BlackWing: First Ordinance, Book 3 (26 page)

"You know," I tapped a finger on my chin, "somebody recently pinged my shield around Mundia, but they didn't have enough power to get through it. You think they're looking to get past my shield to see what we're up to?"

"That makes sense," Grampa Erland agreed. "I can't figure out why they seem so desperate, though."

"What are you thinking of doing?" I asked.

"Corolan has offered to go undercover," Grampa said. "So he can report back to your father and me."

"But," I said.

"He's fifth level," Grampa held up a hand. "We're concerned that Cayetes may be putting pressure on his allies here, and placing Corolan in the mix will give us information."

"But what if Uncle Cory is walking into a trap?" I said.

"What if that's what you're doing?"

"You have a recall spell on me, don't you?" I accused.

"Just as I'll have one on Corolan, if he gets the job. You get hurt, you'll be pulled away. Simple as that."

Bel!
I heard Sal's mental shout.
The refugee camp is under attack!

* * *

Quin

People were running. Some were screaming. A few were dead.

That memory of the attack will remain with me always. I'd saved the people of Vogeffa II from a similar fate.

This attack began before I was aware of it.

Armored hovercars flew overhead, attempting to herd the refugee population, while their occupants fired weapons at the running crowd. I wanted to weep—several small ones had been trampled in the rush to get away.

Farther away, armed men forced captured refugees into a hovervan.

Berel stopped beside me, pulled the pistol Queen Lissa had given him from his jacket and fired at the hovercar I'd seen shooting at the running crowd.

"No," I shouted, before realizing that he and Bel Erland had planned the maneuver. Berel shot the vehicle; it exploded, the loud boom bouncing across the fields. Bel Erland then placed a shield, keeping the exploding bits and resulting fire from raining down on the people below.

Somehow, too, Bel made the thing disappear.

"I have us shielded, except for the weapon," Bel shouted over the noise. "Fire away."

The explosion of the second hovercar sent the attackers into a frenzy, however. The kidnappers loading victims into the hovervan pulled hostages away from the vehicle and hid behind them.

Other hovercars began shooting indiscriminately.

Time stopped for a moment as once again, I did what I hated doing. This time, it was so much worse. If Kaldill, Sal and Caylon hadn't come, and if Terrett hadn't held me up while I did it, more would have died.

Drivers died at the controls of hovercars.

Those using hostages as shields dropped behind their victims.

Every vehicle nosedived toward the ground—Kaldill, Caylon and Sal took over, collecting them with power and tossing them toward the sea.

When my knees buckled as the last attacker died, Terrett held me up. I discovered I was weeping.

No time for tears, beloved
, Terrett whispered in my mind.
There are children to heal
.

* * *

Terrett

The refugee camp was moved to an open space near the river in Mundia. The dead were left behind—they were beyond our help.

Quin wept for some of those she'd killed.

Not all.

Kaldill told me that Reede Xilva had forced the teenage children of his servants to drive the vehicles and shoot at the refugees, after threatening them with the lives of their parents.

Dead was dead. Quin couldn't bring them back. She'd had no choice; they'd have continued to shoot otherwise.

Bleek and I followed her now, as she went from cluster to cluster of refugees, healing the ones who'd been hurt. Kaldill and the others were clearing a factory to house the crowd, although only half of what had originally been in the camp had arrived in Mundia.

Xilva had gotten away with several hovervans filled with refugees before our arrival.

News had come, too, that Barstle Cardino was redirecting food and supply deliveries to Puntia—from the warehouses that provided for the commons on Vic'Law. We'd intercepted the ships delivering to the criminal element; their answer was to steal from the commons.

It was likely that the same was happening in Der'Vek.

Quin moved as if she were caught in a dream—a nightmare from which she couldn't escape.

Bleek felt helpless—as did I. All we could do was keep Quin moving. We had no talent for healing and little for comforting the sick or wounded. There'd been no time to turn her wings white this time; she walked through narrow lanes to get to the next ones needing her help, black wings trailing in the snow behind her.

We're ready to move them
, came from Sal.

Good. Quin is exhausted and ready to drop,
Bleek responded before I'd had time to form a coherent thought to do so.

* * *

Bel Erland

Shim arrived with nearly fifty at his back. I learned quickly that these were the medical personnel who could come—those not currently on duty at the poorly equipped med-center of Mundia.

Their assistance inside the cleared-out factory freed Quin to treat the worst of the lot. I was grateful there were only three of those left.

"What do you suppose they'll do with the people they captured?" I asked Terrett.

Add to their army? You think they're desperate?

"They had children driving those hovercars," I said. "And older ones shooting weapons at the refugees. That seems desperate to me."

"If Cayetes were here, I'd have a guess as to what the people were for, but your explanation is better," Bleek said.

"If they pull troops from the commons, it will extend the war," Sal joined our conversation. "This is fucked from beginning to end."

"And the commons not in the army will be left to starve. That's motivation to join one faction or another," Berel observed.

"We need a better medical facility and medical supplies," Caylon walked up beside me. "Want to help?"

* * *

Quin

When the last one who needed my help was healed, I only wanted to collapse in a heap where I stood.

Bleek, who'd followed me while I worked, hauled me over a shoulder before nodding to Terrett. Someone transported us back to the mansion, but I was asleep when we arrived and didn't care who it was.

* * *

Karathia

Brenten Arden

"I don't think this is a good idea, Corolan. Not for you, anyway."

"I told him that," Wylend, my father and former King of Karathia, agreed. Five years earlier, we'd settled in Wylend's former summer palace, with permission from Rylend, my grandson and current Karathian King.

