by Casey Lea
Lovestruck
Book Five of the Iron Altar Series
Casey Lea
© Casey Lea 2014
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this book.
ISBN - 978-0-9922632-4-9
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors’ imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photo-copying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Dedicated to Kodi – everyone’s best friend.
Sleep well.
Contents
1
Looking for Love
2
Welcome to the Arena
3
Reunion
4
Introductions
5
Daybreak
6
Distracted
7
Tsunami
8
High Tide
9
Heart to Heart
10
The Only Rule
11
Midday
12
The Pack
13
Hunter
14
Grounded
15
Ambush
16
Still Distracted
17
Scrawny Guy
18
Hunted
19
Teamwork
20
So Close
21
Love Struck
22
Sweeper
23
Closure
24
Choices
25
Sunset
26
A New Day
1
Looking for Love
Barrister First-Class Haze felt dizzy and almost stumbled. He threw out an arm to lean against a rock face beside him and gulped in cool night air. Why did he feel so weak? More importantly, where was he and how the hail did he get here? He shook his head, searching his memory like a fisherman struggling with a torn net. He gathered nothing about the dusty path under him, or the nearly starless sky above, but he did discover why he was in this strange place. To save his wife. This was all about Silk. His lips curled in what felt like a grin and he stopped trying to haul his thoughts back together, because he’d found the most important piece. The other questions didn’t matter.
Haze straightened and walked on. He could have flown, but realized he didn’t want to draw attention to himself, which was strange. He paused again. He only travelled incognito when he was undercover. Yes. Memory trickled back. This was Vertigo, a Harvester world and Silk was a slave here, forced to fight in its arena. A growl vibrated through him to echo off the smooth cliff face and rumble down the valley. He was oriented again and although the recent past was still tattered he knew what he had to do.
Haze tucked away his leathery wings, letting their crests fall forward over his shoulders, and walked. He kept to the deeper darkness of the cliff face, away from the few lights lining the road. His hand brushed along the wall beside him, which was smooth and chill. It had been cut from the rock by a glacier two decades ago, when the ice plague had devastated entire worlds. This planet, Vertigo, still carried scars from the plague and its people were just as damaged, but for now he had to be one of them. Another hooded figure caught in the anonymous tide.
Haze flicked his wings one last time, checking they were draped back over his shoulders to swing behind him like a cloak. They looked convincingly drab - brown rather than their usual vibrant green, so he kept walking, one step after another. He sighed. He knew how to be patient, but not being able to fly was still guano.
The crowd thickened as he loped down into the city, although Haze ignored the press of people. Vultures, every one. He hated them so much- no. Fury lay that way and he couldn’t afford to let anger take him. The last thing he needed was to cut loose and start slashing up the locals. His head pounded with each footstep, but he closed his fist around a crystal splinter inserted in his palm and its sharp bite helped him keep control. Despite its splintered edge it remained his most precious possession and he smiled as he walked on, watching the arena grow closer. Its dark wall loomed above the slave town like a mound of manure.
Haze stepped around a group of wrestling Mutt without noticing them. A hubrix gave a coughing roar to one side, while its mailed tail smashed through the bars of a rusty cage. People yelled and leaped aside, but Haze ignored the panic. When the serrated tail lashed at him, he hurdled it and continued on.
He had only one goal, which he held in the palm of his hand. He’d found Silk and now he’d save her. Today they’d be reunited for the rest of their lives.
Haze walked faster, despite the thickening crowd, clearing a path with his shoulders and elbows. The aggression brought heat to his eyes. He glared down at the ground in an effort to hide any light glowing from them and kept his fury on a tight leash. A few of the people he barged past turned on him, but one look was enough to make them back away. His eyes must be completely frosted over, and starting to shine silver, but he couldn’t slow down. Not now, when he was so close. He surged on, into a snarl of people that became thicker and more belligerent. Someone shoved him in the back and he staggered, almost tripping over a pair of women wrestling at his feet. How barbaric was this place?
A clash of blades made him spin to see two men fighting, but the knife battle was off to one side. They were pressed so close together they could hardly swing their weapons and had to attack with short, sharp parries, grappling forearm to forearm as they tried to slice past each other’s guard.
Haze felt his eyes burn in response. He stopped, taking a precious moment to calm himself. It was hard to stay sane in an insane world, but he had incentive - Silk needed him. Soon, he silently promised and moved on. He was instantly shoved aside again.
“I’ve held this place for two days,” the solid man who pushed him said, “and I won’t lose it.”
Drak. Keeping control was a struggle. Haze clenched his fists and looked up.
The man blocking his path scowled in response, but only briefly. His eyes widened and he tried to back away, pushing against the crowd behind him. “What are you doing here?”
