Taken by Storm

by Anna Argent

  “And that’s not happening either, apparently.”

  “It is not. But the Raide is expecting a trade, so you should be ready for what will happen when he learns she is already gone.”

  “The asshole is going to go ballistic,” said Radek. “Don’t worry. I’ll be ready. All I need to know is when to move.”

  “After the window closes. Once the empress is safely through, we can take all the risks we like.”

  “And who’s going to be waiting on the other end to welcome her to her new home?”

  “The council knows the timing. I’ve prepared a destination identifier so she lands safely near the palace.”

  “Just like that,” said Radek, as if he didn’t believe it.

  “Do you see a flaw in my plan?”

  “You shouldn’t send her back alone. She’s going to need someone she can trust. Someone who speaks her language.”

  “The council ordered all battle leaders and everyone within the palace to learn her language. They will see to her care.”

  Radek let out a cold, ugly laugh. “Sure they will, because there’s no war going on. No one’s desperate.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever, man. She’s your empress. It’s your call. And your problem. I’m going after Talan.”

  Radek mounted the bike, impervious to the cold. The engine started with a guttural roar, and a moment later, he was gone.

  Warrian checked the time on his phone. There were only a few minutes left before the window opened. All he had to do was keep Isa asleep until he pushed her through.

  She would likely spend the rest of her life hating him for his betrayal, but at least she’d be alive to do so.

  He drove to the site where the window would open. It was a barren field surrounded by a rundown fence. Ice coated the barbed wire stretched between aging posts, forming thousands of tiny icicles.

  From the back seat of the truck, he retrieved a destination identifier and made sure it was set for the imperial palace at the agreed-upon coordinates. The council would be waiting there—or at least some of them—ready to greet her when she arrived.

  He reminded himself she was vital to their defenses, and that no one would harm her. He knew that while what awaited her would be unpleasant, it wouldn’t kill her. She would survive. She would be protected. At least from attack.

  He tucked her mother’s jeweled blade inside the sleeping bag.

  At least she’d have one weapon at her disposal.

  With one last lingering glance at her face, he went around the truck, wrapped her up tight and picked her up.

  She stirred against his chest, snuggling closer. Her voice was sleepy and confused. “Where are we?”

  “Sleep, Isa.” He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be okay, but he knew she’d sense the lie on her tongue.

  The stubby winter grass crunched beneath his feet. Ahead, tiny pinpoints of light began to flutter midair.

  The window started to open. The destination identifier floated up from where it lay on the sleeping bag. The little sphere was sucked into the window, ensuring the landing point of all who traveled through.

  Warrian buried his face in her hair, breathing her in one last time. Never again would he hold her like this, or feel her skin against his. The loss seemed too huge to bear, but he knew his grief would pass. Once she was gone and he could redirect his attention elsewhere, he would no longer think about her or worry about her. She would be out of his mind—a distant memory he would never reveal to another under penalty of death.

  The window solidified into a spiraling blast of starry light. He could barely look at it, so he stared down at Isa, instead, memorizing the beautiful lines of her face.

  He was so busy staring at her, he almost missed the shadow darting toward his left flank.

  Warrian turned, his body going tense in preparation for battle. The garala sparked to life, forcing him to drop Isa for fear of slicing through her skin.

  The shadow moved within range of the window’s light, illuminating the face of the Raide they’d seen earlier. The shock of seeing him here streaked through Warrian, leaving behind the implications of his arrival.

  The Raide had known that the warriors would never allow Isa to trade herself for one of them. He’d known they’d come here, to the window, to send her to safety. Talan had merely been a diversion—a way of whittling down their numbers and dividing them.

  And it had worked.

  All of that occurred to Warrian in a heartbeat, but it was long enough for the Raide’s gaze to lure Warrian in and engulf his world in pain.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Isa woke when she hit the ground. Confusion swarmed around her head, but the cold helped drive some of that away. Her arms were trapped inside the toasty folds of a sleeping bag, and something hard and rough slid down to her lap.

