BlackWing: First Ordinance, Book 3

by Connie Suttle

  "Bel, I need a coat," I begged. I was ready to fly myself to the fire if the others wouldn't take me.

  "I'll take you," Bel Erland gave me a curt nod while a warm coat appeared in his hands.

  "I take," Yanzi declared. "You save power. May need," he informed Bel.

  "I'm coming," Berel ran into the library. He'd dressed hastily, but at least he was dressed.

  "I'll see you there," Kaldill nodded at me before he disappeared.

  "Just get us there," Justis said, coming to stand beside me. Caylon, Sal and Lafe disappeared; Yanzi, who was powerful in his own right, ferried the rest of us.

  The natural-gas power plant was one of the few things the workers refused to abandon after Juffa's death; it was vital to provide heat for Mundia. Roaring flames from burning gas licked the air while flakes of ash from the burning building swirled toward the clouds; I saw that first as Yanzi set us down outside the perimeter.

  What made me angry was this—Barstle Cardino and Nardes Churg had ordered their bomb squad to keep the Mundia Fire Patrol away from the burning facility. They were content to kill anyone who approached; two lines of heavily armed men prevented anyone from getting close enough to fight the blaze.

  Amid the roar of flames and the groan and crash of melting beams, I could hear the screams of the workers who'd survived, only to be ignored by those who'd bombed the facility in the beginning.

  "I can seal it off to remove the fuel source," Bel Erland shouted.

  "What about the survivors?" I shouted back. Heat rolled off the fire as another loud explosion rocked the ground; the winds blew fire and ash in our direction. The very air around us was stained orange and red as we struggled to keep our feet.

  "It will only take a minute or two to kill the fire," Bel shouted back.

  "What about those guards?" Berel yelled while flinging an arm toward the bombers who blocked access to the building. Their weapons were raised—they'd seen us and were prepared to fire.

  "Easy enough," Kaldill joined the shouted conversation. Holding out a hand, he made each weapon disappear. The guards, thirty or more of them, stared in shock at empty hands for a moment before striding toward us.

  They'd been paid—and instructed—to kill any who attacked them.

  We were about to have a fight on our hands.

  Justis took flight, arrowing downward after making a circle overhead. He grabbed the lead attacker with one hand while his wings beat a strong, steady rhythm. The men left behind shouted; the man screamed as Justis dropped him into the raging fire.

  He'd done the proper thing—they were weaponless, now.

  "I'm going," I shouted at Terrett.

  Take me with you, he demanded. Before I could stop him, he was clinging to me like a sloth to a tree. Before I left the ground, Yanzi's snake was wrapped around both of us.

  It wasn't the most graceful flying I'd ever done, but I carried them past the attackers and toward the nearest victim who needed my help.

  Chapter 10

  Terrett

  By sunrise, I think the entire city of Mundia knew the name BlackWing. Yanzi and I helped Quin as much as we could while Caylon and the others destroyed a small army of bombers. Afterward, they turned their attention to finding victims and bringing them to Quin.

  Caylon then led a search for those in the city who'd helped plot the destruction of the gas plant; most of those were related in some way to several crime families. Barstle Cardino's reach had grown quite long.

  After Caylon's party dispatched the last of those responsible, he sent a message to Barstle Cardino on a communicator he'd taken from one of the plotters. I wish I'd been there to see Barstle Cardino bluster and call Caylon Black a liar, but I only heard about it afterward.

  In essence, Caylon told Barstle to come and take the city back—if he could.

  Quin, though—she'd worked through the night, saving anyone who remained alive after the explosion. Eyes opened in wonder as burned and blackened flesh became pink and whole again.

  Wounds from the blast were eliminated—as if they'd never been. For those we couldn't save, we promised a memorial. That would happen after Quin slept—she'd nearly dropped from exhaustion after healing so many.

  The rest of us slept in shifts during the day—just to make sure someone was awake if there were an emergency. Thankfully, Mundia wasn't attacked again while we rested.

  News came too, that we now had a captain and small crew on the BlackWing; the ship orbited Vic'Law while being shielded by someone aboard. I was anxious to see who'd be transporting us whenever we traveled on it—I wanted to make sure they respected Quin and the others.

