by Vi Voxley
As she walked, Riley thought of her fated, detesting how hateful her mind was. A few weeks ago, she'd sent some of her diary to Rowan for inspection and criticism, to see what he thought. The editor usually had good ideas on how to turn something into a book. Riley had suggested that she herself be left out of the potential book but that her introspection could be used.
She was glad she'd sent the materials to Rowan before the festivities, because Riley honestly didn't think her diary was going to be a fun read for the undetermined future.
The imaginary hand in her head wrote furiously. The words were dark and sad and Riley didn't know if they were fair.
24
Cole
Cole waited with all the patience in the galaxy.
He didn't move a muscle until Riley was out of their line of sight. The commander watched his fated get their daughter and march away furiously, towards the busy streets of Taria. Warriors tasked with their protection followed at a discreet distance. Some were already mingling in the crowds, always making sure there were a dozen eyes on his two jewels.
Cole waited until he was absolutely sure Riley needed superhuman hearing and x-ray sight to witness the following.
Then he threw the closest dagger from his left hip.
It wasn't meant to kill Harbor. Only to wound him enough to make the pain stick for a while, even with the amazing Gargon healing techniques that had kept Riley alive and sane for the long years.
Fury drove the blade so Cole wasn't that surprised when Harbor dodged easily, moving much faster than a man his size should have been able to. With grim seriousness, Harbor drew the long sword from his belt as Cole moved forward, the two short spears in his hands as the weapons clashed with a bone-shattering clang in midair.
"What did you do!?" Cole roared at his rival, his more-often-than-not co-commander and lately, begrudgingly – friend.
"What needed to be done," Harbor replied with the same stony expression he'd worn during the entire conversation with Riley.
Cole didn't say anything else in answer to that. With a deep growl, he broke the deadlock they were in, both his spears jabbing through the air. Seeing that he couldn't block both, Harbor took a step back, his sword deflecting the blow of one spear.
Faster than the eye could see, the morphing blade changed. The shaft grew longer and another blade emerged from the blunt end, making it a deadly long glaive with two razor-sharp blades in both ends.
Cole wasn't surprised in the least. Harbor's sword was a mystery to all enemies and most Gargons, but not to him. They had trained together far too often, waged war side by side, engaged in mock duels long before Riley ever arrived on Octava. They’d sparred nearly daily since she’d come into their lives.
Gritting his teeth, Cole traded blows with him so furiously they cut chunks of the hovership they were in. Outside, the park was quickly emptying and some warriors were running closer to see what was going on. Recognizing the fighters, the spectators disappeared as quickly as they'd come.
He couldn't remember being that mad before. Harbor's betrayal was all the more worse because Riley was also his fated. He was supposed to know better, like Cole did. Some things were better left buried, untouched where they belonged. Now Harbor's harsh words and rash actions might have cost them Riley.
As far as Gargons went, Cole had never been very religious. He believed in the gods as much as the next man and tried to live his life according to their creeds of valor, courage and glory.
Fate, however, was a trickier beast altogether. The fated bonds were proof that it existed and that it was very effective.
In other matters, Cole preferred to make his own destiny. And among the things he definitely didn't believe in were second chances. Not in battle when a crucial mistake had been made. Not in close combat when the opponent gained the smallest advantage.
Above everything, not with Riley. She'd come back to them once. He didn't think she'd do it again.
The tide of their fight changed. Harbor's long blade landed such a heavy blow against his arm that one of the spears fell from Cole's grip. He adjusted immediately, spinning out of the way and throwing the spear back in the air with his boot.
Harbor slapped it away with his sword but that was what Cole had intended all along. Knowing there was no way to match his short spear against Harbor's weapon in such a cramped space where he couldn't back away, Cole charged him the moment Harbor let his attention slip to the lost spear.
He crashed into the other commander, sending them both falling to the floor. Harbor realized the same truth quicker than Cole would have liked and let his weapon drop. They landed, hands already at each other's throats.
Cole managed to push himself off the floor faster, punching Harbor in the face and nearly breaking his nose. The next one missed and the blow hit the floor right next to Harbor's head, sending agonizing pain through his arm.
They both struggled to their feet. Harbor used his massive strength to throw Cole across the whole length of the hovership. He recovered quickly, catching Harbor's fist out of the air and pulling it behind him. Not losing a second, Harbor kicked his kneecap and Cole's grip on him relented just long enough for Harbor to slip away.
That didn't leave him much time to pull his head from Harbor's crushing blow that left a dent in the ship's wall.
Just as he was about to make sure Harbor left the ship with at least half of his face smashed into a pulp, the comm link on his wrist began humming. The tune carried easily in the air despite the ruckus of the festivities somewhere in the distance.
They both froze so suddenly it looked like time itself had stopped. Cole raised his gaze to see Harbor's fist inches from his face, now kept there purely to annoy him.
"You're lucky," he growled to Harbor quickly as the comm link kept buzzing.
"We'll see," the other commander replied, a feral grin on his lips. "The duel is still to come."
