Kings of Euphoria (Euphoria Duology Book Two)

by Franc Ingram

  "What...? How did this...?" his words felt like lead weights in his mouth. There was too much for him to process. Too many questions needed to be answered all at once. "We can't be out in the open!" he shouted.

  Lysander didn't wait for them to hear him. He walked around them toward the hole he'd come out of earlier. There, he'd be safe. There, he could put the unconscious man on his back down. There, he could catch his breath, get a moment to think.

  "Lysander, where are you going?" Daycia asked, desperation dripping from every word. "We need help!"

  Lysander was stopped short when he went to drop his burden down the hole and a bag of supplies came flying up at him instead. Then a Darten man, who looked like he could be Jonathan's cousin, came up after it. Lysander dropped the man he was carrying on the ground and pushed the man in front of him, trying to squeeze past to get inside the safety of the canopy.

  "Move," Lysander whined, clawing at armor with one hand and the rough edges of the canopy at with the other. "I can't be out here. It's coming for us."

  "Lysander Saddiq Starson," Daycia boomed. "Pull yourself together!"

  The use of his full name was a cold slap to Lysander's face. It wasn't just his name, but who he was. Lysander Saddiq Starson was Ranger trained, son and grandson of great leaders, King of Euphoria, Master of Earth. A man of bravery, courage, and action. He couldn’t cower in a hole while people were dying around him.

  Lysander pulled his foot free of the hole, mumbling a curt apology as he went. He bent to check on the man he'd carelessly dropped. "What happened?" he asked Daycia, briefly making eye contact.

  “The Elevated ambushed us. Jonathan and a few more were captured, others went after them. What happened to you?"

  "Dragons," Lysander said, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. Saying it didn't come close to describing the abject terror he'd experienced coming up against the beast.

  "How did you..?" Daycia stammered. "Never mind. One problem at a time."

  "Is she stable?" he glanced at the female soldier Daycia was still attending. Her struggles had ceased, and Lysander feared her fight might be over permanently.

  "She'll live," Daycia said softly which Lysander took to mean it wasn't as certain as she'd tried to make it sound.

  Lysander's partner had a steady pulse and no open wounds, which was the only piece of good news the night had to offer up. "Someone has to stay and tend to them." Lysander stood trying hard not to stare at the dead bodies. He'd seen such sights before, was no stranger to losing friends on the battlefield, but focusing on such things when there was still a war to fight was just a distraction. He would take his time later to mourn the loss of yet more soldiers. For now, there was an enemy to capture.

  "We will stay, sire" Jonathan's look-alike said, pointing to his compatriot. He handed Lysander what weapons were left over. "Just bring our people back."

  An angry howl cut through the air, reminding Lysander of how narrowly he’d escaped death minutes before. Then to make matters worse, a second distinct growl answered the first. Two dragons were out on the hunt and The Elevated were gaining ground with every second.

  Lysander took the sword and dagger with a nod, trying to keep his fear under control. Then he refocused on Daycia who was using some of the thick canopy leaves to wipe the blood off her hands. "Let's go," he ordered.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: LORN

  Lorn felt a sense of completeness being back on the battlefield with his archer squad. He knew where he was meant to be, where he could leave the nervous excitement behind and be calm for a change. But with members of his team gone, the cold lump of loss followed the calm.

  People told him Oleana was dead and she turned out to be rescued. Even though the odds were against him, Lorn couldn't stop hoping that he would reunite with Silver and Paxis. If he fought hard enough, fast enough, he could somehow win his friends back from whatever prison they were in. He knew he had no right to ask for two more miracles. Lorn tried not to dwell on it.

  With Fabian in charge, there was little else to do but sit and wait for orders. He knew taking a backseat didn't sit too well with Tycho, but Lorn didn't mind. As Fabian said, he had the experience and the trust of his men. Lorn would have been shortsighted to waste that for the sake of his pride.

