The Iron Altar Series Box Set One: Books 1 to 3

by Casey Lea

  “It’s time,” the program announced and Darsey tasted more than acid.

  She wrapped her arms tight around her empty stomach and looked to Wing. He gazed solemnly back.

  “Ready?”

  “To escape? D-definitely.” Darsey caught her lower lip with her teeth and cursed her com’s combat protocol. Her panic had it surging, but what could she do? A slave auction called for a little hysteria. A hand brushed her shoulder, sending a shiver down her spine, but Wing stepped quickly back.

  “Remember we’re not going to the slave sale. I’m going to follow an irresponsible urge to explore the main market first and then carelessly lose you. After we book you on a reputable ship of course.”

  Darsey stopped hugging herself. “Greon will hurt you.”

  “Most likely.”

  “He might try to kill you.”

  “It’s possible.”

  Darsey shrugged. “You don’t seem too concerned.”

  “Neither do you.”

  “I don’t like Greon much.”

  Wing laughed at that and Darsey moved the mask of her face into what she hoped was a smile. “I know you’ll beat him. When you finally fight back, you’ll take him out.”

  “You truly think so?”

  “Sure. He’s got the brains and the looks, but you’ve got Jileea.”

  Wing laughed again and offered a bow. “Thanks for your faith, Lady. I truly hope you’re right, although if I die, at least you might feel some regret.”

  “Regret? Absolutely. Breaking in new owners is hell.”

  Wing didn’t laugh this time. Instead he stepped close to lift her hand to his lips. He held her gaze, while kissing the inside of her wrist. Damn, more spine tingles. Aliens were such a pain.

  Wing gave her an intense look that didn’t help the tingles at all. “That hell is one you won’t ever know again. But now, we needs must go.”

  “Huh?” For a fleeting moment Darsey was unsure what he meant, but then memory returned and there was nothing left to say. She pulled her arm free and turned to stride toward the door. She stopped abruptly when warning logos appeared in the air, followed by a line of light. It surged along the floor and walls with a growing hum, before sweeping over Darsey. She jumped back, straight into Wing.

  “What’s that?” she demanded and he smiled down at her.

  “Immigration scan. We’re cleared to land on Tsordia.”

  “Oh. Goody.” Darsey let the strange line vibrate past her, before attempting the door again. She made it this time. Unfortunately. Her trip down the passage was rapid and the flight along the link even faster. She reached the main hatch far too soon. A silver field blocked the opening and she watched herself grow in that mirror, while Wing pushed her forward. She threw her arms wide as if to embrace her future and her reflection became a cross ahead of her.

  Darsey shuddered, and then closed her eyes to hide from the sight of her own panic. She stumbled on the lip of the hatch, while her body stretched flat against the smooth chill of the mirrored shield. Wing landed behind her, warming her back, but everything ahead remained frigid.

  “We run,” Darsey whispered to herself, but it sounded more like a question than a plan. She opened her eyes to study her companion’s reflection. “What if we can’t find a ship due to leave?”

  Wing’s smile was reassuringly confident. “I’ll pay one to lift as-is.”

  “What if no one will?”

  “I’ll pay lots.”

  Darsey squirmed sideways to look up at the real kres. “You have lots?”

  “Hail yes. Millions.”

  “Millions? Really.”

  Wing frowned in apparent irritation at her tone. “Truly. Jileea was right. I was once a kres noble. Of course, after the Arck exiled me, he used a disHonor tax to take my inheritance, but he missed some. I’d already told my guardian, Crest, to stow all he could.”

  “So you’re rich,” Darsey stated, watching Wing closely, but his response seemed genuine.

  He just shrugged a hand and said with utter confidence, “Rich enough to buy anytime passage. Rich enough to buy a ship if needs-must.”

  Darsey absorbed his answer and felt genuine hope for the first time since her capture. Perhaps she really could escape and be beyond Greon’s reach before he realized. However, a waft of chill air interrupted her thoughts and she looked back down the link in sudden horror.

