“The screen,” she said. “I barely felt it at all when we passed. And I could see through it, some at least.”
“Perhaps it’s weakened.” Lyon turned. He picked up a stone and tossed it back the way they had come. There was a snap and a flash as it hit and bounced back. “Apparently not.”
“Odd,” she muttered. She turned back to look up toward the caves. Then, suddenly, she looked back toward the screen.
“What?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing,” she muttered. “We should go.”
He nodded. “He could be hiding up in the cave, or one of the tunnels.”
“Perhaps he finally saw the treasure.”
“We will soon know.”
“The orb!” she said suddenly.
He’d almost forgotten. He reached into his pocket, pulled it out. It was only faintly dark, like a bruise beginning to fade.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“Distance? Dead or dying? No longer a threat? I don’t know.”
“Bedamned thing should have come with instructions.”
He couldn’t help grinning at her tone. That his ever practical and literal-minded Shaina had accepted the stone had properties they could not explain was occasion enough, but that she accepted it enough to joke was even more amazing.
“Reason enough to be on guard,” he said as he put it back. “Let’s go.”
They had left the rover, hidden as best they could, outside the screen. It might have gone through with Lyon at the controls, but they hadn’t wanted to risk a transport that might be badly needed later.
Neither of them spoke as they crossed the meadow, although Lyon felt a slow pulse of heat begin in him as they passed the spot where they had come together for the first time. He gave Shaina a quick glance, and saw by the slight color in her cheeks that she was not immune. They had so much to learn of this, so much left to explore; he wished for nothing more than the chance to revisit that wondrous place again right now.
But they could not. They had a job to do, and even a moment stolen for themselves was impossible.
They entered the cave cautiously, taking care to make no noise, and pausing to listen often. No sound reached them. They worked their way around the cave. It seemed empty, but they stayed silent, not risking it. They took a quick glance at the niche, which still held the treasure, sans the orb. He saw her brow furrow, but she said nothing aloud or otherwise.
But there was a brief, silent discussion about whether to split up and check the two caves, or stay together.
Time, Shaina sent him.
Safety, he sent back, trying to hide that it was her he was worried about. Were it someone else, splitting up would be the logical course.
It didn’t work.
Right now, I’m a scout, she sent.
A scout. Not his mate. He let out a compressed breath. She was right, of course. This was too big to let anything interfere with what had to be done. He would just have to trust she could hold her own. And in reality, he would have before. It was only what had changed between them that had changed his outlook.
Then go, he sent.
He would have sworn that what she sent back was a kiss.
As it turned out, the split was a minor point. The first cave on the left, the one she took, indeed curved to meet the second several hundred yards in, about a half a mile, he guessed. But the middle tunnel kept going. And going.
They moved as quickly as they dared, ever watchful to the rear this time, and pausing to listen. They used only the faintest light setting on the flarelight from the rover, just enough to get past any hazards on the tunnel floor. They went on and on, the cave twisting deep into the mountain, until he thought perhaps it might indeed go all the way. It was narrow, however, and would accommodate only three, maybe four fighters abreast, fewer in spots. That could cause a bottleneck, but perhaps the wider spots they encountered would balance that.
They had gone what seemed like miles. The air was stale, but breathable. The darkness was total, and the faint beam vanished mere feet ahead of them. They continued on. And on. He did not know the exact diameter of this ancient peak, and the tunnel was not straight, but it seemed as if—
On the thought, they hit a dead end. There was no warning, no shrinking of the tunnel’s dimensions; the tunnel simply ended in a nearly flat wall of rock.
He ran the flarelight’s beam over the surface. Then he upped the setting a notch and got a clearer view. It made no difference—it appeared to be solid rock.
“Of course,” Shaina muttered, running her hands over the seemingly impenetrable wall, searching for a weakness. She found nothing. “Perfect. And us without a single bit of nitron.”
“That would probably bring the whole thing down on us,” Lyon said, tacitly agreeing with her that they hadn’t been followed, this time at least.
“Disrupter?”
“I think it would take more power than we have.”
“Too bad we can’t get the rover in here. Those side guns might do it.”
“But we don’t know how far we need to go.”
“I’d swear we walked the breadth of this mountain. It can’t be that far to break through.”
“Far enough, in solid rock.”
Shaina sighed. She curled her hand and hit the wall with the side of her fist. “What we need,” she muttered, “is my father and his blessed bow.”
“Indeed,” Lyon said carefully, watching her for any sign of the old anger. He saw none, but didn’t know if it meant she had gotten past it, or it had merely been overshadowed by the urgency of the situation. “Let’s send Rina the coordinates. Perhaps she can extrapolate how far we are from the outside.”
Shaina glanced around at the suddenly heavier-seeming walls. “If we can even get it through to her.”
“If not voice, then by burst. If not burst, then I will make note and we will head back until we can.”
“My ever-patient Lyon,” she said softly.
