by Cara Carnes
My gut soured. Nausea threatened. I hung between the two guardsmen.
My father’s lip curled. “No, but this bores me. I require entertainment. Choose two of your best guardsmen, my bride. I hear my slave child is trained in weaponry. Let us see what she has learned. If she loses, your guardsmen may have her. If she wins, she will die at the hands of the Shadows.”
“Excellent.” The queen purred the order. “Proceed as my husband commands.”
The two guardsmen released me. Pain rose up my thighs as my knees impacted with the hard cargo deck.
They’d killed Lazar, Evon, and Vellis. And my caregiver Yora. I seethed and molded the anger. The time for a decision was upon me. Truth told, I should be dead already. Had it not been for the Shadows in my head, I would be.
Someone had taken the power I channeled without anyone noticing. How? Why?
Why would Roterans help me?
The questions rolled through my mind.
I took a deep breath and decided to trust my gut instinct.
A wise warrior retreats to fight another day. There is no victory in a certain death.
Lazar always taught me lessons through sayings that were more riddle than anything else. What would he have me do? The answer was swift, the only one.
Warriors did not surrender. They died in battle.
The Shadows. I’d fight to win, align my fate with the seven strangers circling my father and his new bride. Perhaps they’d let me pay for my freedom. I knew so little about the Roterans, but Lazar always portrayed them as a proud, noble species.
Far better than the Crunans.
Or the Skerons.
“Pick your weapon, slave,” one of the guardsmen sneered. “Can you use that sword? I’ll make use of it later, after we’ve tired of rutting between your legs.”
The other guardsmen laughed. The seven men behind the thrones prowled forward. Their progression was so silent and proficient I was hypnotized. Stealthy, lethal grace.
All seven men exuded power, raw steely death like their profession demanded. Their attire offered nothing in the way of identity. They were all tall, practically the same height. All wider and more muscular than most warriors I’d encountered. Black hoods hid their faces, as if wiping away their individuality. Did that make what they did easier?
Assassins.
While few knew much about the Roterans, everyone had heard of the Shadows, the fiercest assassins within the known galaxies.
“Is this to the death, or first blood?” I asked.
“Your choice,” the queen replied.
“No reprisal?” I clarified.
The queen shrugged.
Right.
“No reprisal.” The Shadow in the middle boomed the promise as he folded his arms. “The little hellcat wants to the death. She shall have it.”
“That’s hardly your decision,” the queen said.
“We tire of your games,” one of the other Shadows said. “Let this be done so we can leave.”
“Very well.” The queen waved her hand. “Proceed.”
“Knives,” I said and rolled away from the two guardsmen closing in.
One of the Shadows removed two Roteran daggers from sheaths along his thick thighs and tossed them near where I crouched.
I lunged for them. My hands wrapped around the worn hilts. My fingers fit loosely within the larger grooves worn into the weapons. They had seen much use. I nodded my gratitude and tracked my enemy’s lumbered movements.
They lacked the lethal finesse my trainers had used. They plunged into the air where I’d been seconds before, reacting to what’d been rather than what would be.
I smiled. They underestimated me, thinking this was an amusement for their new king.
I watched their feet and arms, read their intent before they struck. I dodged, weaved, and rolled out of their way until their breathing grew labored and their bodies slowed. With a deep breath, I froze for one heartbeat. Two heartbeats. The men froze in turn, unsure what I intended. I rolled and plunged.
Their screams echoed through the chamber. Their blood spewed from gaping wounds. Each grabbed at their femoral arteries, but there was no rescue. I wiped the Roteran blades on them as my trainer had instructed so many times. It was a sign of disrespect to a weaker enemy, a centuries long tradition within the Roteran warriors.
I didn’t dare approach the stranger who had offered me the blades. I tossed the weapons in his direction, careful to aim their fall near but not close enough to be deemed a threat.
He crouched and picked them up. I faced my father, the king. And the queen.
The bastard I’d kill if given half the chance.
The bitch I would kill one day.
