“They kidnapped Seth. They teleported into the Conservatory and snatched him away from Vee.”
“How is that possible?” Lyrik asked. “The Mystic shields are impenetrable.”
“Apparently not.” She shoved her hair out of her eyes and paused for a deep breath. “All Tal could tell me is that Vee is in bad shape. He is asking for Saebin so I need to take her to the Conservatory. I’ll fill you in on the details as soon as I know more.”
“Of course.” He turned to Saebin and gave her a quick hug. “We’ll be right behind you. Go.”
* * * * *
Dizzy from the transport conduit, Saebin knelt beside Vee’s cot. Her chest ached, and all the adjustments of her armor wouldn’t alleviate the pain. Death hovered over the Mystic. She could sense it, smell it, and see it in his eyes.
“I ... choose ... Tal,” he whispered, each word an individual effort.
She looked at the dark-haired Mystic. Did he understand what Vee was trying to say?
Krysta knelt on the other side of the cot, tears streaming down her face.
“I choose ...”
“The conduit.” Krysta looked into Saebin’s eyes, urgency sharpening her tone and molding her expression. “The ancient ritual. He is choosing Tal to inherit his wisdom.”
“No.” Tal took a step back. “He will recover. He just needs time and --”
“Now,” Vee cut in. “Do it now, or all is lost.”
Krysta sobbed openly, no longer attempting to conceal her sorrow.
Vee reached for Saebin’s hand, and her heart lurched. “I don’t know how. It was an image from a dream --”
“Vision.” Vee squeezed her fingers, ending her objection. “Ye know. Ye have always known.”
Grief lodged in her throat, making it hard to swallow. Vee had saved her life. She had tried to kill him, and he had showed her the ultimate kindness. How could she refuse him anything?
“Tal, please kneel beside Krysta and take Vee’s hand.”
Tal turn his face away, his hair cracking like a whip before it coiled down the middle of his back. “He is not dying.”
“If you refuse, everything he is will be lost.” Her insides trembled, and the pressure banding her heart made each breath painful, but somehow she managed to sound calm.
Tal released an exasperated cry and Shifted into place. He took Vee’s hand and raised it to his cheek. “Master ...” Whatever he had meant to say was lost in his sorrow.
Saebin felt the strength bleeding from Vee’s fingers. She took Tal’s hand and opened her mind. Surrendering herself without reservation, she allowed the energy to flow. Scalding, intense, substantial, the transfer shook her body and paralyzed her mind. Images flashed and feelings saturated her being. Tears streamed down her face. Loss, burning determination, heart-breaking tenderness. This stoic Mystic felt more deeply than anyone could possibly imagine.
The transfer slowed.
Tal trembled.
Vee’s hand went limp within her own.
“Release the connection before he passes on,” a deep, commanding voice instructed. “You do not want to taint the transfer with his death.”
Saebin placed Vee’s frail hand on his chest and looked up. Lord Drakkin stood behind Tal, his expression inscrutable. Raven-black hair brushed his shoulders in shimmering waves, three thin braids extending to the middle of his chest. The outer mass of his eyes had a faint blue cast, while the fathomless black of his irises and pupils were separated by a thin red ring.
“You did well, Saebin,” he said. “Let them grieve. We must figure out how the Rodytes did this.”
She stood and crossed to the Bilarrian, confusion gradually penetrating her sadness. “How did you arrive from Bilarri so quickly?”
He didn’t respond until they had left the infirmary. “As Ontarian Mystics Summon the Storm, some Bilarrians are capable of long-range teleportation.”
Lyrik had warned her that Bilarrians were far more powerful than Ontarians. Even augmented with power-boosting technology, she had been no match for Lord Drakkin. “Are you not saddened by his death?”
“Of course. I will miss my friend, but Bilarrians view death differently than Ontarians. Vee is not lost. He has moved on to the next level of existence. It is an inevitable transition for all of us. His memory will keep him alive in this reality, and we will meet again when I transcend.” He turned to face her, the red ring in his eyes glowing. “What concerns me more is how the Rodytes breeched the Conservatory’s defenses and then finding Seth before they harm him.”
