He curled up slightly so he could meet her gaze. “I am filthy and bruised, but unharmed.”
“Good.” She took a deep breath to oxygenate her straining muscles. “Let’s keep it that way.”
“Agreed. How?”
The area around them consisted of mounds of fallen leaves and a few sharp rocks. Nothing of substance. He’d have to hold onto her instead. “How strong are you? Can you climb onto my back?”
A strange expression ghosted across his face, but he nodded. “Yes.”
“Let’s start there. I’ll keep us steady while you pull yourself up.”
The pressure on her left arm intensified as he moved. Thank the universe for daily yoga and calisthenics intensives. She needed that upper body strength right now.
He grabbed onto the denim of her jeans and pulled, allowing her to release her grip on his leg. Small pricks pierced her skin through the material, like a thorn or a claw. Kraed didn’t have claws, did they? Although Jonarel certainly was agile as a cat. In no time his small arms wrapped around her shoulders and his legs clamped onto her waist. She rolled to the left so she could grab the tree root with both hands, bringing instant relief to her burning shoulder.
His mouth was right next to her ear. “What now?”
“There’s a coil of rope in the small compartment of my backpack. Tie one end around your waist.”
The zipper rasped and his weight shifted as he pulled out the rope. He pressed into her as he followed her instructions. “Done.”
“Now tie the other end around my waist so I won’t lose you.”
A brief silence greeted her request. “You are more concerned with my safety than your own?”
“At the moment, yes.”
He didn’t reply, but he moved the rope around her waist. She arched her back so he could maneuver it under her. When it tightened, she let out the breath she’d been holding.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Give me a minute.” She examined the tree root, running her left hand along the edge to check the thickness. “Do you see the small ledge off to the left?”
He twisted around her. “Yes.”
“We may be able to pull ourselves up onto it and climb the tree trunk that’s connected to this root.”
“Understood. What should I do?”
“Grab the root and crab walk to the ledge.”
“Crab walk?”
She smiled in spite of herself. “A crab is a small Earth crustacean that walks sideways. Can you get a grip on the root?”
“Of course.”
His legs locked onto her torso as he reached up. A moment later he was next to her, moving with ease toward the ledge. Maybe he was using more than his fingers for traction.
She followed behind, the rope a gentle arc between them. She tried to get a toehold with her boots to take some of the stress off her shoulders, but she only succeeded in loosening a pocket of gravel that rattled down the steep slope.
The rock ledge was only about twenty centimeters deep, but as tiny as Jonarel was, he’d be able to stand on it. Using a smaller rock just below the ledge as a foothold, he pulled his torso up until he was partially balanced on the ledge. Then he lifted his foot and pushed with his legs until he was standing, his body pressed against the side of the hill.
Unfortunately, when he stretched his arms toward the tree trunk, he was still half a meter away.
She sighed in frustration. “I’ll have to climb up.” She hoped her voice didn’t betray her concern. She’d been holding onto the root for five minutes and her arms were shaking. She might not have the strength to pull herself up. But at this point, they didn’t have any other options. She didn’t share her other observation, either—that the ledge didn’t look wide enough to support them both.
She grasped the ledge with her left hand and placed her foot on the same rock Jonarel had used to boost himself. He moved to the far side of the narrow ledge, giving her as much room as he could. She focused on her balance, pushing with her foot while hauling her upper body with her arms.
She yelped as the rock under her foot gave way. With only her arms to support her, she swayed. Jonarel grabbed the material of her jacket to steady her, but the rock ledge shifted beneath them.
“Hang on!” The ledge pulled away from the cliff face, taking them with it. She released her hold on the stone and yanked Jonarel into her arms, wrapping his small body in a bear hug. The motion carried her onto her back as they plummeted down the cliff face.
They slid rapidly toward the rocky ravine. Aurora shifted her focus to the molecules surrounding them, generating an energy field that increased the friction with the ground underneath them and significantly slowed their momentum. It also provided a buffer between their bodies and the leaves, rocks and sticks that were tumbling down the cliff face with them.
Even with the increase in friction, the ground rushed up to meet them. She concentrated on the molecules at their feet, generating as deep a field as she could to act as a shock absorber when they hit the gulley. Even so, the impact jarred Jonarel out of her arms and knocked the air from her lungs.
She lay on her stomach, drawing labored breaths as debris rained down over her head and arms, coating her jacket and hair. Pins stabbed her chest with each inhale, but she didn’t sense any internal damage. She wasn’t so sure the same would be true for Jonarel.
As soon as she could move, she flipped over on her side. Jonarel was sprawled on the ground about a meter away, the rope still around his waist and his face hidden by his thick hair. Ignoring the vise that continued to squeeze her rib cage, she pushed onto all fours and touched his arm. “Jonarel?” she croaked. “Are you hurt?”
Slowly, he rolled onto his back and met her gaze. But the expression on his face took her completely by surprise. Rather than shock, or pain, or even concern, he looked like he was trying to solve a riddle or puzzle.
Panic flared in her chest at his scrutiny. “Are you hurt?” she asked again, breaking eye contact and looking him over for signs of trauma. He remained silent, and her initial panic morphed into terror that he’d sustained a head injury.