  In front of her was a pool of dense, rippling starlight so bright it burned her eyes. Tiny sparks danced inside the glow, reminding her of the pinpoints of light in Warrian’s eyes. She swore she could feel a moist, warm breeze wafting out of the pool to caress her face.

  For a moment, she just sat there, shedding layer after layer of shock as the frigid breeze ruffled her hair.

  A strangled sound of pain rose up from behind her. She turned and saw Warrian on his knees, his head thrown back in pain, the tendons in his neck standing out as he uttered a silent scream. A few yards away was the Raide—the one who’d hurt her before.

  And now he was hurting Warrian.

  A ferocious bellow of rage belted from her chest, making the pool of light ripple with the force of it. Hot fury spilled through her limbs until they shook. She pushed to her feet, and saw the brilliant blue flash of gems sparkling in front of her.

  Her mother’s dagger.

  She scooped it up, grabbed the sleeping bag, and sprinted toward Warrian. She tossed the fabric over his head and ripped the jeweled sheath from the blade. Without looking the Raide in the eye, she stood in front of Warrian, ready to do whatever it took to defend him.

  The Raide seemed to grow taller as he approached. His skin was the color of old snow, covered mostly by some kind of armor, and his limbs were so skinny she wondered how he could walk on them without them snapping in two.

  “Child of Loriah,” he said in a strange, thick voice.

  “That’s right,” she said. “I’m just a little girl. Why don’t you come closer?”

  His feet stopped moving. She didn’t dare lift her eyes to read his expression and see why. She truly didn’t care. There was so much anger pulsing through her, she knew that if she got her hands on that skinny bastard, he was going down.

  “Afraid?” she taunted.

  She saw him pull a small device from his pocket and hold it toward the light. She couldn’t tell what it was or what it did, but as soon as the metal rectangle started to glow, she was sure it was doing something.

  “The hulking Loriahan was sending you to the imperial palace? You’re more of a prize than I’d hoped. There is only one child of Loriah on record with the stature to earn that destination.” He actually bowed at the waist, but she could hear mockery dripping from each and every word. “I’m honored, Your Imperial Majyr.”

  His lie coated her tongue in a thick, acidic film, so harsh she wished she could suck on a nine volt battery for a while to cleanse her palate.

  “And I’m the freaking tooth fairy,” she spat. “Are you going to try to kill me or what?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.” He took another step closer, his spindly feet breaking the frozen grass as he edged nearer. “That all depends on how cooperative you are. You could be useful to us. You could help us unravel some of the Loriahan technology that escapes our understanding.”

  “Yeah. I’m thinking not so much,” she said.

  Behind him, two huge, fleshy Dregorgs stepped into the halo of light filling the area.

  Isa tried to hide the fear that streaked through her, driving away some of her anger. One skinny bad guy with a
pain-inducing gaze was bad enough. Add two giant, stinky soldiers, and she was totally screwed.

  She nudged Warrian with her foot and whispered, “I could really use some help here. Lots of big bads lurking about.”

  Warrian groaned in pain, and shifted beneath the sleeping bag. She tightened her grip on the dagger, praying she didn’t have to use it.

  “Or,” said the Raide, “if you choose to be uncooperative, we can dissect your brain and use pieces of it to answer our questions instead. Whichever you prefer.”

  Fear flickered around the edges of her rage, eating away at the remainder of her false courage. Her knees began to wobble, and her hand trembled around the dagger. “I’m not a fan of that idea either. But I have a counter offer.”

  “Which is?”

  “You can go fuck yourself.”

  The Raide growled. He flicked his skinny hand toward her, and both Dregorgs charged.

  Isa lifted her dagger and shifted so that she was in front of Warrian. She wasn’t sure her blade was long enough to get through all those folds of skin the Dregorgs toted around, but if she didn’t stand her ground, Warrian was going to be trampled.

