Shifting Isles Box Set (Books 1-3): The Prisoner, S.P.I.R.I.T. Division, and Return to Tanas

by G. R. Lyons

  Again she stopped, staring at the sight of an enormous man just arriving from the frozen Isle in the north of the world. He stood at least seven feet tall, his skin icy pale and his hair dark as pitch, long braids woven through with claws all clicking together as he moved. Even covered in furs, his body was clearly nothing but muscle, and his face seemed frozen, as though capable of no expression whatsoever. He shook a pile of snow off his shoulders and continued on his way.

  Asenna gaped at him as he passed her, intent upon whatever his business was.

  “Gods, I'd forgotten how big the Falsiners were,” Crawford said with a chuckle. “You almost never see one. They tend to prefer isolation for some reason. Bit frightening, aren't they?”

  “You can say that again,” Asenna breathed, and tore her gaze away so she could move on to the next Gate.

  “Tanas,” she read, and saw the chief come up short.

  Chief froze for a moment, then slowly approached the Gate, lightly resting his hand on a pair of thick chains that crossed over the surface, warning people away from going through.

  “Why is it blocked off?” Asenna asked.

  The chief breathed a humorless laugh. “The Elders refuse to allow outsiders to visit Tanas,” he murmured, running his fingers along the thick links. “They don't want the citizens getting any foreign ideas. Like freedom, for instance.”

  Asenna watched him for a moment, then asked, “Do you miss it?”

  “What, Vhais?” he said, turning to her with a laugh. “The not-so-glorious capitol city of corruption and tyranny? Gods, no. Or did you mean Tanas in general?” He paused, thinking. “No. No, I don't miss it at all. I miss…I miss having her alive, but…no, I wouldn't go back there for the world.”

  Asenna gave him a questioning look, but the chief just shook his head and turned away.

  “Shall we get lunch?” he asked, hurrying off.

  Asenna and Crawford shared a look, shrugged together, and went after him, strolling back past the Gates and heading toward one side of the Square, where a line of restaurants boasted every type of food imaginable.

  They picked one at random and took a table outside under an awning, sipping glasses of water and enjoying the expansive view of the Square amidst the backdrop of the green and silver city.

  Asenna took several deep breaths while she looked over the menu, catching herself smiling as the fresh air, the smell of food, and warm sunlight lightened her mood.

  “Oh, gods, yes, cheeseburgers,” she said to herself, practically drooling as she came across the item on the menu. “Can't remember the last time I had one of those.”

  “Mmmm, yes,” Crawford agreed, flipping over his menu and looking at the same thing. “With fries and a chocolate milkshake.”

  “Ugh, yes, that sounds amazing,” she agreed, then threw her head back and laughed. “Gods, I sound like a fucking ten-year-old.”

  “Language,” the chief murmured, not looking up from his menu until a waitress stopped by their table, a cheery smile on her face.

  “Hey, Chief!” she greeted. “How are you?”

  “I'm well, thank you,” the chief said, closing his menu and setting it aside. “And you?”

  “Good,” she said. “Got the kids a decent babysitter after that nightmare we went through with the last one.”

  “Ah, glad to hear it. I take it mediation went through fine?”

  “Yep. Got it all straightened out, thanks to you.”

  “I take it he's been here before,” Crawford said in a loud whisper, leaning toward Asenna, making her laugh.

  “Oh, Chief comes here all the time,” the waitress said with a laugh.

  “Really?” Asenna asked. “What's his usual?”

  The woman looked puzzled. “Chief doesn't do 'usuals', far as I can tell. Except for coffee.”

  “Speaking of which,” the chief said, taking up his menu and giving it another glance. “Let's see. I haven't ever tried the salmon and cucumber sandwiches…”

  “One salmon and cucumber,” the waitress said, pressing an icon on her digital notepad.

  “And a bowl of chowder,” the chief said, snapping his menu shut and handing it over.

  “And coffee?” the waitress asked, winking at him.

