by Cara Carnes
But my father had changed that by marrying Queen Vilma. Before the union, the Skerons had sided with the Avaru, thereby evening out the sides. Now the Avaru stood alone, assuming the Roterans didn’t intervene.
The Roterans controlled more space than anyone and were far more technologically advanced than even the Crunans. I’d never understood how or why they’d allowed the Crunans to destroy the Tezan Empire. None of the explanations offered made sense.
“Your aura is full of curiosity and confusion,” Slade commented. “What are you thinking of?”
“The Avaru Outpost. The Intergalactic War. How your people are more advanced and stronger than any of the empires in the war, yet you remain neutral and do nothing—even back when the Tezans were supposedly your allies. You were tasked with enforcing the Oracle’s Will, yet you let the Crunans crush the Tezans and take control of the Summoner’s Well and the energy.”
“We faced extinction right alongside the Tezan. We survived only because we had more populace than your people did, Snow,” Zelig explained. “We didn’t enter the Intergalactic War at first because we would’ve been annihilated.”
“A smart warrior knows when to retreat, fight another day.” I repeated the teaching Lazar had instilled in me. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t judging your people. I just never understood.”
“We weren’t in a position to protect Tezan as we should have been. No one expected the Crunan Empire would destroy an entire planet. No one realized they had the ability to do so. They lurked in the shadows before the war, kept to themselves,” Varik said. “There is much you do not know, much no one outside a trusted circle knows.”
“You will come to understand more soon,” Dacian promised. “Sometimes, the wisest action is none at all.”
“Strike swiftly and silently whenever possible,” Slade added. “It is the Roteran way.”
5
Snow
“Stop wandering away. Remain at my side, female.”
I blinked, regarding Marden and the scant two steps between us. Who knew such a small distance was wandering away? He wasn’t much for using names, so I ignored the fact he still called me “female.” Conversation wasn’t one of his strong suits.
The Avaru Outpost wasn’t like the other space stations I’d explored in Skeron controlled space. Pirates, Roterans, Skerons, Crunans, and every other species—most of which I recognized, though there were a few I didn’t—intermingled. Tension filled my aura as I noted the glares and agitated movements of the enemies within the same area. The Avaru were crazy for allowing everyone to use the trade market.
“Relax,” Ren said. “This is the only market the Gypsies from the Gypsy Nebulae will trade with, and everyone within Deep Space needs the goods they hock. The munitions and most of the supplies needed for the Intergalactic War come from the Gypsy Nebulae. Everyone knows to be on their best behavior here or they’ll get banned.”
Right, because everyone always obeyed the rules on space outposts. I kept my opinion on the matter to myself, though Ren chuckled and put an arm around me.
“Your face is very expressive,” he commented.
“I still don’t understand why Zelig made Marden come along. It’s obvious he wants nothing to do with me.” I glared at the Shadow warrior, who’d growled at me for “wandering off” then proceeded to add a good ten paces between us. The man was unsettling.
“Marden has the widest assortment of spirits from the different species we might encounter. This is a peaceful outpost, but the recent merging of the Crunan and Skeron empires will likely cause issues, even here. You must stay close to him while Nefus works with me. It’s unlikely the old Tezan will allow you to remain with me.”
Great. Wandering a strange outpost with a Shadow warrior who didn’t want anything to do with me was exactly how I wanted to spend what was likely one of the last days of my life. I forced the glum thought aside. At least I wasn’t locked up on The Paradox anymore. I took a deep breath and coughed as a noxious odor struck my nostrils. My eyes watered. The foul stench permeated my tongue and hung in the air. A green haze blanketed the area as far as I could see.
“Breathe through your mouth, shallow,” Marden ordered as he appeared at my other side. “Do not speak.”
I doubted words would form even if I tried. Large…aquatic beings walked around. Green, blue, orange. The colors were as varied as the wares they hocked. Large tentacle-like whiskers spanned from their faces. Massive mouths encompassed most of what was a fish-like face. Two large incisors peeked out of their large mouths from both sides. The foul, green haze permeated from gills along their sides, which flapped as they moved and cast a faint whistle in the air. My ears rang from the high pitch.