  A huge figure rocketed toward them and in seconds the Bandit’s leader was upon them. He slammed into the field, making it ripple under Darsey and throw streamers of light around the tunnel. He towered over her, before thrusting his face closer to study her intently. “She's inserted in Premier sale this afternoon, Nightwing.”

  “So soon?” the kres asked calmly, but his hand tightened on Darsey’s waist.

  “Ye. They’ve priority on any new species. Standing policy for centuries.” Greon frowned heavily at his Senior. “Perhaps I should do the on-sell. You’re an ignorant kres with no knowledge of this and no instinct for it either.”

  Wing tilted his hand in a ‘no matter’ gesture. “As you wish, sah. There’s no need for me to learn about slaving. It sounds most unsavoury. May I have shift-leave to visit the market?”

  He was stopped by an angry growl from his Leader. “No need to learn of slaving? Still fancy yourself a high and moral kres, eh? It’s past time you accepted the muck that supports this ship. Take the drakking slave and don’t try to pass her on to my lower officers. You do the sales prep and the sale. Clear?”

  “Yes, Sah.”

  Greon’s lips quirked in satisfaction and he took a long, last look at Darsey. “She’ll bring a fortune, boy. And that’s what I expect. A fortune plus.” He punched a fist into the silver wall and it shattered. Shards of light flew away, leaving Darsey without support. Oh, crap-

  She fell forward through the hatch, into sunshine and Greon’s laughter, but Wing’s arm round her waist stopped her tumbling from the ship. She hung there, hardly aware of being caught, lost in the new world rising to meet them. The port below was still distant, but growing fast. The Bandit had floated in from space, clearly weightless and now drifting down while thrusters pushed it to-and-fro among a dozen other vessels.

  Darsey let Wing help her find her balance, but her attention was on the color and movement of the city below. Tsordia’s market centre was dazzling, even after the gaudy interior of the Bandit. There were ships everywhere, all docked so close it seemed impossible that their descending craft would find a space. The crater made by each landed vessel had shovelled earth into the shadows of the next. That soil glistened with oily rainbow hues, despite being piled into the shade of hulls that were almost as bright. Colorful towers rose against the subdued gray of the sky as far as Darsey could see.

  The Bandit’s progress slowed and then stopped, before the ship suddenly dropped. Another craft was lifting below and their ship fell into its vacancy, barely avoiding a collision when the departing vessel accelerated upwards. Darsey held tightly to the hatch while they settled hard and two other ships swept past above them, disappointed in their hunt for a park.

  “That is so inefficient,” she protested breathlessly, but was quickly distracted again.

  They were in the shade now, surrounded by other hulls. However, the world was far from dull. The nearby ships’ outlines were blurred and their bulk softened by the rapid flights of hundreds of brightly colored birds. The air around the port was alive with motion. Flocks of brilliantly colored creatures dove and wheeled past them. They swooped between ships and around snaking tubes that hung in mid-air.

  Everywhere Darsey looked, there was movement. The slave market was alive with activity and bright display. She was transfixed until one of the closest birds dove straight at her. It grew alarmingly when it closed on the ship and she belatedly realized the bird was enormous. It hurtled at the link and Nightwing had to tighten his arm around her waist to stop her jumping backwards.

  “It’s kay,” he promised when the gigant
ic creature braked to a wing-whirring halt in front of them. “Transport,” he explained, although Darsey studied the strange apparition doubtfully.

  It seemed to be a bird, at least it had feathers and there was a blurred impression of wildly flapping wings above its back, but it was bigger than any bird she had ever seen. Much bigger and it seemed to have four wings. It hovered before them, too large to enter the link, and regarded her stolidly from eyes as dark and shiny as cannonballs.

  “Transport indeed,” Greon urged, before slapping Wing’s shoulder. “I’ve preset co-ordinates to the Premier auction house. Take her. Return with money.” The Leader lifted a beefy hand and a line of credit flowed from his wrist to a band above the bird’s closest claw. Its mouth opened in response and Darsey expected some sort of squawk, but there was no sound. Instead, the purple-tipped beak gaped further and the bird’s breast started to expand. The gold and orange feathers mottling its chest trembled before tipping to one side when a translucent blue pouch pushed past them. A gigantic bib expanded from the creature’s throat and continued to bulge while its lower beak dropped, gaping wide enough to hit the edge of the ship’s hatch. It almost landed on Darsey’s toes and this time she had to jump back.

