with over-sized ears.
He accessed his records. “It’s a rannabil. It’s harmless, and they’re known for their curiosity.”
Jayna held out a palm. “Hey there, little guy. You are super cute. You kind of remind me of a mouse from Earth.”
The tiny creature darted forward, whiskers twitching. It sniffed a little, then with a graceful leap, jumped onto Jayna’s forearm.
She jolted, then laughed. Drak, Mace loved that pretty sound. The small creature darted up her arm, sniffing and exploring. It got her hair and started batting at it.
“I guess not everything here in th
e desert is out to kill us.” She set the rannabil back down on the sand.
Mace grunted. He wasn’t quite as optimistic as she was.
“Let’s get back to the ship.” He wanted to keep monitoring the perimeter.
She rose. “There is nothing out here, except for cute little desert creatures. Pretty sure a horde of rannabils isn’t going to storm the ship.”
He shot her a look and tugged on one of her curls. She laughed again.
They’d barely taken two steps when he saw something rise up out of the sand. He stiffened and saw more shapes bursting upward, sand flying.
Drak. They were people, dressed in desert-colored gear. The closest man launched himself at Mace.
“Jayna, get back!” Mace swung his fist. With two hard punches, he took the man down.
He heard Jayna curse and spun. Another man had grabbed her arms. He lifted her and tossed her over his shoulder. She struggled wildly.
“Let her go,” Mace growled.
Three fighters rushed him. He kicked, ducked, and swung out. As he reached for his sword, a tall woman with braided, dark hair lunged at him.
She jabbed a weapon into his gut and he saw a bright light flare from it.
Mace felt his muscles go lax and things inside him shut down.
Drakking hells. It was a luma weapon. Designed to disrupt cyborg systems.
As he hit the sand with a thud, he heard Jayna try to scream his name but the sound was muffled. Fighting to stay conscious, he heard grunts and hands grabbing his ankles. He hoped the other cyborgs had heard the struggle, but he knew they were probably too far from the ship.
Then his body was dragged across the sand.
No. He was completely helpless and unable to move. Unable to defend Jayna.
Chapter Fifteen
Mace drifted in and out consciousness. When the effects of the luma weapon finally wore off, he realized he was slumped on a rock floor, in a dark cell.
With a roar, he surged to his feet. He looked around. No Jayna. Pain ripped through his chest. Where was she?
He roared again, letting his rage free. There was some basic furniture in the cell—a bunk, a chair. He kicked and stomped them until they were nothing but broken splinters. He lifted one remnant of the chair and tossed it against the wall.
Chest heaving, he forced himself to find some control. Jayna needed him. He stared at the beige stone walls, then to the rough, metal bars. They couldn’t have gone too far from the ship, so he guessed they were underground. He knew lots of desert peoples made their home beneath the sands.
The sound of hurried footsteps reached his ears. A man and woman appeared at the cell bars.
The woman’s braids were resting over one shoulder. It was the woman who’d hit him with the luma weapon.
Mace studied the pair. Typical desert clothes—loose-fitting, light gear with leather accents. They were both lean, wiry, and had a hungry, desperate edge that put him on alert.
Desert dwellers often did whatever it took to survive in their harsh environment—stole, fought, enslaved, killed. It reminded him way too much of Krenor.
“Where’s Jayna?” he demanded.
“The woman?” The man raised a brow, shoving his long, brown hair back. It was shaved at the sides, but long at the top. “She’s safe. For now.”
Mace lunged at the bars. He shot a hand through the metal and grabbed the man around the throat. He clawed at Mace’s wrist, making choking noises.
The woman drew the luma weapon and pressed it to Mace’s temple. “Let him go.”
With a growl, Mace released the man. The crudspawn stumbled back, rubbing his throat, and glaring.
Mace glanced at the woman. “I want to see her. Now.”
The pair remained silent.
Fighting back a molten flood of anger, he gripped one of the metal bars and squeezed. Under his hand, the metal started to distort.
“Drak,” the man muttered.
“Now,” Mace said again. “Or I’ll tear this cell apart, then work my way through your base until I find her.”
The man swallowed, but the woman watched Mace, a lot working behind her pale eyes.
“You know what I am?” Mace said.
The woman nodded. “You’ll see her.” Swiveling, the woman looked down the tunnel. “Get him out and bring him to the Cage.”
Several big guards shuffled into Mace’s cell. They chained his hands and he didn’t bother to tell them the chains wouldn’t hold him. The woman, who he guessed was the leader of this little group, wasn’t far away, and she was far more intelligent. She shifted her shirt, showing him the luma weapon resting on her belt.
Mace followed his escort through the rough-hewn tunnels. They passed more cells, several were empty, but a few housed bored-looking aliens. Others were filled with snarling beasts.