Haze dug his nails into his palm to steady himself before he replied. “Where exactly is here? What is this mob?”
“The queue. For entry to the arena. You should be over there.” The stranger stretched his arm half-way, trying to point to the right. “At reception.”
Haze nodded curtly and changed tack to cut across the crowd and found it was easier. Random violence surrounded him, but at least it opened gaps for him to move through. It also left space for collisions.
A girl was shoved from the thinning crowd and barged into Haze. He caught her by the elbow until she steadied herself and she looked up with a smile that was instantly wiped away. Her mouth dropped open, while her hands jerked up to cover it. He felt her astonishment and with it a surge of recognition that made no sense. He looked more closely. She was tall and blonde, like most Mermaridian, but he didn’t know her. He shrugged then stepped back.
However, the stranger launched herself after him. Her arms slid round Haze’s neck to lock him in place while she clamped her lips to his. He gaped and she took the opportunity to slide her tongue into his mouth, maki
ng him growl before he tried to push her away. She was surprisingly committed and he had to peel her off. They stood panting and staring at each other.
Haze raised his hands to ward her off while he backed up, but the girl didn’t follow. She simply stared at him. Her chest heaved, she smiled dreamily and then collapsed. She crumpled to the ground, making him stop. What the drak? This place was insane.
He returned and dropped to a crouch beside her, holding his arm out so his com could scan her still form. A hologram appeared above the band sitting snug round his wrist and he relaxed. Her pulse and respiration were steady. Diagnosis was- he cursed and checked his com, but it was sure. The girl had fainted.
Haze hissed and steadied himself on one knee, ready to launch himself in any direction. Everything about this night felt wrong. It was a long time since he’d kissed anyone, but he didn’t recall that sort of reaction.
The crowd eddied past again and someone almost tripped over Haze. He exploded upright with fists clenched, but once again the person who’d stumbled on him simply stared. There was no angry tirade. Instead the man’s expression morphed from surprised to a tentative smile and he grabbed Haze’s curled hand to clasp it awkwardly.
Haze jerked his arm free and backed away. The kissing girl had come-to and pushed herself into a crouch, before clawing her way up the strange male’s leg to stand. They both gazed after Haze as he continued his retreat.
“I touched him,” the girl told the man.
“So did I.”
“Yes, but I kissed him.”
Haze didn’t wait to hear more. He turned and sprinted for the recruiting office. The people around here were crazy. Even by Harvester standards. He took a deep breath and slowed to a steady run, reminding himself who he was. A lawyer – First Class. Certain-sure he might have found this place unsettling… if he was still twelve. His lips twitched in an almost smile as he slipped free from the mob and into open space.
The arena wall was close enough to fill the sky, blocking out the scattered stars. It made the night look truly dark. How appropriate. His smile slid away, but he ran on without hesitation, into its shadow. In a few strides he reached the base of the arena and the entrance to the recruiting office. Finally.
Haze charged forward, into a surprisingly tiny space and had to stop mid-stride. He threw up his hands to protect his face and halted when his palms slapped against the rough chill of stone blocks. A growl escaped him, but then he grinned. What sort of greeting did he expect on a slave world? Vertigo was little more than a pit dug by animals, but he’d soon teach them to be careful who they trapped.
The wall growled back and its blank face glowed with a query symbol. Haze let his right hand fall, but kept his left raised and the band on his wrist flashed to send his ID, along with an unusual request. It would doubtless cause a stir and take time to process, so he backed up to lean against the door frame, hunting for patience, but the response was surprisingly quick. There was a chime and he looked up to see an image forming in the air. It looked like a real person, which was odd, but he didn’t care and didn’t question it. He’d been searching for a year and had no taste for further delay.
The hologram solidified to show a female with short cropped white hair and pale eyes. She studied him closely, with no trace of a smile, which was a relief. He had no time to waste on manners.
She sniffed and her purple lips pursed. “I’m Luck Shansia,” she said and Haze’s throat grew dry. Why was a Luck wasting her time on the front desk? “Your request disturbs me. You wish to volunteer?”
“Yes.”
“To fight in the arena?”
“Yes.”
“To the death?”
“Yes.”
“You require payment?”
“No.”
The Luck paused then looked down to consult Haze’s ID flash. His hands trembled with the need to throttle her, which was bad. Very bad. He had to keep control. Just a little longer.
The hologram looked up again. “You are Hazeon farNikareon?”
“Yes.”
“A lawyer?”
"A defence lawyer," Haze amended, "from Blizzard." Shansia looked at him more sharply and he forced his lips to curve. They twitched in what he hoped was a smile. “I specialize in finding clients when they flee justice. I retrieve them, before defending them in court, so I know how to fight.”