She couldn’t argue with his priorities. “Krystabel spoke to me of Seth. She spoke to Krysta, too. Do you understand why this child is so important?”
“Seth is unique. There is not another being like him in all the galaxies. People fear what they don’t understand. It has always been that way.”
Her handler didn’t fear Seth. She had been instrumental in creating him. “Why are you so certain the Rodytes did this? Lyrik mentioned several possible enemies.”
Drakkin shook his head. “Only the Rodytes have a reason to incite the wrath of Bilarri.”
“You think the NRS exploded the Tempest to ... I don’t understand.”
“One of the healers said they left one of their team behind. I say we find out exactly what’s going on.”
“They deserted one of their own?” Saebin was disgusted by her enemy’s complete disregard for life.
“According to the healer, this person was fueling the containment field that ultimately destroyed Vee. When her energy gave out, she manipulated the mechanism so it drew its energy from Vee.”
“The harder he fought, the weaker he became.”
“Exactly.”
Two Mystics guarded the chamber where the intruder had been taken. Saebin’s steps faltered as she entered the room. The woman was incased in body armor nearly identical to her own, and it was obvious at a glance that the intruder was dead.
“How do we ... it’s a little late to interrogate her.”
“Not for a conduit.” Drakkin strode to the table and raised one of the intruder’s hands. “Are her implants the same as yours?”
Saebin examined the other woman’s knuckle. “Minor modifications have been made, but this is definitely the work of my handler.”
“The healer said this woman was Ontarian, so it’s safe to assume they haven’t gone far.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Talk to her.”
“She’s dead.”
“Her memories are fading even as we speak, but she will be more cooperative because the part of her nature that is programmed to resist has fled. Manifest the metaphysical plane and talk to her.”
“I’m a soldier, not a Mystic. I have no idea how to do what you just described.”
“You are far more a Mystic than you realize.” He studied her face for a moment, the red rings intensifying. “I will guide you. Take my hand.”
Steadying herself with a deep breath, she placed her hand in his. He extended his other hand over the intruder’s face and spread his fingers. The room blinked out, and they stood suspended in utter darkness.
Saebin gasped, shocked by the sudden change.
“Picture a setting where you are safe.”
Without conscious thought she found herself standing on the stoop of the visitor’s bungalow, pressed against Lyrik’s chest. Drakkin’s throaty chuckle rumbled through her mind.
“Fair enough. Now turn around and talk to the intruder.”
Saebin turned. Lyrik’s arms moved to circle her waist. The soldier stood at the foot of the stairs, her expression blank, eyes unblinking.
“What is your designation?” Saebin asked.
“D-2-6.”
“D-2,” she muttered. “They’ve begun a new series.”
“Her memory is fading with each second that passes. There is no time to reminisce.”
“Where are you stationed, D-2-6?”
“The compound.”
&nb
sp; “Who is your handler?”
“Ensley cet Roumi.”
The name meant nothing to Saebin, but she didn’t expect that it would. At least now she had a better chance of finding some trace of the woman. “Who are her associates? Give a full report.”
“The overlord has not interacted with us since operations were moved to the compound. We serve the ghosts of the Night Moon now. I do not know their designations.”
“Show them to me. Picture them in your mind.”
The wavering image of two men appeared for an instant, then D-2-6 crumpled into a graceless heap.
“Damn it. I couldn’t see them. Can you --”
“Release the visualization,” Drakkin said. “We’ve learned all we’re going to learn from her.”
Saebin staggered back from the table, her hand slipping out of Drakkin’s. “That was ... bizarre.”
“With a little more training you can do extraordinary things.”
The door to the room slid open, and one of the guards said, “Pardon the intrusion. I thought you might like to know that the Gale just arrived.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“The ghosts of the Night Moon are a legend,” Lyrik said. “A story told to entertain children.”