  Instead, he waited like a good soldier for the enemy to come to them. The Valley of Eight Peaks was the best place to do that. Cornelius' men had to pass through the valley to cross from the Wild Zone into Darten. With mountains on one side, forest on the other, and a clear, serene lake in the middle, it was not only a breathtakingly beautiful landscape, but Fabian could also take full advantage of the natural bottleneck it would create for incoming troops.

  Lorn and his team were stationed on a low crest on the fourth peak. They were blocked from most of the wind by the mountain behind them, but it was still cold and growing colder. Lorn could just hear his mother complaining, her teeth chattering. He had to admit he wasn't one for cold weather either but considering where everyone else was bunked down, Lorn would take the cold over the cramped dark ditches.

  The shore of the lake was made up of a delicate gray particulate sand, bits of the mountain the water had eroded away with time. Fabian's brilliant and crazy plan was to bury most of his men in the sand ditches and surprise Cornelius' men as they were focused on taking out the archers and the fifty soldiers on horseback.

  Lorn helped shore up the ditches so he knew exactly how big, dark, and crowded they were. He’d heaped sand on top of them before taking his own position, and with every shovel he thanked his lucky stars that he wasn't down in that hole. He couldn’t imagine having to breathe in the smell of cramped, nervous people while trying to stay perfectly still and silent in the crowded dark space, waiting for armed soldiers to walk across him. The thought of it made his throat tighten and his stomach turn.

  Lorn could take the cold. At least he could stretch, and breathe, and even snack if he wanted to. Most importantly, he could see the enemy that was coming at him. That was worth the cold, plus more, yet Tycho had volunteered to drop down into the hole with the rest of the grunts. Lorn couldn't fault the fire in the older man's eyes. It was so similar to the look his mother would get when she got battle fever. Lorn got a glimpse of what it had been like when Tycho, Oleana, and Nadir were together a lifetime ago. The world lost something great when that fighting trio had broken up.

  Lorn glanced at his team. Samantha and Mevra were to his right, folded up in the small crevasse that fit between one outcropping and the next. The mass of rock blocked the view of people looking up from below but gave Lorn and his group a good view as long as the enemy wasn't up against the mountain. Lorn and Fabian's combined efforts would make sure nobody made it that far.

  Lorn had to crane his neck to glimpse Allana and Dexter, who were up on the next crest. Dexter spotted him checking them out and gave a nod. Everything was good on their end. Paley stood beside him, still as the stone around them. Daycia knew how to pick apprentices that had a fire in their bones and caring in their hearts. Paley was excellent with a bow, but more importantly she was just as driven as Lorn to protect the people of Darten.

  That left Kasis and Connor. Lorn could only see the tip of Kasis' brown boots, from his crouched position. They were blocked by a jutted-out section of the mountain, but got the clearest view of the lake in return. Lorn didn't like being so cut off from everyone, but once the fighting really started he could stand up and peak at them over the rock.

  Until then, he had to trust that they knew the plan as well as he did and would do their part. His handpicked archers had only been with them for four months, but Lorn felt like he'd been part of their team forever. Without them, he and his mother would still be Cornelius' puppets.

  Lorn spotted the first group of yetis breaking through the trees. It had to be at least thirty of them. Lorn was rethinking how smart he'd been to let Mason and Tycho stay down in the valley. He couldn't afford to lose either one.

  "What's this?
" the lead yeti yelled, pulling ahead of the others. His voice was harsh enough to chip away at the mountains around them. It certainly sent a chill up Lorn's spine. "Have you come to meet your death?"

  The beast’s arrogance surprised Lorn, but Fabian seemingly took no note. He pulled forward on his broad, chestnut stallion. Lorn couldn't hear what Fabian said, but whatever it was angered the yetis. Lorn was happy to know he wasn't the only one to garner that reaction.

  The yetis howled in tandem, loud enough to rattle the rocks. Lorn reached to put his hands over his ears, but didn't want to waste valuable time so he motioned for the others to get set. The yetis charged, and before the two lines could meet Lorn and his archers stood and let their arrows fly.

