“Think about what I’ve lost,” shouted Rain Dancer. “My fucking eye!”
“We captured their leader,” said Shield Maiden. “The one they call Multi. This is not one of the copies, either. He’s wearing the same outfit you said the one giving the orders had on.”
Rain Dancer let out a huff and relaxed slightly.
“And on top of that,” continued Shield Maiden, “We’ve secured another powerful new ally. Why don’t we go check in on him, and see if he’s ready to be sociable?”
She started walking down the hallway toward the containment cells. Rose followed her on one side, and Rain Dancer kept pace a few steps behind them.
“I still think it was foolish of you to bring him here,” said Rose. “He’s too volatile, and that makes him dangerous.”
“He’s like us,” said Shield Maiden. “He’ll settle down in time, and we’ll have a powerful new weapon to use against the champions.”
“You’ll never be able to trust him,” said Rose. “Not with his… past loyalties.”
“Only time will tell.” Shield Maiden stopped outside the door. She looked toward Rain Dancer, as though allowing him the chance to take charge, if he wanted.
“I will speak with him first,” said Rain Dancer.
He walked over to the door, undoing a series of heavy dead bolts before reaching for the handle. It was the most secure cell they had, and even then, Rose had expressed her doubts over whether they’d be able to hold their captive for very long, once he recovered enough strength to use his powers.
Rain Dancer had barely opened the door a fraction of an inch when a fireball struck it on the other side, knocking all three of them back. Rose coughed and managed to sit up in time to see Danny, Malcolm’s brother, striding out of the holding cell.
“About fucking time,” said Danny. “Boring as hell in there. So… you guys got any beer in this place?”
“You…” Shield Maiden shook her head slowly. “How?”
“The lightbulb, sugar tits,” he said. “Those give off more heat than you’d think. Though I don’t understand why you thought you could hold me in the first place!”
Danny laughed like he’d just told the funniest joke in the world. He looked at Rain Dancer, wincing as he saw the bandage over the demon’s eye. Then, his gaze settled on Rose.
“No shit,” he said. “You’re the one who tried to fucking kill me. I can’t exactly die from fire, in case you didn’t realize.”
“Apparently not,” muttered Rose.
Danny whistled as he eyed her up and down.
“You’re hot as fuck, and I know a few things about heat,” he said. “Damn, my little brother is a lucky son of a bitch! If I wasn’t such a nice older brother… Well, it’s probably better if I don’t finish that sentence.”
Danny moved past them and started down the hall.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” shouted Rain Dancer, staggering to his feet.
Danny laughed.
“I already told you,” he said. “First I’m going to find some fucking beer. Then… I think I need to go have a nice heart to heart with my little brother.”
He continued down the hallway into the main chamber. Rain Dancer glared at Shield Maiden, who looked completely stunned.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Why… wouldn’t he want to join us?”
Rose grinned.
“I think it runs in the family.”
THE END
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Edmund Hughes
Moons of Carnathia
CHAPTER 1
I would give my clothes willingly to the poor and suffering, walk exposed and naked through the street. For all to see me as I am and make their own choice, including the lonely, the wandering, and the desperate, is but another test of true faith. – Iathia the Pious, Book of Stars
ZAK
The air was clean, and the third season sun hung halfway down to the horizon. Zakarias felt the ship swaying underneath him as he stared out across the water, observing the reflection of the knotted white clouds overhead.
Krexellious, the rose moon, had just begun its afternoon ascent. The sky was otherwise clear, and the sea was calm and easy, devoid of the massive storms that usually ravaged the Arkaian island coasts late in the year.
Other than the Sand Angel, there were no other vessels resting on the nearby ocean. A larger than average wave crashed into the bow, shifting the ship’s hull just enough to force Zak into gripping onto the railing he’d been using as a seat.
He’d been on bigger ships before, but not often and not for long. The Sand Angel was somewhere in the middle of the upper size tier, fifty feet long and roomy enough to be comfortable for Zak and his three crewmates, who’d served as his deck family for the past five years.
The water was clear, and even the gleaming stripe of the sun’s reflection wasn’t enough to obscure his view of the sea life below. A donphar pup, tiny and excitable, surfaced into a quick, somersaulting jump above the water’s surface, blasting a geyser of mist out of its blowhole.
“It’s a little early for you to be taking a break, Zak,” said Hachia. She slipped up behind him silently, somehow managing avoid all of the creakiest planks in the deck on her way.
You’d think she’d get bored of sneaking up on me eventually…
“I’m on watch,” said Zak. “Sharks, or qyss. They could attack at any time.” He grinned at her.
“Real cute,” said Hachia. She didn’t smile back.
Zak let out an exaggerated sigh. He turned around on the railing and dropped down to the deck, snagging up the net he’d left within arm’s reach and sorting out tangles.
“You’re no fun,” he said. “Come on, the sky is clear, the seas are calm. And you’re looking especially beautiful, even though it’s been days since we’ve been to port.”
Hachia folded her arms. The slightest hint of a smile pulled at the edges of her mouth.
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” she said.