“Plorians,” Ren whispered. “The Gypsies bring them here to trade. They prefer to do their own bartering since in their minds no one is trustworthy, most especially the Gypsies.”
“They’re stuck relying on them for transport, like everyone else,” Marden added with a growl. “They’re from an aquatic-based plane. The gases they secrete are a byproduct of them being outside of their preferred liquid environment. We’re almost out of their section. Don’t make eye contact, it’s considered a challenge.”
The last thing I wanted was to duel with a gigantic fish-like man secreting noxious, green gas. I was thankful Marden situated himself between the Plorian merchants and me. Ren remained on my other side. But I couldn’t breathe. The shallow draws heightened my panic. My sides burned. My eyes stung. The two Shadows angled along a rightward path, moving double-time, as if sensing the rising fear.
“Almost there,” Ren whispered. “A few more steps and you can breathe deeply, Snow.”
I squeezed both men’s forearms as they guided me deeper into a darkening path. I coughed and sputtered. Bent forward, hands on my knees, I willed the nausea away. The stop at the Avaru Outpost was about Ren—getting him the treatment he needed. I wouldn’t shift focus to me, even if my insides felt like they’d imploded.
“Deep breaths.” Marden rubbed my back. The firm ministration focused my psychic energy outward. “First contact with the gas is hardest. You’ll acclimate.”
I’d acclimate? I wanted to refute—protest any possibility of going through that again—but if I wanted to get back onto their vessel, I had no choice. I nodded and stood fully. The two men studied me a moment, then continued. They wound through the maze of huts and squat lean-tos four and five deep along both sides. How did one learn their way around such a complicated marketplace? How many traded here? My gaze swept each hut as Marden and Ren took turns dragging me along.
So many species.
Terror struck me when a large reptilian with angry, brown spikes along his sides and down the center of his torso halted our progression. “One thousand credits.”
“Move or die,” Marden growled.
“Very well, fifteen hundred, not one credit more.” The reptilian’s gold and black gaze ran down me as his long, forked tongue flicked far enough out to almost graze my face. A low rumble rolled from him as he reached down and adjusted his trousers with his claw-shaped hands. “You can watch.”
Marden attacked. Blue blood sprayed the area as the Shadow carved with two menacing Roteran blades, blades I hadn’t even noticed the warrior carrying. Ren locked an arm around me when I moved to help. Several other reptilian people appeared, but none moved to interfere as the two fought.
“He’s okay, none at this market could beat him,” Ren assured. “This is why Zelig insisted he come along. He understands the various cultures, knows how best to handle them. This species recognizes brute strength only. Don’t ever approach a Sagam. Females are lower than slaves within their hierarchy. They’re objects, tools to breed and toss aside. I’ve heard few females survive birthing one of their kind.”
I shuddered. Revulsion pitched my stomach again. Marden rose, the evident victor since he left nothing but carnage in his wake. Blue blood covered the entire area. He leaned down, dipped his hand into the dead m
an’s gaping facial wound. Marden’s gaze swept each Sagam watching as he spread the carnage on his face in a six-pointed formation of some sort. He grunted a few words in a language I didn’t understand, then motioned for me and Ren to join him.
The gathered crowd parted, allowing us to continue our journey, one I hoped was nearing an end. I’d acclimated to enough strange species and cultures for today. My limited exposure to the various galaxies was shameful. Heat filled my cheeks. My heart thundered wildly. I latched one hand onto Marden, not caring if the strange species’ blood got on me or not.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“You have no reason to trust us, not yet,” Marden said as he halted and faced me. “But we have vowed to keep you safe. In the eyes of our people, you are ours to protect and care for.”
