CORRUPTED SOUL (SOCIETY'S SOUL Book 2)

by Amanda Twigg

  Don’t show him it hurts.

  A sucked whistle betrayed her suffering, and the Warrior grimaced.

  “Sort her out, and make sure she eats, Turgeth. The girl’s no use to me dead or with a crippled arm.”

  Use? What use? She didn’t dare think what he had planned.

  Mendog stepped forward and flung ice-chilled water over her head, drenching her party clothes so they clung to her skin.

  She huddled over her exposed flesh, shivering, cringing. Why hadn’t she died?

  Too cold. Too frightened. Can’t bear this. Home.

  Chapter 3

  Turgeth stayed on the rock when the others left. His approach kept Landra curled in a tight knot of dread. She sought escape in the hethra, not shy of hiding her flaw now. What would it matter if the soldier saw? She was already destroyed.

  Rather than locking her attention on images of home, the reaching depleted her meager body reserves and she floundered. Dots swirled before her eyes, and her vague awareness drifted free from her bones, as if her Soul might let go. She saw Turgeth, as if from a distance, fumbling a key from his pocket to unlock her shackles. More pain summoned her to her body.

  “Work with me and this’ll go easy, girl,” Turgeth said.

  Easy? Nothing’s easy. An agony of rushing blood coursed through her hands, forcing a reconnection with her physical form that was too strong to bear. A scream rose from her belly as she willed her useless hands into motion. She wanted to grab Turgeth’s throat, but her wrecked limbs tremored and failed to respond.

  Pain, so much pain. Will it ever stop?

  She had no defense when Turgeth unbuckled his jacket and closed in. His aura touch brought vomit to her throat, and she held her breath, waiting, waiting. For what? She couldn’t think. Didn’t dare. The soldier settled his jacket across her exposed skin.

  Kindness? No! Abductor, torturer.

  She opened to his Soul touch, searching for truth. Bitterness and resentment swam through his aura, but not the cruelty she’d expected to find. He leaned closer and pushed meaty fingers around the back of her neck and knees. Landra’s scream of pain exploded in the cavern when he grappled her from the floor, turning the jagged, grey roof into a heaving mosaic of black glider wings.

  In one movement, he hoisted her up and tipped her over one shoulder. Her belly pressed against his shoulder, and her face flopped on his back, making her next scream erupt as a muffled groan. He ignored her cries and hitched her again before clambering down the ladder.

  Landra loathed his engulfing aura. No matter how much she firmed her limits, the flavor of his being invaded her Soul. Not cruel, but practical to the point of uncaring. And enough bitterness to share with the world. Dangerous. Calculating. The enemy.

  She knew him now, but that didn’t make the awkward descent any easier. Her healing face jounced against his tight back, and her dangling hands flapped against his bottom. Powerless, she stared through the bridge slats beneath his boots. A thick river of orange mud gurgled below.

  He turned at the far end of the bridge, bringing the kitchen platform into view. The magic-powered ovens, stacked utensils, and hanging pots behind Mendog could have come from Barthle’s domain. Mendog leaned against the guardrail, ignoring steaming food at his back, and pissed over the platform edge.

  “Ugh!”

  The next turn passed glinting swords trapped beneath a double-layered cage. Landra hadn’t the strength to hold a knife, never mind break into a cage, but the glorious vision teased her hope to life. If I could just… Can’t do anything yet. She stored the information in case Father didn’t come soon. One more living area and a bridge later, Turgeth stopped and dipped his shoulder, allowing Landra to tumble. A soft mattress cushioned her landing, and her body sank into forgiving blankets. The small comfort felt more luxurious than a hot shower after an overlevel trip. She buried into the warmth, too relieved to be wary.

  “Chief Hux will go easy if you look after me,” she said.

  Turgeth snorted.

  “It’s true. When my father comes—”

  “Forget it, Hux. He’s not coming.”

  Landra’s next words wouldn’t form. For her world to make any sense, Warrior search parties would be closing in now. Father might not lead them in person, but he would direct their actions and lead them in spirit. “Of course he’s coming.”

  “No, he isn’t. Says he’s done with you.”

