by Cheree Alsop
Orion’s Fall
By Cheree Alsop
Copyright © 2018 by Cheree L. Alsop
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN
Cover Design by Robert Emerson
Editing by Sue Player
www.ChereeAlsop.com
To my husband,
The stars shine brightest when I’m with you.
To my children,
Trust your heart above all else.
To my readers,
Look to the stars whenever you feel alone.
Chapter One
Zyla
The sound of the two ships crashing into each other was one Zyla wouldn’t soon forget. Wood splintered, masts cracked, and the upper solar sails shattered while the wind sails ripped to shreds. The hum of the aft solar orb increased until anyone left standing had to cover their ears for fear of their eardrums rupturing. An explosion sounded and blue light washed across the deck of the Airship Taurus. Zyla expected to be turned to ash at any moment. When seconds went by without the following white-hot flash of heat, she lowered her hands and looked around.
Both ships were on fire. Screams could be heard from every level as sailors fought to put out flames and battle their assailants. By the feeling of the deck beneath her boots, neither the AS Taurus nor the AS Indus would be long in the sky. Zyla knew she should jump on one of the thermal gliders members of the crew were using to escape. There was still room on the closest one next to Densa. The girl was already waving for Zyla to hurry.
Zyla took a step toward her, but paused. She couldn’t get the memory of a pair of pain-filled blue eyes out of her head. Zyla swallowed the fear that tightened her throat and turned to face the other ship.
Densa’s voice was filled with fear when she shouted, “What are you doing? Taurus is going down!”
“I can’t leave him,” Zyla replied.
“Who?” Densa asked.
The deck tipped. Zyla ran up the slope toward the other ship.
“Zyla, get back here!” Densa shouted with panic.
Zyla reached the edge of the Taurus and grabbed the railing. The sight of the massive split through the Indus’ hull made her breath catch in her throat. Levels of living quarters, kitchens, training rooms, storage decks, and artillery could be seen at one glance. Fires spurted from a variety of locations while the pop of gunfire let Zyla know that skirmishes were still taking place. The daunting thought that he was somewhere within it made the fear pulse harder within Zyla’s veins.
She should go back. She should take the safety Densa held for her and escape from the burning wreckage. She should choose the smart way out and live. But they had already given him up for dead. Zyla refused to do the same.
She climbed onto the railing and launched across the short space that separated the deck of the Taurus from the Indus. Her heart thundered in her ears at the sight of the entwined wreckage beneath her feet. The Indus’ orbs might have been holding at the moment, but given the weight of the failing Taurus, both ships would soon plummet to the Unified Sea.
Zyla slid on the angled deck toward a splintered mast thicker than she was tall. The broken wood loomed like a dozen swords waiting to impale her. Zyla scrambled for something to stop her descent. She lunged for a hanging chain, but missed it by a finger’s length. Her boots slipped out from under her and she turned to see the jagged wood drawing rapidly closer. Zyla pushed away from the deck and rolled to the right. She felt the wood snag on her shirt, and then she was past it. Her feet slammed into the bracers at the front of the mast and stopped her descent.
Zyla felt the deck shift as she scrambled toward the hatch. She slipped into the companionway and opened her hands to slide down the ladder. The moment her boots touched the floor, she ran for the next hatch, threw it open, and jumped down. The ship shook around her. By the time she reached the lower storage compartment in the hold, it felt as though the entire hull was about to split wide open.
Zyla followed the same path she had taken earlier that day. She swore she could still hear the shouts of the enforcers as they yelled at their bonded to unload the millery. Her feet ran the ghost of the steps she had taken before with the heavy sack of milled grain slung over her shoulders. She turned as she had done that morning, and froze in the exact same way.
He hung there as he had earlier. The bars of the cage rattled as the ship broke apart around it, but the young man in the middle didn’t appear to notice. His head drooped and his body swayed from the chains that ran from each arm and leg to the corners of the cell to keep him suspended. Zyla had thought he was dead the first time she saw him. It wouldn’t be the worst treatment she had seen a branded slave receive, but it still looked painful and inhumane.
A gasp had escaped Zyla the first time. “Why?” she had whispered.
At the sound, the young man’s head had lifted. When his eyes opened, she forgot about his battered face and the bruises that marred his skin. His eyes had glowed icy blue in the depths of the AS Indus. There was no other light than the meager handhelds of the enforcers that required winding whenever they became dim, which was frequent. The young man’s eyes burned far brighter than any handheld she had ever seen.
A cloth had been wrapped around his head, but the grimy material had slipped so that his eyes were clear. He closed them again and his head lowered wearily. Zyla’s vision struggled to adjust to the sudden darkness. When they did, she thought her eyes were still playing tricks on her. For on his chest, glowing in the dim light, was a network of icy metallic patches fainter than his eyes had been. She blinked, but the sight didn’t fade. Zyla closed her eyes and saw the same pattern emblazed in the darkness behind her eyelids.