My aura warmed, fanned outward at the steely determination within his statement. The protectiveness settled around me, a secondary barrier between me and everyone else. As long as Marden and the other Shadows were near, I was safe. I didn’t understand why, but I already trusted them. Perhaps it was because I’d spent the entire night “meeting” Ren’s spirits. They’d shown me a great deal about themselves and the fierce warrior who housed them.
“Thank you,” I repeated.
“Come,” Ren said. “We are here.”
He guided me into a small hut, one a bit larger than those which had been along the narrow corridor we’d navigated. A squat, elderly man trundled forward, leaning heavily on a staff.
“Shadows, it has been a while since you visited,” he commented.
“Nefus, time has been kind to us all,” Marden greeted. He motioned toward Ren. “We have need of your help.”
“I see much has transpired.” His glassy-eyed gaze settled on me. “So it’s true. You stole King Cavell’s slave daughter.”
“We have no need for a slave,” Ren said. “There is much to discuss.”
“Come. Half the outpost has likely notified the Queen by now.” His lips smacked together as he turned and headed toward a winding stairwell along the back wall. “The outpost is loyal to everyone until there is a ten thousand credit bounty. That kind of payday makes everyone loyal to no one but their credit account.”
Ten thousand credits bought entire planets in Deep Space. Why would Queen Vilma waste so much for me? A mere slave? The answer trickled through my brain, but I ignored it, unprepared to accept I was more than the slave daughter of a king.
The stooped Nefus navigated the stairwell, winding downward without difficulty. Marden put both my hands on his shoulders and went first. Ren’s hands rested on my shoulders. Comfort drifted within my aura. If I fell, they would catch me. The protectiveness made me think of Lazar. Evon and Vellis. Moisture pooled in my gaze as the sorrow of their loss struck.
But I hadn’t lost them because of Ren. I’d spent the night cocooned by their spirits and the others within the mighty Shadow warrior.
“Are you okay?” he asked the moment they’d moved beyond their stairwell.
“I’m fine. You?”
“The souls are still at peace,” he said. “Thank you for calming them. I…I wish I’d been conscious enough to enjoy the time you spent with them.”
“Next time.”
He flashed a handsome smile and squeezed my hand. “Next time.”
“For someone who’s salvaged a soul, you seem rather healthy,” Nefus commented. “Come. Sit.”
Remain silent. I don’t want to expose your heritage unless necessary. They know you are the king’s slave daughter, but not that you are one-half Tezan. Everyone who knows increases the threat against you.
The voice filled my head as Marden placed a protective arm around me and positioned me on a bench in the far back corner of the room. Although I wanted to be near Ren, I understood Marden’s hesitation. Tezans were killed upon capture in many regions of space, by order of Queen Vilma. Although this wasn’t Crunan controlled space, there was apparently a bounty on me either way.
“Clean yourself up, Shadow. The blood offends many of your spirits. Their agitation unsettles me and I cannot focus.” The older man motioned toward the side room. “Tell me of the spirit you inherited.”
Marden growled. The low rumble of refusal whipped through the room. I touched his arm. “I will sit here with Ren.”
“Come sit beside me, child. You’ve enchanted this warrior’s spirits. They no longer wish to converse with an old man.” He patted the seat beside him and glanced at Ren. “It seems you missed a few conversation points, Shadow. This is the woman Queen Vilma put a bounty on. It is no wonder. She’s a strong Tezan healer, perhaps more so than me. Natural talent such as that was rare, even before the fall of the empire.”
“Don’t ask too many questions, Nefus,” Ren warned.
“I’ve seen enough from your spirits to know better. I would suggest you not delay, however. Her resemblance to her ancestors is remarkable, almost painful to see.” Nefus squeezed his eyes shut. His hand trembled as he picked up an implement from the surface beside him. “I apprenticed in the royal court for three cycles, the king commanded it when I accidentally ran into him in the market square. He said my healing spirit was stronger than any he had ever seen. I was a natural. His daughter’s mate was a far stronger healer, taught me everything he knew even though he was a few cycles younger than me.”
I bit my tongue. He knew my ancestors?
