Storm of Arranon

by R. E. Sheahan

  “Innocent?” He shook his head. “Then you won’t interest him.”

  “You don’t know me.” Erynn crossed her arms and thrust her chin up and out. She narrowed her eyes and smirked. “Commander General Yager’s only child would never do anything to get into trouble.”

  “I’m still not buying the act.” Sean turned. “Go. I’ll talk to you later,” he called as he walked down the hall.

  “Who’s acting?” she yelled at his back.

  ***

  Erynn slipped through the open door into General Brayton’s outer office. She wiped damp palms on her dark-brown pants.

  “Have a seat, Lieutenant.” Captain Bannick, the General’s aide, frowned and gestured to one of the hard chairs against the wall. “General Brayton will be with you when he’s finished.”

  “Yes, sir.” Before she took a seat, the door separating the inner office from the outer one slid open. A cadet rushed out, his face red. General Brayton glared after him. Anger from the young man slammed against her. She stepped back from the uncomfortable sensation, visualized the tunnel spiraling into a thin point of light, minimizing her contact to his emotion.

  General Brayton turned his attention to Erynn. The lines around his brown eyes deepened. “Come in, Lieutenant.” He moved behind his desk.

  Erynn sensed his annoyance. General Brayton’s irritation tapped at her in short bursts of energy.

  Not good.

  The intent of her summons must be the disruption she caused in Major Kendal’s class. She stepped into General Brayton’s office.

  Will he expel me?

  Standing at attention, she saluted. “Lieutenant Yager reporting as ordered, sir.” The strength behind her words didn’t betray the dropping, rolling sensation in her stomach.

  Brayton returned the salute, his action stiff and mechanical. “At ease, Lieutenant.” His voice was as taut as a keollo string tuned far too tight.

  With only the suggestion of her posture relaxing, Erynn made eye contact.

  General Brayton remained quiet. He stared across the desk at her, his lips curving down into a frown. His fingertips balanced on the clutter-free surface. “Tomorrow, zero eight hundred, report to the hangar bay in full dress blues. I want you prepared to speak with visiting dignitaries.”

  “Sir?” Erynn asked, trying to keep her expression composed. She was surprised by his request, and relieved. “You want me to give a presentation?”

  “No, Lieutenant Yager, I do not want you to.” His voice carried in the confined space. “This isn’t my choice. There’s something about you…” He glanced out the open door, his unspoken words hanging in the air. “General Cale Athru from Arranon is visiting security headquarters. You’re to be in attendance while he’s here, starting with an Interceptor-squadron demonstration in the morning.” He turned back to her. His stare penetrated. “I’m no happier about this than you are, Lieutenant.”

  “I understand, sir, and I agree. Couldn’t someone else? Someone more…” her brow knitted, “appropriate—”

  “No,” he snapped again. “General Athru personally requested you for this detail.” He held up his hand. “And before you ask, I don’t know why.” He frowned. “Do it, Lieutenant. That was the order. For both of us.” He nodded toward the door. “You’re dismissed.”

  ***

  Erynn ran down the steps of the base headquarters to the tree-lined quad and leaned against the first trunk she came to. Her summons to Brayton’s office hadn’t been to expel or reprimand her. She was thankful, but his request for a junior officer in this situation was unusual.

  General Athru wants me? Why? Because of my dad?

  Familiar blue static popped among the broad yellow and green leaves above her. They jumped, fluttering as if a high wind swirled through them. Thin branches on either side remained still, leaves barely stirring in the gentle breeze.

  “I will not lose control,” she whispered, eyes closed.

  The frenzied shaking overhead calmed. Opening her eyes, she searched the immediate area to make sure no one had observed the curious activity. She pushed away and hurried across the stone courtyard.

  ***

  By the time simulator training ended, Erynn’s stomach quit tensing. Her anxiety had ratcheted down to a manageable level. Simulators weren’t the same as actually flying, but they came close.

  Major Caullum, the instructor, smiled at her. “Excellent flight, Lieutenant Yager, as always.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  I will become part of an elite group—an Interceptor fighter pilot, like my dad.

