Destiny's Blood (36 page)

A faint glow could be seen approaching his father. Dunkat’s gut turned. What if it was his mother? He would be surprised if she had lived, being a weak creature, and he wondered how he would react if he saw her again. He had loved his mother, but had hated her at the same time. It was she, he was certain, who had created his father’s weakness
 
—
 
his love of art.

Dunkat was certain his father had accepted Mirialers so easily because he shared their passion. Everything on Mirial had been finely manicured, from her ships to her gardens, all meticulously tended to and cared for. Had he been more suspicious and not lingered on the planet, even bringing his family to take in the sights…Dunkat stopped his thoughts from heading too far in that direction. What was done was done, and who knew what kind of man Dunkat would have been, had he not had to fight for his survival these last twenty years.

The tunnel ended abruptly in a cavern with an odd yellow glow bouncing off the walls, although Dunkat could not see any source for the light. A small pond, three metres across at most, rested in the bed of the cave, shimmering with yellow highlights and some hints of greens that Dunkat assumed to be algae.

His father’s soul came to rest above the pond, the light of the cavern giving him a sickly yellow look.

“Dunkat,” his father said, his mouth moving just a bit after the syllables reached his ears. Dunkat concentrated on his eyes. They were as stern and hard as he remembered they had always been...except when he had been looking at a fine piece of art, of course.

“Mirial must not be allowed to revive,” his father said, and Dunkat bit back his reply
 
—
 
I told you that twenty years ago, when you were still flesh and blood!
His father had been a terrible enough foe when he lived. Now that he was some form of wraith, Dunkat dared not make an enemy of him.

“I can give you the means to stop Mirial’s rebirth.”

Dunkat braced himself for the words that he knew would follow.

“It will require the use of ether.” Of course. Dunkat felt himself flush, his anger boiling high in his throat. Ether was the source of all their problems.

“There must be another way,” Dunkat spat out. He felt like a teenager again, about to be scolded by his father. But the anger did not come.

“I have looked. It is the only way. If you stop Mirial, all of us will be allowed to rest and we will no longer need to worry about the terrible threat of ether.”

Dunkat clenched his fists. His father had looked, and his father would have been meticulous. Dunkat wanted to ask about mother, but feared that might draw his father’s wrath. He wondered if she lingered in some form, waiting to be reunited with her family, alone and afraid. He wondered how hard his father had looked for her, and he imagined the night wind carrying his cries of anguish when he could not find her.

“How do I stop it?” he muttered, then braced his feet and spoke again. “How do I stop Mirial?”

His father seemed to smile for a moment. It sent a shiver down Dunkat’s spine.

“You must kill the heirs. Two little girls, both on this planet, both heading to the same place. We can do it together, Dunkat.” The shade hissed, and its voice grew smooth again. “My powers in death can take form in your living body. I cannot approach them, but in you, we both can. If we join, an army will follow you, and the opportunity to win is ours.”

Dunkat nodded and walked towards the shade, trusting as he always had that his father would not lead him to his doom.

C
HAPTER
34

B
ridge. Temple. Hurry!

Yoma?

“It’ll be okay, just hold on to me, Layela.”

Yoma?!

“It’ll be okay.”

Blood!

Layela woke up with a jerk, the sound of her own deep breath greeting her return to the world of the waking. She waited, her eyes closed, letting the images wash over her, afraid to move for fear they would leave her. She could see some of them almost as clearly as if Josmere had recalled them for her. Her skin still tingled with the sensation of warm blood; goose bumps travelled the length of her arm at the memory of Yoma’s voice.

A temple. They would head to the temple together. And blood. Blood that she believed to be from one of them.

“It’ll be okay.”
She heard Yoma’s voice whispering still.
“It’ll be okay.” Her heart skipped a beat and she opened her eyes, shedding a tear as she did so.

“It won’t be okay,” she whispered to the vision that clung to her mind, unaided, unwelcome, and frightening.

“What sweetheart?” Josmere mumbled, the Berganda’s head on her lap as she lay across the two seats. When Layela did not immediately answer, Josmere’s eyes fluttered opened, whiter than before. Her hair and skin were more green than yellow now, since Layela had shot her full of water and nutrients.