  Terrett? Quin's sleepy voice invaded my thoughts.

  I'm coming, love, I replied.

  * * *

  Quin

  Yanzi and Daragar fixed the pipes and equipment at the power plant, but we'll discuss bringing in solar panels after the memorial, Terrett helped me off the bed. I felt rumpled and dirty—someone had wiped soot and ash off me before placing me beneath the covers, but I couldn't get the smell of burned flesh and metal out of my nose.

  "Do I have time for a shower?" I asked while Terrett searched beneath the bed for my house slippers.

  Yes—I sent mindspeech to Kaldill—he says to hurry if you can—dinner is waiting and then the memorial.

  "I'll hurry," I promised, although I only wanted to get clean and crawl back in bed. Terrett understood—he looked tired, too, so I did my best to make his job of herding me about as easy as I could.

  Dinner was a hurried affair—sandwiches and soup. Terrett advised me to dress in the black leather; it was an appropriate color for mourning on Vic'Law.

  A sea of people waited for us when we appeared and walked toward the circle of stones set up for the event. I could see Kaldill's hand in the area—flowers grew in the harshest of conditions about the stones.

  Family members came forward to give the names of their dead and to tell the crowd about them. Several weren't old enough in my opinion to be working such a late shift at a power plant.

  Juffa hadn't cared about any of them. I cared not that he was dead. In the beginning, I'd seen him as the most reasonable step toward capturing Vardil Cayetes. He'd proven himself faithless and worthless in a short amount of time.

  After the lengthy memorial was over, several Mundians separated themselves from the others and approached us.

  "We wish to know if you intend to replace Juffa," one of them said.

  He was tall, with sparse brown hair and a look about him that bespoke a difficult life. He was also the eldest among those who came.

  "We have no desire to replace that excrement," Kaldill huffed.

  "Then why are you here?" he asked.

  "Master Shim," I stepped forward, surprising him with the use of his name, "We have no desire to place ourselves over you, if that is what you mean. Drood Juffa was a callous man whose main concern was for himself and his family. It is my hope that we can assist Mundia in finding a better life for all its citizens."

  "You're BlackWing. The one who saved so many," Shim breathed.

  "I did as much as I could, although some were beyond my saving."

  "We are grateful. Is there a time when we," he gestured at the others about him, "can meet with you and your companions, to discuss Mundia's future?"

  "We will meet with you tomorrow," Caylon stepped forward and nodded at Shim. "Shall we come to you, or would you like us to transport you to our temporary home?"

  "We will come to you," Shim agreed. "We know where you are—the tracking information at the plant indicated when energy was being used at one of the Juffa estates nearby."

  "Then we will welcome you tomorrow, if you'd like to have dinner with us."

  A time was agreed upon; we watched as they walked away, fading past surrounding buildings.

  "For you," Kaldill snapped a rose from the flowers he'd grown and handed it to me.

  "Thank you." I sniffed velvety petals—it smelled so sweet an
d innocent, compared to the stench of death and injury I'd been exposed to the night before.

  "Quin?" Jayna came to me, carrying an extra shawl. She, Mell, Jeslin and Pellen had come with us—the rest stayed to guard the mansion.

  "Wrap her up, she's shivering," Kaldill directed. I hadn't noticed; perhaps I was too weary and concerned to notice. I only wanted a warm bed and not to be wakened until morning.

  If I'd read things properly, Mundia was now cut off from the rest of Vic'Law—Caylon's challenge to Barstle Cardino had seen to that. Mundia would need food and supplies from somewhere, only I was too tired to think everything through at the moment.

  "Will we have a meeting to decide how to bring in food and supplies?" I asked as Jayna wrapped the shawl about me.

  "We will—after you've rested," Kaldill assured me. "Don't let it disturb your sleep tonight, Deah-Mul."

  * * *

  Freighter Killshot

  Bleek

  The answer was so simple I cursed myself for not researching it at the beginning. Whip shoved a comp-vid into my free hand that morning. At first, I held onto it while tapping ship coordinates in with two hands and sipping tea from a cup held with a third.