But finally he responded. “I am uninjured. That is surprising, however, given our unexpected descent. By all calculations, I should have one or more broken bones, and possible internal injuries. And yet, I am unharmed.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” She forced cheerfulness into her voice.
He sat up. “Certainly. The question is, how? I have studied the laws of planetary physics since I was a child, and nothing I have learned would explain what occurred.”
“What do you mean?” Her heart thumped erratically as she searched for a logical explanation for their situation. “We fell down a cliff and landed in a ravine. That’s gravity at work.”
“Yes, but the rate of our descent decreased steadily, and we landed with less force than we should have. How did you achieve that?”
Don’t panic. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She fought to keep her voice even. “Maybe you hit your head and aren’t thinking straight, because we landed hard.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but his gaze suddenly shifted over her shoulder and his eyes widened. A split second later she heard a terrifying sound—the crack and rumble of falling boulders. Judging from Jonarel’s ashen expression, the rockslide was almost upon them.
Acting on instinct, she tackled him, knocking him to the ground and covering his body with hers as her energy field snapped into place around them.
The first boulders struck the shield a hand’s breadth from her head. A flare of light and a loud bang followed as the stone smashed into thousands of harmless pieces and dribbled down around them. More boulders hit, each causing a jarring of the energy field as the rocks broke apart.
The deluge continued for seconds that felt like hours, but eventually slowed, replaced by the gentle rustle of shifting pebbles and dirt. She remained motionless, staring sightlessly at the collection of debris around them. T
his was it. The moment she’d dreaded for years, ever since the heartbreaking day she’d learned she was different from other children, that she had to keep a part of herself hidden forever. She’d given her mother her solemn oath that she would never reveal her ability to anyone. Ever.
Well, that plan was shot to hell. She couldn’t hide now. She might have been able to bluff before, but she was huddled in a crater of evidence that couldn’t be denied. For better or worse, the truth was about to be revealed.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed onto her heels and looked into Jonarel’s upturned face, bracing for whatever she would find there.
“You saved my life.”
That wasn’t what she’d been expecting. Should she deny it? But what was the point? He was right. She didn’t have to confirm anything, though.
Unsure of how to respond, she wiped her hands on her jeans and glanced away. “We should get moving.”
“Wait.” He placed his small hand on her arm.
She froze. Now the questions would come. The accusations. Her worst fears brought to vivid reality.
He sat up, facing her, and grasped her hands in his. “Do not fear me.” His grip was strong, but there was no aggression in it. “I can see the worry in your eyes, the uncertainty.”
She’d never felt so vulnerable in her life. It terrified her.
“It is all right.” He gazed at her. “You have an ability that I have never encountered in my travels or studies. An ability you want to keep hidden.”
Her heart provided a staccato beat for his words.
Warmth steadily lit his golden eyes. “You understand much of my race, but we too, have our secrets.” Releasing her hand, he raised his and made a subtle movement with his fingers. Wickedly sharp, nearly translucent claws unsheathed from the pads of his fingers.
Her breath caught. He did have claws!
“In earlier times, they were necessary to help us escape predators.” He moved his fingers again and the claws disappeared seamlessly into his flesh. He held his hand out, palm up, offering it for inspection.
Fascinated, she placed her hand underneath his and ran the pad of her thumb over his fingertips. She couldn’t detect any trace of the sheath openings or the claws that lay just below the surface.
“This is something we have chosen to keep secret, as it might inspire fear.” He grasped her hand again, raising their hands together so they were palm to palm. His expression grew solemn. “My race is an honorable one, Aurora Hawke. When we make a pledge, we keep it.” His golden gaze held hers, revealing a glimpse of the man Jonarel would become after his body caught up with his mind. The concept was both intriguing and intimidating.
His voice deepened. “On the honor of my forebears, the future of my descendants, and the forfeit of my own life, I pledge that I will honor the sanctity of your secret for as long as I draw breath.”
Her heart stuttered to a halt. The forfeit of his life?
And the expression in his eyes indicated he meant it. That he would make this pledge to her, a virtual stranger, left her speechless.
It also triggered a new emotion—hope.
She had to clear her throat before she could reply. “Thank you.” What else could she say? But she had a question for him, too. “How do you know my name?”
“I know who you are.”
“You do?”
“Yes. My father has spoken of you often. He considers you his most promising student.”
“Oh.” What was she supposed to make of that statement? She’d remained near the top of her class during her three years as a junior cadet, and was on track to be an officer when she graduated. But she’d never considered the possibility that her professors might talk about her to their families.
However, now was not the time to think about it. Untying the rope from around her waist, she stood and assessed their situation. The V shaped gulley ran downhill in the direction of the Academy and the terrain looked fairly clear of obstacles. With luck, they’d find an easy slope that would allow them to get back up near the trailhead.
Turning to Jonarel, she gestured toward the winding dirt path.
“Let’s see where this leads us.”