  Students left the building laughing. Mikal, Sean and Tam walked behind Erynn. She sensed their excitement. Shared good humor covered her like warm sunshine, tickling at her mind, and enticing her to join in their elation. Classes were over for the week.

  Except for Sean—his emotion folded over her like ripples on water.

  He’s anxious.

  “Erynn, we’re heading over to Coeunn’s.” Tam trotted up. “You know, that bar in town. Go change and come with us.”

  “Good idea.” Mikal chuckled. “You need some fun after today.”

  Erynn glared at him and continued to walk.

  “You should come, Erynn.” Sean’s smooth voice didn’t conceal the anticipation swelling in him.

  Erynn stopped. “You wouldn’t mind?” She bit her lower lip.

  Mikal threw his arm around Erynn’s shoulder, pulling her with him. “Come on. You’re one of us now.”

  Her gut tensed. Inwardly, she recoiled at Mikal’s touch.

  Chapter 3

  ERYNN FOLLOWED SEAN, TAM, AND Mikal into the cool, dim interior of the bar. Loud, rhythmic music with a quick beat throbbed through the soles of her shoes. Recycled air mixed the yeasty, bitter aromas of the beoirs with the sharper, fruity scent of harder drinks.

  A burst of laughter erupted from somewhere in the murky center of the open space, the sound deep and ominous. Erynn glanced toward the unsettling noise, her eyes adjusting to the hazy, low light. Lounging at a table, three men held short glasses filled with a dark liquid. They watched her progress into the wide room.

  From the long, polished wooden counter on the right, a strident cheer rose from the crowd gathered around and perched on stools. Streaming three-dimensional DVSLs [Dimensional Vid Source Links] placed a meter above the entire length of the bar showed a game of sacar in progress. Erynn’s gaze slid down from the contact sport playing out on a green field lined in white, to the mirror below the large screens. A life-size Interceptor fighter was etched into the glass on the back wall behind the smooth, dark surface of the counter. Blue, green, and amber bottles reflected off the mirror. The bar was an aviation memorial. Walls held pictures of past and present aircraft, pilots, and crews. Interceptors were the prominent theme.

  Erynn moved forward, drawn to the photos. She grinned. A youthful image of her dad, tall, trim, and handsome, standing next to his Interceptor on the scramble pad held the center position in the display. In the photo, he smiled, his eyes crinkled in the bright sunlight.

  Someday, my picture will be on this wall, with his.

  Becoming an Interceptor pilot was a small gesture toward repaying all her dad had sacrificed for her. He’d resigned from his flying career to be present in her life. She was determined to make her dad proud, to be the best fighter pilot in security.

  They made their way to an empty booth in a far corner. Mikal signaled to the server. “I’ll buy the first round. What do you drink, Erynn?”

  Erynn glanced up at the woman arriving to take their order. “Kree, lots of ice, please.”

  “Wait, you should have a real drink,” Mikal said holding his hand up to the server. “Remember, you’re here to relax and have some fun.”

  “I can’t have a ‘real’ drink. I have to report to the main hangar at zero eight hundred.” She scowled at Mikal. “I can have fun without drinking.”

  “What’s going on tomorrow?” Tam demanded. Her white top stood out
under the dim lights, accentuating her warm brown skin.

  Another cheer went up from the bar. On the DVSL, a crowd ran onto the field.

  “So, three beoirs and a Kree?” the server asked in an impatient voice when the noise quieted.

  “Yes, thank you.” Erynn smiled and dropped her gaze.

  The server turned and hurried away.

  A pale glow from the antique lamp overhead cast indistinct shadows on the dark surface of the table.

  Erynn’s friends were quiet, staring at her, obviously waiting for an answer to Tam’s question.

  “It’s nothing. Some VIP from Arranon, General Cale Athru, is visiting. There’s an Interceptor demonstration in the morning, and they—well—he wants me there.” Erynn looked up and shrugged. “It’s most likely because of who my dad is.”

  “I can tell you stories about General Athru,” Mikal said in a hushed tone, glancing over his shoulder. His refined, aristocratic features sharpened his furtive expression. “When he flew fighters back in the war, no other pilot matched him. He was unrivaled, and deadly.”