  When I finished drinking, I held the comp-vid before my eyes while two other hands continued tapping coordinates. Blevakians have four frontal lobes in their brains, after all, with a total of six. Other humanoids only had four. At times, I pitied them.

  Then, I found what I searched for—an application from those who'd escaped Vogeffa II—they'd applied to the Grand Alliance Council to name their new country New Vogeffa. I stared at a map of the proposed New Vogeffa, located on the northern end of a large continent on Harifa Edus. My cursing started then and didn't abate for many ticks. I cursed myself first, because I hadn't considered the idea, then I cursed Whip for his lack of insight. I cursed Cayetes, too, but in my own language, which Whip didn't understand.

  "Give me time to change our course and coordinates," I growled when my cursing fit was over. "I'll inform Lord Cayetes of our discovery then."

  "Of course, Commander Bleek." Whip backed away before turning and leaving Killshot's helm quickly, his footsteps clacking on the rub-metal mat for quite a distance. I understood he was heading directly for the freight-vator to inform the crew—and to inform Cayetes, too.

  I'd known for some time that Whip was Cayetes' insurance against me. That every move was analyzed and reported. So far, nothing had alerted Cayetes that I was anything but loyal to him. This would be no different. Cayetes would expect me to head for the target first, so as not to waste time. He wanted this and wanted it badly.

  My guess—because I also had spies in Cayetes employ—was that I'd be directed to haul the escapees away, then check each for a particular blood type. Only those fitting the appropriate profile would be kept. He'd expect me to destroy the others, simply because he was angry that they'd gotten away from him to start with.

  Vardil was Hordace Cayetes' much younger brother, and during his childhood, he'd been spoiled by Hordace, who'd given Vardil anything he wanted.

  Vardil hadn't changed his ways. He was still spoiled and used to getting his way. In my opinion, his mother should have drowned him in the birthing tub when he was born.

  My hands flew over the tabs, setting new coordinates for Harifa Edus. At our best speed, we'd arrive the following day.

  * * *

  Zephili

  "Bleek will inform you of our course change the moment he has the ship headed in the proper direction, Lord Cayetes," Whip spoke via comp-vid with Vardil.

  "Harifa Edus, eh?" Vardil, ensconced in a fresh body, tapped a finger on his chin. "Isn't Harifa Edus where some of Siriaa's former population now resides?"

  "That is what I discovered when searching for that world," Whip agreed. "They call their lands New Fyris."

  "Very good. I'll have Bleek hold off for a day or two until I can move more freighters in—we'll take those from New Fyris, too. The crews will determine which bodies will be suitable for me in the future."

  "What about the others?"

  "Kill them," Vardil shrugged. "They should have been dead already."

  "Will Magul be in charge of the extra ships?"

  "No—he's on a private mission," Vardil snapped. Whip recoiled—this was obviously a private matter concerning a touchy subject. He resolved to find out as much as he could as a result.

  "We're having problems with one of the Sirenali clones," Whip diverted Vardil's anger. "The ship's doctor thinks he's dying."

  "Younger or older?" Vardil asked.

  "Older—from the first set. The ones nearing twenty."

  "Keep me advised—I'll have someone check the others from that set. If we have to replace them all, we will."

  Whip nodded, although in his mind, they should never have sold Terrett—he was three centuries old and a real Sirenali. He'd understood his place, too. Whip also knew where Terrett had ended up—as a slave to Marid of Belancour. Probably dead, now—just as Marid was.

  * * *

  New Fyris

  "False alarm," Rodrik waved a hand as he walked into Amlis' study. "Beatris is resting—the doctor says soon but not yet."

  "The child is healthy?" Amlis asked, standing and stretching.

  "Very," Rodrik grinned. "If he's anything like his older sister, he'll make his presence known the moment he can."

  "Perhaps I should look for a wife, Rod," Amlis turned toward the window at his back and surveyed the courtyard and the city beyond.

  "But you don't want to. I can see that much," Rodrik said softly.

  "I believe I've burned my bridges, as Queen Lissa says."

