by Cara Carnes
I couldn’t help but marvel at how fast the Shadow ship chewed up the space around them. The Paradox was an ancient junker relegated to keeping me away from the king and his empire. It never went light-speed or entered slipstreams, just meandered through space at a crawl, usually in the farthest regions of the Skeron Empire. Safe, but not part of my father’s kingdom.
The macabre part of me wondered why he hadn’t killed me the day my mom died. I supposed drifting in space with no home and no reason to exist was a fate worse than death in a lot of ways. I hadn’t been alone, though. The four people who proclaimed themselves caregivers to the young, terrified child I’d been back then had given me a purpose, a reason to exist.
For them.
They’d taught me, spent every waking minute of each day educating me, a slave.
I hadn’t understood why.
Perhaps this was why—the time after the crossroads.
The seven Shadows sat, maneuvered seating until they were all clustered in one cordoned off sector of the large room. Their tall, muscular bodies sucked all the oxygen from the atmosphere, made me feel as though I were confined, pinned in. I forced a few deep breaths as Zelig sat. I studied each man briefly and put faces with names. Zelig was the bossy one, the Commander. Ashan was the happy, contented one. Dacian…well, I wasn’t sure what he was yet. Varik was the doctor, he spewed off medical whatnots about Ren’s condition, none of which I understood.
Ren…Crimson rose in his cheeks whenever I looked at him. He’d entered a while ago and sat. I’d expanded my aura outward toward him, but his shrank inward, as if averse to a psychic touch. He was shy. Marden was grouchy. In pain. He remained in the corner, locked into the same position he’d maintained upon entry. His gaze swept across me occasionally, though. Then there was Slade, silence and stealth.
“Now that we’re out of slipstream and well away from any dangers, I must ask you to disarm yourself, Snow.” Zelig’s statement offered no room for argument, more order than request. “You may keep one dagger if you’d like, but I hardly think a sword is necessary.”
“I’m not giving you my mother’s sword,” I replied. I grasped the hilt. “It remains with me. Whatever my fate is, it remains with me.”
Dacian glared at Ashan. “What does she mean whatever her fate is? You assured her she was safe, right? Free?”
He had mentioned freedom. I possessed Tezan blood. I couldn’t be “free” within the Cruzan or Skeron empires. “Wait. Where are we?”
“Roteran controlled space,” Dacian said. He spewed off coordinates, positions versus Roteran Prime and three other planets my mind didn’t recall. Definitely the intelligent one of the group, scientific. “You are no longer a slave, female.”
Female. I chuckled. One step up from a slave, I supposed.
“You find the word offensive,” Varik said. “Females are rare within our species, a treasure we protect at all costs.”
“She is not one of our females,” Marden replied. His voice deepened with anger. “We shouldn’t have involved ourselves. She is not the one.”
“Perhaps you didn’t notice the rush of power that almost crushed us all when we absorbed it,” Slade argued. “My Tezan souls still hum with the energy she wielded. Say what you wish, Marden, but we will not tolerate an outright lie. She is the one.”
“The one?” I asked hesitantly.
I didn’t want to get into the middle of whatever spat the seven men were having, but I was stuck with them. Emotions boomeranged within the room and struck my aura with wild abandon. They were so fierce and plentiful I wasn’t sure whom they came from. I focused, intent on reconstructing my psychic shields.
“Don’t,” Zelig said. He reached over and touched my arm. Determination. Order. He radiated calm and lethal control. “We will move Ren far enough away to where his lack of control won’t be a problem.”
“No.” I shook my head. “He’s injured. W-What happened to him?”
“Lazar was one-half Roteran. What did he tell you of our people?”
“Not much. He taught me a few customs, but he said his father’s people were fiercely protective of their culture and wouldn’t appreciate him bandying their ways about the entire galaxy.” I smiled. “Lazar was sometimes a bit dramatic.”
“Great, just what we needed in the mix,” Marden growled.
“Enough,” Slade warned.
