Flare Shifter

by Erin MacMichael

  “That wail was his, Kea. He must have been attacked by one of those flying monsters,” Cait answered severely, resuming her careful ministrations to his wounds.

  “Two,” Ryder acknowledged hoarsely, bringing astonished murmurs from the people standing above them. “I killed the first one, but before that—” He stopped abruptly, studying Kea’s face intently as the gruesome images from his night in Tessin came flooding into his mind—the running, the incessant screaming and smell of blood, the rampaging saur—and above them all rose the relentless, wrenching memory of Kynn dying in his studio. His eyes widened in horror and he shook his head feverishly against the images and heartache he couldn’t hold back. “Oh god, he’s dead,” he grated, breaking down into sobs. “I couldn’t stop him.”

  Kea pulled in a breath as she picked up jagged pieces of violence and jarring sounds through her hands, lifting shocked eyes to Cait. “Are you seeing any of this? What he did? So much blood! I can’t believe he made it out of there alive.”

  Cait nodded grimly, pressing a poultice and clean bandages onto Ryder’s chest and arm. “He loves you deeply, little one.”

  Turning back to Ryder, Kea reached up to wipe the tears away from his grief-stricken face. “Ryder, what happened at the shop? Who’s dead?”

  “Kynn ... truthsayer ... got me out of the Assassins Hall the day Ilánn and Stani were killed,” he managed to say as fresh tears rolled down his face into his hair. “He was there last night when I brought the saur to destroy my shop, and—took my form, my ring, wouldn’t come with me, let the saur—” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, fighting for his voice. “Tiro won’t have any reason to hunt for me now.”

  A sympathetic silence spread among the group of onlookers while Ryder breathed heavily, struggling to come to terms with his grief. The man standing next to him knelt down and placed a strong hand on his shoulder. “Then you can start again with us,” he said softly.

  Startled by the contact, Ryder looked up into the face of a sturdy, pony-tailed man watching him with concern. Momentarily caught off-guard, Ryder shifted his gaze to the men and women standing above him, only to discover expectant and openly curious expressions on each of their faces. It was acutely unnerving to have so many eyes on him at once and ingrained apprehension stole across his features as he refocused on the man beside him.

  “It’s alright, Kea told us a little about you. You’re safe with us,” the man assured him calmly. “I’m Rori, Cait’s husband, and this little lady is my niece. Ilánn was my sister.”

  Ryder’s eyes clouded with anguish. “I’m sorry—I couldn’t save them.”

  “There was no way you could have,” Rori soothed, “but we’re all grateful that you sent Kea back to us in one piece. Well, maybe with a little something extra,” he said with a grin as Kea blushed furiously. “It sounds like you’ve been through hell, Ryder, and we’re amazed that you made it all the way out here, but you kept your word to Kea and that means a lot to all of us. So, take your time, get to know us. You’re welcome here.” He smiled warmly while support, understanding, and the offer of friendship filtered through his touch.

  Ryder didn’t know what to say and transferred his eyes to Kea who nodded her encouragement. Cait placed her hands gingerly over his bandaged wounds and sent him echoes of Rori’s sentiments.

  “I—thank you … all of you,” he stammered shyly to the group, unable to meet their gaze again.

  Rori patted him on the shoulder and stood up. “Cait, if you’re finished, let’s get him home.”

  Ryder kept a tight grip on Kea’s hand as he was hoisted onto a blanket and carried by a dozen willing people down the branch-strewn slope to the waiting wagon where he was gingerly handed up and laid on a bed of straw. Kea climbed in and settled herself next to him in the crook of his arm for the long ride down the mountainside.

  “Oh, and Ryder,” Rori called at the foot of the wagon. “I could use a hand at the smithy and I hear you know a thing or two about metals. Nothing fancy here like you’re used to, but care to give it a try?”

  Ryder nodded. “I’ll hammer anything you’ve got.”

  Rori flashed him a smile before he threw his arm around Cait’s shoulders and started down the slope beside her.

  As the wagon lurched forward, Ryder reached over and nuzzled the top of Kea’s head. “I missed you something awful,” he whispered into her hair.

  Kea raised her face and looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “I missed you, too. It was so hard to leave you, not knowing if I’d ever see you again.”

  “I told you I’d come.”

  “I know, but you wouldn’t tell me what you were going to do. Ryder, what I saw when I first touched you was terrifying. You could easily be dead.”

  “I’d do it again, Kea—you’re worth it. But next time, I’d make sure Kynn came with me.”

  “Will you tell me more about that man?” she asked quietly. “You helped me so much with my grief. Will you let me do the same for you?”

  Ryder squeezed her shoulders. “Ok, we’ll talk about Kynn. It would help me work things out inside.”

  With a sudden thought, he sucked in a sharp breath and pulled his arm around Kea, anxiously trying to reach for the front of his torn jacket with his good hand. “Kea, open up my jacket and see if you can find a zipped pocket on the inside.”

  “Ok, settle down, I’ll help you,” she said with concern, raising herself up slightly so she could use both hands to gingerly lift the front of his tattered jacket. “Yes, I see it—it’s still closed.”