“What is it, Layela?” Josmere shifted but did not get up, looking at her intently. Layela hesitated and looked away, towards the front seat where Ardin faithfully controlled the damaged shuttle. He had not spoken since the
Destiny
had exploded. Layela had not asked.

Josmere grumbled and pushed herself up, Layela helping her settle comfortably on the seat. Josmere gave Layela a coy smile. “I can’t take you seriously when I’m looking up your nose.”

Layela gave a short laugh. “Nice to see you’re feeling better.” Josmere cocked her head sideways and said nothing, waiting. “I think,” Layela began, finding it difficult to find the right words. “I think I know why Yoma didn’t want me to follow.”

Josmere’s eyes widened. “You remembered your vision without my help?”

Layela nodded once. The smile showed first in Josmere’s dark green eyes.

“I’m glad.” She settled lazily back into her chair, as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “I’m very glad.”

Seemingly drained from the short conversation, Josmere closed her eyes and her breath deepened. Layela sighed. She hadn’t wanted to tell Josmere any of the details, but still found herself disappointed at her friend’s lack of curiosity.

At least she had seen most of this vision already. Except the actual blow.

“We’re approaching Mirial,” Ardin said quietly from the front. Layela shook the cover off of herself and placed it on Josmere. The Berganda’s skin was still clammy, but much better. She crawled over the front seat and sat ungracefully in the co-pilot’s chair. The planet loomed before them, the atmosphere covering it with a great white cloud. She wished for a glimpse of the green earth that had once been her home
 
—
 
or, should have been.

“Why?” Ardin’s voice startled her and she turned to face him. His deep grey eyes looked into hers. “Why did your sister not want you to follow?”

Layela met his gaze. She wondered if she should lie, but knew it would change nothing. Whether Ardin knew what the vision implied or not didn’t matter. What would be, would be.

“One of us will be killed on Mirial,” she whispered, turning to look down at the great hidden planet. She couldn’t meet his eyes. “And I think it’s going to be me.”

“No,” Ardin said, and she turned towards him, but now it was he who looked away.

“It won’t be. I won’t let it.”

As if in response to those words, the ship jerked and moaned, entering the atmosphere. Layela held onto her seat.

“She’s not doing so well,” Ardin said through gritted teeth. “Make sure Josmere is secured!”

Layela scrambled over the seat. The ship shuddered, jostling her into the shuttle’s low ceiling. She felt blood in her mouth and realized she had bitten her tongue. Swallowing the bitter metallic taste, she straightened Josmere and strapped her in, before falling beside her and doing the same for herself.

“Never a dull moment.” Josmere smiled weakly.

“What in the world…” Ardin muttered from ahead. Layela saw the planet, its dark shapes coming into view below them. The white cloud that had shimmered around them was gone.

“It looks like it just upped and left,” Ardin muttered, the ship jostling again. “We’re going to land quick,” he shouted back, surveying the dark land before him.

“I know this,” he mumbled just loud enough for Layela to hear. “I know this! There’s a lake here!” He grew increasingly excited. “My father used to take me here!”

“That’s nice,” Layela mumbled. She strained to see, leaning as far forward as she could with her seat belt on. “But can we land on water?”

Ardin looked back and shot her his first grin since Cailan’s death. “She’s fully equipped. We could land on a turbulent ocean with no problem!”

“My stomach would have a problem with that,” Josmere mumbled, and Layela reached over and grabbed the Berganda’s hand. Ardin’s excitement was contagious.

“Just over there...That depression in the land,” Ardin said, steering the rapidly falling shuttle, barely keeping her under control. “It’s not going to be a great landing, so hold on!” He pulled two levers, releasing air and inflating the emergency water-landing gear.

“We’re almost there,” he said through gritted teeth. The shuttle nosed too fast and he struggled to keep her aloft long enough to reach the lake. “Almost there.”

Josmere squeezed Layela’s hand, and Layela returned the gesture.

