Calling the Change (Sky Raiders Book 2)

by Michelle Diener

  Fek stepped into the small clearing.

  He carried with him the whiff of violence, eyes a little wilder, fists clenched.

  “Let's go,” he said, and grabbed up his pack, along with her own. “We're leaving the stretcher, you'll have to walk.”

  Taya got slowly to her feet and realized somewhere, somehow, she'd missed out on a conversation between the two men, because Gaffri seemed to understand exactly what Fek was talking about.

  While she'd been washing in the stream earlier this morning, she decided.

  When she'd come back, Fek was gone, and Gaffri had been his usual taciturn self, so she had simply taken the opportunity to rest a little more, and warm herself after the cold dip in the stream by soaking up the Star's light.

  She didn't ask questions as she followed Fek, she knew they would most likely not be answered.

  That was all right. She was easily capable of working things out for herself.

  Fek led them back the way he'd come, pushing ahead at a fast clip, with Gaffri breathing down her neck at her back, muttering about her slowness.

  She hid the satisfaction she felt at his irritation, moving with care and an overly delicate sense of caution around branches, fallen trunks, and bushes.

  As she emerged from a thick hedge, she stumbled over a man lying on the ground, falling forward and just getting her hands out in time to stop herself landing across his body.

  He was breathing, she saw, but there was a trickle of blood running from his temple down his cheek, and his color was gray, rather than simply pale.

  Gaffri grabbed her by the upper arm and hauled her up, his gaze on the burly victim. “Come on.”

  He dragged her out from the hedge, onto a wide road where Fek was standing beside a cart, checking the harness attached a zanir.

  Now she understood why Fek had been gone so long. He'd been waiting for a cart to come along, and when it had, he'd attacked the driver and dragged him out of sight.

  “Get in the back.” Gaffri pushed her, and she made her way to the back of the cart and climbed in.

  It was full of huncree, the hard, crisp fruit that was grown in Harven and traded with the other states. She took one, biting into it as she worked out how to make a comfortable place for herself.

  Eventually, she curled up in a corner on a thick, folded tarpaulin. Fek shook the reins and they started moving.

  Taya kept her gaze on the bush under which the man lay, but there was no movement, no sign there was even anyone there.

  Outrage and a feeling of helplessness rose up in her that they would leave someone unconscious and alone.

  She couldn't help him, and it made her sick. She couldn't run from her captors, either, she wasn't quite well enough yet, and so she had to accept that she was going to be handed over to the Harven liege, and that the man in the bush would lie there until he was able to pull himself back onto the road.

  That Garek would come for her was not in doubt. But that might take time, and she would have to survive until he could rescue her, or she found a way to escape.

  The thought was depressing, and she fought against the dark cloud that hovered over her. She needed to find her usual resilience.

  On the horizon up ahead, a sky raider craft lifted high in the sky with a roar, then turned away, northward toward Dartalia.

  Taya sat a little straighter, watching the glint before it disappeared.

  Fek and Gaffri shifted uneasily in their seats.

  Of course, sky craft often stole the goods from carts just like this one. She'd eaten huncree often enough on Shadow, and it would have been taken from farmers or traders just like the one Fek had knocked out.

  “Scared?” she asked them. “The sky raiders are probably looking for new slaves for the mines up on Shadow, now that their old ones have escaped.”

  Fek grunted in response. Gaffri turned and gave her a dirty look.

  “You're the one who should be scared. We're only three hours from Luf.”

  She held his gaze until he turned back. He sat easily on the seat, his wound almost completely healed. The cut had been clean and shallow, and because he was a guard, he'd had the medical kit and the knowledge to treat himself.

  She supposed she should be grateful. Fek had a medical kit too, and he'd treated her wound and given her the best chance of recovery he could while still pushing through the mountains at a grueling pace.

  And now they were three hours away from Luf.