  “Oh, gods, yes, thank you.”

  The waitress turned to Asenna and Crawford, took their orders, and hurried off to deliver them.

  “You and your coffee,” Crawford chuckled, shaking his head.

  The chief narrowed his eyes. “Coffee doesn't exist on Tanas, did you know that?”

  “Yep,” Crawford said, leaning back casually in his chair. “Only because you've told me about a dozen times over the years.” He took a sip of water, then grimaced as he looked at the chief. “Salmon and cucumber, really? That sounds disgusting.”

  Chief shrugged. “Never tried it.”

  “You still do that?”

  “Do what?” Asenna asked.

  “Oh, Chief will try just about anything, just for the sake of variety,” Crawford explained. “I hardly ever remember him eating the same thing twice, whole time I grew up with him.”

  The chief sat forward in his chair and braced his forearms on the table. “Very well. You go eat corn mush three meals a day for the next thirty-odd years and then tell me you wouldn't want to spend the rest of your life eating anything offered to you so long as it's not corn.”

  Crawford grimaced. “I give. You win.” He paused, then said, “Wait, hold on!”

  “What?”

  Asenna looked from one to the other, seeing Chief's questioning look and Crawford's disgusted one, though after a moment Crawford was laughing to himself and shaking his head.

  “Now I know why we always got corn chowder for dinner whenever we misbehaved,” he said. “That was punishment food to you, wasn't it?”

  Chief looked taken aback, blinking at Crawford.

  “Do you know, I never consciously realized that?” the chief asked, then burst out laughing.

  Asenna watched them, lost in their mirth, and felt her heart sinking with envy of their history and their shared memories.

  Gods, why can't I have that?

  Who am I?

  BENASH GLANCED over at Asenna while she looked down at her water glass, seeing the melancholy expression cross her features. His laughter faded, and he picked up his own glass of water, taking a sip and surveying the area.

  Dozens of people in all manner of dress crossed his field of vision, some going to or from work while others were out shopping and still others were simply out for a stroll or jogging through the Square. Out of curiosity, Benash opened his mind, but he was so out of the habit of it that it required a great deal of effort, so he finally gave it up and sat back in his chair.

  Across the table from him, Asenna suddenly straightened. “He said Cryntz.”

  “What?” Charlie asked.

  “That man, the priest,” she said. “He said Cryntz. Why does that name sound familiar?”

  Charlie frowned. “A client, maybe? Or–”

  “I was under the impression,” Benash cut in, leveling a look at both of them, “that the entire purpose of our coming out here was to get away from work for a few minutes.”

  Asenna grimaced. “Right, Chief. Sorry.” She cleared her throat and glanced around. “Lovely weather we're having today.”

  “Oh, yes,” Charlie said with a laugh. “Lovely.”

  Benash shook his head and rolled his eyes, and the other two chuckled to themselves as they all looked away, admiring the area.

  Movement off to his left caught his eye, and Benash glanced over to see a man in a thick overcoat walking along, his hands twitching at his pockets and his eyes shifting every second.

  “What's wrong, Chief?” Charlie asked, his voice low.

  “Ten o'clock,” he said, and Charlie casually turned sideways in his chair, draping his arm over the back of it as he slowly observed the crowd before turning back to face him with a nod.

  “What?” Asenn
a asked, her eyes wide as she went very still.

  Benash smiled at her and shook his head. “Just someone who looks suspicious. Probably nothing to worry about.”

  The waitress returned then, distributing plates around the table.

  “Can I get you anything else?” she asked.

  “No, I think we're–” Benash began, then saw the nervous man in the overcoat pull out a gun and aim it at the crowd. “Everybody down!” he shouted, knocking the table over and pulling Asenna out of her chair while he saw Charlie knock the waitress out of the way.

  Both men grabbed their guns, taking cover and aiming just as the man started firing, but after only three shots, the man suddenly froze, dropped his gun, and fell to his knees with his hands above his head.

  “Don't shoot!” the man cried, shaking violently. “Please, gods!”