  The ground beneath her feet shook. She could feel their low, rumbling war cries vibrating through her chest. Or maybe that was just her heart trying to beat out of her body so it could get the hell away.

  She backed up a step. Warrian was at her right heel. She felt him move, heard him suck in a huge, gulping breath. A second later, he flew from the ground in an eruption of motion so fast it sent the sleeping bag sailing out behind him like wings.

  The garala blazed between his hands in a sweeping blue net. He soared over the head of the Dregorg closest to her, draping the net over its face to slow him down. He landed on its back, as it howled and lashed around, trying to free its face of the searing pain of the garala.

  Warrian leaned back with all his strength, making his arms and legs bulge with effort. His face was twisted with fury, his lips peeled back from his clenched teeth.

  Isa dragged her attention back to the second Dregorg—the one still headed right for her. His fleshy head was tucked low as he headed right toward her like a battering ram.

  Isa looked at her pretty dagger, then back at the lumbering beast. Then she turned and ran away from both Dregorg and spindly Raide. Right toward the blinding light.

  That had to be the window. All she had to do was jump through and she’d be safe.

  But what about Warrian? She didn’t know if he could handle all three enemies by himself. She wasn’t much of a warrior, but she could be one hell of a distraction.

  Isa picked up speed, working not to slip over the ice-coated grass. Her breath heaved out in a hot mist, sweeping by her cheek as she ran.

  Ahead, the ground went dark as the halo of light ended. She didn’t dare try to make it over unseen ground for fear she’d trip over a branch or land in a ditch. The only thing she could do was wind around to her right, staying within the circle of light cast by the window.

  Her cheap canvas shoe slipped on a bare patch of icy ground. She regained her balance, but the act cost her a precious few seconds.

  Huge, hot hands grabbed her from behind, wrapping around her waist and lifting her as easily as if she were a child. She was pulled back against the soft, jiggling folds of the Dregorg’s body, and wrapped in an embrace so tight she could barely breathe. Based on the way it smelled, that was probably a blessing.

  She stabbed backward, hoping to hit something vital with her dagger. And while she felt the sickening glide of metal through skin, the beast didn’t so much as grunt in pain. It did, however, wrap one thick arm around her, crushing her elbows against her ribs.

  Blindly, she kept sticking him with her dagger and kicking her heels against the Dregorg’s shins. All she got for her efforts was stirring the air around it enough to drive the stench up her nose.

  The creature turned around and started loping back toward the Raide.

  Warrian rode the Dregorg he’d killed down to the ground as it toppled over like a tree. He was only a few feet from the Raide, who was quickly backing away with frantic haste.

  Whatever else the Raide was, he was no idiot. Unless he had some kind of invisible armor, he was no match for Warrian.

  He glanced her way and saw she was in trouble. A hint of regret curled his lip before he changed course, veering away from the Raide and toward her.

  He rolled through the air in an acrobatic spin that left her dizzy. It was like gravity didn’t work on him or something. The whole series of leaping tumbles were so graceful, she was nearly mesmerized. Or maybe that was her oxygen deprivation talking.

  “Legs up!” he shouted.

  Isa’s brain struggled to figure out what he meant as he charged in, flipping the webbing of blue light out into a spindly whip. Finally, as he began to angle his body to the side, she realized he was going for the Dregorg’s legs. Her legs dangled in the way, but they were also the only part of her body she could still move freely.

  She jerked her legs up and out of the way just as Warrian swept a lash of blue lightning across the Dregorg’s ankles.

  The creature began to list sideways. It instinctively flailed its arms to catch its fall, freeing her in the process.

  Isa fell right along with it, unable to find any leverage to push herself away from the giant, toppling body. Her mind played through the impending doom. She imagined herself being crushed under the stinky mass of flesh, suffocating on its stench.