  “Thank goodness,” he rasped as he relaxed and let his head fall back again, hugely relieved that he hadn’t lost his precious parcel somewhere in the night.

  “Do you want me to get into it for you?” Kea asked.

  He nodded several times. “Yes, take out the bag that’s inside.”

  Moving slowly in an effort not to cause him any pain, Kea unzipped the pocket and pulled out a small velvet pouch. She looked up at him with a question in her eyes and he nodded again. “Open it,” he insisted, watching her face raptly.

  With utmost care, she loosened the ties and pulled out a matching pair of intricately carved silver rings, one large, one small.

  “I started them the day you left.”

  Her mouth fell open as she turned the exquisite rings over and over in her hands, and when she finally looked up again, her eyes were shining. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. Ryder, you’re an amazing man. I love you so much.”

  “I love you, Kea,” he replied softly, running his eyes over every detail of her delicate face.

  Holding the silver rings tightly in her hand, she leaned forward and kissed him tenderly before nestling back down beside him, keeping her head angled back on his shoulder so she could watch his face.

  Ryder relaxed and sank into the pile of blankets. The wagon rocked as it moved down the rough mountain trail, soothing in its steady rhythm, but when it hit a gully and lurched, he winced from the pain that shot through his sore chest and arm.

  “Are you alright?” she asked quickly, lifting her head with concern.

  He nodded to reassure her. “The bumps just jar me a little. Whatever Cait put on my skin is already bringing the pain down.”

  “We’ll be off the mountain soon. I bet you’re tired from all that running last night.”

  “You know, my body is exhausted enough to sleep for days, but my mind is clear and wide awake.” He lifted his gaze up into the expanse of green branches and golden sky, watching the stately trees pass by over their heads, noticing how rich and vibrant the colors appeared to be.

  “I can’t believe I’m really here, Kea. I kept wondering what it would look like, but I really had no idea how beautiful it would be. I mean, look at this,” he said, gesturing with his right hand as his voice trailed off. He rotated his head, darting his eyes in every direction, picking up the smallest details around him with heightened perception—the angles of the branches, the texture of the
moss, the variegation of shapes and color in the foliage beneath the canopy, birds and squirrels flitting around in the tree tops. “It’s amazing,” he marveled, “and so peaceful. The flare has already calmed down, the sunlight is back to normal, it seems like it could be just any other morning—but it’s not. At least not for me…,” he stated, his words trailing off once again as he was struck by the unreality of where he was and how different everything felt.

  “There’s no tension in the pit of my stomach, or my head, or anywhere else in my body.” He raised his left hand up in front of his face, examining it carefully. “It’s not shaking. It hurts, but it’s not shaking.”

  He let his hand drop to his bandaged chest and drew in a deep lung full of crisp mountain air. “It smells so sweet and clean out here, alive,” he finished in a whisper, exhaling slowly until his lungs were empty. “No rotting buildings … no acidic reptiles … no blood—”

  Kea cleared her throat. “Except yoooours,” she admonished lightly.

  “Except mine,” he corrected with a faint smile. “But Kea, there’s no one watching me,” he went on, his voice tinged with wonder. “I don’t have to shift or hide or pay attention to every bloody thing I do or say every minute of every bloody day. No more eyes.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he let out a short, self-deprecating laugh at the thought of being ogled up on the slope just moments before. “Ok, there are still a few eyes that make me jump,” he admitted humbly as Kea grinned beside him. “That was definitely weird to be stared at by a bunch of people I don’t know yet.”

  “But they’re nice eyes,” she said laughingly.

  “Yes, nice eyes,” he agreed, “not out for my blood. It’s just going to take some time to get used to people who are so open, but I should be alright with you and a baby—oh my god, we’re going to have a baby!” he exclaimed with a start, hugging her shoulders. “I’ve been thinking about that ever since you left.”

  “You have?”

  “Uh-huh. I keep seeing myself carrying this little person, holding a small hand, reading before sleep, laughing. It’s going to be so cool.” He rubbed Kea’s arm and shoulder, blinking up at the trees. “I really want this, Kea. I hurt for so many years when I was young, wanting my father back, and now I’ll have a chance to be the kind of father I always longed for.” He paused and his hand stopped moving. “My child won’t ever have to wonder where I am,” he stated with quiet conviction while Kea patted his chest understandingly. “If we had stayed in Tessin, every day would have been torture trying to keep hidden, the same debilitating fear I lived with for years, only worse. But now I can actually look forward to raising a family with you because I’m here. The damned reptiles are still out there and could still hunt us down, but the knife isn’t staring us in the face.”

  Ryder let out a long, relaxed sigh. “I can actually look forward to just waking up in the morning,” he declared with a touch of amazement. “What a novel concept.” He planted a kiss on Kea’s head and looked down to find her watching him with a warm expression. Lifting a tiny hand, she reached up and ran her fingertips along the side of his face, moving her hand slowly on down his neck to his chest and stomach.