  Benash looked around, and saw four other people with guns trained on the man. Two maintained their aim while a few others moved forward to restrain the man, confiscating his gun and holding him while they tried to figure out who he was.

  Taking a deep breath, Benash shook his head and slipped his gun back into his holster.

  “Chief!”

  He spun around on his knees and found Charlie bent over Asenna. She was gasping and twitching, clawing at the ground.

  “Too much,” she gasped, “too much. Oh gods, they're all in my head at once. I can't see! Oh, gods, make it stop!”

  She screamed, clutching at her head and shaking herself.

  “Asenna!” Charlie yelled at her, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Look at me! Look at me! Just come out of it. That's it. Focus on me. Pull yourself away.”

  “Too much, too much,” she gasped, shaking her head. “Oh, fuck…”

  “It's alright,” Charlie said, dropping his voice to a murmur. “Just breathe. It's alright.”

  Benash looked at her, seeing blood seep through her clothes in three places, and he straightened up to survey the damage. A few tables were turned over, glasses shattered on the ground, and many people still sat huddled, trembling as their fear slowly subsided.

  “Ambulance is on its way,” someone shouted.

  “Who is injured?” Benash asked, looking over the crowd.

  One hand popped up from behind a table, and another said, “Over here.” Benash jumped up and checked the two men, seeing non-lethal gunshot wounds to one man's shoulder and the other man's leg. He snatched up cloth napkins and had them pressed to the wounds, sighing with relief when he heard the siren coming near.

  “Asenna?” he asked, returning to her side and crouching down beside her.

  Tears streamed down her temples as she lay on her back, but she wasn't openly sobbing. “Gods, that was awful,” she said, breathing heavily. “Multiple visions at once. Too many voices…”

  “It's alright,” he assured her. “It's over now. Everyone's going to be fine.”

  Asenna nodded, and slowly sat up with Charlie's help. She swayed dizzily, putting a hand to her forehead.

  “Then why does it still hurt so much?” she asked.

  Benash looked at her, seeing the color drain from her face, and rapidly checked her body. The vision-induced blood had stopped spreading on her shoulder and leg, but another at her waist was still growing.

  “Oh, gods, no,” he breathed, shoving her back down to the ground and ripping open her jacket and shirt, revealing an actual gunshot wound to her torso.

  “No, no, no,” Charlie cried, snatching up a tablecloth beside him and pressing it against her body.

  “Asenna, look at me!” Benash yelled, grabbing her head and fixing his gaze on hers. “That's it. Just keep your eyes on mine. Breathe and relax. It's going to be alright.”

  The ambulance screeched to a halt just a few feet away, the medical team running toward them with bags and stretchers.

  “Chief…”

  “Just hold on,” he insisted, squeezing her hand. “Hold on. You'll be alright.”

  She blinked a few times, and she went very still as her head dropped to one side.

  Chapter 11

  CHARLIE PACED the hallways in University Hospital, just on the other side of Divinity Square, fielding calls that came in on his mobile every few minutes from the agency, wondering what was happening. He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked past the open doorway to Asenna's room, seeing her still unconscious while Benash sat up beside her.

  It had been a tense couple of hours, with thirty terrifying seconds during which Asenna had actually died on the table before the doctors were able to revive her. But now the bullet was out, the wound stitched up, and all that remained was for her to wake, and see if the trauma had done anything to her memory.

  Charlie paced down to the end of the hallway and back again, glancing into the room as he passed it. He was itching to go inside, but the doctors had insisted that only Benash wait with her. They didn't know if she would wake with her memory continuous from the shooting, or if she would get her old memory back, or if the amnesia would renew, leaving her a blank slate once again. With that in mind, and considering Benash had happened to be the first person she saw when she'd woken up in the hospital before, the doctors said it would be best that he be there again when she woke, regardless of her mental state.

  Growing more frustrated, bored, and worried by the minute, Charlie continued pacing.