  She wriggled herself into a comfortable position and closed her eyes, enjoying the Star light, the fragrant, sweet smell of the huncree around her, and saved her energy for the confrontation to come.

  THEY PULLED up to the gates at dusk.

  Taya heard Gaffri and Fek lying to the guard, who were suspicious of West Lathorians driving a cart of huncree.

  She was tied, gagged, and rolled tight in a sleeping bag, lying in the cart directly behind the driver's seat. They'd stopped to restrain her an hour from the city and she was trussed up and helpless.

  She held her breath when one of the guards lifted the tarpaulin she'd lain on earlier, which Fek had taken and tied over the whole back of the cart, hoping he'd pull it off completely and discover her.

  No matter that Habred was the liege here, he would be forced to deny involvement in having an Illian abducted, and the questions for Fek and Gaffri would be even more difficult.

  “This is just a favor for a friend,” Fek said, and she felt the rock of the cart as he jumped down from the front seat. “We walk the walls of Garamundo, and we're here on an errand for our town master, but the trader this cart belongs to fell ill, and asked us to take it in for him, seeing as we were going this way.”

  “Saved us a walk, too,” Gaffri said.

  “Ah, I heard you were coming.” The guard dropped the tarpaulin. “Your friend Garek's been asking after you.”

  Taya froze for a moment, and then tried to throw herself from side to side. They'd wedged her in between the huncree and the wooden side of the cart, and she barely made the cart squeak.

  Tears of frustration were streaming down her face by the time the guards let them in.

  She heard them giving Fek a recommendation for a good value inn.

  The cart moved forward and Fek and Gaffri were quiet. Frightened she guessed, with a fierce sense of satisfaction. She kicked out at the side of the cart, but couldn't even make contact.

  It didn't matter. Garek was here somewhere, and he would find her. He wouldn't rest until he did.

  The cart slowed, and she heard the two men whispering to each other.

  She heard one of them call out, asking the way to the guard master's office, and blinked her eyes dry.

  She would not be crying when they delivered her to Habred, not even tears of anger and frustration.

  The cart rocked through the streets, climbing up, up, up toward the palace, and then turned and stopped.

  She felt the squeak and tip of the cart as one of them got down, and then she waited.

  It took a long time for anything to happen.

  She was almost asleep when the cart started moving again, but they only traveled a short distance before the tarpaulin was pulled back, and she was lifted up like a sack of huncree.

  She was passed down from the cart to someone on the ground, then tossed over his shoulder and carried up a set of stairs.

  No one said anything, and from the echo of the footsteps, she guessed they were in a stone passage or room, and that it was mostly empty.

  Breathing was difficult in the thick bag, so she forced herself to concentrate on getting enough air, of relaxing her body. It helped lessen her panic and the feeling of helplessness as she was manhandled.

  There was a screech of a rusty hinge, and she was lifted and set down, and the sleeping bag pulled off her.

  She blinked, although the light was dim she realized when she got used to it, just two lanterns on the wall opposite the cell she'd been placed in.

  Fek loosened her gag,
and it fell around her neck. It took him much longer to untie the rope around her hands and feet, and she sat breathing through the pain as they came off.

  Gaffri stood near the metal grid door of her cell with two strangers. One looked at her with eyes that showed a great deal of discomfort. She locked gazes with him, and he looked down and away after a moment.

  “You can leave your packs here for now, out of sight,” the other man said to Gaffri. He held a lantern in one hand. “I know General Faloni will want to speak to you immediately.”

  Gaffri looked gratified, Fek less so, but they stacked the three packs against the wall outside her cell.

  The cell she was in was one of two, separated by a stone wall about waist height, and then metal bars to the ceiling.

  There was a corridor in front of both cells, running left and right, and there was a door a little way down on the right side. The corridor stretched on into darkness on the left, though, and Gaffri and Fek followed the man that way, without a backward glance at her.