The two regarded one another, as if shocked I’d won.
“That was quite entertaining,” the Shadow in the middle said. He held out a gloved hand. “Come, female.”
Female. Not slave.
I’d resided aboard The Paradox so long I’d forgotten the insidiousness of the word. Slave. A possession, not a person. A negotiable asset, not a woman.
“I expect evidence of either her sale at the market, or her execution.” The queen glared. “I’ll provide extra compensation if it’s the latter and painful.”
I gulped. She remained silent as I approached the Shadows. I looked down at the two dead guardsmen.
“Where are my men? The ones who raised me these past ten solar cycles? My handmaiden? Where are their bodies?”
“In the hold. We’ll flush them with the refuse after the evening meal,” the queen replied. “Remove her from my ship!”
“Come.” The Shadows pulled me forward.
“No, not until I see them. They deserve a warrior’s burial. One of them…” I swallowed the words, realizing their weight could shift the entire course of events unfolding.
One of them what, female? Think your response, and we will hear you.
One of them was half Roteran. He deserves final judgment, even if he wasn’t raised with your people.
“Very well.” The Shadow at the far end held out his hand. “Come. We will see them, then be on our way.”
I didn’t know what final judgment was, but Lazar had been specific in his instructions were anything to happen to him. Request final judgment from the Roteran Council. The Shadows surrounded me. Their progression as they guided me from the chamber and down the hall mirrored the quiet ship. I forced a calming breath as my gaze burned. I inhaled the stench of death and wondered how each had fallen. They’d been fearless, proud warriors loyal to me. A slave.
They hadn’t ever treated me like a possession, an item with no rights. I’d been a princess in their eyes.
Family.
“Stand here with me, female,” one of them ordered. “We will tend your fallen.”
“No. I should administer last rites. Yora…” My throat closed. Yora. I squeezed my eyes shut, accepted the searing burn. “Yora taught me.”
“Very well. Come.” The man settled a gloved hand on my waist. The deep hood obstructed his face, but it didn’t matter. I’d surrendered my fate to the Shadows.
My four companions were lying beside one another facing up, but I suspected the Shadows who’d entered first were responsible for the peaceful positions. Hands folded on their stomachs. Eyes closed. Were it not for the mortal laser wounds to their heads, I would think they slept. I knelt beside them and touched Yora’s hand.
“Forgive me for not protecting you. Thank you for loving me, choosing to be my family when I had none left.” I maneuvered until I’d touched each one and muttered the same apology, the same expression of gratitude. It paled in comparison to the sacrifice they’d made. “You will be avenged.”
I bowed my head as the Shadows knelt and placed their hands on the bodies of my fallen family. I whispered the words I’d been taught in my mother’s ancient tongue.
“Spirits of the worthy, rise, for we cast into your realm the souls of Yora, Evon, Vellis, and Lazar. They were protector
s and warriors for this unworthy Tezan soul. I ask they be guided into your healing realm where they may live in your tranquil light.”
“Ren, begin,” one of the Shadows said.
The man nearest Lazar placed a hand on his cheek. The stranger’s voice was thick with undisguised fury. The words were in the ancient Roteran language, one Lazar had taught me. “Ancient Ones, I kneel before you, a Shadow within the Roteran Empire. By warrior’s right, I command final judgment on our fallen brother before you. Should he be found worthy, I demand his soul be salvaged so his work within the Empire may continue.”
A strange yellow light glowed between Ren’s hand and Lazar’s body. Calm energy floated within the room, as if the spirits of my loved ones had vacated their shells and moved toward the healing light. Tears trekked down my face. The other Shadows knelt. Hands on Ren, they chanted in a language I didn’t understand. Unsure what to do, I knelt as well. Bowed my head and closed my eyes. I focused on the calm energy around me.
The Summoner’s Well had no insight to offer, not with the queen so near. I was alone. The horrid crossroads I’d dreaded, dreamed of for years, had come to fruition. I was still alive.