  * * *

  VOICES. SO many voices.

  People screaming. Chief and Crawford shaking her, begging her to hold on. More screaming. More shouting. Grunts of pain. Questions of concern. Sirens blaring.

  Then nothing. Silence. Black emptiness.

  A light tore through the darkness, and then there were more voices. People in masks shouting orders, asking questions. Ceiling tiles flew by, punctuated by overhead lights spaced every few feet.

  Flash. Flash. Flash.

  Let me out!

  She screamed, and darkness came again.

  Then light. Brilliant light. She seemed surrounded by it, drowning in it.

  Glowing with it.

  She tried to blink, but had no eyes. She tried to speak, but had no mouth. Tried to move, but seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once. Not feeling. Not breathing.

  The blinding light dimmed, and she saw figures resolve all around her, wearing masks and bloody gloves, shouting at one another with worried looks on their faces.

  Their panic made no sense. Couldn't they see she was fine? Couldn't they see she was free?

  She looked down at her body.

  A spark of recognition.

  A name.

  I'm–

  Something beeped, the worried looks on the figures went away, and the darkness returned.

  Voices. More voices.

  Mina Havel screamed as a knife tore through her leg.

  No, let me out!

  Del Trimbel screamed as a screwdriver punctured his chest.

  No, let me out!

  Saira Crawford screamed as a hammer came down on her arm.

  Let me out!

  Lesa Wakler screamed as hands reached for her throat.

  She screamed as the visions rolled on and on, keeping her trapped in a nightmare when all she wanted to do was wake up.

  Who am I?

  Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!

  I'm–

  Let me out!

  I'm–

  Yes!

  I'm–

  Let me out!

  The voices faded into blackness, and the nightmare drifted off on the sound of her own screams.

  * * *

  ASENNA GROANED, blinking as she came awake from a fog of pain and confusion. Vague memories of a nightmare tugged at her awareness, but no matter how much she tried to hold on, the threads of it kept floating away. Her vision slowly cleared and she found herself in a hospital bed with an IV in her arm and a man at her bedside.

  “We've gotta stop meeting like this, Chief.”

  Chief perked up and jumped out of his chair, coming closer to
the bed and bending over her.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “Like I got shot.”

  One side of his mouth quirked up into a half smile as he breathed a laugh. “You don't say.”

  Asenna nodded weakly and groaned. “How bad was it?”

  He sat back down before he answered. “It was a close thing there for a while, but the doctor said you'll be fine now. Rest and fluids and medication until the wound fully heals, but he said you'll make a full recovery.”

  “Did I…die for a minute there?”

  Chief got a pained look on his face, but nodded once. “How'd you know that?”

  “Not sure…” she whispered, but something pulled at her. She could have sworn she saw herself lying on the table, surrounded by doctors, the heart monitor in flatline.

  Not entirely out of the realm of possibility, she knew, but couldn't quite reconcile it with reality, nonetheless.

  And that name–

  “Everything alright?” Chief asked.

  She nodded, trying to recall the name, wondering if she'd just imagined it all, dreamt it all. Maybe none of it had been real.

  “Chief, who am I?” she asked.

  There was a pause before he said, “You know I can't answer that.”

  “Oh, come on, Chief. Tell me something. Anything. Any tiny little detail.”

  “Asenna–”

  “I almost died, Chief—hells, I did die—and I have no fucking clue who I am.”

  The chief sighed, looked down at his hands, then back up at her.

  “I'm going to regret this,” he muttered, then asked, “What do you want to know?”

  “I–” she began, then snapped her mouth shut. Too many questions rose up in her mind, and she hadn't the slightest idea where to start. It was several moments before she managed, “Are my parents still alive?”

  “Your father is,” the chief answered slowly, “but your mother died, long ago, when you were a small child.”

  “Is my name really Asenna?”

  The chief shrugged. “Part of it.”

  She looked at him questioningly, but he made no clarification.

  “Why am I so good with a bow and arrow when no one uses those anymore?”