Fenturi Fate (Spacestalker Saga Book 1) (29 page)

Shea was complaining about something to Roc, because Jace saw his large friend grimacing time and time again. Then Shea saw him watching and stormed over to him. Behind her, Jace saw Roc mouth, “Better you than me.”

Damn.

She continued on full steam.
“Jace, hey. Yeah, you. I was dying in there!
Do you know that Roc can’t play a full hand of Cracthe without accusing a person of cheating? And we spent days in that abominable cell while you were screwing around in the jungle with those rebels. Seriously. I’m still waiting on my apology.”

“Ignore her. We were worried, and we’re glad you’re alive,” Roc grumbled and surprised Jace with a hard embrace.
“Thought you ran into some trouble when you didn’t come back right away. I was right.”
He frowned at Shea until she sighed and threw herself into Jace’s arms.

She kissed him on the cheek and let go of him, standing again by Roc’s side.

“I’m sorry,” Jace apologized.
“I would have come for you sooner but Mikhel, the rebel leader, kind of insisted I stick around.
I knew you two were safe, so I took the liberty of checking things out. Consider it recon for our eventual escape.”

“Now that makes sense.” Shea nodded.

“Finally, she approves,” Roc muttered.

  Jace filled them in on everything that had happened right before Castor turned a corner and entered the main hall surrounded by seven more warriors.
All big, buff Legionnaires, Jace could tell.

The Stalker
grinned, his brown eyes dark with menace when joined Jace and the others. “Well, well, it’s nice to have friends at your back, isn’t it?” Castor hadn’t been thrilled to see him back in Mikhel’s forest, and he’d been even less pleased to see Jace align with the rebel force.

What he didn’t know was that Jace had spoken with Mikhel at length about the things Mikhel had read in the journal. Then Jace had mentally tied the man to him, psychically.
Unlike Dare, whose mind continually splintered into random patterns and waves, Mikhel’s thoughts had been easy to control, surprising Jace.

After training Dare to protect her thoughts and unwilling to breach Roc’s and Shea’s mental walls, Jace had found it a treat to dip into Mikhel’s focused mind.
So intent on retribution for his people, Mikhel had little thought or purpose other than to win Fenturi freedom.
The only concern he had outside of that was to ensure his sister’s future.

So Jace had manipulated Mikhel’s thoughts enough to ensure the male’s unquestioned trust.

It still didn’t sit well that the Legion had captured them on Kre.
Jace had
struggled, but fatigued by the fight with the Olm pirates, he’d been no match for Castor and his captors.
Having the upper hand in the forest had been a balm to his ego.

With feigned concern, he asked, “Still feeling tender from that blow to the head?”

Shea and Roc chuckled.
Castor’s bruised left eye bore testament to the short scuffle upon his entry to the Fen Forest, before Jace had sorted everything out.

The tension in the hall grew as Castor’s men crowded behind him.
Jace recognized the
Eyshan6
pilot, but other than him, these men looked unfamiliar save for their menacing expressions and Legion attire.

Jace straightened, his eyes blazing with provocation as he stared at Ren’s Second.
Frustrated at not being allowed to join Dare on the quest for the Thrax, he welcomed a brawl to take his mind from it.
From the gleam in Castor’s eyes, he figured the warrior felt the same needs driving him.

Roc and Shea flanked him. Their three against eight Legionnaires. Great odds as usual, he thought with sarcasm.

Many of the warriors behind Castor gave Roc a wary glance even as they gave Shea an appreciative one.

Castor huffed.
“I’ve been looking forward to a good fight.
Pity you’re all I’ve got.”

“Not bad.”
Jace moved closer until he and Castor stood no more than an arm’s length apart.
“Though you seem a bit weak in the head, you obviously have some muscle.
Maybe we’ll get a decent fight out of you yet, now that I’m not bound of course.”

“And not surrounded by Fenturi rebels,” Castor replied in a similar tone.

Unfortunately, before the first blow could land, King Zebram strode into the hall, Myla and Thela hard on his heels. An older fellow and a Rovi warrior followed them.
Castor swore at sight of the frowning king, and loud grumbling from his warriors told Jace he wouldn’t be getting the fight he’d wanted.

“Damn.
I was looking forward to a good rumble,” Roc complained, and Shea stomped her small foot.
“Me too.
I hate the Legion.”

Zebram scowled at the crowd in the center of the hall.

Castor bowed low, as did the men behind him.
Jace stood with Roc and Shea and waited, curious. He didn’t know what to make of the old woman.
He’d never before heard of anyone not Psi having mystical powers.
She’d explained previously, when Dare had still been on the planet, that her visions had shown only the Bylaran warrior twins, Ren and Dare on Ocaia talking with Aranthe.

She’d also mentioned Jace fighting alongside Castor and the others when the Horde came.
When
and not
if
they came.
She’d had the look of a seeress, and he could see the mark of truth upon her.

“So the Horde waits in space to destroy us while you would do so from within the castle walls?” King Zebram asked in a dry voice.

Castor flushed.
“No, Sire. We were just…explaining things to the offworlders.”

Zebram turned his dark green gaze, full of concern and intelligence, on Jace. Jace could easily see the resemblance to Ren, but the feral quality present in Ren was absent in the king’s self-possessed mien.