“And so smart,” he said, winking. “Too smart for my diversionary tricks.”
She brushed a few strands of hair out of her face and nodded to the net in his hands.
“You’re already halfway there,” she said. “Good finger work on those knots. I notice things like that.”
Zak rolled his eyes, but continued moving. He walked a few feet down along the railing, giving the donphar a safe berth before tossing over the net. He always did that, treating the smaller ones with kindness befitting their intelligence, and giving the massive, ship killing ones the distance and respect they deserved.
“For your information, I wasn’t taking a break,” said Zak. “I was just thinking.”
“Of course you were,” said Hachia. “Let me guess. You were imagining yourself skipping to one of the moons? Floating all the way up to Krex, and claiming it as your kingdom?”
She moved in closer behind him, leaning over the railing in a manner that was unmistakably provocative. Hachia didn’t look at him directly, instead waiting for him to look at her, open to the attention of his potentially leering eyes.
Zak pretended to ignore her, mostly out of necessity. Hachia was a walking mess of contradictions. She was attractive, three years younger than him at nineteen, with a lean body and alluring curves. Her sandy blonde hair managed to look good even when worn ragged, loose and comely around her shoulders. Unfortunately, she knew all of this, and had mostly gone through life taking advantage of the benefits of her appearance in a brusque and direct manner.
In comparison, Zak was tall and lanky, and though the musculature of a life lived as an oceanfoot was nothing to scoff at, his tanned skin and minimalist, somewhat ragged clothing didn’t add much to his overall appearance. Not enough for him to feel as though he
was playing against Hachia with a full plate of Parxus chips.
“No,” said Zak. “I was thinking about something a little more grounded then that.”
“So… what, then?” asked Hachia.
Zak scowled.
I should be used to this by now.
“I give up, Hachia,” said Zak. “I’m working, see? Go back to Demetro and tell him that your mission has been accomplished.”
Hachia’s lips puckered into a pout and she let out an exaggerated sigh.
“Why do you always have to be this way?” she asked. “Other people like to have fun too, you know. My fun just happens to consist with occasionally torturing you.”
“Well, I give you credit for admitting it,” said Zak. He reached over and dipped his fingers into one of the ship’s rain barrels as they passed by, pulling up his hand and flicking a palm’s worth of water in her direction. Hachia let out an annoyed shriek and glared at him.
“You are… such a pain!” snapped Hachia.
“No,” said Zak. “I just give unto others as I would dream for them to give unto me. A regular Iathia the Pious.”
Hachia’s slate blue eyes gave away what she was about to do before she’d moved to do it, and Zak had time to dodge back and out of the way as she reached a hand into the rain barrel and countered his splash.
The two of them laughed and forgot their pretenses for a moment, splashing water at each other and giggling like children. Zak found it hard to disengage, both with his actions and his eyes. Hachia had done it once again, and he was annoyed at himself for going along with it. She was being a pain and stealing his attention, and he knew her well enough to know what that meant.
“That’s clean water, you vandals!” Bartrand stomped over, puffing out his chest and curling his huge arms in exaggerated anger. “Are you expecting us to drink the salt tonight?”
“Never again,” said Zak, furrowing his brow. “It’s not exactly my idea of fun.”
“Then knock it off,” said Bartrand. “Salt and stone, it never ends with the two of you.”
Bartrand glared at them for a couple of seconds. He was a soft-hearted man, and Zak wasn’t surprised when the glare melted into a subdued grin.
“See, Bartrand knows the run of things,” said Hachia. “He’s about business. Always with his eyes on the ship, and his mind on the ocean.”
Zak shook his head.
“My mind was on the ocean,” he said. “Just... in a different way.”
He didn’t mention that it was on what the ocean reminded him of, of the expanse of lost potential. The ocean was the Worldmaker’s bed, according to both the native Arkaian religion and the newer interpretations of the teachings of the Legacy Temple.
The ocean was special, deeply entwined with the cycle of life, creation and being. His mother and father, both unknown to him, were sleeping in its depths. His mentor, Jonalan, the person who’d done more for him than anyone else, was now a part of it, buried under the deceptively plain blue surface.
“It should be on the sky as much as the sea today,” said Bartrand. His voice was low, slow, and deliberate. “Today’s a lucky day.”
“You always say that,” said Zak.
Bartrand gave him a look and a smile, and Zak found himself oddly convinced by the man’s confidence. He let out a small chuckle, and was halfway into letting loose with another quip when he saw something that stopped him.
Over the side of the ship, a school of prism fish swam by, each one the size of a man’s face, with curved, rainbow-colored fins on either side that were considered to be an expensive delicacy in Malnia. He snapped and gestured with his fingers, drawing the attention of the others.
“By the stones!” shouted Bartrand. “Get a net and get down there! I’ll holler at the Under Prince to loop the ship around.”
Zak nodded, already moving into position near the aft of the ship. Hachia didn’t waste time, either, pulling one of the larger nets from the outer storage cabinets and double checking the fold for tangles.
“Same as usual?” she asked, flicking strands of sandy hair out of her face to meet Zak’s eyes.
