Destiny's Blood by Marie Bilodeau (best authors to read .TXT) 📗

“Why don’t you just leave me here,” Lang slurred as he rolled back over.

“Because you are, unfortunately, part of the crew,” Ardin sighed. “And besides, we’ve already paid you for the full upcoming year. So unless you’d like to pay us back the money…”

Ardin was cut short as more snores charged forth from the navigator.

“Of all the bloody useless…” Ardin grabbed Lang’s right arm, jostling him half awake, at best. The navigator muttered, but didn’t scream again. Ardin was disappointed. The feel of his fist on the large jowl would have made him feel better.

Ardin took a deep breath, regretting it immediately. The stench of cheap ale assaulted him. He supported Lang, grateful that at least the drink had long ago emancipated the extra fat on the large man — all but a round belly that swelled like a pregnant woman’s beneath his ragged clothes.

Ardin cast a wary glance down both ends of the corridor, dragging Lang out and awkwardly shifting his weight to close the door. The old door screeched again, but didn’t lock, simply bouncing off the latch.

I must need to lock it with the keys.

“Bloody ship, bloody crew,” Lang began muttering, and Ardin feared he would fully waken, which would definitely give them away. He pulled the door just a bit further, where only a tiny gap would alert onlookers that it was still open.

That and the fact that I’m dragging this big lump out of here, he thought as he began the long walk through the first corridor. On his way in, he had spotted several service corridors that led to a docking port. If the security proved to be as efficient there as at the main gates and in the complex itself, escaping unseen should be fairly easy. Of course, if Lang could manage to walk on his own, escaping would prove to be even easier.

Even if he prided himself on being physically fit, Ardin’s shoulders soon tired under the dead weight of the drunk. As they reached the service corridors and as Ardin began to suspect that no guards were even on duty, Lang moaned and Ardin dropped him and stepped away without a second’s hesitation. Lang lurched on all fours and ungracefully coughed twice before vomiting all over the metal floor. Ardin covered his nose, and resisted the urge to kick Lang in the stomach. Well, it served him right to be sick like a dog, but it would have been nice of him to wait until they reached the Destiny so Ardin could actually find gratification in it and not simply worry about getting caught.

“That’ll teach me to buy ale from a Corrarian trader,” Lang huffed between heaves.

“That’ll teach you nothing, you lousy lout,” Ardin replied with none of his usual vigour. He was too busy keeping an eye out for any guards.

“You’re probably right, Ardin.” Lang replied, his voice old. “You’re probably right.”

“Come on, old man,” Ardin gently said. Lang was only in his early forties, but a lifetime of drinking had left him with wrinkles and paper skin that clung to his bones, making him look more like a man of eighty. Lang pushed himself back up with Ardin’s help, and the two set off again at a faster pace, the navigator managing to partially support himself.

“I think we can get out this way,” Ardin said as they turned down another service corridor, metal door after metal door, lined by metal walls and flickering lights.

They had just entered the corridor when the light turned red and alarms rang loudly. Up ahead, stark metal dividers descended from the ceiling.

“So that’s where their security budget went,” Lang muttered.

“No time to reach it,” Ardin grunted. He fumbled with his keys at the nearest door, practically lifted Lang and threw him inside. The metal latched in place behind them just as voices began shouting and the security barrier was being raised to allow the guards access.

Ardin took a deep breath. The soldiers tried the door only once before moving on.

“Ardin,” Lang said softly, and Ardin turned around and saw a young woman, her back to the wall, her head lulled onto her chest. He wasn’t even sure she was alive.

“Blood and guts,” Ardin hissed as he approached her, putting his fingers gently on her neck to feel for a pulse. It was there, it was strong, and at his touch she shifted and moaned.

“I can’t carry both of you out of here,” Ardin cursed, feeling bad for the girl’s fate, but knowing he had other priorities at the moment. Besides, for all he knew, she was a child killer.

“I think I can walk,” Lang whispered, and Ardin, returning to the door and placing his ear against it, listening intently, gave him a quizzical look.

“I think they’ve passed, and we’d better move fast before they check in here.” Ardin pulled out his keys. There was no lock on the metal handle. Nor underneath it.

“What the…” Ardin felt himself grow cold with dread.

There was no way to leave this room except by someone opening the door from the outside.

He punched the door in frustration, scraping his knuckles badly and not caring.

They were trapped.

CHAPTER 6

Darkness. Light. Yoma!

Layela’s vision broke as the weave of sleep fell away from her one strand at a time. As quickly as her mind had fallen captive to the images, they were gone, leaving only a shadow of terror behind. If the Kilita had stayed in contact with her longer, she might have managed to fully see the vision  For some reason, she could never recall the visions by herself. They evaporated like dreams as soon as she woke up, leaving behind only impressions and echoes. Ether creatures could release them from her unconscious into her conscious mind, but the Kilita was too eager to unleash her ether. The last time he had done so, a tidal wave of visions had almost destroyed her.

But the persistent and dark vision was about Yoma, she was certain. She would need Josmere’s help to see it.