He still means to go through with the tournament? Now that we're on the edge of losing Riley forever?
Out loud, Cole couldn't reply anything because he answered the call – a full five seconds later than he should have.
The deep, thundering voice of Lord General Ashorn, de facto ruler of Octava, seemed to agree.
"Tell me, Commander Cole," said the clear tone of a man who was enjoying himself immensely. "Have you perhaps lost an arm and neglected to inform me of that unfortunate development?"
"No, sir," Cole replied, seeing the way Harbor did a horrible job at suppressing his grin.
"Then I do not see a reason why it would take you so long to answer my call," the Lord General said with a soft growl.
Cole didn't reply, sighing inwardly.
The position of the Lord General was one of the oddest things about the Gargon culture. The warrior race wasn't so much ruled as carefully, meticulously baited into something resembling obedience.
It had become apparent a long time ago that warlords with tempers as quick as lightning and egos the size of orbital battle stations needed someone to be the judge of their feuds.
That was how the position was created, although most of the men and women who had held the office considered it a perpetual punishment for some crime they had committed and did not know about.
In the case of Ashorn, he happened to be the most brutally honest and straightforward man to be born to Octava in centuries, which was saying something considering Gargons were not ones to mince their words.
The many warlords and commanders of the Gargon armadas had no problem electing him to be their "leader". History showed that if the Gargons thought they'd made the wrong call, they didn't hesitate to remove the Lord General from the office.
Quickly and often quite sharply.
Lord General Ashorn had ruled Octava with an iron fist for longer than any of his predecessors. The key to his success was being just irritating enough to make the warriors under his command fall in line – and making sure they hated every other potential candidate more than him.
>
"Is Harbor with you?" the Lord General asked then.
The grin fell from Harbor's lips as Cole felt his own curl into a victorious smile.
"Yes, sir," he replied. "We were just practicing for the duel."
"So I heard," Ashorn replied sharply. "On this day of all days, I need you to set your petty differences aside, whatever they are. We have important visitors from Terra and the Eridons are closer than they have dared to come in years."
Cole didn't bother to ask how Ashorn already knew about their fight. The man had eyes and ears everywhere. His earlier doubt of whether to make the hovership's pilot a head shorter was now resolved in his mind.
"We understand," Harbor said. "Did you have further instructions for us, sir?"
"Yes," the Lord General said and the darkness in his voice made them properly pay attention for the first time. "I received news from the outposts. The Iron League is preparing for something big. It might be soon, or it might be in ten years, but they are no longer satisfied with feuding with us over small territories.
“There are signs of major forces gathering all around the Alliance's borders. You know we are the last – the only line of defense the Alliance has. Their armies would not be able to stand against the League alone.
"At this time, Magorra and the Eridons cannot be allowed to sow discord and terror in our domain. If he doesn't show himself soon, I order you to go out and bring back his head."
Cole felt his blood run cold. Leaving Octava was the last thing on his mind. On any other day, he would have trusted the other Gargon warriors to keep Octava safe while he and Harbor hunted their enemy.
Cole couldn't muster the same amount of confidence that they would be able to keep Riley safe.
"There is one more thing," General Ashorn said and the tone of his voice changed.
Cole frowned. He'd never heard the ruler of Octava sound sentimental before, like he was sympathetic to them. That was the man who'd ordered men into their deaths without blinking an eye and losing sleep over it.
It didn't bode well.
"Sir?" Harbor asked.
"It's Magorra. You know, no doubt, that he has been looking for a female named Riley. That is your fated, isn't it?"
Cole swallowed hard. His mind was screaming for him to cut the call and willfully never hear what Ashorn was about to say. Years of obedience worked against him. In the end, Cole stayed where he was.
"Yes, sir," he admitted. "Riley is our fated and we are aware of the enemy's interest in her. It will not be a problem. We are capable of protecting her."
As he spoke, Cole knew that was not the core of the issue. Harbor's features were stony when Cole glanced his way.
"I'm sure you are," Ashorn said and his voice was still not alike him. "Because I need you to finish these attacks before Magorra can do any damage. If your fated if a female he takes special interest, you need to take her along and use her to draw him out."
The Lord General hesitated, the first time Cole had ever heard him doing so.
"I understand it is hard for you to put her in danger. As you said, Cole, you are more than capable of defending her. Don't make me order you. You know I will, if need be."
"You can't seriously expect us to do this," Harbor protested. "She's our fated."
"Yes," Ashorn said. "And I'm just the ruler of our people and you're their defenders. If you refuse, Harbor, I will send every other warlord out there to make sure you pay. Is it worth losing your fated, to lose everything else? Your position, the respect you command?"
"Of course it is," Cole replied coldly. "You know that."
Silence reigned for a long, dark moment.
"So be it," Ashorn said then. "I order you to obey me. I trust that you will be able to deliver me Magorra's head and I believe you will return with your lovely fated by your side."