  “General Athru was a pilot?” Erynn’s eyes widened.

  If he was a pilot, maybe this won’t be so bad.

  “Still is.” Mikal leaned over the table. “They say he’s some kind of wizard, capable of controlling people’s minds.”

  Erynn frowned and studied Mikal.

  Wizard? Is Mikal joking? It would be just like him to pull a prank.

  “What do you mean, ‘wizard’? Like magic, potions, and spells?” Tam asked. “I don’t believe in that nonsense.” She crossed her slender arms on the table.

  Mikal shrugged and tipped his head. Wisps of blond hair fell over his brow and around his ears. “I’m only telling you what I’ve been told.”

  Erynn’s stomach fluttered, and her optimism over meeting General Athru faded. Unease flitted at the edge of her awareness. She glanced around the murky room.

  Nothing.

  Their drinks arrived. Mikal handed the server a global transaction card which she scanned through a clip attached to her tray.

  Erynn pushed away her apprehension and wrapped her hand around the frosty glass. She sipped at the dark, sweet liquid. A loud moan sounded from the bar. Her gaze didn’t chase the unhappy sounds. A server hurried by, holding a heaping plate, sizzling and steaming. The heavy aroma of something fried wafted over.

  Sean leaned toward Erynn, his clean, masculine scent familiar and reassuring. “What they say about General Athru is a myth invented during a troubling time,” he said, shaking his head. Short dark hair stayed neatly in place. “None of the stories are true. He’s a man—a person no different than me or you, Erynn.”

  “Is he a good sorcerer or a bad sorcerer?” Tam asked and smiled. Delight danced about her gold-flecked brown eyes.

  Sean grinned. “Maybe Erynn can tell us after she meets him tomorrow.”

  Erynn realized she’d leaned into Sean. She straightened. The amber glow of the lamp played over his face, giving the appearance of pale bruises above his high cheekbones. A blue arc of static crossed his green eyes.

  No, not possible. A trick of the light.

  She pulled her gaze away.

  Mikal raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Okay, okay, I’m beat. My sources weren’t that reliable anyway.” His blue eyes shone with humor, not static.

  The bar filled and the noise level increased. Erynn watched the people and began to relax. When they were ready to order again, it was difficult to get the server’s attention in the crowd.

  “I’ll go get the drinks. My turn to buy,” Erynn said, pushing out of her chair. She wound through the throng, squeezing into an opening midway down the counter. The bartender nodded in her direction, holding up one pudgy finger. He returned to his task, pouring drinks into tall, icy glasses. A thin crust of frost melted on each, sliding down to a puddle on the bar. The bartender placed the drinks on a tray, grabbed a thick, white cloth, and wiped the counter with practiced movements.

  Erynn’s gaze locked on the Interceptor etched in the mirror behind the bar. She admired the sleek, powerful lines. The body was long and cylindrical, short wings tapered back from below the pilot’s compartment.

  Someday, soon, I’ll fly an Interceptor.

  Her stomach quivered with a pleasant anticipation.

  A heavy man with a soft, round face and shaggy, graying hair blocked her view. “What can I get for you?”

  “Three beoirs and a Kree, lots of ice, please.”

  “So you’re the Kree drinker.” He grinned.

  “That’s me.” She smiled.

  His gaze darted behind her. His smile dropped, lips pulling into a frown. “I’ll send the drinks to your table.”

  “I’ll wait if you want.” Erynn wondered at the sudden change in his energy.

  “No. I’ll send them over,” he said, his tone dark. “I’m a little behind. Full crowd.” He dashed to the far end of the bar.

  Erynn turned. Three men stood in a semicircle around her. All three were tall. Two were dressed in black tunics and quilted pants. The third, the older man in the middle, wore a white flight suit. They each had long, straight hair held at the back of their necks.

  They’re from Arranon.

  The older one smiled at her. The lines around his eyes and mouth deepened. “Lieutenant Yager, may I take you away from your friends for a moment?” His voice carried over the loud music, game noise from the DVSL, and shouted conversations in the room. He gestured to a booth against the wall. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Lieutenant. I’m General Cale Athru.”