1
As the sun set on the horizon, dusk tiptoed toward the fields of grain that encircled the farmhouse at their center. The fading light burnished the tips of the stalks golden and umber, while a gentle breeze tickled their leaves, making them bend and sway with silent laughter.
Light spilled from the windows of the house, the sounds of clattering plates and boisterous conversation announcing the end of the long workday. Rich aromas from the evening meal wafted on the breeze and scattered toward the hills beyond.
As the light waned, burrowing creatures poked their heads out of the open doorways of their underground homes beneath the stalks. It was dinnertime for them as well, and one by one they scampered through the never-ending maze of greenery, foraging for their evening delights.
Small invertebrates added their voices to the growing symphony, while the winged creatures of the day called out their goodnights before flying home to their roosts. Above them, the deep purples and reds of sunset gave way to the sparkle of a million stars, each one a glittering jewel dropped into a sea of midnight blue.
The night slowly laid a blanket of darkness over the field, except for the small halo that encircled the farmhouse and those within. The cheerful hum of activity filtered out in a gentle background murmur as the hours passed, until the lights were extinguished and the soft veil of sleep descended. The creatures of the valley settled into their cozy dens as the nighttime sounds provided a soft lullaby.
But as the midnight hour approached, a subtle tension cut into the peaceful tranquility. From out of the darkness, figures appeared like shadows, crafted from blackness so absolute that it seemed to swallow light wherever it dared touch. An eerie silence followed in their wake. The very ground beneath them seemed to hold its breath. Even the wind hesitated, as if reluctant to touch them with its gentle caress.
The figures raised their grotesque and misshapen limbs and placed them against the silky surface of the plants. For a moment, all was still. Then the stalks began to tremble. One by one, the plants recoiled, withering as their leaves turned brown and then black. Their silent screams went unheard.
The figures pressed forward, their limbs sweeping out to encompass more and more of the proud stalks, leaving a barren, wasted battlefield in their wake. The devastation moved with them, and animals fled in all directions. Those who ran away from the inky blackness survived. Those who cowered among the tall stalks were not so lucky. When the darkness reached them, their shrieks of terror quickly staggered and died on the breeze.
In the distance, the rising crescent moon struggled to cast a sheltering light on the farmhouse, the sleeping occupants unaware of the nightmare that waited just outside their small sanctuary. But their childlike innocence would hold sway this night, keeping them safe until the rising sun revealed the truth.
In the valley beyond, nothing moved. No sounds drifted in the air. All was still as a crypt as the black shadows melted into the darkness from whence they came, and were gone.
2
“Will he agree to leave the Fleet?”
Aurora glanced at the man lounging in the chair to her right. His features were clearly defined in the otherwise dim room by the shimmering blue and green light cast by a neon bar sign on the wall beside him. His large hands rested comfortably on the polished wood tabletop, and his long legs stretched out on either side of the table’s pedestal base. But she didn’t buy his relaxed posture for a moment. It belied the seriousness of his question.
Anyone who looked at Jonarel now would not recognize the boy Aurora had met thirteen years ago. She still marveled at how much he had changed since that fateful day on the hiking trail. At eighteen, he’d been just a little more than a meter tall. Now, even seated, his muscular frame towered over her.
And his physique wasn’t the only differe
nce. His skin tone had shifted to a rich forest green when he hit adolescence shortly after his nineteenth birthday, and his thick hair now brushed his shoulders in shades of dark chocolate and caramel. It created a stunningly beautiful visual for anyone lucky enough to come into contact with him. More than one female had turned to stare as Jonarel had made his way through the crowded bar to their table.
Music rippled from the sound system, enveloping the packed space in a rhythmic heartbeat that vibrated through the table. Aurora tapped her index finger against the smooth surface, keeping time with the music as she considered his question. “Kire loves being a member of the Fleet. If I asked him to serve on an ordinary starship, he’d probably turn me down.” Picking up her drink, she tilted the glass in Jonarel’s direction. “However, you and the ship are my ace in the hole.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Indeed.”
Jonarel had been best friends with Kire Emoto since the Academy, and parting ways after graduation had been tough on both of them. She was counting on their friendship and Kire’s strong intellectual curiosity to make the challenge she and Jonarel were about to present to him irresistible.
She’d met Kire in a linguistics class during her fourth year at the Academy. They’d bonded over a shared love of language, and the following semester they’d made a pact to sign up for Teelian, the newest and most challenging Galactic language. Kire had taken to it like a duck to water. She had not. But he’d willingly spent countless hours in the Academy library with her, studying and practicing.
During one of their sessions, he’d mentioned that he was struggling with his engineering courses, so she’d asked Jonarel to tutor him. The two had quickly formed a close friendship. However, after they were assigned to different posts, it had become nearly impossible to get together. The opportunity to work on the same ship should be a powerful enticement, even if it meant leaving the Fleet.
Jonarel’s gaze shifted to the front door. Judging by the change in his posture, he’d spotted Kire.
Kire’s slim form appeared a moment later, clothed in his gray Fleet uniform. Aurora raised her hand in a short wave. A smile lit up his face as he worked his way through the crowd.
The Dark of Light (Starhawke Rising Book 1) Page 2