Cole and Harbor exchanged a grim look. They knew what Ashorn was capable of. If they didn't obey him, the Lord General would send waves after waves of warriors to fetch Riley and use her as bait. The first wouldn't succeed and neither would the second wave. Eventually, one was still bound to break through.
"Better us than anyone else," Cole said, feeling the rage seethe in his heart.
Harbor gave him a miniscule nod, his eyes so dark it was like staring into a pit of underworld.
"I'm glad to hear that," Ashorn said.
"Is that so?" Cole asked, seeing the way Harbor nodded to him with a humorless smile on his lips. "If we return and a single hair on Riley's head has been hurt, you can count we will be coming for you, Lord General."
There was no pause before the reply.
"Fair enough. Good hunting."
The call ended.
The hovership was left in silence while Cole and Harbor seized each other up, trying to figure out whether it was worth it to continue their brawl.
In the end, they decided it was not.
"Hunt Magorra," Cole said thoughtfully, trying to get his mind off the terrible task they'd been given. "It's not the worst idea in the world. He has been pretty visible lately. You'd almost think he was baiting us."
"I agree," Harbor replied. "That's why I think it's a trap. We can't let Riley out of our sight."
Cole considered that. Harbor really was a complete mystery to him. The man had just basically made sure Riley never trusted them again, yet he treated the whole affair with Magorra as though she was going to forgive them and everything would be fine again.
The day was utterly confusing. It made Cole's blood boil to remember how unhappy Riley had looked just minutes before she stormed off, unsure of whether she wanted to see them again or not.
"We should not," Cole agreed reluctantly. "Magorra might not leave us a choice, however. He can't be underestimated."
"Of course," Harbor said with a hint of warning in his voice. "But we are still Gargons. Riley comes first, does she not?"
"Yes," Cole snapped, feeling the anger rise in him again. "That's why I can't understand for the life of me how you could just blurt everything out to her like that. After the moment we shared...After what we must do now – "
"Exactly because of that," Harbor cut in. "If we want this to work, if we want to keep her forever – there had to come a moment when she heard the truth. Well, most of the truth... Better it happens now than later."
Cole hadn't thought of that. The anger dissipating in his heart as quickly as it had appeared, he glared at Harbor.
"You really think she will forgive us this?" he asked.
"Yes," Harbor said with conviction. "After what we saw today. The bond is real and true. It will mend itself, just like it didn't take her from us the first time."
That much was true. Cole had seen the proof with his own eyes. The love that had shone in Riley's beautiful gray eyes was enough to convince him that the bond between them was strong.
Perhaps Harbor was right.
Opening the comm link to one of the captains keeping an eye on Riley, Cole asked:
"Location?"
"Central Arena, sir. It looks like she is preparing to come see your duel with Commander Harbor, sir."
Harbor's look said "I told you so" very loudly as Cole closed the link.
Only one thing remained. The one fact Harbor hadn't even considered confessing to Riley.
"Very well," he said slowly. "I trust you. We'll find a way to make this work. She has wanted to see our warships for a long time, hasn't she? I bet she'll be exited despite the danger.
"Just pray that she'll never find out Magorra is looking for her. If she finds out he has been searching for her all these years, it's over."
25
Riley
The confusion in her heart was more painful than anything she'd ever experienced in her life.
Mya was tugging at her hand, anxious to see all the colors and lights and cheer around them. Her daughter was enjoying herself fully and Riley felt incredibly guilty for not being able to enjoy it with her.
She had waited for the fest
ivities for weeks now, the possibility of meeting other Terrans after such a long time blooming in her heart.
There were Terrans on Octava, of course, but most of them were roughly in the same position as she was, only further on. They had fateds and lives and jobs – they understood the Gargon culture.
What Riley had been hoping for was a real, pure Terran who could talk to her about life back on her home planet. Someone from the many worlds of the Alliance that didn't live and breathe war.
Now she was no longer in the mood to hear anything about Terra. Her heart was focused on her fateds alone and Harbor's words in particular. Cole's behavior hadn't helped at all, of course.
They had known. Both commanders had known the Eridons were back and neither of them had thought to tell her.
Riley was mad at herself.
Of course they knew! As much as they tried to make sure they spent every free moment with her and Mya, they still left to command their flagships and armies every once in a while. Harbor and Cole knew everything that was going on with Octava and the League, that was only natural.
She had thought she could trust them to tell her when something was going on. Her natural curiosity made Riley seek out the important events that affected the lives of so many.
She had actually thought it was weird that the months she'd spent with her fateds were so peaceful! Usually the galaxy conjured up a new war every two days. It was infuriating how easy it had been for the commanders to lull her into believing she had woken up to the most peaceful era in living memory.
It hurt. It hurt like a bitch to know that everything they told her had been filtered through their obsessive concern for her mental and physical health.
Riley didn't hold their love and care against them.
Quite the contrary. After finally being able to admit that she loved them, it was heartbreaking to hear that she couldn't trust a word out of their mouths. Not without considering if there was a reason for them to lie and omit the truth from her.