Drakkin shook his head. “Most legends have some basis in fact. Think about it. The Rodytes couldn’t have perfected their shielding technology overnight. Distorted images on scanners and ships vanishing for no apparent reason are the fodder for such legends.”
“You believe the compound is on the Night Moon?” Saebin asked. She absently rubbed her knuckle conduit, her expression tense.
They sat in the planning hall on the Gale, Lyrik was still reeling from all they had said. Vee was dead, and the overlord was in league with the Rodytes.
“Can you sense him?” Drakkin asked Saebin.
“Who?”
“Seth. He is your nephew. Can you sense him?”
She licked her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not a Mystic. Perhaps Krysta --”
“Krysta’s emotions are too volatile right now.” Drakkin rested his forearms on the table, his gaze intent upon her face. “You are uniquely qualified for this mission. The compound is sure to be shielded. Our only hope of locating it is if you can connect with Seth.”
She looked at Lyrik, then back at Drakkin. “I’ll try.”
“Can you teleport with her to the Night Moon?” Lyrik asked. “It will take at least nine hours at full speed.”
“If I knew where the compound was, I could take her there. But without a clear destination --” He shrugged. “-- even I have my limitations.”
“I’ll offload the overlord. I want nothing to distract us from Seth’s rescue.”
Drakkin inclined his head. “The Mystics can make sure he doesn’t alert the ghosts of the Night Moon.”
“We’ll launch as soon as he’s gone.”
Nodding again, Drakkin left the planning hall. Lyrik eased back in his chair and looked at Saebin. Tension created faint lines around her mouth, and purple smudges shadowed her eyes. “Are you all right?”
“No. I transferred the essence of the greatest Mystic on Ontariese into his successor while my sister wept. Then I had a conversation with a dead girl. Now Drakkin expects me to scan all of space for one small child. And if I can’t find him, he’ll probably die, and the Rodytes will launch a full-scale war against the Mystics.” She stood so suddenly her chair toppled over. “I have had about all I can take!”
He stood as well, watching her carefully. Her face was flushed and her movements agitated. This was no simple outburst. She was in overload.
“Saebin, can you manually trigger a calming pulse?” He kept his voice even and his gaze trained on her face.
Her nails dug grooves in the alloy tabletop and desire erupted in her eyes. “Calm down. Scan this. Heal that. I’ve had it! Do you understand me? I will not accept one more directive. I will not ...” She lunged at him, slamming him against the wall. Her hot breath wafted across his face. She licked her lips, her breasts heaving against his chest. “I’m in overload, aren’t I?”
“It would appear so.”
Each panting breath shoved her breasts against his chest. In the storm shelter, an orgasm had released her overload. It had also discharged her weapon and dangerously raised her body temperature. He framed her face with his hands. She didn’t feel hot -- yet.
“Don’t kiss me,” she snapped. “That’s not what I need.” She unfastened her armor, separating the seam as far back as she could reach.
Heat flooded his abdomen and gathered in his groin. God, she had fabulous breasts, high and round, with nipples that hardened with the first hint of stimulation. She jerked his pants open and shoved them past his hips.
All right, he could deal with an aggressive female. He’d just never had to before. She needed it fast and hard, and she needed it now. He thought about reversing their positions and taking her against the wall, but the Gale was small. The force was liable to echo down the corridor. Instead, he quickly triggered the door’s lock and pushed her toward the table.
He separated the sides of her suit, then bent her forward, pressing her naked breasts against the cool table. “Reach above your head and grab the edge,” he whispered into her ear. To reach the opposite side of the table, she had to lift her feet off the floor. He pushed her thighs wide and bent her knees.
Cream already gleamed on her folds. Gods, how he wanted to play. He wanted to touch her and taste her, take her to the edge before he filled her.
“Please,” she ground out the word between clenched teeth.
Raising her hips off the table, he found her entrance and stopped. Heat radiated from her core, shocking in its intensity.