  “I… That’s stupid.”

  She peeked over the blanket at Turgeth’s worrying smirk. Landra knew her father would search. He might be bonded to duty, but he was honorable and loyal. Yet her captor’s laugh sent chills down her spine.

  “I’ll admit, I was worried Chief Hux would hunt us down, but it seems he didn’t take you running off too well. Thinks you disappeared out of choice. On the eve of your promotion too. Did you really not want to be chief elect that much?”

  Landra squirmed in denial. The words rang horribly true, tattering her hopes thinner than a corpse’s aura.

  Turgeth ran a fingernail through the gap between his teeth, not enjoying the moment but not caring either. “A statement’s gone out saying you abandoned your post after a family argument. Preston saw the chief yesterday. Says he’s fuming. Cursing you like a mist demon and saying there’s more urgent matters to deal with than a runaway girl. He expects you to crawl back with an apology or under guard arrest.”

  “My father…” Landra couldn’t think how to finish that sentence. If the brothers had left no trace of her abduction, Father could well have taken her disappearance as desertion. Hadn’t she told him that she didn’t want the job? Hadn’t she nearly shouted it at her promotion party where everyone could hear? Desolation hit her, and a satisfied sigh heaved Turgeth’s chest.

  “I’ll admit, my first choice was to bargain you for the cause, but Preston thinks you’re more valuable here. Can’t think why, but he is the boss. Best to give up on seeing home.”

  Landra wanted to reclaim her life more than take her next breath. “Why feed me and give me a bed like you care? You should’ve left me on that rock to die.”

  “There’s still time, but I follow orders. I’m a good soldier, Hux.”

  “More like a traitor. What’s the matter? Did a commander pass you up for promotion, so you turned rebel?”

  Turgeth’s face hardened.

  “It’s not too late,” Landra said. “A soldier like you could have a good life on the midlevel. I can speak to Father and…”

  The soldier spat on the floor. “Where would that leave Mendog?

  Her mouth shaped into a circle. She hadn’t credited him with brotherly love, but she knew better than anyone how it could bind a soldier’s life. Soft spheres might vie with hard lines in Turgeth’s aura, but he would follow Preston if it kept his brother safe.

  “Enjoy your new life, Hux, and welcome to the team.” He retraced his steps over the bridge and untied the rope knots, which secured it in place. The far end fell, a gloopy splash sounding when it hit the river. Landra knew she was stranded. She considered climbing down the dangling bridge but thought she’d likely fall. Then, there were Thisk’s dreaded mud slugs.

  A way out? A quick way to die?

  “Save our people, child of my life.”

  Landra sighed. Was her great-grandfather a memory she’d recalled for company, had he implanted the command to a remind her of her duty, or had inevitable madness taken hold? She didn’t know, but the command burrowed deep into her Soul.

  Bah! Look at me, Gallanto. Do I look fit to save our world?

  He didn’t answer, because he wasn’t there.

  Chapter 4

  Landra hid behind the bed to check that her captors weren’t watching, but a decommissioned pod car stole her attention. It perched on a ledge and had tree branches growing out of its smashed windows. The coach’s underside gliders settled heavily on rusted tracks. That car wasn’t moving any time soon, but the rails had to lead somewhere. A tunnel? A way out? Missing stairca
se sections would make reaching the ledge a difficult climb and take strength she didn’t yet have.

  She began the body press portion of her mini-workout, but reclaiming the muscles she’d gained with Thisk was going to take time. Even though she’d been at this for weeks, her breath whistled five presses in. She forced out five more repetitions before slumping onto the platform and leaning her back against the bed.

  Why have those idiots left me alone?

  A bed, a footlocker, and a slop bucket were her entire world now, and the seclusion offered too much thinking time. Planning escape, plotting vengeance, and imagining rescue consumed most of her attention. On her darkest days, when thoughts of Preston induced shaking dread, fantasies of Bexter came to rescue her sanity.