“Tezans are conduits. Those with strong enough bloodlines can do many things, include sense emotions and serve as a medium, or oracle, for the Summoner’s Well. It is how the Oracle’s Will was once projected to the Well’s followers. Roterans were tasked with enforcing the will. Over time, some became disloyal to the ancient traditions, wished to control the power for themselves,” Varik explained.
“That’s when the Intergalactic War began. The Crunan Empire attacked Tezan. Genocide. That’s what Yora called it,” I whispered.
“She wasn’t wrong. The Crunan and Skeron controlled most of the Intergalactic fleet at the time. Though they were arch enemies for centuries, they aligned long enough to purge the galaxies of almost all Tezans,” Dacian said. “Those who survived went into hiding, and the Summoner’s Well fell into the hands of the Crunans. Though Tezan blood had always been in control of the Well, some Crunans were also capable of wielding its power, though on a much more limited scale.”
“How do you all know this? Is it so commonplace to know these things?”
“No,” Ashan said. “Roterans possess some unique abilities as well, one in particular. When someone dies, a Tezan priest or priestess summons the Tezan spirits to guide the recently departed soul to the afterlife. That’s the chant you used today.”
“Right, but what does that have to do with Roterans?”
“We have a similar ritual, a couple actually. When someone of Roteran blood dies, a warrior can summon the departed spirit. If the Ancient Ones find the newly fallen soul to be worthy of the right, the warrior who summoned them may then inherit the soul.”
What? I sat back, a bit stunned. My mind refused to accept the statements. “What does that mean?”
“Roterans are able to inherit the souls of the recently departed. We inherit the person’s personality, memories, knowledge. It’s an ancient custom we share with no one outside our race. It’s our primary defense system, actually. Shadows and Dark Guardians, the other layer of Roteran Realm protectors, have the ability to also inherit the souls of fallen enemies, or anyone not Roteran.”
“How?” I couldn’t imagine something like that being possible. “I don’t understand how one could even…”
“There are many planes of existence. Certain Tezan bloodlines can reach through those planes as well, speak with the spirits. They’re conduits, which is how the power of the Summoner’s Well is wielded. A communication is being established through the Well so the person can channel the Oracle,” Dacian explained. “What we do is very similar in some ways. Roterans are trained from a young age to cross the psychic planes, develop the ability to summon spirits parting this plane of existence and contain them.”
My eyes watered as I put the data together, assembled it around the context of what’d happened in the ship, the ancient language they’d chanted as Ren…
“You…” I swallowed and looked at the pale, exhausted warrior being propped up by Slade and Varik. “You inherited Lazar’s soul?”
“Yes,” Ren replied. “And Evon and Vellis too.”
“And Yora?”
A grim expression settled on the men’s faces as they looked at one another.
“She was the worthiest person I’ve ever met,” I argued angrily. “She sacrificed everything, her chance at a family of her own. All so she could finish raising me when my mom died. Was that not enough to be deemed worthy?”
Marden cursed and punched the wall behind him as he shoved away from it. “Idiots. You explained everything wrong and upset her.”
I blinked. The man prowled forward, shoved his fellow warriors aside, and crouche
d in my personal space. I retreated, but there was nowhere to go. He took my hands.
“She was a worthy soul, surely one worth inheriting. We are Shadows, limited to inheriting warrior spirits. When born, a person is gifted with a specific type of spirit. Each class of Roterans can only salvage some of those types. Only Dark Guardians can inherit anyone, to the point our own people don’t trust them to remain within our midst. Society barely tolerates our presence for the few, very brief visits we take to Roteran Prime. Dark Guardians are relegated to space stations within our realm.”
“Yora was a caregiver. A spirit inheritable by an average Roteran citizen, or a Dark Guardian. Neither of those were available,” Varik added. “I’m sorry, Snow.”
Guilt crawled through my insides and coagulated into a lump in my stomach. “No, I’m sorry. Thank you for…” I paused unsure what term they used.
“Salvaging,” Dacian offered.
“Thank you for salvaging Lazar, Evon, and Vellis.” I looked at Ren. “Is that why you are ill?”