Her use of his name, the possessiveness in her words, and the huskiness of her voice fired a vivid image in his mind, of moments when he was buried inside her and far from patient.
“Not always,” he said.
She reached out, took his hand. The jolt he felt told him she was thinking the same thing; and the wonder of what they had found, when they had thought there was no more to learn about each other, nearly swamped him.
It took all his self-control to dig out his locater and take a simple reading.
Chapter 47
RINA GRINNED AT the roar that went up the moment the sleek little fighter dropped out of a cloud. She’d last seen it in the air on the final test flight. Dax had planned to unveil it at the ceremony, she knew.
The ceremony that would have been today, she realized.
The gathered crowd knew it was Dax. Somehow word had gotten out from the moment Rox had sent the message. She had little doubt the Coalition knew it as well; the message had not been encoded. And that, too, was Dax. He knew well enough the effect his name would have. And that his presence would make even the Coalition tread carefully—especially knowing that where Dax was, the ship that had wreaked havoc on them both here and on Trios was close at hand. If they knew of the new version of the Evening Star, they’d be even more worried.
The fighter slowed, pivoted in place and, narrowly missing the pile of shattered stone that was all that was left of the fence, dropped neatly into the courtyard of the Council Building.
“I see he’s lost none of his flair,” Tark said dryly.
She glanced at him. He gave her a sideways look in turn. One corner of his mouth curved upward, and she knew he was looking forward to this.
The hatch opened, and the roar went up anew as Dax stepped out. To the gathered Arellians he looked
much as he had all those years ago: tall, strong, dark hair lifting in the breeze. He was even dressed the same, loose white shirt tucked into dark leggings, the knee-high boots, one holding a lethal dagger, the other the powerful bolts in small pockets stitched along the top.
He reached back into the small fighter and pulled something out by a heavy strap, then slung it across his back.
The flashbow. Everyone on Arellia would recognize the sleek, silver weapon, she thought.
The shouts came wildly as Dax scanned the throng.
“The flashbow!”
“Dax!”
“Skypirate!”
He gave them a wave, which raised the sound level a bit more, but his eyes never stopped searching.
He found them. Rina saw him register her presence with a smile, but then his gaze shifted to the man beside her. For a moment he went very still, as if he hadn’t really believed it until now. A huge, joyous grin formed, and he leapt easily down from the fighter. He crossed the distance between them at a run.
It began as a handshake, but Dax bent his arm and pulled Tark toward him, to clap him soundly on the back. After an instant’s hesitation, Tark returned the gesture, as close as two fighting men would get to a public embrace, Rina guessed with a wide smile.
“You son of a skalworm, I should fry you right here for letting me think you dead all these years.”
Tark looked slightly embarrassed. “It seemed a good idea at the time.”
“Well, it wasn’t,” Dax said. He released him, but held him with a steady gaze. “You were the one true regret we were never able to let go of.”
Tark lowered his gaze, clearly self-conscious about the heartfelt emotion. He would learn, Rina thought. When she brought him home to Trios, he would learn.
“So,” Dax went on, “it’s a bedamned good thing you changed your mind.”
Tark flicked a glance at her. “I’ve come to think differently.”
Dax released him then, and turned to her. He leaned in, cupped her face, and planted a kiss on her forehead. “That’s my girl.” Then he looked at Tark and grinned again. “Or at least, she was. Somehow I think that’s changed.”
“Everything has changed,” Tark answered. He squeezed her hand as he said it, and from that small gesture her heart soared.
“Show me where we are,” he said. “Same place?”
Tark nodded. He glanced back at the sleek fighter. “You sure you want to leave it in the open? They’ll be back as soon as they regroup.”
Dax grinned. He reached into his pocket and brought out a small device with two glowing buttons on it. “Leave what?” he said as he clicked the blue one.
The fighter vanished. There was nothing there but the rubble from the fence.
Tark stared. Rina grinned.
“I see Larc got the veiling perfected,” she said.
“He did indeed.”
Tark’s mouth curved into a smile. “He is still with you?”
“They all are, save Qantar. We lost him last year.”
Tark nodded, signaling he remembered the man. “I recall thinking that he had died inside a lot longer ago.”
Dax smiled sadly then. “Yes. But he recovered some joy, and passed peacefully where his family had died. He was content.”
“A simple but powerful goal,” Rina said, looking at Tark. Above all, she wished him content. And she would have it, she vowed.
Much of the crowd followed them, entranced by Dax’s arrival in the flesh, and tried to cram into the outer room. She couldn’t blame them. Dax and Tark to fight together again was history being written as they breathed. But only the men Tark trusted—and Rayden—were allowed into the tactical room.
Dax strode to the table and studied it silently for a moment. The flat maps, the holo projection, the logs.
“Nice move, taking out the command post before they even got comfortable.”
“Head of the snake,” Tark said. “And it was thanks to Rayden. He is the one who knew of the cellar that gave us access.”
