by Ciara Knight
He lifted my fingers and pressed a kiss to them then glanced at his niece. “I pray you’re right. And I will do everything in my power to ensure he lives.”
I didn’t say it, but truth be told this prophesy could fit any number of people involved with theTriune. Mags who risked her life saving us from assassins. Or Fallon, who loved us and saved us back at the Mining Territory. Or Father, who loved me and, I realized, would die for me. Thin lipped, I met his empathy-filled gaze, nodded then turned back to the screen and willed the emperor’s ship to drop from the sky.
Fallon sat quiet, watching the screen with me, then nudged his shoulder into mine. “The day Reath begged us to save you from Mandesa’s ship was the best day of my life.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Not only was I finally able to see you again, but I got to watch as Ryder’s sharp edges softened and Raeth blossomed with confidence. Also, I realized the beginning of our future and the end to our past had arrived.”
Fallon moved to stand, but I clung to his hand and yanked downward to keep him in place. “Who was the seer? Is there anyone like that still?”
Fallon shook his head. “No. Although mind abilities are a dominant gene, those needed for a prophesier are rare.”
He moved to stand again, but I kept hold of his hand. “You didn’t answer me. Who was it?”
“Your mother.”
Chapter Six
“Deep in my heart, and subconscious, I suspected the seer had been my mother.” I released his hand and rubbed my brow. “but since arriving at the Arc, I haven’t had time to think, let alone search my memories. Something about the night of her death has always felt off to me.” Perhaps it was my best friend’s crushing grief or the loss suffered by the council still under heavy fire, but now, in this instant, shock rippled through me. I didn’t know the truth of my life. And now, I barely had enough time to breathe, let alone learn about my past.
Fallon patted my head, seeming to understand my frustration.
I remained on the floor, my knees curled to my chest and glanced at Father.
Any report? I asked.
No.
I hesitated, yet I had to know. It wasn’t your lack of trust that made you hesitate to send Penton, was it?
No.
You knew or suspected you were sending him to his death, didn’t you?
Yes.
“My father, he’s not the stone cold general he portrays, is he?” I whispered to Fallon.
“No. Because of his gift, he’s plagued with the knowledge of it all, and for years has been witness to Mandesa’s brutality.” Fallon shook his head. “When Mandesa captured you, I thought he’d go insane. And if it hadn’t been for one thing, I’m sure he would’ve sacrificed himself to rescue you.”
All this time I’d longed to know the truth of my past—the capture, my memories, the death of my mother. But I realized it didn’t matter. My experiences, the ones with Mandesa, my escape, my love for Ryder, this war, and making peace with my father had shaped who I am today. And yet…
I stared at the screen, then slanted Fallon a glance before turning back again to the screen. “What one thing?”
“Your mother warned him that if he kept you hidden, the general would stop at nothing to find you and slit your throat. Your powers were supressed by a Neumarian and kept dormant until your sixteenth birthday because if you made it to sixteen, the Triune would be united to either save or destroy the world.”
“You mean, we might fail, after all this?”
“Not just fail, but kill every living creature on Earth.”
My stomach rolled inside out. “Great prophesy. Go mom.”
Fallon chuckled. “It’s nice to see that a little bit of you still exists. If you can keep your humor, you’ll be okay.”
“How many people know the full prophesy?”
I braced myself at Fallon’s weak smile of reassurance. “In addition to me, only Harrison, Bendar, and now, you.”
“Is there anything in the prophesy that prevents me from telling Ryder or Raeth?”
Fallon shook his head. “No, but be cautious. We kept it to three people for a reason. The more people who know of it, the greater the possibility that our rebellion will crumble.”
“Sir, look,” Raeth shouted.
I snapped my attention back to the screen. The emperor’s ship turned on its side and plummeted to the ground. Large fighter ships, with the Asian emblem nosedived, and broke into several pieces upon hitting the ground, scattering the fuselage over a few buildings on the outskirts of the city. Within minutes, the entire fleet, was destroyed.