“Soul salvaging was once commonplace but has become increasingly difficult. After the salvage, the warrior who inherited it requires a Tezan healer, someone who can communicate with the spirit and alleviate his or her concerns, soothe them to accepting their new life. A warrior summons the spirits within him, infuses them into one honed entity he can use during battle. He becomes stronger because of them. The spirit will continue living the life of a worthy warrior.” Marden’s voice softened the longer he spoke.
“I’m Tezan. Could I do it?”
“No, it’s too risky,” Ren argued. He shifted. “I’ll be fine.”
“How would it be risky? I knew Lazar, Evon, and Vellis. They’d never hurt me,” I said.
“The salvaged souls are rarely the warriors as you knew them in this world. We lift their true selves, the deepest, most important memories and basest, most natural emotions and personalities. The stronger the warrior inheriting, the more details he’s able to contain,” Slade said.
“The problem won’t be the three souls Ren took, but the others he already held. Since we’re Shadows, we house more souls than the common Roteran, so accommodations in us are tight. Three new spirits suddenly appearing tends to piss off the locals.” Ashan shrugged. He looked around when a few of the others growled. “What? It’s true.”
“Why did he take all three then?” Snow asked.
“Because we couldn’t risk more than one of us not being at fighting strength while we were trying to extricate you from Queen Vilma’s grasp,” Zelig said.
“We shouldn’t have salvaged them at all,” Marden said. “If we don’t get Ren help soon, he could die.”
Die? No. I shook my head. “Tell me what to do.”
“No, Snow. Marden’s being overly dramatic. I’ll be fine,” Ren argued. “If it gets bad, I’ll say something.”
I sensed the lie in his assurance. Though I didn’t know him or the others around him, I knew their type. He wouldn’t admit weakness. “Promise me, Ren. Whenever it becomes too much, tell me so I can try and help.”
When he didn’t reply, I repeated the order with a growl. “Promise me.”
“Very well. I promise,” he said.
“Where are we going? What’s to become of me?” I almost preferred not knowing.
“That depends,” Zelig replied.
“On?”
“On you,” Marden answered. “You can either mourn your friends or avenge them.”
“Avenge.” I met each man’s confident gaze. “I am not a simpering female who’d rather cry. That won’t honor Lazar and the others. My father and Queen Vilma will pay for what they’ve done.”
“Good.” Dacian stood. “I’ll plot a course for Tezan.”
“Tezan?” The word came out as more of a whispered question than I wanted.
Something inside me shifted, twisted until my insides clenched. The home world my mother had used as bedtime stories when I was little, the place I’d never expected to see. The lands, the civilization my mother regaled me with were long gone. The planet remained, a shell of what it’d once been. Seeing it would be…
“I can’t. Tezan is gone, what it once was. I only have the stories my mother told, of long ago when her people were fierce, strong.” I hoped they understood. “I can’t taint what little I have of her by seeing a ravaged planet.”
Ashan took my hand. His expression softened. A glimmer of regret and understanding wafted in his aura, enough for me to relax as his thumb massaged my palm. “There comes a time when we must all do things we don’t wish to, Snow. If you truly want to stand against the newly aligned Crunan Skeron Empire, we must do so quickly and strike center mass. It is the only way we stand a chance.”
“How will going to Tezan accomplish anything?”
He lifted my hand until it was eye-level between us. “You’ve barely scraped the surface of what we think you can do. The journey to what was once your people’s home world will be long. The training you’ll have to go through will be intense. But if we are lucky, you’ll be ready once you arrive.”
“Ready for what? To see a ravaged planet where a mighty civilization once stood?”
“You’ll be ready to reclaim the Summoner’s Well and reign over the Oracle’s energy,” Slade said. “That is the swiftest way to strike against those who killed your friends.”
“I…” No. They were too certain for it to be supposition. I was missing something. “How?”
“The Summoner’s Wells you’ve touched in the past are merely outposts, relay stations of the true power. The real source is still on Tezan, in a chamber which can only be opened by one of noble birth,” Zelig explained. “That’s you, or so we hope. The Well responds too strongly to you for it to be otherwise.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“Then we’ll go to Plan B,” Ren said.