A slave controlled by Shadows. Unsure how to feel about that, I remained numb within the energy and trusted the Summoner’s Well to guide my path.
Survive. Live to fight another day. The queen would die, but not today.
Today, I would be the timid, terrified slave a Shadow would expect. I’d bide my time, find an opening to escape. Then, vengeance would be mine.
3
Snow
We departed the ship in the same formation we’d taken to exit the cargo hold. Ren remained in the middle with me. Two of the other Shadows alternated, putting an arm around him, as if he’d become too weak to move on his own. The progression was fast-paced. I wanted to grab the rest of my stuff from my chamber, then remembered the order they’d been given.
The queen wanted me dead.
Dead people didn’t need material possessions.
The ship the seven men entered was massive, bigger than The Paradox. A long docking tunnel bridged the area between the two vessels. I’d heard talk of the newer ships having accoutrements such as those, but I’d never seen one. I suspected they wouldn’t want to answer the questions I had about the tube or the new stuff their vessel might have, so I remained silent as one of the men pressed a button. The hatch sealed shut, and the tube we’d been in contracted.
“Prepare for departure, Dacian.” The Shadow turned to another of the men. “Check Ren out, Varik. We’re far from a Tezan healer, even at full speed. Make him comfortable.”
When the bossy shadow pushed the hood back, my breath caught in my lungs. Eyes blacker than the tar pits on Starth watched me intently. Gold flecks danced in their dark midst. Dark honey-toned skin and black hair accentuated the handsome, rugged set of a firm jaw and full lips.
“I’m Zelig,” he offered. “I’m the Commander of our Shadow squadron.”
Right. Bossy. I nodded.
“Varik is our Medical Officer, or as close to one as we’ll ever get.”
I turned, experienced the same swoosh of air from her lungs as the handsome, light-haired man smiled. Curiosity glinted in his gaze, eyes so pale they shimmered gold.
“Ashan will get you situated. We’ll be departing immediately.” Zelig turned and charged toward the area where the man he’d called Dacian ran, most likely the bridge.
I turned when one of the men touched my arm. “Hi, I’m Ashan. Come with me.”
Ashan’s eyes shimmered mocha like his hair, which hung below his ears in a chaotic mess my fingers itched to fix. I followed him into a larger area resembling the royal chamber from The Paradox. Decorative partitions cordoned off the area into smaller pockets of comfortable seating. Some sections held nothing aside from an interface port. Holo simulators? Probably. I wanted to wander but recalled Yora’s teachings about how to conduct myself around strangers.
Revulsion shuddered through me as I dutifully knelt and awaited instruction. Silence loomed. I peeked up, noted the tick in Ashan’s jaw. His gaze narrowed, hands fisting and unfisting at his sides.
“Forgive me. I upset you,” I whispered.
“No.” He forced the word through clenched teeth. “No woman should kneel before a man unless she wishes to. Stand, female.”
“Snow.” I swallowed. “My name is Snow.”
Ashan caressed my cheek. “Such a beautiful name for an enchanting female.”
Awareness rippled through me as I basked in the caress. Yora and the guardsmen rarely touched me, only when necessary. They understood my Tezan blood absorbed emotions, memories and thoughts through skin-to-skin contact. I braced for the rush of sensations, images, thoughts, and emotions.
None came.
A gasp escaped me as he deepened the stroke along my cheek. “Don’t fear our touch, Snow. We are Roteran warriors, Shadows. We control the souls within us and will never allow them to harm you.”
“Souls?” As in plural? Confusion rattled my ability to speak beyond the one word.
“We will speak of it soon. Once we’re underway, we’ll find more suitable accommodations for you. Are you hungry? Do you require water? Once we’re in slipstream, movement will be limited to emergencies only.”
“I’m good. Thank you.” He sat, motioning for me to do the same. I complied, relaxing the stranglehold on my abilities long enough to study his aura. Happiness, merriment. Sheer joy. The blissful sensations coursed through my bloodstream. I couldn’t contain my small smile. I’d never basked in such…contentment.