Down other side tunnels, he heard conversations and the laughter of children. Whoever these desert dwellers were, they’d made a home here.
Then they stepped out into a large cavern. A crowd was gathered on rock-cut seating—eating, drinking. Kids were running around.
In the center of the space was a large cage.
Mace’s muscles locked. He knew what it was. Even from a distance, he smelled the sweat, the fear, the old blood.
“Can’t wait to watch you fight, cyborg.” One guard was grinning at him, several teeth missing. “See how much damage you can take.”
The female leader strode closer. “Welcome to the Cage.”
“Fights to the death,” Mace growled.
The woman lifted a shoulder. “We had to find a way to make credits out here. I have mouths to feed.” She flicked a glance toward the kids.
The guards shoved Mace forward and as he got closer to the cage, he saw another, smaller enclosure right beside it.
“There’s your woman,” the leader said. “If you want her, then you fight for her.”
The smaller cage was actually made of some glass-like material that had wire-mesh embedded in it. Jayna was wearing a flimsy white wisp of a skirt and top. He could see her nipples through the translucent fabric.
Anger scorched his veins and he tasted it in his mouth.
She lifted her head and spotted him. Her eyes widened and she smacked her palms against the wall of her cell. He saw her mouth opening, but her enclosure was clearly soundproof, as he couldn’t hear her, even with his enhanced hearing.
The leader leaned closer. “She’s your incentive, cyborg, because she’s the prize. Whoever wins in the fights wins her.”
Mace breathed through his nose, his hands curling into tight, tight fists. “You’ll die tonight.”
A smile flirted around the woman’s mouth, her gaze roving over his chest. “I like you.”
The guards opened the fight cage with a squeak of rusty metal. He was shoved in and before they could remove his chains, he jerked his arms apart, snapping the metal.
They all froze, eyeing him warily. They backed out fast and locked the door behind him.
The crowd was getting warmed up, cheering and booing.
Old, serrated memories beat through Mace. Of all the fights he’d endured. It had been a long time since he’d been forced to fight, to take a life for no good reason, to stain his soul.
He met Jayna’s gaze again and saw her face twist with so many emotions—fear, pain, sorrow. He was getting better at identifying all her feelings now. She’d shown him that, showed him the breadth of what it was possible to feel.
A young man with a bare chest came out of another tunnel, shouting at the crowd. The spectators yelled in a frenzy of sound. Mace saw several people making bets, coins and goods exchanging hands.
The fighter was let into the cage, and he bounced on his feet. He had black wraps tied around his hands. “I want that pretty woman.”
Mace heaved in a breath, then strode across the cage. The man smiled with anticipation.
With a well-aimed punch, Mace hit the man in the head. He crumpled and didn’t get up.<
br />
The crowd went silent and Mace turned to meet the gaze of the female leader. She stared back, then lifted a hand.
Guards dragged the man out.
The next two fighters were no match for Mace either. With simple blows, he took them down with no fanfare.
Now, he heard the crowd murmuring unhappily. They’d come for a show, for blood and sweat.
The leader’s jaw was tight. She made another hand signal, then looked directly at Mace. “If you want your woman to survive, then you’d better fight.”
Mace stiffened and looked at Jayna.
He saw she was agitated and looking down at her feet. That’s when he saw black sludge rising up from the bottom of her cell. It sloshed around her ankles and her face twisted.
It kept rising and horror bloomed on her face. Her brown gaze met Mace’s.
Drak. He pressed his fists to his thighs. He had to fight. Had to put on a drakking gory show for these lowlife sandsuckers. He had to dig up the part of him he’d vowed to leave behind.
But he’d do anything to save Jayna.
He had to show her the worst of him in order to save her. The darkest, ugliest parts of his soul.
Mace fought for air. To save her, he might just lose her.
The cage door opened and a huge fighter with gray skin stepped inside.
Mace allowed himself one last look at Jayna. Her palms were pressed to the glass, sorrow stamped on her features.
The big fighter took a step toward the center of the cage. Mace’s shoulders sagged, then he let out a roar and let his rage free.
* * *
Jayna hammered at the glass. The black sludge had risen to mid-thigh, but she ignored it as she focused on Mace.
She watched him throw his opponent against the side of the cage, rattling the entire structure. Her chest tightened like it was being squeezed by a giant fist.
Rage was written all over his face. She knew the horrid, bloodthirsty spectators only saw strength and power, but she felt his pain. He was being forced to fight again, his choices taken away. Plunged back into his nightmares.
She screamed until her voice was hoarse. She watched him mow through fighter after fighter. Very few were a match for his strength and skill, but she saw that he had bruising on his chest and was bleeding from several cuts.
Defender: Galactic Gladiators: House of Rone #2 Page 11