Penton had been correct. Our ship and Paulson’s remained safe from our position a few meters out in the channel.
Father leaned closer to the screen. “Get us back in there and connect me with our fighter support and ground troops.”
Without hesitation, Raeth piloted the ship toward the city. Two seconds later, Father’s voice boomed over the com throughout the ship, “We’re coming in low and fast. All soldiers report for duty to the shuttle bay. Be prepared for LOJ. All flight crews in the landing bay, pilot recovery craft for pick-up. Carlton, your two teams protect the downed Freedom’s crew and get them to the RP. Michaelson take the remaining five teams. Capture the emperor, recover our two man team, along with Corporal Arteres and Lieutenant Briggs from the council, then return to your RP ASAP. Blue mist bombs have been released, take appropriate action. All fighters provide close-in air support.”
All those hours of studying manuals paid off, I knew that LOJ meant low opening altitude jump and RP stood for rally point.
Father focused on Fallon and me. “You two report to the shuttle bay. Take all available blue mist antidote with you. The SB-06 will head back to the Arc for repairs. If Mandesa believes we are weak, she’ll attack. This ship must be fully operational before she recovers her forces enough to issue another attack.”
Raeth sat frozen at her station. No rocking, no conversation, no friendly smile. Did she know? I wanted to tell her everything would be okay, but if Penton died, she’d retreat into the world of her mind and be lost to us forever.
Father smashed a fist into his palm. “Lieutenant Sharp, radio Captain Reardon. He and a skeleton crew are to fly the ENR battle cruiser and protect this area until we return. Then report to the mess hall to see if you can be of assistance and get your hand looked at.”
“Yes sir,” the lieutenant returned to her controls.
I stood and narrowed a stare on my father. Raeth should come down with us. I might need to combine our gifts.
I refuse to have the Triune weakened by having all of you in one place. Ryder’s been contaminated by the blue mist. If he’s alive, his exposure has been extreme and the damage to his gift may be irreparable. As for Raeth, with one leg, she’ll be a liability.
But—
Semara, follow orders! No sooner had he snarled in my mind then he touched his ear and grinned. “Corporal Nezan’s alive.”
“I know,” Raeth said, her voice monotone, her body immobile, not looking up from her controls.
“How?” I asked.
She slanted me a glance then returned to her task. “He promised.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean—”
“I knew he’d be fine because Penton would never break a promise or leave me without a leg.”
The absoluteness in her tone gave me pause. Although, it was something I could understand. My faith in Ryder was what kept me going.
I turned to my father and asked, “What about Ryder?”
“I’m not sure yet. I happened to connect with Corporal Nezan, but lost the connection just as quickly. Corporal Arteres is probably in one of the council’s underground shelters.”
Teeth clenched, I nodded then joined Fallon in the lift and punched the button for the shuttle bay. After gathering all the antidote we could find, we boarded a craft and zoomed to the edge of the city.
The shuttle slowed for descent and I
leaned against my harness, attempting to see out the front.
The landing gear lowered and we thumped to the ground. The last footing hadn’t settled before I’d unlatched my harness and strapped on my pack of antidote.
Fallon, with a matching pack, beat me to the door and handed me a mask. “Until the rest of the mist dissipates over the ocean, you’ll need this.”
Once I’d secured it over my face, I stepped out of the ship and stopped. It seemed seeing the emblem of the rebel army—a red ENR, circled in gold light—proved sufficient for people to emerge from their hiding places. They crawled out of piles of rubble, the few remaining upright buildings, and any crevice they could find to shield them from the bombs and gathered around our ship.
Weapons drawn, Carlton and his two teams charged toward the Freedom as Michaelson split his teams, signaling them in different directions. Three of them charged toward the emperor’s downed ship. They were soon joined by the battle’s survivors brandishing make-shift weapons as together they stormed the still solid fuselage of the massive ship, while another team headed for the severed command module section laying fifty meters from the body.