  Wing caught her again, which was a habit she really needed to break, but Greon almost pushed them both from their perch. He barged past to leap onto the bird’s head, crushing feathers longer than his arms and making the creature dip then bob, with wings whirring. The Leader wobbled, before striding along the bird’s body to slide from its tail.

  A gleaming disc sliced through the shadows to catch him. Greon landed lightly on the flying circle, but looked back with a scowl. “I’ve business to attend.” His eyes strayed to Darsey and his tongue appeared between his lips. “Sale. Cash. Go.” A field shimmered from the disc and gold tendrils licked upwards to hide the Leader. He kept his eyes on Darsey until he disappeared and then his sarcophagus surged away, into an equally golden sky.

  Darsey dragged her attention back to the bird which studied her with one of those cannonball eyes. Her darkly stretched reflection stared back and she wondered how her other self could seem so calm.

  Wing steadied her once more and she realized she was leaning away from the bird. “Sorry,” he offered. “I should’ve told you about the squilliks. They’re safe and cheap. Quick too. Just step into the mouth and take the pouch opening. It’s this side of the tongue, not behind.”

  “Great,” she said. “If I hit stomach acid, I’ve gone too far.”

  “Most definite,” he agreed with a grin and then nodded at his com. “The Tsordian port just gave final clearance. We’re okay for planet-side.”

  “This is not okay,” Darsey sighed, but let Wing take her hand and followed him through the ship’s field and onto that flat, red beak. She was instantly hit by sounds and then, much more horrifically, smell. The drone of ships powering up and down, the roar of amplified instructions and the frantic beat of multiple wings would have seemed overwhelming if not for the scent. Instead, the smell from the squillik’s mouth demanded attention from every one of Darsey’s horrified senses.

  “Oh gross,” she choked when a fragrance resembling skunk-dunked, rotted fish wafted over her. “No way,” she protested, but, before she could resist Wing’s impatient pull, the stench vanished. It took her nose a further second to shed that first impression and realize the air was fresh again. She sagged gratefully against Nightwing, who seemed unusually distracted.

  “‘Sorry, I was slow to start up your com filter,” he offered tersely. “It’s long since I smelt a squill. They don't make good dinner partners.”

  “Oh, I don't know. After Greon...”

  They shared a smile, but it was brief. Wing’s com chimed and an image of the Leader appeared over it. “No delays. If the squill gets impatient it’ll eat you. I ordered express delivery.”

  Darsey looked to Wing in dismay, but his expression was now coldly unconcerned. He jerked his head toward their hovering transport. “Jump.”

  Greon disappeared, but Wing still moved at speed and disappeared into the gaping hole revealed when the squillik curled its tongue back into its throat.

  “Great,” Darsey muttered between clenched teeth, crouching to balance on the edge of the waiting orifice. She leaned forward, but before she could lower herself, the squillik moved. It tipped its head back, throwing its beak into the air and neatly deposited its reluctant passenger head first into its pouch.

  Darsey slithered past dry, smooth skin to slam into Wing’s shoulder. The kres caught her and righted her so that her feet slid past her head to join his, lower in the pouch. The bird’s throat muscles tightened around them and the elastic skin of its pouch contracted to hold them close. They were jammed together while it hovered briefly, testing the balance of its cargo.

  “What are we going to do?” Darsey demanded and her com helped keep the quaver from her voice. “Can you redirect the squill? Escape to the market like we planned?”

  “No chance. Greon gave it a priority order. It will take us to the auction house, but that could even work better.”

  “Better?”

  “Certain-sure. We'll register, but they won't sell you at once. They can't. They'll have to advertise and draw buyers. We can slip away while they're busy, with hours free before any search starts. If we're stopped I'll claim Greon wants you shown at the market to gather more interest.”