  She checked no one was watching and slid a mirror shard from beneath her mattress, as if it were treasure. Her reflection distorted in the cracked facet, but she could see enough. Her hair stretched out to three fingers’ width. Is that growth over weeks or months? Bah, how would I know? Her finger found an eyebrow scar where hair refused to grow back and a new ridge on her nose. A fresh bruise from Mendog completed Landra’s new image.

  Holy mist. How will Father rescue me if he doesn’t recognize who I am.

  “Comin’ over,” Mendog shouted across the chasm.

  Ugh, Mendog.

  Even his name sent wriggling snakes through her stomach. She peeked out to see the revolting man on the next platform. He was hauling a rope to raise the bridge. Mud oozed from the ropes and foot slats as it settled into place. He took several minutes to knot the rope before lumbering across.

  Nowhere to hide. Landra imagined plunging the mirror shard into his neck and watching him die. Thisk had taught her the bleed points, but she had to wait. Killing him would leave her with Preston and Turgeth to battle. She needed to be stronger and faster—and maybe wait for the Warrior to be gone. He often disappeared through a door on the pod ledge.

  Probably visiting Father. Bastard.

  She slid the shard in its hiding placing and drew her knees to her chest. Mendog’s daily visits were never pleasant, and her body trembled.

  “New clothes,” he said, as his boots found the platform.

  Landra hoped for a lucky day when he’d check her slop bucket, swap her dirty dishes for fresh food, and leave, but she prepared for a bad day. The thug often trapped her against the platform’s guardrail and tried for a grope. He always obeyed Turgeth’s orders to stop, but not before his faded aura invaded her space and his hands found her skin. This drawn-out torture ate at her Soul.

  “You gotter put this on now.” Mendog threw a pale pink Templer robe onto the bed. “Boss wants to see you.”

  Landra froze. Mendog might be loathsome, but from the look of his aura, that wasn’t under his control. Unnatural patterns deformed his light blue shades, as if ill-formed at birth. Preston was another matter. The calculating Warrior used torment as a weapon. She didn’t want to see him.

  “I can always help,” Mendog said, stepping close.

  “I’ll manage,” Landra told him, snagging the robe and dragging it down to the floor. She slipped the baggy pink gown over the outfit she already wore and darted past Mendog to the bridge. Turgeth waited for her at the far end.

  Minutes later, she stood on Preston’s office platform, facing the Warrior traitor.

  “Sit,” he said.

  Did you eat in Barthle’s food hall today, see my father, and lie to the world? She didn’t want to move, but Turgeth pushed her into a chair. The table before her was fashioned into a homeworld gaming board with squares.

  Preston eased into the opposite seat and tipped a carved set of model figures out of a bag. “Do you play?”

  Landra shook her head. She’d learned ralti from a strategy tutor, but sharing any information felt dangerous.

  “It’s a tricky game.” Preston set his Chief Warrior piece on one corner. “Trickier than the messy world up top.” He arranged his nine remaining blue Warrior figures in the spaces in front and then pushed the pink pieces to Landra’s side of the board. “Set them up. I’ll let you fight on the Templer side today, as you look so fetching in that robe.”

  Moisture squeezed her mouth tight. Templer pieces to match my flaw? Preston couldn’t know about her magic. He just couldn’t, but he’d guessed too many things already. The piece choice probably had more to do with making her lose. Probably.

  She eyed the figurines, hungry for the mental workout a game would provide but panicking that she might give too much of herself away. The pieces waited in a jumbled heap. After a moment’s reticence, she erected the figures, pretending to examine Preston’s arrangement and mirror the pattern.

  “Your job is to capture this Chief Warrior piece,” he said, a twinkle highlighting the dark grey of his eyes. “Save your father, if you like.”

  Tension ran through every fiber of Landra’s body. What are you up to, snake traitor?

  He examined a manicured nail. “I’ll make a deal with you, Hux. Seeing as you’re a beginner, you don’t have to capture the chief. I’ll offer a reward for… let’ see—” he picked up the chief elect piece and grinned—“this one.”

  Landra ground her teeth together, doing her best not to react. She might have played before, but never as chief elect. It gave the game a whole new meaning.

  “Don’t you want to know what the prize is?” Preston asked.

  She rolled her lips together, cautious, defiant.