  Even though Lorn watched as the arrows found their targets, only one yeti went down. The others ignored the first barrage as if the arrows were nothing but raindrops tickling their fur. Lorn didn't have to tell his men to reload and go again, they all knew what to do. Even with their fast reaction time, the yetis and Fabian clashed before the second salvo could be deployed.

  Lorn always expected two armies meeting to create a bang, but there was no loud crash as his mind insisted there should be. There was no rumbling of the earth beneath his feet. No grand collision. Just the grunt of a tired old man pushing himself out of his seat.

  With the two groups so tightly woven, it was next to impossible for Lorn to get a clean shot, but he didn't have much time to worry about it because the Gaeth troops had made their way through the trees.

  One of the rivers that made the Wild Zone such a marsh land flowed at their feet separating Darten from Failsea. Lorn was going to use it as his line in the sand. "Keep the second wave behind the river," he ordered his people. "Two-line formation."

  They'd fought in that grouping before; Mevra, Sam, and Connor making up the first wave because they were a bit faster on the draw. Dexter, Kasis, and Allana were the more precise shots. Lorn spent most of his concentration giving their shots a wind boost where he could, and took shots of his own as needed.

  "Set," Mevra called.

  "Set," Dexter echoed.

  "Go.'

  The first volley went flying and Lorn pulled down cold winds behind them. Several Gaeth troops fell and the rest scattered. The second wave of arrows picked off soldiers from the far edges of the line, herding the enemy back toward the center.

  Two more rounds and Lorn felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. They had the upper hand and a quick look at Fabian's line showed there was no fear of them breaking either. Then the temperature dropped significantly, and snow started to fall from off the top of the mountain.

  Lorn remembered who they were fighting against. The yetis and Elevated he could handle, but who came next was an enemy Lorn hated, and feared more than anyone else. Lorn's heart raced. He tightened his grip on his bow trying to still his unsteady hands.

  01100001

  Cornelius descended from a dark cloud creating an impact crater twice as wide as him, and kicking up dirt and grass high enough to cover half his face. Lorn didn't wait for the debris to settle before he let loose a string of arrows in quick succession. When the dust settled, Cornelius was holding three arrows in hand, staring up at Lorn with hate in his ice-blue eyes so deep it chilled Lorn to the core.

  "Yetis!" Paley yelled.

  Lorn pulled his eyes away from Cornelius a moment to glance at the raven-haired firecracker, her steadiness helping to calm him. She was pointing down to the right. Lorn craned to look over the rock face. He spotted three yetis that had pulled away from the fighting to take their chances at climbing the rock wall the archers were perched on.

  "Kasis, Sam, take them out!" Lorn didn't have time to worry about the yetis before Cornelius pulled a sheet of snow down over them. It was white as far as Lorn could see. He lost the visual on the troops below, even lost sight of Cornelius.

  "How do we fight in this?" Paley asked, gripping her coat closer to her chest.

  Lorn raked the snow off his head and blinked hard against the thick flakes trying to make it into his eyes. "Give me a minute."

  Lorn moved back into the crevasse they were in as far as he could manage, getting well out of view of anyone coming their way. He gave up on the bow, crouching down and laying it across his lap. He turned his attention to the sky above.

  He pushed away the static that Cornelius was stirring up with his brutal use of his power, searching for that one true rhythm that came from the skies at rest. Cornelius' freak snowstorm forced warmer air out into the trees across the river, but Lorn could call it back.

  Lorn pulled the winds toward him, cutting the blanket of snow to ribbons. When visibility returned, his archers kicked into high gear. Kasis and Sam knocked two of the yetis off of the rock, falling eight feet to the shallow part of the river below. The others renewed their efforts to keep the Gaeth troops at bay. The ones that had made it across the river were forced to scramble for cover.

  Lorn couldn't kill Cornelius' snow altogether, but he gave everyone else enough space to see past their nose. It took all of his concentration though, so he couldn't lead his archers.

  "Paley, you're in charge," Lorn yelled over the raging winds.

  "No, I need to protect you," Paley insisted. Lorn couldn't see her face, but he could guess at the look of determination wrinkling her brow.