  “Yes.” Darsey squeezed Wing's arm in relief. “That could work. It has to.” She started to relax against him, but then grabbed his arm more seriously when the squillick suddenly dove toward the ground. It wheeled left, then right, using its momentum to pick its way past hulls they could only see as shadows. Darsey was reminded of her first time skipping against a planet’s atmosphere, alternately caught between gravity and freefall. Her stomach turned over, but experience helped her control it.

  “Fragrant and comfortable,” she observed dryly, and Wing laughed.

  “Greon booked this trip because it's cheap. A single credit a flight.”

  “He’s as generous as he is handsome. What does a bird do with money?”

  “Returns it to the gentik. They re-gened squilliks to carry passengers. The squills trade credit for fish.”

  Darsey raised a brow against Nightwing’s cheek. “They work for fi-ish ah-” she gasped, unable to continue, despite her experience with extreme flight.

  The bird was in heavy traffic, surrounded by other squilliks and dimmer shapes that were hard to see through the translucent skin. It ducked and dived, turning on a wing tip to scrape over one of the massive hoses that looked disconcertingly like giant worms.

  “Planetary link,” Wing explained in answer to her unspoken question. “The next, most cheap way to travel. Darse, when we stop bouncing around, I need your com.” She tensed against him, while fear surged through her. “Just for a time,” he promised. “You’ll be pre-sale scanned and the mermaridian would find it.”

  “Of course,” Darsey answered reasonably. After all she still had plenty of time for hysteria. Her wrist was resting against his and her com appeared when she released it. It sprang open and she shuddered while he quickly compressed it into his com’s storage.

  “Thanks. I think we’re near-there, but don’t worry. I’ll expand my com field to keep you fish free.”

  The squillik was climbing again, rising steeply with a muted rustle of wings while it struggled back toward the cloud layer. There were no further flashes of color from beyond its pouch. Their bird had veered from the path of most squillik flights. However, the subdued shapes that they could dimly see were now more numerous. They rose sedately around the squillik, like misshapen bubbles seeking some higher surface.

  “Private floats,” Nightwing murmured while their ride rose into the clouds too. “Like Greon’s.”

  Their haven darkened in the dimmer light, but only briefly. The squillik surged from the cloud and fresh color exploded around them. This time, the bird did squawk, an irrita
ble protest against the shafts of light refracted by a giant prism overhead. A crystal structure floated above the clouds in monolithic splendour. Darsey could see it clearly, even through the bird’s pouch. A gigantic pyramid, it hovered alone within a rainbow haze. Every faceted face flashed brilliantly, bright enough to blind her without the protection of the pouch. Even from that haven, she could easily watch its dazzling approach.

  It was overwhelming, a creation of pristine beauty, but as they drew close Darsey realized its pure appearance was deceptive. Small shadows stained those translucent walls. Dark specks betrayed the movement of the prism’s occupants. The people inside were black motes in constant motion. The effect reminded her of some elaborately faceted snow globe that had been shaken to swirl soot instead of snow.

  “Wow,” Darsey whispered and, from the way Wing’s arm tightened around her, he seemed to agree. She was distracted from the spectacle by a sudden realisation. “You’ve never seen this before.”

  “No, as I’ve said, kres are not slavers.”

  “But…” She paused and tried to stay calm, although his answer was devastating. “You don’t know what they’re going to do. You’ve got no idea. How can you time our move? You’ve no more info on this than me. You… you’re clueless-”

  “Darsey,” he interrupted, holding her closer, and she froze again. “I’m here and I’m not leaving without you. I swear it. I don’t know all about this, but I’ll make it work. The mermaidean will want to keep you safe too. They can’t sell damaged goods. Any-all, I won’t let them hurt you.”

  Darsey swallowed hard. “Is that another promise?”

  Wing hesitated for a moment and she managed to pull away just far enough to study his features in the shifting light. He was staring back and when his fronds lightly touched her brow, she realized he had paused deliberately. He wanted to make sure that she knew his answer was genuine.

  “Absolutely. To this and every other oath. No one else will own you. Ever.” His grave statement was underlined by a brief mental touch that conveyed both honesty and commitment.