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

He gritted his teeth and pulled up on the controls, his muscles bunching. “I did not come this far to fail.”

He had barely spoken the words when the knocking abruptly stopped and the downward pull on the shuttle ended. The shuttle’s nose jerked up before Dunkat loosened his pull on the controls, his arm muscles warm and aching and finally able to relax.

He could see sky before him, blue and crisp, but the land was still white. He waited, his fingers flexing and unflexing around the controls in anticipation.

The sky grew cloudy before the ship, and Dunkat braced himself for another attack, his breath long and calm. He waited as the sky shimmered, but instead of forming many wraiths, it formed a single one, its features harsh and eyes piercing deep into Dunkat.

The colonel leaned back into his chair, his grip loosening, his breath even deeper. He gazed back and shuddered, and greeted the wraith in a hoarse whisper.

“Hello, Father.”

CHAPTER 32

The sky was dark and the land was darker, with no sign of the wraiths to be seen on any horizon.

“Where did the little nasty freaky creatures go?” Avienne asked. She placed both her elbows on the station and cupped her chin in her hands.

A laugh burst from Gobran. He clapped Loran on the back as the young woman took her seat again, still as pale as the wraiths. “They knew better than to continue their attack on us!”

Avienne raised an eyebrow. “Really? Seems they were doing fine, to me.”

“Avienne is right, Gobran.” Zortan stepped up beside her. “We need to know exactly what drove them away, or what lured them away.”

Gobran’s good humour vanished as quickly as it had come, his eyes shredding Zortan to pieces. As he spoke, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. “Do not ever tell me what I must do, Zortan Mistolta.”

Avienne glanced at Zortan, disappointed that the tall man’s hands remained relaxed at his sides. She sighed. She heard the familiar hush of the opening lift doors, and turned.

Her breath caught in her throat for a moment and she stood straight as she looked at the familiar dark hair and oval face. She almost blurted out a question about Ardin’s safety, before she realized that the eyes were different and the stance too brash. Their eyes met, Yoma’s widening slightly as though understanding the confusion.

“What happened?” Yoma asked, not moving from her spot.

Avienne broke contact first, put both her elbows back on the station and cupped her chin. She gritted her teeth at the sound of the voice, deeper but still so similar.

Gobran gestured grandly towards the view screen.

“Welcome to Mirial, Lady.”

Yoma took a few steps forward and stared out. Avienne followed her gaze to the dark, desolate landscape.

“It’s so very dead,” Avienne grumbled, shifting her feet and sighing loudly.

Yoma’s reply was but a whisper, so thin that Avienne barely heard it. “No, it’s full of life.” She turned to face Avienne, as though afraid her words had not been heard. The green eyes held Avienne’s gaze; she stiffened her spine at the spark in them.

“Life, Avienne.”

They locked eyes for a moment longer, as though they were the only two individuals on the bridge, and then Yoma turned as though nothing had happened. Avienne wondered if Yoma knew that Josmere and Layela had perished. She pondered mentioning it, but knew she couldn’t trust her own voice to utter the words. She remained silent, watching the landscape stretch below them and remembering her own dead.

i

 Gobran remembered this part of Mirial better than any other. They were now above the old city of Thistle, just a few hours’ walk from the capital. The old captain felt as weary as the buildings looked. The city had been gutted. The old stone structures, some of which had survived for millennia, had fallen over or were missing sections.

With the help of the Victory’s lights, they could tell even in the darkness that the place had been charred, no colour remaining — no plants, no hangings or draperies. Only the stone had survived.

Gobran placed a hand on Loran’s shoulder. The young woman looked up at him, her eyes a bit dimmer than when he had first met her.

“That was the great city of Thistle,” he told her, breaking the silence on the bridge. They were the only two here now. The rest of the crew had scattered; even the lively daughter of Malavant had been sombre. “This is where your family lived before the Great Fall.”

Loran turned her gaze back towards the city and Gobran wished he could show it to her the way it had once been. He knew that the archives had been kept here, in Thistle, but doubted that even the protected building had survived. He craned his neck to see, but did not wish to veer the Victory off course, lest those wraiths show up again. Three more ships had fallen to their attack, and the few that remained were too precious to toy with their fate.

“Why have I only heard about Mirial from my parents and in stories, Captain?”

Kipso smiled. “Mirial was hidden, Loran, to protect it and its power. Twenty years ago, the queen gave birth. As her powers weakened, so did our protective shields. The Mirial fleet is ready for such occasions, to protect her from those who would use her powers. But this time we encountered the Solarian alliance, led by a man named Groosh.”

“The man who attacked us?”

Gobran shook his head and smiled. “No, that’s his son. Minister Groosh was a good man who simply wished to learn of Mirial and forge an alliance, but he did not make it off our planet alive.” He shook his head again and stared at the city. He had said enough, for now.

It seemed silly to worry about the past when so much of the future lay at stake.

i

“This place smells bad.” Avienne stepped off the Victory with Yoma and Zortan. Gobran moved quickly forward and crushed one of the women greeting them in