  He sucked in a quick breath as his flesh reacted to her touch. “Oh, I can’t wait to get you home,” he whispered.

  “But … you’re injured. I don’t want to hurt—”

  “We’ll manage,” he assured her in a husky voice. She looked up at him with surprise, shifting her gaze from one sparkling eye to the other and back again before she laughed softly.

  “What?”

  “You know what,” she teased. “But I think there’s something missing.”

  His brows rose in silent question while the corners of her mouth curled in invitation. “Come on, I know you can do it.”

  Slowly, and with great deliberation, Ryder broke into a wide, gleaming smile.

  Author’s Note

  Flare Shifter is the backstory of Ryder Dundalk who appears in the epic science fantasy series beginning with Blood of the Prime, T’nari Renegades—Pleiadian Cycle, Book I (see the excerpt “Nightscape” included below).

  “T’nari” refers to a family of consciousness who shares a common purpose.

  As a point of interest, I had “Heretic, Hero” from the Halo 2 Original Soundtrack echoing through my mind while I wrote the last chapters in which Ryder makes his run through the flare. Many thanks to the composers of this amazing music.

  —Erin

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  Other Publications by This Author

  T’NARI RENEGADES—PLEIADIAN CYCLE

  To Steal a Moon (Prequel Novella)

  Descent of the Maw (Prequel)

  Flare Shifter (Prequel Novella)

  T’nari Blood Claim (Short Story)

  Blood of the Prime (Book I)

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  Excerpt from

  Blood of the Prime

  T’nari Renegades—Pleiadian Cycle, Book I

  Excerpt from Chapter 8

  “Nightscape”

  Rhys Talrésian found himself in the middle of his dreaming. Every night since the Maian and Alcýoni Fleets lost the battle for Maia’s tiny outworld of Galah to the Drahks, the rasping reptilian voice had haunted his dreams, chased him down, tormented him with perverse malevolence.

  He’d thought he was losing his mind, or, at the very least, his nerve. It hadn’t occurred to him that there was something more to the brutal nightmares than the frayed nerves of an over-extended pilot. But the night before last, when he was being soundly crushed by terrifying walls of water, she had come—an elusive, feminine presence had reached him through the pain and showed him how to look past the illusions of the dream to discover the face of his tormentor.

  A goddamn Drahk was hunting him on the inner planes. It was weird, unheard of, but at least he knew now what he was up against and he wasn’t afraid to fall sleep again.

  Tonight, he was walking across a burning desert. The hot sand baked his feet through his boots as he trudged steadily toward the western peaks set afire by the last rays of Alcýone.

  He didn’t mind the heat because he was determined to find her. Nothing could possibly bother him now. He recognized the plateau he was walking across, but couldn’t bring to mind where he’d seen it before.

  No matter. She was somewhere close by and he wouldn’t leave until he had finally seen her. He knew what she felt like—she drew him like a lodestone. She was light, she was a breath of swirling air filling his starving lungs, she was his beacon out of the clawing darkness trying to swallow him.

  Laughter escaped his chest and rolled out over the plateau. It was so easy, so good, so necessary. Rhys threw his arms out and spun around, his long black hair flying behind him.

  “I’m coming! Do you hear me?” he called as he resumed his steady pace across the desert floor. “I’m coming for you!”

  As he walked toward the western peak, a sudden fear gripped his solar plexus. What if the Drahk found her first? She might be in danger!

  R
hys started to run. Before he had gone ten paces, a great crack opened in the ground in front of him, shaking the desert in all directions as it split a wide rift across his path. The trembling rock nearly knocked him off his feet, but somehow he managed to keep his balance at the edge of the precipice.

  A hot, blistering wind blasted up from the depths, pulling at his clothes and hair. Before he could back away, an enormous black serpentine cloud rose from the crevice and snapped him up in its great jaws.

  Darkness engulfed him and he was sucked down a long, endless tunnel. The piercing scream of the wind was deafening and he covered his ears with his hands, trying to keep his eardrums from bursting.

  Shit, it was happening again! He had to stop it. What was it she told him to do?

  Rhys struggled vainly to catch his breath as he was hurled through the void at lightning speed. Invisible lashes thrashed him across his chest and back, making him cry out with each new welt of pain. Maniacal laughter coursed around him in a spiral, bounding off of the unseen walls of the tunnel, trying to squeeze the air from his lungs.

  “Did you think you could get away from me, small man?” the deep voice roared. “You’re mine! Never forget that!” A giant fist slammed into Rhys’s jaw to bring the point home. “Say it! You belong to me!”

  “Nooo!” Rhys screamed, twisting in a frantic attempt to get away from the pain.

  “Say it!” the voice insisted, pummeling him again with a rain of blows.

  “Never, you fucking bastard!” he spat out, his fear giving way to anger and bringing on a surge of strength against his tormentor. Before it could dissipate, Rhys quickly grabbed hold of his thoughts and sent himself to the top of a mountain under a dark night sky where he collapsed, gasping for breath in the sudden stillness. He lay panting for several minutes, fuming that the beast had found him again.