  "They come first," Lorn hissed pointing to the other archers. His head pounded with the effort it took to keep the winds swirling. He didn't have the brain power to argue with her. Cornelius was pushing back.

  Cornelius called in sleet that pushed all of Lorn's warm air in a thousand different directions. There wasn't a piece large enough for Lorn to manipulate into a protective shield. He had to reach higher in the atmosphere than he liked. Again, Lorn found what he needed. His heart pounded and his skin tingled as he hummed his favorite tune calling that piece of the atmosphere that he loved the most.

  Lightning.

  The blinding white light pierced the sky, going to ground in the river. It cleared the sky of snow and sleet, leaving only an achingly still vacuum. Sweat poured off Lorn's skin and his body felt like he'd drained it of all nutrients, but in that one strike Lorn had cut Cornelius off at the knees.

  The rock around him rumbled and Lorn feared he'd called down too much. He opened his eyes expecting to see charred rock, worried that an injured Paley was the result of his recklessness. Instead he saw the imposing figure of Cornelius, ice blue eyes narrowed to angry slits, outstretched claws glistening with the blood of people he'd already cut down, standing five feet away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: LEITH

  The searing pain of the burning wall against his hands tilted away and Leith felt like he was falling, but his body didn't move. His eyes wouldn't focus and the world around him felt like a fog he was passing through.

  Leith felt leaves slapping against his legs and shoulders, his chest burning, legs pumping as he ran. A moment later he was staring at Cornelius with a grand snowy vista in the background. Then he was back in The Tower. He knew that because he was gazing down at hands. No, he only had one hand, which was flat against the familiar green and blue tiled floors running throughout the Crystal Tower.

  It wasn't his hand. The blinding pain in his head wasn't his either. Leith should have been used to the transition between bodies by now. He knew what to expect, but this time was different. He didn't switch bodies. Instead, he felt like he was sharing it.

  This body moved without his commands. It stared at itself in the reflection of the polished window. Oleana's eyes were red-rimmed and her jaw flexed with the pain she was trying to contain. But Leith wasn't alone with Oleana. Lorn and Lysander were there too. Leith couldn't see them, but he could feel them, as if they were behind him, just beyond his range of vision as silent spectators to the Oleana show.

  "I'm sorry," she said her voice surprisingly distant and fragile sounding. "I had no choice. The Twelve shared their huge storehouse of knowledge with me and I co
uldn't contain it all."

  "What is..." Leith didn't have time to finish his question when his head was attacked by lightning, frying every nerve ending. Information poured into his mind like water into a funnel with no filter.

  He'd shared information with the others before. It was always an uncomfortable process, but the trick was to relax and let it flow through him. This time every little new bit of information clung to his conscious mind. Leith was forced to watch images, facts, and figures stream through his mind's eye so fast he could only retain a fraction of it.

  He watched as the seeds for the Crystal Tower fell from the sky, landing in the crater that now made the bowl-shaped indentation that The Tower called its moat. As The Tower grew, so did Kameke, nestled inside her little egg at its core. She grew in perfect time with The Tower, safe from the turmoil outside as the smart particle cloud released by The Tower's landfall spread throughout Euphoria, transforming its landscape, and the rudimentary life that called it home forever.

  Leith watched Kameke's emergence from the egg. He stared in awe as the young ultra, first of her kind, tested out the fledgling world around her. She had to be sure Euphoria was stable enough to support more complex life beyond the protected confines of The Tower. Leith waited with Kameke as the first age of man came and watched them fight over resources like food and water, even land. They had these things in abundance, but what someone else had was more important than what they could find for themselves.

  So young Kameke was given new orders. Create hybrids like herself. They would guide humanity as she guided the world around them. She sampled DNA from the most resilient animals on the planet, spliced it with the DNA of humans, and gave the new creatures a healthy dose of adaptable smart particles in their bloodstream to strengthen the growing form in ways that were beyond simple programming, turning the new ultras into pieces of art.