  “Capture yourself, Chief Elect Hux, and I’ll let you go.”

  Liar. Cheat. You think I’ll fall for that?

  Ralti rules never gave the Templer side a winning chance, making the entire game pointless. Cadets played as Templers to develop strategy in impossible situations. She knew Preston would never release her. Because I’ll report your crimes. This is just another torture.

  “Warriors can only move—”

  “I know the game.” Weak. Pathetic. I hate you. She wasn’t sure whether her loathing referred to herself or the Warrior. Even with the game being a lost cause, desperation would drive her to try for a win.

  “Agh!” Preston said, satisfied. “I didn’t think the chief would neglect your education.”

  Templers always moved first, so Landra lifted a novice piece and slammed it onto the board two squares away. The Warrior snickered. Whatever he was up to, he was pleased with how it was going. He opened using a traditional gambit and Landra followed the pattern, putting up her strongest defense.

  As they played, daylight from roof hole faded, so Turgeth set several torches ablaze. He positioned them on adjoining platforms, making them useless as weapons, and the flames cast long shadows across the board.

  Landra loved puzzles, but she couldn’t find joy in this game. Warrior pieces could only move one square at a time, so it took Preston several minutes to organize his attack. Eventually, he had her cornered, making victory close.

  It wasn’t fair. She had no way to avoid him landing beside her temple trainer piece, so she resigned herself to the sacrifice. That’s what made winning impossible for the pink side. Warrior pieces could strip hers from the board, but she could land on top of a minor Warrior figure, only to see it moved back to the start position. Whoever had designed this game back on the Jethran homeworld had to be stupid.

  This is impossible.

  Geometric patterns formed in Preston’s slate-colored aura as he played his methodical game. He wasn’t going to make a mistake, so Landra changed her strategy to prolong the battle. She couldn’t win, but she could make Preston fight—and maybe worry him a little. She threatened the chief elect, so it would take him three moves for victory, rather than two.

  “You’ve been trained well,” he said.

  “I like puzzles.”

  Shelk. Why did I share that?

  “I wouldn’t have guessed that from the way we took you. Turgeth tells me you were easy to snatch. Seems you stepped out to confront him. Did you really think you could take down the twins? Y
ou don’t play ralti like you’re stupid.”

  “Yeah,” Mendog said. “We were talkin’ bout the boy, and she jumped out from nowhere.”

  “Really?” Preston said, his nasally voice rising and his gaze roving over Landra’s face.

  “Yeah,” Mendog said, with obvious glee at his inclusion in the conversation. “Tur was talking ‘bout chopping the boy up, and out she popped.”

  Stupid, Landra. Oh, yes, I am that. She was starting to realize the purpose of this challenge.

  “So, you sacrificed yourself to save your brother?” Preston said.

  Landra tensed at the memory, sending pain through her shoulders. She couldn’t recall how that encounter had ended, only that she’d ended up here. Her face set into a mask of denial, but its very tightness gave her away.

  “Oh my mist,” Preston said. “How honorable! How typically noble and senseless. Landra, you truly are a Hux, and just as I was wondering how to control you, the answer is offered up, like I deserve to be your master.”

  Trap closed. “Go to shelk!”

  “Tut tut, girl. Language. You’d be on report back on base.” He moved his piece another square.

  Landra swiped her Templer Chief piece away rather than let him complete the victory, furious at the power she’d handed his way.

  “Clever enough to know when you can’t win too. Even better. It will give what I’m about to say more meaning.”

  “Nothing you say has meaning to me.”

  “Doesn’t it? I’m going to train you, Hux, but not in the standard cadet way. I have a different plan for you, something deliciously useful.”

  What, Preston? What? Tell me before I die of worry. It infuriated her that she couldn’t figure him out.

  The Warrior rolled his tongue into his cheek, as if losing patience. “It’s important we have an understanding before we start. Mendog’s been begging for time with you. Try to escape or cross me in any way, and you’ll feel the taste of his unnatural desires. If that doesn’t keep you in line, I’ll kill you and start over with your brother. How do you think Dannet will enjoy this life?”