“It looks like it could be a huge haul…” said Zak. “Better take a deep breath before going under.”
She rolled her eyes. It was good advice, but so commonly given as to have become almost a throwaway statement, run into the ground on every fishing ship upon which Zak had served.
“We have to time this just right,” continued Zak. “I’ll nip at the edges of the school until it’s good and bunched up, and then push it your way. Shouldn’t take long.”
“Alright,” said Hachia. “I’ll follow your lead.”
Zak held up a hand, waiting while their captain, Under Prince Demetro, slowly turned the ship around. The water was crystal clear, and it was no trouble for him to keep the fish in view. He could just barely see the faint blue reflection of Methrakia, the middle moon, in the water, larger than Krexellious and faster moving.
“Almost,” murmured Zak. “Get ready!”
He took several steps back, giving himself room. As the ship started back toward the fish, Zak charged, running forward at the railing. He hopped onto it without losing speed and hurled himself into a dive, sighting the spot on the water directly in front of the school’s path. A thrill went deep through him as he twisted and turned through the air.
He hit the water with only the slightest of splashes. To the fish, it may as well have been a skystone impact, all of them rushing away from the source of the disturbance. Zak’s momentum carried him through the water on one side, sending them against the ship and toward where Hachia would be with the net.
The world under the surface of the water was defined by a cool, blue silence. Zak loved it as much as anything, from the way his body moved, slowed and subdued by the water, to the almost limitless extent of the unknown presented by the deeper depths.
One of the fish veered off slightly to the right, as if testing the safety of that path of escape for the entire group. Zak kicked his legs and shot up next to it, steering it back into the greater group.
He could see Hachia ahead, having tethered one end of the net to the ship and holding the other in her hands. She had a graceful swimming style, her midsized breasts loose in the shirt she wore, not having had enough time to put on her usual swimming tunic. Speed swimming was not Hachia’s specialty, which was why Zak so often had her holding the net.
The fish didn’t realize what was about to happen until it was almost too late. Unfortunately, Zak had underestimated the size of the school, and overestimated the size of their net. Hachia closed around the fish in a slow circle, but even kicking at her hardest, fish were beginning to bleed out from the openings.
Zak pumped his arms and legs, cutting through the water over to where the other end of the net attached to the ship. They usually left it like that. Too many hauls had been lost by an accidental break in the net or clumsy handling. Prism fish were far too valuable to risk catching freehand.
But they were also extremely mobile, and that was all Zak had on his mind as he watched them rushing out of the net by the dozen, moving faster than Hachia could contain them. He undid the knot, taking the far end of the net in his hand, and swam toward her.
It pulled their trap closed almost immediately, faster than most of the prism fish could react. The saro vines woven into the edges of the net automatically looped into each other, sealing it up into a bundle held tightly enough to keep the fish from escaping.
Zak looped back down, swimming backward and bumping into Hachia as he gave the job a final look over. She rubbed one of his shoulders affectionately and flashed a tiny, secretive smile. Zak couldn’t resist. He grabbed her and pulled her against him, stealing an underwater kiss. She responded by pressing her body against his eagerly as both of their lungs began to burn.
They parted after a second or two and Zak nodded toward the surface. Hachia waited, watching him and turning the moment into another contest, another back and
forth of egos.
Zak didn’t take the bait, feeling as though the kiss and the prism fish were victory enough. He kicked his legs and took off toward the surface first, getting his head out of the water a half second before his lungs began to actively revolt. Bartrand was at the edge of the ship, along with Demetro, and both of them watched him expectantly.
“Probably about two hundred, maybe more,” said Zak. He grinned up at both of his crewmates, meeting Demetro’s gaze for long enough to read the suspicion in the eyes staring back at him.
I still can’t tell if he knows about the two of us, even after months of me and Hachia sneaking around.
“We’re near one of the unclaimed Lower Islands,” said Bartrand. “Makes sense for the two of you to swim out and see if there are any around the shallows.”
Zak nodded. Hachia surfaced next to him and he shot her a look, feeling as though a bit of her competitiveness had spread into him.
“Race you to the island,” he said, kicking off the ship’s hull before she could answer.
“You ass!” Hachia splashed water in his direction, and followed after him.
CHAPTER 2
ZAK
They swam into the shallows and walked the last stretch onto the sun heated island. It was a tiny thing, maybe two hundred feet across, just large enough for some trees and overgrown bushes to have sprouted up in its center.
Hachia looked expectantly at Zak as they slowly did a lap around the island’s circumference, searching for more prism fish. She made it obvious in her expression what she wanted, and seeing her like that, lips pouty, looking for every excuse she could find to slowly bend over to pick up shells, or pull downward at her tight, wet shirt, made it hard for him not to ogle her.
That’s how it all started to begin with. Me stealing a look at the wrong time… or exactly the right time.
“Come on,” he said. He took her hand into his and silently led her into the trees, waiting until they were on the other side of the tiny forest, and Demetro and Bartrand’s views were sure to be blocked.
Rain Dancer (Vanderbrook Champions Book 2) Page 18