The man’s voice was weak, a raspy sound tainted with pain and more emotion than before.
“And we’ll stop somewhere to help Ren along the way.” I made it a statement, not a request.
Dacian grinned. “Yes, Snow. That’s our first stop.”
Good. The concern for the warrior subsided, then led my mind to the next worry. “You implied I wasn’t a slave any longer, not in this region of space. You mentioned training. I…I’m not sure who I am or what is to become of me.”
“We’ll figure out everything together, Snow.” Varik held out his hand. “Come, I want to get you scanned, make sure you’re medically clear. I suspect it’s been a while since someone ensured you were healthy.”
No one had ever ensured my health. A slave’s health didn’t matter, especially one who’d been relegated to roaming the galaxy aboard an old cargo ship. I nodded and took Varik’s hand. Heat seeped into me, warm, healing energy. I relaxed the grip on my psychic aura. They would figure everything out together.
It was better than the alternative.
4
Zelig
Zelig sat and regarded his squadron. Only Ren was absent, too ill to do more than sleep as he battled for control of the souls within him. The Shadow was a fierce warrior, but it’d been a while since he’d salvaged a spirit, and he had far less of those on board than the other men Zelig commanded.
“The female sleeps,” Marden stated.
“Her name is Snow,” Ashan reminded. “Using her name would help her feel comfortable around us.”
“Her comfort isn’t my concern.” The snarled comment battered through the room.
Zelig let the man sit and calm before he spoke. “We spoke of this possibility, that she is the one we’ve been searching for. The true Summoner.”
“And she is ours,” Ashan declared. “Most of my souls ache for her already, feel the pull of her spirit.”
Varik and Dacian nodded. Shadows felt the draw of a mate immediately, within moments of first contact. Slade grunted. Marden growled.
Zelig almost pitied Snow for the predicament she was in. “She’s been ostracized m
any years, little to no contact with a populace. The challenges she must face if she is the true Summoner will be difficult enough without us adding our mating call to the mix.”
“Yet, how can we not?” Ashan argued. “She would be stronger mated to us than alone.”
“Perhaps,” Slade commented. “Either way, Zelig is right. We must verify whether she’s the true Summoner and focus on the task at hand rather than the mating pull. She’s likely knowledgeable about our customs and traditions. We will each spend time with her alone as we can. The journey will be long.”
Tezan was on the edge of Crunan controlled space. The safest route was a carved path through a lawless land known as the Meridian Highway. They’d remain within Roteran and Avaru space, resupply, and forge into the Highway, essentially turning around and running parallel to where her ship had been to go past it. Into the blackened sector of space once controlled by her people, an area rarely traveled any longer, not even by the Crunans who had destroyed it.
Rumors about what’d ravaged the area were rampant. Zelig didn’t care. All he wanted was to get to Tezan, prove she was the true Summoner, and end Queen Vilma’s reign. Too many innocent souls had died in the bloody war.
“She can never be ours,” Marden declared. “Shadows don’t get an eternal mate. It’s simply not done. This isn’t the kind of life Snow deserves.”
“That’s her choice,” Varik said. “Though, she’s been on a cargo ship alone with only four other souls for more than ten cycles. The life we’d offer her would be far better.”
“She has a warrior spirit,” Dacian said with a grin. “The way she took down the queen’s guardsmen made my warrior souls cheer.”
“Mine were too busy absorbing the power she wielded with such ease,” Slade commented.
Zelig grunted. None of them had expected the immense rush of raw energy. Had Slade not had so many Tezan souls within him, the situation would’ve unfolded much differently. “Tell me what your souls think of her.”
“They are skeptical, though several remark she reminds them of their queen, who would have been her grandmother. Her features are common within the Tezans, but it is the ivory white skin which set the royal line apart from the others.” Slade rubbed his own arm, as if imagining it were hers. “She is quite enchanting. Her aura is so pure and strong. I’ve never felt anything like it.”