“Your aura’s caress is feather soft, like a lover’s kiss,” he whispered. “I sensed your hesitancy. You aren’t used to using your Tezan abilities?”
I shook my head, unsure what to admit and what to hide. These men had taken possession of me. They’d been ordered to kill me. They were…
Assassins.
Shadows.
“Relax, Snow. You will come to no harm from us.”
The room’s entry opened. I startled as the two unidentified men entered. A menacing tone rumbled from one of them, low and long as he melted into the corner. Arms folded before his wide chest, he glared. At me.
“Enough, Marden. We discussed this,” Ashan said. “Snow, the grouchy menace in the corner is Marden. And the quiet one over there is Slade. He’s the most likely to appear without sound. He’s as close to the wind as one can get.”
Both men had the requisite dark hair most Roterans had, not that I’d met many. Lazar had educated me on almost every species, though. Marden’s eyes were a turbulent clash of green and the liquid gold. The troubled depths called to my Tezan blood, demanded immediate attention. I rose, took a few steps toward him. He visibly tightened with my approach.
Slade slid between me and Marden. He offered a soft smile, one which thinned his thick lips and accentuated his dark-toned skin. His eyes gleamed with flecks of white in an otherwise obsidian terrain. His hair was long and wound into complicated braids far more intricate than mine. I reached out and touched one, letting my aura graze his. Silence. Quiet so vast it engulfed me.
“He hurts,” I stated. “I…” I bit off the rest. I’d said too much as it was. Lazar would be horrified. “Ren. He was injured?”
“He’ll be fine,” Slade said. “We’ll take you to him once we exit slipstream if you wish.”
I glanced over at Marden, who continued to glare. “He doesn’t want me here.”
“He doesn’t want anyone here, including us.” Ashan touched my arm. “Come and prepare for slipstream. Zelig and Dacian are pushing for us to depart.”
Right. Leaving The Paradox seemed impossible, yet I couldn’t remain, not with my father and Queen Vilma there. “I still can’t believe he married her, aligned his empire with hers. It shifts the entire Intergalactic War, doesn’t it?”
“Probably,” Slade replied. “Not everything is as it seems, though. Fate has a way of balancing the scales if in
justices are committed.”
“Fate.” Many spoke of fate, too fearful to utter anything deeper. “You mean the Oracle’s Will, as divined in the Summoner’s Well.”
“Yes.”
“Queen Vilma controls the Well, she is the Summoner. Her will is the Oracle’s Will.”
“Maybe,” he whispered. “Maybe not.”
The voice. I shivered beneath the intensity, the realization. “You were the voice in my head. You took the power.”
“Yes. I must admit it was more than I expected. Fortunately, more than one of us possesses Tezan souls, so I could disperse the power as it flowed through me.” Slade touched my cheek. The silence folded in, offering a narrow passage into a chaotic rush of thoughts, memories. Emotions. Then the quiet returned, fanned outward until I lost contact.
“What was that?”
“All will be explained soon,” Ashan answered. “Sit, Snow. We must get underway.”
I sat. Ashan’s aura danced along mine, humming with a joy and good-natured cheer that seemed out of place in the dark future looming before me. I latched on to the emotion, the Shadow. Ashan. He offered me entry into his thoughts, a passage into whatever new existence was about to manifest.
The Summoner’s Well never showed me beyond the crossroads. Details never manifested, no matter how hard I tried. I glanced over at Slade, noticing the way he watched me.
Was he the reason? Did his silence envelop my visions because he was part of my future? The questions listed in my mind, but I remained silent. Marden remained standing at the back, as if not committing himself to my existence or their imminent departure.
Snow
* * *
Slipstream was an experience I didn’t want to relive anytime soon. The voracity of momentum was so fierce it felt as though my insides were crushed. Ashan held my hand the entire time, but feeling sheer joy while experiencing bone-crushing agony proved difficult. By the time we exited the experience, we were light years from The Paradox and well outside my father’s empire.