  The bottles stacked in front of the mirror shook and rattled. Erynn spun around. “Stop,” she whispered. The rattling ceased and the jangling calmed. Blue tendrils wove down the bottles and away, disappearing. The three men watched her in the glass. If they hadn’t heard her quiet plea, they’d seen the appeal. Her deep-red hair fell in a tumble of loose curls around her face and down her shoulders. Her eyes reflected a pale, electric blue. She cringed and averted her gaze.

  Control.

  She hadn’t triggered glass to fall and break since she had learned to master her emotions as a child.

  The bartender faced the mirror and held up his hands. “What’s going on?” He turned back, wiggling thick fingers. “Ghosts,” he said in a mocking whisper and laughed.

  Erynn pivoted in a slow turn to the three men.

  General Athru tipped his head, still smiling. “Relax, Lieutenant. I’m not the enemy.” He gestured again to the booth. “Please. It’s essential that we talk.”

  She glanced back to where Sean, Mikal, and Tam sat. She couldn’t see them in the crowd, which meant they didn’t notice her situation.

  “You can return to your friends. I only need a moment.”

  Erynn’s insides did a little flip. She smoothed the light fabric of her sleeveless top over her stomach. The muscles underneath tightened. “Yes, sir, General Athru.” She nodded and walked to the booth.

  The three men followed.

  General Athru slid in across from her. “This is Jaer, Fayn of the Anbas Warriors of Arranon,” he said, motioning to the powerful man slipping in next to her.

  Erynn gazed up into Jaer’s deep-brown eyes. A neat dark beard and mustache framed his strong features. His black hair fanned over his shoulder and brushed against her bare arm.

  Fayn? He’s so young. I presumed the leader of Arranon’s death warriors would be older, like General Athru. And that is what the word Anbas translates to—death.

  General Athru cleared his throat. “And this is Captain Tiar, an Interceptor pilot.”

  Erynn’s attention snapped to the man next to General Athru. “You fly Interceptors?”

  Captain Tiar studied her. His lips turned in a slight smile under high cheekbones. “Yes, I do. Word is you’re quite a good pilot. You plan to fly Interceptors?”

  “Yes, Captain Tiar.” She nodded. “Like my father.”

  The three men exchanged gla
nces.

  What is that about?

  “I worked with Damon Yager,” General Athru said, returning his gaze to Erynn. “We were both much younger at the time.” He stared at her. “He’s a good man.” He put his hands on the table. “You’ve been told you’re to be my guide while I’m on the base?”

  “Yes, sir, General. I assumed your request was because of my father.”

  Jaer pushed against the seat back and took a deep breath, glaring at General Athru.

  Concern rushed from Jaer flowing over her. Like icy water, his unease surged, chilling her. “What’s going on, General?” she demanded. Her gaze darted from Jaer to Athru.

  General Athru tipped his head. “Jaer and I have recently become allies. He’s protective and doesn’t agree with my method of approaching you. Unfortunately, this is unavoidable. You wouldn’t have come this far if you weren’t tough, a survivor.” His gaze never leaving her face, he picked up his glass and finished the remaining swallow. “I’d like to talk to you about your father. The matter is crucial.”

  Erynn wiped her palms on her pants. The rhythm of her heart matched the upbeat tempo of the music. “That’s what you said, General. Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Your real father, Zander Tourani, and I were good friends long before you were born.”

  “No! How…? You can’t have this information,” Erynn asserted and shook her head. She pushed against the edge of the table. “I have to go.” She glowered up at Jaer. “Let. Me. Out. Sir.”

  Jaer put one arm over the back of the booth and the other on the table. “Listen, please, Lieutenant.” He had a slight accent, his words spoken with slow precision. “Listen and you may leave.” His eyes held a gravity that drew her.

  She pulled away from Jaer’s gaze and stared straight ahead, watching none of them. She realized Jaer wasn’t going to let her leave until she listened to what Athru had to say. “Go ahead. Talk. Make it quick.”