  "You're not the only one she'll never forgive. Remember that."

  "I've been told that she may never be able to birth a child. That is another strike. Look for a suitable bride, Rodrik. One who will produce an heir for New Fyris."

  "As you command, my Prince."

  * * *

  Le-Ath Veronis

  Magul smiled and nodded at the agent checking his ID. Deris provided his disguise while Daris manufactured proper Alliance ID. He'd boarded a ship from Refizan after Vardil's warlock transported him there; he'd purchased a ticket to Le-Ath Veronis afterward.

  "Your purpose for this visit to Le-Ath Veronis?" The agent asked, checking Magul's image against that on the ID.

  "Vacation. I want to see the glass castle," Magul declared.

  "Everybody wants to see the glass castle," the agent replied in a bored voice. "Here's your ID. Have a pleasant stay."

  * * *

  Vic'Law

  Terrett

  Quin? I leaned in to place a kiss on her temple. Her head was on my shoulder—where it belonged. I'd let her sleep late—it gave me time to watch her while she was relaxed. I hoped her dreams didn't contain remnants of her worries; those were piling up at an alarming rate.

  "Terrett?" her eyes hadn't opened yet, but she stretched within my embrace. Her body brushed against my cock, which was already quite hard.

  My heart, I want to love you, I informed her. I watched as her eyes opened. She didn't appear frightened, as she had before.

  "Will you teach me?" Her voice trembled slightly.

  Whatever you want to know, I moved aside so I could kiss her easily. I will go as slowly as my impatient body will allow.

  * * *

  Quin

  "Tomorrow, lessons will resume," Caylon informed me when Terrett and I wandered into the kitchen at midday. Working to hide the blush that threatened, I poured a cup of tea for myself and offered one to Terrett. He nodded and smiled—we'd just had what he called fun in bed.

  It had been fun. Although the climax wasn't as intense as my first experience, Terrett had given me pleasure. Daragar was correct—there was no pain with my first physical coupling.

  I was grateful.

  It had also taken my mind off many troubles, and I was grateful for that, too. Terrett smiled and saluted me with his cup before drinking. I duck
ed my head and smiled, too.

  * * *

  BlackWing I

  Bear Wright

  "We have two ships bound for Vic'Law today," Ace set a comp-vid on my desk. He and his wife, Wynn, wanted to join the crew; they'd arrived with Marco and Cori DeLuca the night before after getting Ashe's permission to leave SouthStar and come with us.

  The one who'd surprised me by coming on his own was William Winkler.

  "So we follow at a reasonable distance and engage Cayetes' ships when they show up?" I asked.

  "That's the plan," Ace grinned. He'd allowed his pale, blond hair to grow longer; a lock fell over an eyebrow as he nodded. Ace was a rare, white wolf when he shifted. Wynn, his mate, was even rarer—a unicorn.

  Marco was a black wolf—Cori a panther. Winkler was perhaps the ultimate werewolf—for years, he'd acted as the Dallas Packmaster on Old Earth.

  "What if we need backup?" I asked.

  "We have something planned—a fleet of six is at our disposal at the Le-Ath Veronis space station, all painted, named and numbered BlackWing Two through Seven. I talked Lissa into it yesterday. They're hidden in a private hangar."

  "What if we need them immediately?"

  "Then it's my job to transport them," Winkler chuckled.

  "Outfitted with crews, I take it?"

  "Most of them. I believe Farzi and Nenzi have command of number two."

  "They can transport themselves," I pointed out.

  "Less for me to do," Winkler shrugged.

  "Never thought I'd be a pirate," Ace slapped Winkler on the back.

  "All we need now are eye patches and a parrot," Winkler quipped.

  * * *

  Vic'Law

  Quin

  "You think Cardino and Churg are holed up in Puntia? That's less than a hundred clicks away," Sal said.

  We were deep in our meeting to determine how to keep the people of Mundia warm and supplied through what looked to be a terrible winter. Snow fell outside the library window; I watched large flakes swirl and eddy as the wind blew them against the mansion. While I'd slept through the night, snow had already accumulated that would cover my boot-tops. More was coming before the night was out, too.