Dax smiled at the boy, who gaped back, speechless.
“Good job,” Dax said.
The boy drew himself up proudly then. “I knew it would work.”
Dax’s gaze softened. “You remind me of my girl. That was always her answer after some crazed escapade.”
Tark shifted uncomfortably then. “Your daughter,” he began.
When Dax shifted his gaze back, Rina stepped in and quickly spoke. “She would not hear no, Dax. Lyon was going, and she was with him, no matter what anyone said.”
“Going?”
“I know the irony. I came here to check on her welfare, and then let her venture out in the middle of a battle to scout for us.”
“Rina,” Dax said gently, “this is war. We all must do what we can. Besides, my worry was more . . . personal. Where are they?”
Tark quickly explained about the tunnels. He left it to Rina to explain about the rest. And while Dax accepted the part about the invisible screen—after seeing how well Larc’s veiling worked, she supposed that was not a big jump—the bit about the treasure and the orb made his brows raise.
“Time for that later,” Tark suggested.
“Yes,” Dax said. “We must—”
The door opened. Kateri stood there. She scanned the room, her gaze stopping on Dax and Tark and Rina. Something warm and pleased came into her usual weary expression. Rina understood both. She had been proven right at last, but the cost had already been high. The last count she had heard, casualties, mostly civilian, had been in the hundreds.
“I have word. The mother ship has been sighted by our scout ship. They are coming.”
“Direction?” Tark demanded.
“Not committed yet, but either to the plain as you suspected, or the highlands beyond.”
“The highlands make no sense,” Tark said. “Brakely is not stupid. He would know massing there would cost them too much in time and gain them little in stealth.”
“Hard to hide a Coalition-sized army,” Dax agreed easily. His blood was up—Rina could see it. The flashbow warrior was ready for a fight as much as the skypirate ever had been.
“There is more,” Kateri said. “There is a second contingent. Nearly as large, judging by the number of ships.”
“Headed straight here,” Tark said flatly.
“Yes.”
“You knew they would not take what you did here lightly,” Dax said.
“Yes,” Tark said.
“You’ve made them very angry, my friend. Again.”
“Yes,” he repeated with satisfaction.
Dax grinned. “And they are dividing their forces because of it.”
Tark looked at him then, his old rakish grin forming. Rina saw the nod of salute Dax gave him. Her love and admiration for these two men tightened her throat.
“Your communicator is blinking,” Kateri said, pointing to Rina.
She looked down at her belt, saw the red light flashing. The sound of the alert must have been lost in the noise of Dax’s arrival. She unclipped it, read the burst message.
“It’s from Lyon,” she said.
The room went silent. She read the short message, the numbers. Some of the men stirred, but fell silent when Tark lifted a hand, his gaze fastened on her. Dax seemed to note this, a faint smile on his lips.
She stared at the holo projection. Walked to the end of the table to stare at the far side of the old mountain, and at the gridlines that hovered faintly in the air. She looked at the numbers Lyon had sent once more. Then she let her gaze go slightly unfocused, and put all the elements together in her mind. Double-checked.
A moment later she blinked, and looked at the two men she loved most, along with her king and his son.
Sh
e grinned.
“The tunnel goes nearly all the way through the mountain. It stops barely fifteen feet from the outside.”
“There’s the way to flank them,” Dax said.
Tark said nothing; he was staring at the holo projection.
Rina agreed quickly. “Get them into the pass, then come up from behind them. We trap them, and then hold Galatin, we could end this war right now.”
Still Tark said nothing.
“I will give what air support I can, from the fighter,” Dax said. “I think I can do more good there than on the ground, at least until the Evening Star gets here. But if need be, I can set her down almost anywhere.”
Rina was watching Tark intently now. She moved to stand beside him, to look at the holo from the same angle. Then she looked at his face.
The truth hit her instantly, tightened her stomach until she felt queasy with it. It was there. That pass, where the battle would take place, was where he had nearly died. Where he and his small band had fought nearly to the death, and then been left to die in fact.
“At least a small force will have to meet them in the pass while the main force goes through the tunnel,” Dax was saying, “or they will suspect something. And they will have to be your best, to hold them long enough.”
“I will lead them,” Tark said, his voice so neutral Rina knew the effort behind it. He was volunteering to march back into the hell that had nearly destroyed him, and against much greater odds.
“You must not,” Kateri said sharply.
For an instant Rina wondered if the woman knew. If so, she blessed her silently.
“Who else can?” Tark asked.
Kateri shook her head. “The same reason stands. There will be another battle here, even more fierce now that you have pierced their arrogance. They will be merciless. If the people of Galatin are to stand, you must be here to lead them.”
“Are they so wavering then?” Dax asked.
“They have had years of peace to soften them, and no leaders such as you or your king to counter that. But they will fight, if Tark asks it of them.” She walked to him, put a hand on his arm. “You must be here,” she urged. “I know these people.”
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