  The warden--she guessed he was the warden because there were keys in his hands--had finally looked up again, and they regarded each other in silence.

  With a sigh, he stepped back, closed the door, which shrieked in protest again, and struggled a little to turn the lock.

  “An old, disused cell?” she asked him.

  He froze, his gaze going to her, eyes wide. “You're Illian.”

  “From West Lathor,” she agreed.

  He watched her for another long beat, his gaze going to the healing wound behind her ear. “Why do those two thugs from West Lathor think General Faloni will be pleased with them for bringing you here?”

  “I was one of the captives on Shadow. I was here two weeks ago in the sky craft, returning the villagers of Cassinya to Luf. When I returned home, those two,” she tipped her head in the direction Fek and Gaffri had gone, “came to my village and abducted me, they say on the order of your liege.”

  The man had frozen in place as she spoke, and he rubbed a hand down his face. “This is about sky raiders?”

  “Some of it.” She watched him as he shuffled uncomfortably.

  “Who from Harven were among the prisoners? Tell me their names.” He gripped the bars on the door, and she stepped closer to him, so they stood face to face.

  “Luci, she was the town master of Cassinya.” She watched his face, and gave a list of ten names without having to pause to think.

  The fourth name, Bargat, meant something to him. He gripped the bars tighter as she mentioned it.

  “You are the woman. The woman who calls the Change on the strange new metal.”

  His eyes were dark gray, and she held his gaze. “I am.”

  “My second cousin is Bargat. He told me about you. All of them spoke of you.”

  She nodded, looked down.

  “The stories . . .” He drew in a sharp breath. “That's why Habred wants you, because of those stories.”

  “I think so.” She waited a beat. “Fek and Gaffri tied me up and brought me into the city at the back of a cart, but I heard the guards at the gate say my intended, Garek, was asking after them. Is he here?”

  He stepped back from the door. “The Garamundo guard who flies the sky craft? He's your intended?”

  She nodded.

  “He left two days ago.”

  She stared at him, all sound fading, her vision narrowing as black edged everything.

  Garek was gone?

  She tried to fight against the despair, because he would be back, he would.

  She didn't even realize the warden had come back into the cell, or how she came to be kneeling on the floor, but suddenly he was there, pressing a mug full of cold, fresh water into her hands.

  She took a sip, and then another, and finally lifted her head.

  “My name is Gern Danaldi,” the warden said, still crouched in front of her. He lifted a hand to where the rock had hit her and then pulled back. “I don't know what Habred has planned for you, but I give you my word, no one will harm you while you are under my watch.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Gern had found a mattress somewhere, one that was clean and smelled of soap and sunshine, so Taya was comfortable and warm in the sleeping bag she'd arrived bundled up in, when the sounds of shouting and fighting woke her.

  It was late in the night, and she blinked, trying to focus, trying to make sense of the chaos.

  By the time she'd pulled herself up, Fek and Gaffri were in the cell next to her, and Gern was locking the door.

  She looked across at him, and he gave a tiny shake of his head. He didn't know what was going on, either.

  There were four guards outside the cells, three men and a woman, and from the bruises they were sporting, Taya guessed Fek and Gaffri had not gone quietly.

  The woman opened up all three of the packs propped against the wall, and Taya was suddenly very focused on what she was doing.

  She would find the knife. And that would be a disaster.

  The guard pulled out the two pieces of sky craft debris, which were sitting on the top, patted the packs to see if there were any more, and then rose up.

  Taya tried to let her breath out quietly.

  “We were doing exactly what your liege asked us to,” Gaffri said, his hands gripping the metal of the cell door.

  The guard who'd dug in the packs gave a shrug. She glanced across at Gern. “We'll let you know what's happening with them later today.”

  Gern nodded, no sign of what he was thinking on his face.

  With a grunt, the guard turned on her heel, the pieces of sky craft under her arm, and followed her colleagues out to the left.