  At the last instant, as she felt the drag of the Dregorg’s skin begin to tug her under, Warrian grabbed her arm and pulled her away. She tried to tuck and roll, but she wasn’t fast enough to think through her actions before it was too late. Instead, she skidded over the icy ground, feeling the grass leave frigid little scrapes across one side of her body.

  She lay there stunned for a moment, her head spinning. From her awkward position on the ground, she caught a slanted view of the Raide. It lifted something and pointed it at Warrian, who was still busy with the flailing, footless Dregorg. He didn’t see the threat.

  Fear swelled until it consumed her whole world. She didn’t know if what the Raide pointed at Warrian was a weapon or not, but she doubted it was a warm fuzzy hug ray.

  Her body shook like crazy, and she was weak from lack of oxygen. She couldn’t even get her mouth to form a warning clearer than a frightened, incoherent screech. There was only one thing she could think to do. She let instinct take over and flung her dagger at the Raide.

  Her blade hit his cheek, slicing him, but not sticking. She hadn’t mortally wounded him. It had hardly been more than a paper cut, but she had knocked his aim away from Warrian enough that the fiery orange bolt that burst from the weapon missed. It sailed into the trees, sending them up in a wash of flame.

  Warrian stood on the leaking remains of the Dregorg he’d just slain, and spared her a quick glance.

  “I’m fine,” she assured him, choking on the vile taste of her own lie. She was far from fine. She was scared to death, rattled down to her bones, freezing and too weak to stand.

  Warrian took her at her word, and sprang back into motion. Only this time, his target was the Raide.

  Before Warrian took his first charging step, the spindly alien turned tail and ran. A second later, he disappeared. Literally. His body armor sort of shimmered and then… nothing.

  The blinding light winked out, casting darkness over the clearing. The only thing she could see was the glowing web of lightning stretching between Warrian’s big hands.

  Isa went still as fear seeped into her. She had no idea where the Raide would reappear, and now she was weaponless and prone.

  She forced her body to cooperate enough to put her back on her feet.

  The glow of the garala drew closer. She stumbled toward it, needing to make sure Warrian was okay. She hadn’t had time to check for injuries earlier. And she knew from experience that he wasn’t one to bring them up unless she asked. Her stoic warrior su
ffered in silence, and was going to get himself killed if she didn’t keep an eye on him.

  “Are you hurt, Isa?” His voice was quiet and strained, as if it hurt to talk.

  She was scraped, bruised and aching, but she’d survive. “No. You?”

  “No.” He was in front of her now, the sharp angles of his face accentuated by the pulsing blue light streaming between his fingers. “Stay close. More enemies may approach.”

  She turned, putting her back to his. Inky blackness stretched out all around them, well beyond the reach of the garala’s light. “I think I injured that skinny fuckhead.”

  “How?” he asked. “He was armored.”

  “I sliced his cheek with my mom’s dagger. It wasn’t a big cut or anything, but I definitely saw blood—or whatever that blue-gray junk they leak is.”

  “You did well.” Regret hung in his tone, weighing down his words. She tasted no hint of a lie, but there was definitely something going on.

  And then she realized what that light winking out must have meant. “I missed the window, didn’t I?”

  “Yes. We should leave this place before reinforcements arrive.”

  “What about Talan?”

  “Radek went to rescue him. We will join him. After I fetch your blade.”

  “Leave it,” she said. “It’s not that important.”

  “It is your mother’s. I saw the way you treasured it. And I will not leave you weaponless.”

  Isa decided it was better to let him have his way. He was vibrating with anger, and she didn’t want to add to what was clearly already a really bad day. She let him escort her to the truck, and then sat and waited while he went back for her dagger. The whole time she peered into the night, barely breathing. By the time he joined her in the truck, her nerves were strung so tight she was sure her spine would snap if she so much as blinked too hard.

  Warrian didn’t seem to be any better off than she was. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” she asked. “You don’t look good.”

  “I’m not good, Empress. I am decidedly bad. Not only did I fail to predict what the Raide would do, I also failed to see you through the window.”