“Are you Beserk?” she asked and her gaze settled to hold his, while her finger strayed toward an alarm field.
“Sometimes,” Haze admitted and willed his eyes to stay clear. Even a hint of silver now could ruin everything. “But I’ll save it for the arena.”
“You have control?”
“Yes,” he said, trying to believe it. He wadded the anger further back into his brain, until it was packed so tight it made his head ache.
The Luck stared for another moment and he tried to read her mind, but she was just an image so he failed. And felt like a fool. He was losing it. He needed to see his wife. Needed his wife.
“A moment.” The hologram disappeared with a snap, to be replaced by images of water and sunset. They scrolled in front of Haze and his gut tightened. He felt sick, but not at the thought of becoming a gladiator. His fear was exactly the opposite. What if they said no?
Luck Shansia returned and this time she did smile, to show teeth whiter than fresh-flayed bone. “We accept. Once you enter the kill-zone of the arena it will be deemed mutual acceptance and you will be a gladiator for the remainder of the season.”
“How long is that?”
“One day. At sunrise the Grand Melee starts. It’s the final match of the year and the climax to the Carnival of Death. Only one gladiator will survive. Do you still wish to proceed?”
“Yes.”
Shansia steepled her fingers, tip to tip and her face was a pale mask. “May I ask why?”
“That’s my concern.”
Her lips twisted like a purple flannel wrung dry. “If you wish to fight it becomes our concern. Tell me. And, lawyer, you’d best be convincing.”
Haze raised his other hand this time, turning his palm to face the female in the wall. He let her see the photo fleck embedded there, a single crystal that transmitted a perfect picture of his perfect wife. "I need to find this woman. Her name is Silk."
“We know the name.” The Luck gazed at the image for several seconds, before blinking rapidly. She looked at Haze again and he could have sworn her eyes were moist, but her lips twisted disdainfully. “A quest. How sweet. I can guarantee you’re in the right place.”
Haze knew that already, yet the confirmation was enough to make him sag with relief. Silk was here. Right here. So close. After a year apart they would finally…
The thought was swamped by a wave of dizziness that almost made him stagger. Instead he held himself ramrod straight while darkness came and went. What the hail? He shivered and his skin prickled against sudden cold, until scorching heat set him sweating a second later. He swore, even as he finally understood. He was being transported and scanned at the same time. He was a gladiator.
2
Welcome to the Arena
A full-power scan burrowed through Haze and he gritted his teeth against the pain. While he was distracted unseen hands stripped his body. His com was pried from his wrist, but he let it go and fell into worse agony without a sound. He could take this. He could take anything he had to. He held on, grimly silent until darkness claimed him. Fainting should have been a relief, but his eyes grew hot with anger and he tried to resist it. He still had to see her. To be sure…
Haze came-to lying face down and naked on bare rock, with the tang of blood in his mouth. He spat and heaved himself up on his forearms, hoping he wouldn’t need to fight straight away. Armored feet stepped into sight and stopped beside him. A gauntlet hooked under his arm and to his surprise he was helped up rather than hauled. Sadly being on his feet didn’t seem likely to last, as the stone chamber around him swung back-and-forth like a pendulum.
“They’re not.”
The world around Haze came back into focus and he straightened. It seemed his secret healing flecks had finally powered up. He pushed the person supporting him away, ignoring the sharp edges that cut at his palms. “Good. Take me to them.”
The tall guard stepped away without complaint, clanking in his Harvester combat gear. The armor had plenty of hooks, while its helmet was decorated with teeth. A line of sabre-sharp canines ran along its crest and from their size the warrior held a high rank. That was strange for someone posted on intro, but perhaps the guard was being disciplined. The Harvester straightened, drawing himself up to full height, until he stood taller than Haze. “You’ve recovered?” the guard asked with a frown.
Haze took a side-step as if trying to catch his balance and rounded his shoulders. It wouldn’t do to look too healthy. The nano-flecks healing him needed to stay hidden. They’d survived the scan, safely tucked away in his mitochondria, which was good, because he was likely to need every advantage he could steal. “I’m well enough. Lead on,” he ordered the guard, who stared for a long, awkward moment before turning away.
“The males are in their holding pen,” the Harvester said. “Follow me.”
“No.”
The slaver turned back, but he didn’t look angry. That was odd too. The people of this world had very strange responses. A pair of long, feathery ribbons that grew behind Haze’s ears lifted like two wayward strands of hair. There was a familiar tickle when their bristles twisted toward the guard, followed by an instant flow of information.
The fronds felt each electromagnetic wave from the Harvester’s thoughts and discovered there was no anger in them. Instead the slaver’s mind was filled with anticipation. “You refuse to join the gladiators?” he asked calmly. “Are you retreating from your deal?”