Flanked by Michaelson and his two remaining teams, we stumbled over chunks of downed ships. I hated admitting, even if only to myself, that Father had made the correct decision. Sure Fallon could have carried Raeth, but without her leg, we’d be slow-moving targets—and in a battle, slow meant probable death.
As we drew closer, my throat tightened with the threat of tears at the sight of a dirty and exhausted Penton At least Raeth would get her happily-ever-after. Although, it more difficult to maintain my composure.
Penton gave me a hug. “Ryder’s safe.” He stepped back and pointed to a rubble pile. “We can get to him through the side door.”
I grabbed Fallon’s fists, clenched at his side. “He’ll be okay.”
He nodded. “I promised my brother and his wife I’d take care of Raeth and Ryder. My sole purpose for the last decade or so has been to keep them safe. So far, I haven’t done a good job.”
“Yes, you have. And you’re wrong. It isn’t just your job. We’re a family, now. It’s everyone’s job.” I threaded my fingers with his and tugged him forward as I followed Penton. The touchy-feely part of being Neumarian apparently had rubbed off on me. I no longer flinched or felt awkward with displays of affection.
Once inside the complex, Penton guided us down a long hall then two flights of stairs.
I followed Fallon’s lead and released the leather straps securing my mask. When we reached the bottom, he and Penton shoved open a metal door and we entered a world of moans and blood.
Narrow cots lined the walls of the long cement room. In the center stood operating tables filled with bodies. Between the sick, injured, and contaminated, a fiery stinging enveloped my skin.
A man with a stethoscope around his neck approached us. “Did you bring the blue mist antidote? We’re out.”
“Yes,” Fallon and I said simultaneously.
“Praise be,” he murmured, looking close to tears. He tilted his head toward one side of the room. “Neumarian’s who suffered mist exposure, their cots are labeled with blue tags.”
I struggled not to vomit. In all my almost seventeen years, I’d never seen so much pain. Not even Raeth’s suffering compared to this. Shoving my mounting terror deep inside, I started checking tags and dispensing doses as I shuffled down one row after another, searching each face for Ryder’s. If I couldn’t figure out who I was looking at or if their face was masked by bandages, then their body answered my question, my fingers seeking the tingling Ryder’s touch always invoked.
By the third row, Fallon and I had our system down. I started at one end, he at the other and we met in the middle, then moved to the next row and worked from the middle outward.
At the start of the fifth and final row, I licked my lips, struggling to control my mounting panic. Where was Ryder?
I couldn’t help but scan ahead to the end of the last row. A large frame, lying on a cot near the end, caught my eye and my heart soared. “Fallon, there.” Ryder’s long body, broad chest, and dark hair shone like a bright light in the darkness of war. As much as I wanted to race to his side, I couldn’t ignore the other victims along the way. Meeting Fallon’s stare, we nodded and quickly dosed those separating us from Ryder. Within minutes, we were done and I sat on the edge of Ryder’s cot. Grasping his hand, I inspected his body for wounds. Crimson stained bandages covered the right side of his abdomen and left leg, his hand bandaged by his side.
He didn’t move, not even when I gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. Then finally, his gorgeous chocolate eyes fluttered open as Fallon gave him the antidote. “You’re okay,” I said, my voice cracking.
“Will be. You’re here.”
“Of course, I’m here. Where else would I be?” I pressed my hands to the Slag slave collar around his neck and shot energy into it until it fell apart, then tossed it on the floor.
“Nifty trick. It’s what made me fall in love with you,” he rasped.
“Hurry and heal yourself so we can get out there and kick some Emperor butt.”
He closed his eyes. Instead of his wounds sealing, as I’d expected, he grabbed his stomach and groaned. His face turned a darker crimson than his soaked bandages. “I can’t.” he managed through gritted teeth.
“Why not? The collar’s off.” I pressed my hands to his chest.
Gagging, he rolled onto his side. When he flopped onto his back again, I saw the vein bulging and throbbing at his temple. “Not sure. I think it’s the mist.” He groaned then his eyes fluttered closed.