“Jace, you’re Dare’s Second aren’t you?
I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your companions.”
Zebram
nodded toward Roc and Shea.

“King Zebram, I’m pleased to introduce the rest of the
SpaceStalker
crew, Roc and Shea.
Oh, and Mra,” Jace added when the guidecat appeared out of nowhere and stared at the royal leader.

“Of course, Mra.”
The king’s lips quirked, but he bowed his head respectfully.
Mra, surprisingly, nodded to him before she vanished again.
“So, you’re the resilient crew of the
SpaceStalker
.
Myla tells me you’re needed here.”
He turned to the women at his side and introduced them.

Castor and his men stood quietly while Zebram spoke. While Castor remained respectful, he wasn’t exactly fawning at his liege’s feet.
Against Jace’s better judgment, he found himself liking Castor for it.
Then the large warrior frowned at him, and he fought to contain his amusement…until Shea spoke.

“Why should we listen to Myla?
Why should we want to do anything to help the Legion?” Shea asked with a snort.
“It’s common knowledge you people run right over anyone who opposes your sense of what’s right and wrong.”

Roc stood silently, but Jace could almost feel the large Rovi sigh.
Trust the hotheaded Lynaran not to keep a civil tongue in her head.

Zebram nodded.
“Good point.
But at least we’re the lesser of two evils.”
A surprising admission from the new Bylaran monarchy.
“I don’t think you’re going to like the Horde much better.
Besides, the Legion has done a wonderful job keeping you in riches, eh Mistress Thief?”

Shea shut her mouth with a snap that had Roc grinning. Despite the danger the king posed, Jace respected anyone who could get Shea to shut up so nicely.

“Well spoken, your majesty,” Roc said. “But if you could tell us what exactly you want with us?”
 

Myla answered.
“In three days time the Horde will arrive.
They will attack Bylar first.
The Deni moon was merely a warning.
We must prepare, and we’ll need all of you to make this work.”
She studied
Shea for a moment longer before turning back to Zebram.
“Sire, Castor and Jace must remain by your side at all times.”

Castor and Jace looked at each other with puzzlement.

Zebram nodded.
“Come with me, you two.
Shea, you and Thela will attend Myla.”
When Roc moved to join them, Zebram raised his brow but said nothing.

“But why do you need me?” Jace asked.
“I’m no Legionnaire.”

“That’s the truth,” Castor muttered, and his men chuckled.

“Just do as the king says.”
Myla shook her head and physically pushed Jace toward Zebram.
“Don’t question so much.
Suffice it to say you two have a part to play in Bylaran history.
E
verything is connected.
Everything,
” she emphasized and looked into Jace’s eyes.

A vision of Dare hit him hard, and he nodded warily at the old woman before joining the king and Castor.

“The rest of you,” Zebram said to the remaining Stalkers, “will assist Koneru and Cyka to evacuate the village.
W
e have little time to spare, so move.”

Koneru and Roc acknowledged each other, a quiet grunt from Rovi to Rovi.

If I only had their strength.
Jace joined the king and Castor.
Mental powers were all well and good when dealing with sentient beings.
But against a foe like the Horde, he wondered how much being a Psi would help.
They had but three days…

***

While the Vinopol kingdom seethed with desperate action, the small crew of the
Eyshan6
battled the raging winds and waters that threatened to toss them into the churning blue-gray ocean below.
Exposed against the elements as they sought shelter in Aranthe’s home, the twins moved ahead while Ren sheltered Dare as best he could against the storm.

They had parked the ship on a large rounded platform less than a hundred feet above the water.
The platform connected to a sheltered abode by a long, narrow and uncovered walkway.
The trip had been rough, but they
now sat in the heart of Isus, Ocaia’s fiercest planetary water storm.
Only two days out of every Ocaian year were completely calm, when the three isolated storms on the planet quieted for a short time.

Unfortunately, they had arrived in the heart of the large season, when Isus, Necre, and Shaor raged to torment their Ocaian natives.

The four of them hurried along the walkway and entered Aranthe’s shelter, greeted by a bellow of a welcome. Ren marveled that the Ocaian could live in the heart of such a tempest.
The wind and rain blew ceaselessly, the waters around them too rough and choppy to enjoy.

From what he knew of the Ocaians, they lived their lives both above and below the water.
Ren studied the warm shelter around him with curiosity.
In Aranthe’s case, the shelter provided him with a warm, dry land dwelling while the four pool entrances in the corners of the main room granted him entrance to the Ocaian depths.

Considering that Aranthe’s home sat far above the water, Ren could only assume large tubes provided a connection between the waters below them and the floor of Aranthe’s dwelling.
The floor was surprisingly dry and soft, made of some foreign material Ren had never before seen.

A cooking area sat to the far left of the abode while a spacious but centered area of chairs and a table sat in the middle of the room.
The four pools sitting in each corner of the main room each held a distinct color from the others.

Aranthe cleared his throat, and Ren glanced up, then looked at the others to see what they made of the Ocaian.

The group of them stared at Aranthe, curious to meet the man who could show them the Thrax.
He stood a head shorter than Dare, his eyes completely black and lidless.
His skin looked slightly blue in the flickering light waving over the walls of his home.
The light from the crystals spaced throughout the home, reflected off of the corner pools, and gave the room a look of motion.