“I won’t burn you. I promise. I’m not totally out of control.”
He pushed in just a bit and stopped again. Hot, wet, magnificent, her core gripped him firmly, but she maintained a steady temperature, restraining the burn. He drove farther into her welcoming heat. She hooked her calves around his hips, urging him on.
“Move. Fast. Now!”
Those directions were pretty hard to misconstrue. He thrust deep, and she groaned, pushing up against him. She felt so damn good, he didn’t want it to end, and he knew a few quick thrusts was all it would take to push him over the edge. She rippled around him and tossed her head, her excitement feeding his frenzy.
“Damn you, stop holding back. You know what I need.”
Hooking his arms under her thighs, he pounded into her, lodging his shaft to the hilt with each forceful thrust. Her body shook. Her hands clenched the table so tightly her knuckles turned white.
An orgasm ripped through her, violent and sudden. She cried out, trembling beneath him. “More.” She gasped. “I need more.”
Flipping her onto her back, he drove back in with hardly a pause. Deep, rhythmic strokes staved off his release. She felt perfect beneath him, surrounding him, clutching him. He never wanted to let her go.
Her breasts quivered with each hard thrust. He covered them with his hands, savoring the firm heat of her flesh and the hardened peaks of her nipples. “Oh, Saebin.” He filled her again and again. He wanted to kiss her, to explore the silken interior of her mouth, but he couldn’t reach her and maintain this speed or depth. She raised her knees against his sides, allowing him full range of motion. Arching and panting, she was utterly lost in passion. Beautiful, uninhibited, woman.
“Come again,” he growled out the order. “I love watching you come.”
She covered his hands with hers and hooked her ankles behind his back as her core squeezed him with firm pulses. Her lips parted, and her eyes opened as the pleasure began to recede. He looked into her shining eyes, and his heart lost its rhythm. Far more than passion burned in her gaze. He hesitated to name the emotions. They hadn’t spoken of love, but it was there in her eyes. Tenderness, contentment, and trust. He savored the intimacy.
He opened his mouth, meaning to speak the w
ords so evident in her gaze, when his audiocom beeped, shattering the spell. He shook his head, and she covered her face with both hands. With his body still buried inside her, he tapped the device hooked over his ear.
“Trey sent a team for the overlord. With that gizmo in his head, Trey didn’t trust him with the Mystics,” Dro Tar said.
“Good plan,” he muttered. “Tell Lor to set a course for the Night Moon and launch when ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
He tapped off his audiocom, and Saebin dissolved into laughter.
* * * * *
“You said the Rodytes had a reason to provoke your people.” Saebin stood beside Lyrik on the bridge watching their approach to the Night Moon. “What did you mean?”
Drakkin stood to their right, his hands clasped behind his back. “It is a story well known to your Mystics, but apparently the rest of Ontariese has learned nothing from the tale.”
Lyrik shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but remained silent.
“Many millennia ago, the people of Bilarri who were unable to manipulate magic became jealous of those who could.”
“That sounds familiar,” Lyrik said.
“They attempted to compensate for their differing abilities with technologies. They built machines that allowed them to fly and manufactured the things they were unable to conjure, but equality was not enough. They didn’t want to coexist with their magical brothers, they wanted to rule them.”
“But everyone on Bilarri has some form of magical ability,” Lyrik said.
“There was a massive uprising, a civil war if you will. Those without magical abilities challenged those able to manifest magic, and the carnage was unimaginable.”
“How did the war end?” Saebin’s tone was hushed and respectful.
“Those with magical abilities gained the upper hand and exiled anyone without such abilities to a distant planet. They surrounded the planet with a shield that prevented anyone from leaving and warned others to stay away. The planet was called Rodymia.”
“The Rodytes are descendents of Bilarrians?” Saebin tried to keep the astonishment from her tone. She should have seen where the story was leading.
“Yes, and they have focused all their resentment and skill into completing the task they began so long ago.”
Ontarian Chronicles 3: City of Tears Page 17