“But you’re inside now. You’ve been in here long enough to be rid of the side effects.” I willed him to listen, to heal himself, but he’d already passed out.
Penton squatted beside me. “He isn’t able to heal himself because of his extended exposure to the mist. Remember what happened with Raeth?”
“Yes, but she didn’t get the antidote for almost twenty-four hours.”
“True, but Paulson put her into a coma. Ryder was outside, exposed to the initial bomb fallout, whereas Raeth’s exposure was to a thinner concentration. I suspect the stronger the mist and the longer someone is exposed, the more extensive the damage and the slower their gift will return.”
“We’ve given him two doses. What else can we do?”
Fallon patted me on the back. “Rely on human medicine. I’ll find a doctor or nurse.”
“That sounds like a terrible idea,” I mumbled.
Penton nodded. “I know, but it’s his only chance. The Neumarian healers who survived the attack were exposed to the mist as well, so they can’t use their gift either.”
Chapter Seven
The doctor’s blue-gloved hands gripped the handle of a long tweezers-like instrument and teased shrapnel from Ryder’s leg. His skin hugged it tight, and I shivered every time I heard the slurping sound when a sliver popped free.
The doctor dropped the metal into a container. At its clank, Ryder’s eyes fluttered open. His leg jerked, knocking the doctor’s instrument from his hand, sending it onto the dirty, bloodied floor.
“I warned you we’re low on anesthesia and I can’t waste it. Now, hold him down!”
Fallon stretched across Ryder’s hip and chest, while Penton sat on his uninjured leg. Two fathers of Neumarian children we’d dosed helped restrain his arms. And I, on my knees, cradled his head. “It’s okay, baby. You’ll be fine.”
The doctor glanced at the adolescent in blood-splattered clothing who’d been thrust into the position of surgical nurse. “Hand me a clean grip.” When the kid hesitated, he pointed. “That one, there.”
“Bolečina! Leg. On fire,” Ryder groaned.
I swallowed down the lump rising in my throat and stroked the dark hair from his sweaty brow. “I know, baby. But it’ll get better soon.”
“He needs to stay still,” the doctor said.
Fallon repositioned himself to ensur
e his hold on Ryder was secure. “He’s not used to pain, and because his gift’s trying to heal him but can’t, it’s going to be magnified. A paper cut will feel like a dagger in the spine.”
Brushing my lips over his ear, I whispered, “I wish I could heal you.”
Ryder clutched the side of the bed then screamed in agony before going silent.
The doctor tossed a large, arrow-shaped piece of metal into the pan with a clank. “That’s the last one.
I grasped Ryder’s shoulder and shook him, crooning his name.
“He’s fine,” The doctor reassured me. Just passed out from the pain, that’s all. Good thing, too. That last one was really deep, right next to the bone.” He washed out the wound then stitched him up with the precision of a master tailor.
I thanked the two fathers and they returned to their sons. Fallon eased off Ryder and stood next to Penton, no doubt reluctant to leave in case Ryder woke. I kissed his forehead, willing him to be okay.
The doctor removed his gloves and tossed them into a bucket near the wall. “Done.”
“What do I do for him?”
The doctor shrugged. “Keep him hydrated, watch for a fever…and pray.”
Not the most comforting words, but anything was better than the ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ speech I’d heard over twenty times since I’d entered the triage room.
“Give a holler if you need me. I’ll be there.” He pointed to a dark-skinned woman two beds down. “She’s in bad shape, too.”
“That’s Lieutenant Briggs. Ryder’s alive because of her sacrifice. Please save her. She’s a widow and has a little boy,” I whispered.
“I’ll do my best,” he said.
Penton nodded. “I’ll go to her. You stay with Ryder.”
Fallon took my hand and sat by my side, curling his legs under him to fit between the two cots. “I know how much you love him. I see it in your eyes. I know Harrison’s given you a hard time, but he loved and respected Ryder’s and Raeth’s parents. In another world, both sets of parents would have been thrilled. Your mother would be making wedding plans, shopping for the perfect dress, and beaming with pride.”