The constellation Orion, the same constellation that had vanished from the sky and sparked the war, glowed across his bare chest in a way she couldn’t explain. Whether this was the reason he had been beaten and so brutally hung from his limbs, she couldn’t say, and it wasn’t the place of a branded to ask. She looked around for some way to free him, even though doing so would cost her more than just burns from the enforcers’ irons.
She turned and found herself face to face with Miga, one of the cruelest of the AS Taurus’ enforcers. By his expression, she was about to be punished for slacking off. He lifted his iron with none of the glee she saw in the other enforcers’ eyes when they were about to hurt one of the branded. It was that lack of emotion that always terrified her. She could smell the sharp tang of the self-heating brand and flinched involuntarily. His eyes flickered from hers to behind her, then widened.
Before Zyla knew what was going on, she was being dragged roughly to the opening and shoved up the ladder. Miga didn’t speak until they reached the Taurus, and then his short, staccato words were directed for Captain Holland alone. Zyla kept her eyes down and pretended not to overhear, as was the role of the branded, but words like ‘the Orion prisoner’ and references to the prophecy weren’t lost on her. It didn’t take Captain Holland long to change their simple trader orders into those for attack.
This time when Zyla saw the young man bearing the Orion constellation, the wraps around his eyes had been put back in place. A trickle of blood had dried below his lip, and he didn’t lift his head at her approach. The constellation on his chest looked like a dull, metallic tattoo, and nothing showed behind the wraps over his eyes. She worried that he was dead. At the feeling of the airship shuddering around her, she m
ight be soon to follow.
Zyla pulled the two small hairpins from her pocket that she always kept there, but it took only a few seconds to realize the cage lock wasn’t going to budge so easily. Zyla gave up and grabbed a crowbar from one of the crates near the hatch. She struggled against the angle of the floor and managed to shove the metal rod between the two bars of the cage door. She pushed as hard as she could, but nothing happened. Zyla let out an unfeminine growl and shoved against the crowbar again, but when she checked, she couldn’t see that she had made any difference in the thick metal.
Zyla looked around for something else she could use. At that moment, the ship pitched starboard and flung her against the wall. A crate at least a head taller than she was slid from the far end of the room. Just when Zyla was certain she was about to be flattened, the crate hit the crowbar and careened off just far enough away to miss her. The door to the cage creaked opened a few inches. It was enough.
Zyla threw herself forward and grabbed the edge of the cell. The boy inside hung sideways, but hadn’t opened his eyes. Her fear that he was dead filled her with doubts, but she climbed into the cage. She pushed the hairpins into his closest leg cuff and worked them inside the lock. It popped open and she hurried to the next.
Zyla’s stomach lurched when the ship dropped. Their descent halted as the hum of the secondary thrusters kicked in. She breathed a sigh of relief, but she had seen the damaged frontal orb and was sure Captain Holland’s crew would disable the stern orb as well. Taking away an airship’s primary means of propulsion was the same as leaving it dead in the air. It was standard procedure for a battle ship like the AS Taurus used to be before it was converted into a trade vessel. Apparently, Captain Holland relished the thought of commanding a war vehicle once more. Miga’s information had been the spark of more than just appropriating a prisoner, as was apparent by the sound of gunshots and the lack of anyone coming to free him.
Zyla worked quickly on the next manacle. As soon as it clicked open, the young man swung from the remaining chains on his left arm and leg and hit the side of the cage hard.
Zyla winced. “Sorry about that,” she said. She unlocked his leg and then wedged herself against the angle of the cage to reach his remaining hand.
Zyla concentrated, attempting to feel the catch of the locking mechanism through her fingers as she worked without being able to see what she was doing. The shudder of the ship made the metal slip. She bit her lip and slid the hairpins back inside. Movement out of the corner of her eye made Zyla turn. She found herself inches from the young man’s face. The wrapping had slid down when he hit the bars, and he was staring at her with bright, pain-filled blue eyes.
“I’m trying to help,” she said. Her voice came out in a high squeak.
The young man grabbed the bars and pulled away from her. He tried to slide his right hand free, but the manacle was too tight. His jaw clenched and he pulled again hard enough to scrape the skin from around his wrist.
“Wait!” Zyla said. Her heart hammered in her chest at his gaze, the ship that was failing around them, and the thought that if he didn’t let her help him, they would both soon be dead. “Wait, you need to trust me!”
The young man paused.
Zyla pointed at the manacles lying on the ground, and then the one dangling above them. “I freed you from those. Let me finish the job.”
He followed her gaze. She didn’t know if he understood what she said, or if the open manacles were enough, but he stopped struggling against the final cuff and waited. His own chest heaved and enough fear showed in his gaze that she knew he understood the enormity of their predicament.
Zyla climbed up the bars again. She ignored the sight of the blood that trickled from the manacle down his bruised arm. With careful, precise movements, she put the hairpins back in the lock, worked it around for a moment, and felt the mechanisms slide into place before the click told her she had done it.
Instead of falling, the young man held onto the bars behind him. He lowered himself carefully to the ground, then held up a hand to her. His consideration caught Zyla off-guard. She shook her head and jumped to land beside him.