“There!” Ardin screamed excited, almost bouncing in his seat. “There’s the lake! Now we just…Bones!”

“What?” Layela asked, sitting forward.

“No water! Hold on!” A second later the shuttle impacted the bottom of the old dry lake. Layela’s body was thrown forward, the seat belt cutting into her skin. Her head jerked back just as quickly and banged into the seat. Stars exploded before her eyes as the sounds of crushed metal deafened her.

She bounced high in her seat twice as they passed over rocks, the air cushions exploding as jagged stone scraped the bottom of the shuttle. She clenched her teeth and her fingers dug into the seat’s arms as firmly as the belt dug into her. The shuttle tilted sideways, tumbling once or twice. Blinded by her hair, she closed her eyes and tried to keep her feet on the floor. She heard the crush of synthetic glass and then silence.

Through some miracle, the shuttle had landed upright. Josmere appeared to be unconscious but still well strapped in her seat. Green blood dripped onto the seat belt. Layela looked up front and met eyes with Ardin, who was turning to check on them both. The side of his face was covered in blood, but he was still grinning. “Touch down.”

i

Josmere felt the warmth of the fire on her skin, but it penetrated no deeper than that. She was cold. So cold.

When they had first pierced the purple sky and seen the sun of Mirial, she had realized that it would be the last true light she would ever see. This fire, whose light flickered through her closed eyelids, was nothing compared to its intensity.

Layela and Ardin spoke softly in the background, and she could only make out a few of their words. They were excited over their upcoming adventure, discussing plans to reach a nearby city, which Ardin swore he remembered, and Layela teased him about the lake. Josmere was glad. It had been a long time since she had heard such a wonderful tone in her friend’s voice.

And last night, Josmere had been happy to see the look the two had shared when Layela had parted from Ardin to come sleep with Josmere and keep her warm. Most of the shuttle’s supplies were unsalvageable after the crash, but Layela had kept her warm throughout the night with her own heat.

And Josmere had loved her even more for that.

“Are you ready to go?” Layela knelt beside Josmere.
I guess my thief’s breaths are no longer what they used to be,
Josmere mused. She opened her eyes only to see the worry in Layela’s.

Josmere smiled at her.

“I’m not coming.”

Layela’s look suggested that she had expected the Berganda’s response and wanted no argument.

Josmere laughed, but pain flared from her belly and turned her smile to a wince.

“Layela,” she whispered when she found her voice again. Layela leaned closer, her eyes wide and richer than the dark sky. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust your strength. I’m sorry I didn’t believe in you, and I’m sorry I kept so much from you.”

Layela’s eyes clouded with tears. Josmere knew the last few days had pushed Layela close to her furthest edge. The one she had barely returned from, years ago.

Josmere took a deep breath. She didn’t want Layela to leave with the horrible burden of guilt. “I stayed to protect you, well, because I didn’t think you’d get me so banged up,” she grinned. “But, also, because I love you like a sister. You and Yoma.”

Tears were falling down Layela’s face. She had accepted Josmere’s lie about the severity of her wound, but the lie was crumbling now with each new word. Josmere blinked back some of her own tears. In the background, she could see Ardin’s profile, his head lowered. She was glad she had the chance to know him. It made her feel better about leaving Layela in his care.

It was time for her to stop running. She clutched the ground beneath her with her hands, her tears now falling from joy. It was so fertile it made her body ache and her blood sing in tune with it. Where only a year ago she had felt the life-giving properties of her blood wither and die, a piece of her own self vanishing with them, she could now feel a dance of joy in her blood, so strong it energized her very soul. Her body ached in anticipation, her fingers tingling and electricity running through to the tips of her hair.

The mystical planet renewed her ether. She could feel its power begin to heal her wound slowly, but maybe fast enough...She hurled the thought from her mind, clutched the strong earth beneath her in her still-weak grasp, and let the ether wash over her with its only important truth. A bit of her blood would certainly sprout a new Berganda.

All of it would save her race.

“Layela, I need you to be strong for me one last time.” Josmere brought her hand up to Layela and let the dirt caress her fingers as it escaped her fist. Layela reached up and caught some of it.