“I remember the day I first met the king’s daughter. Hair as black as obsidian and a beauty so fair she took everyone’s breath away. It was her spirit that enchanted though, so strong and pure. I knew their union would transcend legend, create a child beyond comparison.” Nefus’s gaze settled on me. An aura steeped in nourishment and care swept across mine. “I see I was not wrong. It is obvious you have little of your father in you.”
“I don’t remember you,” I whispered.
“Oh, this was before you were born, a cycle before the empire’s fall.”
“So, it’s true? My mother was…”
“Yes.” Nefus looked around. “Yes, she was. We will speak no more of her. The walls are thin, even beneath the ground.”
I nodded. Marden returned, settled into a protective stance at my back.
“Focus on Ren’s spirits, child. I will teach you a healer’s ways, though I suspect you have a far greater purpose awaiting you.” His voice trembled. “I prayed to the Oracle many times, hoping I’d live to see this day.”
“What…”
“Later, child. For now, we house the souls you’ve enchanted.” He smiled. “You will have to be more cautious when you work with spirits, child. Your power is immense and will draw any spirit you touch. It would make handling them difficult for a Roteran, even a warrior.”
“Did I hurt them?”
“No,” Ren said.
“Perhaps it is the warrior who’s enchanted.” Nefus’s comment cast red up Ren’s cheeks.
A flash of protective anger consumed me. I grasped the Shadow’s hand, squeezed until he offered a tight smile. The old man shifted the discussion, starting on the process of what he called construction. I sat, listened, and observed. Enthralled, I hung on the man’s every word, asked whatever question I wanted. He answered each one with a patient, almost reverent tone.
I loved the first few phases of the process, much like what I’d done naturally with the spirits to calm them. But the fun ended, and we started a far more difficult phase. A fire roared in the corner of the room, heated the brands Nefus molded and shaped from Enuth compound, a material which was malleable in its natural form, but harder than any known substance once treated by fire.
A branding iron.
Nefus could call the torturous devices whatever he wished. They were rudimentary branding irons. And he expected me to grasp one of those monstrosities and…
I shook my head in adamant refusal. I’d mentally worked out what the etchings on the Shadows were, but I hadn’t contemplated being present while they got one of them. I didn’t wan
t to imagine the pain, smell their flesh burn. My stomach pitched.
“I forgot you were not raised in the way of our ancients, nor theirs. This is a sacred tradition, one which bonds the recovered spirit permanently with the Shadow warrior. Failure to perform the etching would destroy the foundation of trust they’re establishing and dishonor the spirit’s sacrifice. And the Shadow’s.” Nefus’s trembling hand picked up one of the irons. “This is Evon’s. We fashioned the blade of his father’s people and added a Skeron steed’s head to the hilt to recognize his love of horsemanship, something he and Ren have in common. That is an important facet to remember, always add one thing the spirit and the Shadow have in common to the etching. It’s a reminder they are unified from this point forward.”
“Okay,” I replied.
Nefus was right. If I was the only Tezan available and we were headed toward the home world, a lot could happen on the long journey. The Shadows had vowed to protect me. This was my way to protect them in return.
“Show me,” I said.
“Placement is critical for more aggressive or formidable spirits. If they aren’t satisfied with the location or feel it’s beneath them they will resist the Shadow’s control over them.” Nefus motioned toward Ren’s exposed torso. “Fortunately, this Shadow has few souls compared to some, which makes this a bit simpler. The Shadow’s preference is the foremost importance, however. Never place an etching on a Roteran warrior without either his or one of his squadron’s permission. Especially on the back. Residing on a Roteran’s back is a mark of respect, one given by the warrior, not demanded by the spirit being housed.”
I listened to Nefus’s words, but my gaze roved Ren. My mouth dried. He was gorgeous. Nefus ordered him to strip earlier. I’d turned around while he removed his clothes and reclined atop the surface with a thin, black material over him. It only covered the area beneath his lower stomach down to his upper thighs. His muscles bunched and flexed, as if the souls in him welcomed my perusal. My touch.