“Come on,” she said. “We don’t have much time.”
She took off out the door. The thud of his bare feet let her know that he was following. If they could just make the deck before the secondary thrusters gave out, they might have a chance to reach one of the escape gliders.
The ship lurched with the sound of protesting lumber. Zyla’s boots slipped on the ladder, but she managed to catch the rung closest to her head. She scrambled to get her feet set, glanced down to see the young man right below her, and climbed faster.
She forced her way through the hatch and ran toward then next ladder. The thought that they were at least halfway up gave her hope. She reached the ladder and put her foot to the second rung. She was just about to climb up when the world turned upside down.
Zyla and the young man hit the ceiling with thuds that sounded dull amid the blood that pounded in Zyla’s ears. She couldn’t scream with the force of the fall pressing her into the wooden beams. The knowledge that the ship was plummeting toward the sea was terrifying. She struggled to move, but could do little more than look at the young man next to her.
His eyes were wide as he watched the floor below them. The cords of his muscles, especially those along his neck, stood out tight against the strain. He glanced at her. There was something in his gaze she could almost read. It was stark and bright, fear combine with what looked like pity, worry, or heartache that she had chosen to throw her lot in with his. Or maybe she was making it up to feel less alone in the few short seconds they plummeted toward the water. Either way, just before they hit, his hand closed around hers and she felt a jolt run up her arm. Whatever happened, their fates were sealed together, and she knew it was going to hurt.
When they hit, Zyla slammed into the floor with such force she blacked out. She came to at the feeling of cold liquid lapping around her ankles, then up the angle of the floor to her legs, her thighs, her waist, and then her shoulders and chin before the paralysis that had taken hold finally began to lift. She pushed up to her elbows before the water swept over her face.
The recessed orb-powered lighting of the AS Indus flickered weakly overhead. Zyla peered through the darkness as the numb cloud that filled her mind was taken over by a nasty headache. She tried to remember where she was and why she hurt all over. Had she disobeyed the enforcers and been beaten as well as burned? She remembered Densa’s panicked expression along with a brief flash of a cage. She wondered if she had been sold to the Solariats, but a quick check of her right hand showed only the Lunarian crescent moon brand.
None of it explained why she was in a foreign ship that was poorly maintained enough to have water in its belly. Water could tighten the timbers so that the ship lost its necessary flexibility for the hardships of air travel, not to mention potentially douse the frontal and stern orbs.
As if in reply to her thought, the lights went out entirely. A squeak of fear escaped Zyla. The realization that the water was continuing to rise along with the unhealthy angle of the floor made Zyla scramble upward, but she couldn’t find the ladder. She swept her hands through the air, then froze.
Icy blue light flooded the room. When the boy’s gaze met hers, she suddenly remembered where she was and what she had been doing there. The ship was in the water. They were going to drown. A glance at the wall showed a huge crack the water rushed through. Fear pushed her toward the ladder his eyes illuminated. She ran up it two steps at a time just as the rising water covered the first rung. She shoved upward with her head and shoulder, but the hatch wouldn’t budge.
“We’re stuck!” she said. “We can’t get out!”
The young man climbed up next to her and pushed against the hatch, but it refused to give. Something must have slid on top of it. Per airship guidelines, every deck with living quarters was required to have at least two exits, but as far as she knew, the s
ame didn’t apply to storage rooms. Panic filled her when water lapped against the bottom of her boots. It moved up far faster than she thought it should have.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” she said.
She beat her hands against the hatch.
“Help! We’re stuck down here!” she yelled. “Help us!”
She slammed her fists over and over again as the water rose higher. The boy next to her did the same, but he didn’t yell. Instead, his eyes were constantly searching the room, their blue glow lighting boxes and bales, crates and barrels floating in the dark water. It rose to Zyla’s shoulders, then up her neck to her chin. It became harder to hit the hatch door. Her knuckles bled, but she couldn’t feel pain past the adrenaline of terror that pushed her to survive.
She took a big breath of air before the water rose above her head. She tried to punch at the hatch, but the water impeded her movements. A breath of precious air escaped her in a bubble. She swung toward the hatch again, but the boy caught her hand. Zyla struggled to free herself, but he refused to let go. Zyla hit him with her other hand. He caught it and held it against his chest. He was too strong for her. She wondered if she had made a fatal mistake in freeing him.
As the last bubbles escaped her lips and darkness finally won against the struggle of her mind, the last thing Zyla saw was a pair of glowing icy blue eyes above the Orion constellation. She wondered blearily why Orion was in the water instead of up in the sky where he belonged. Her eyes closed and the thought faded away.
Chapter Two
Orion
I couldn’t say why she had freed me. I recognized her from earlier, from before I was beaten again and mass chaos erupted. They didn’t know what it was like in those chains, hanging helpless while meaningless words were shouted and more pain was inflicted. At least, I hoped they didn’t because I couldn’t understand what kind of cruel people would do what they did while knowing.