  Taya leaned back against the wall, still in the warm sleeping bag, and looked over at Gaffri and Fek.

  She said nothing, but Gaffri came up to the bars that separated them, and shook them. He seemed beyond angry, his teeth clenched together as he tried to rip the bars apart.

  She watched him for a long moment, satisfied that he couldn't get to her, and then turned her back on him, snuggled deep into her mattress, and closed her eyes to show him her utter contempt.

  He let out a shout, and then she heard the sound of a fist hitting flesh.

  She raised her head, saw Fek standing where Gaffri had been, looking down at the ground. He wore a look of fury and satisfaction, and she imagined he blamed Gaffri for the trouble they were in now.

  “Shut up, or I'll punch you again,” he said, and she couldn't fight the shiver that ran through her at his tone.

  Gern stepped up to their door, looked in, and gave an irritated huff before he headed for the door to the right. He was carrying a lantern, and as the door swung shut behind him, the cells were plunged into pitch darkness.

  Taya curled back on her mattress, listening to the two men shuffling around and then eventually go quiet.

  She wondered what had happened between Gaffri and Habred, what was behind the Harven liege turning on the two men. She mulled it for a while, but too many days on the road, her injury, and the comfort of her bed all conspired to pull her under.

  WHEN SHE WOKE AGAIN, dawn was breaking, its pale gray light falling through the thick, ugly glass of the window high on the wall opposite her cell.

  She stirred, pulling herself up, and tried not to react when she saw Fek leaning against the bars that separated them, watching her.

  “Why does the Harven liege want you?”

  “Didn't he tell you?” Her voice was rough, and she cleared her throat as she snuggled deeper into the bag. She could hear Gaffri's light snoring, and realized she'd heard it all night.

  Fek shook his head. “I could tell he was pleased we'd brought you here. But the general . . . the general was less pleased. And they both turned jittery when we told them about the crash site, and the debris we'd brought with us.”

  She frowned at that, wondering why an old crash site would cause alarm, then lifted her head as Gern opened the door and stepped through. He stood in the open area in front
of the cells as the light above him changed from gray to pink, and looked between them. Then he unlocked her door, ignoring Fek's questions, and took her down the passage to the left to a tiny bathroom a little way away from the cells.

  The passage continued on, though, and at the far end of it was a flight of stairs with a sturdy wooden door at the top of them. She stood staring at it until Gern gestured her into the bathroom.

  It was no more than a toilet and sink, but Gern handed her soap and a cloth. She was used to cold water by now, and she felt very awake when she stepped back out.

  “I forgot to say this last night, because too much was happening, but Fek and Gaffri attacked a farmer or trader who was bringing huncree to the city. They stole his cart so they could hide me from the guards at the gate. Fek knocked him out and left him under a bush about three hours from Luf. I don't know if you can do anything, let anyone know, but I wanted to tell someone, in case he's still there. He was breathing, but he looked in a bad state when I saw him.”

  Gern studied her for a long moment. “You're concerned for a Harven trader, even though the Harven have grabbed you and locked you up?”

  “I was grabbed by two guards who are West Lathorian, like me. They walked the walls with my intended. I'm not blaming every single Harven for this anymore than I'm blaming every single Garamundo guard.”

  He gave a thoughtful nod. “I'll see what I can do about the trader. I'll ask which gate you came through last night, and then have the guards ask whoever leaves the city in that direction to keep a look out for him.”

  He started walking back and she reached out and caught hold of his arm.

  “Can you tell me where I am? What they plan for me?”

  He hesitated. “You're in the guard barracks. In the cells set aside for guards who've broken the law.” He looked past her, down the corridor toward the staircase, and shook his head. “I don't know what they're planning to do to you.”

  His expression suddenly changed to one of wariness, and she turned, saw the door at the top of the stairs swing open. Gern gave a fierce jerk of his head and she scurried toward her cell, her heart leaping and slamming against her rib cage.