We sat at breakfast in the kitchen while two servants cooked and served our morning meal. As a former king, Wylend had advantages many others didn't, including enough wealth to afford servants.

"Why?" Corolan's eyes settled on me from across the small table.

"I have a bad feeling about this, that's why."

"I've already said I'd go," he began.

"I'll go instead," I said. "I still hold power. You know that. Besides, I doubt there's anyone who would recognize me. You, on the other hand," I shook my head.

"You're concerned about any rogue warlocks employed on Vic'Law, aren't you?" Wylend said. His butter knife scraped across toast as he considered what I'd offered.

"Yes. Too many of them can recognize the warlock who once stood at King Wylend's elbow," I said. "Stay here and protect Wylend. I'll go. This sort of thing used to be my work, you know."

"Very well," Corolan sighed before looking away.

I felt the danger in the assignment—he didn't. Something was terribly wrong, here, and he likely wasn't prepared to handle it.

"I'll leave tomorrow," I nodded to Wylend, who gave the slightest of nods in return.

* * *

Puntia

Xilva was a coward. Barstle was beginning to see that. Reede had stood on a high vantage point, recording the debacle on a comp-vid while armed children drove hovercars and fired upon panicked refugees.

He'd told Reede to keep them alive; that's what Cayetes' instructions were.

Now, not only were many dead, but more than half had escaped. Barstle sat uncomfortably in front of Vardil Cayetes, whose eyes were hard, his mouth drawn in a scathing frown.

"This is how your underlings follow orders?" Vardil demanded after watching the beginning of the carnage.

"I recorded my instructions to him—you have that evidence," Barstle defended himself, his voice trembling.

"Did you see the entire recording?" Vardil went on.

"No, Lord Cayetes. I brought it to you immediately, when I received it."

"Then look at this," Vardil shoved the comp-vid across his desk. Barstle barely caught it in his hands before it fell over the edge.

Barstle's breath caught at the frozen image. Cayetes had caught the perfect one and enlarged it for Barstle's benefit.

There, on the dark, frozen ground of the drakus seed field stood three people who shouldn't be there. One was a woman with black wings. Barstle recognized her easily enough. The two men who stood beside her, Barstle didn't recognize. Vardil's fury was evident; Barstle prepared himself for the worst.

* * *

Terrett

I was in the room when the call came. Caylon still carried the comp-vid he'd taken from one of Barstle Cardino's moles in Mundia, hoping that Cardino would contact us again, leaving us clues as to his location.

Barstle placed the communication, but two stood behind him as he spoke with Caylon.
Get Quin
, Caylon's voice hissed in my mind.

I shouted her name mentally as I rushed out of the library; if she weren't awake yet, she needed to be. I understood that Caylon wanted to know who stood behind Barstle.

* * *

Bel Erland

It took a while to get Quin to the library, as she was asleep when the communication was placed. Caylon did his best to keep Barstle Cardino talking, but it wasn't long enough. Cardino made threats.

Said he had images of BlackWing and two others, from the refugee camp. He demanded to know whether we had any dealings with, in his words, that filthy winged pirate. Then attempted to soothe Caylon's anger by offering one-hundred-million Alliance credits for her and the people she'd stolen from Vic'Law.

"I don't deal with criminals," Caylon snapped. "You, or any other," he added.

"Yet you've stolen Mundia from me," Barstle hissed.

"I've stolen nothing. Mundians run Mundia, now, instead of that filth Drood Juffa."

"You're fighting with them?" Barstle was unconvinced.

"I understand that this is a foreign concept to you," Caylon responded. "Nevertheless, it's true."

"I'll pay for you to drop your warlock's shield around Mundia," Barstle turned to wheedling. "I'll give the entire city to you if you'll only let me in."

"You only—or the army at your back?" Caylon asked. I knew that look he offered Barstle Cardino—Sal, who stood beside me, nodded. Caylon would kill Cardino the moment he was close enough.

"You are a dead man," one of the men at Barstle's back pointed at Caylon. "Come out of that bubble you've built for yourself and face me."

That's when the screen went dark—the communication was terminated. Terrett and Quin arrived moments later—too late for her to identify anyone.

Chapter 16

Quin

"We tried to trace and record the communication, but something blocked it on their end," Caylon growled.

"Probably a warlock," Bel Erland replied. "I can do it—it doesn't take much. And no, I didn't recognize either of those men behind Cardino. If he had a Sirenali nearby, the warlock's spell could be amplified, preventing the powerful from tracing it."

"Could have been anybody, but the one making threats—Cardino should have shut him up or refused to let him speak," Sal said.

My brain was still addled from the day before, and I'd been wakened long before I wanted to be. Morosely, I nursed a cup of hot tea and closed my eyes against the plate of food set in front of me—my stomach wasn't ready for food, yet.

Milk
, Terrett set a glass in front of me.
Better than tea
, he added.

He was right; the milk was good—I drank all of it in very little time.

* * *

Puntia

Brenten Arden

"Master Cardino is engaged elsewhere, Sir Warlock," Phorr, Barstle Cardino's valet, claimed. He'd asked me to meet him in a barn on the outskirts of the Cardino estate—not the usual venue for the arrival of a powerful warlock.

The moment I saw Phorr, I could see he was desperate—for himself and his employer.

"Payment?" I demanded. It was the question any warlock working on the wrong side of the law would ask.

I didn't give a rat's testicles about payment. Something had bothered me for a very long time about what was going on. The obsession I held was kicking in, when I least wanted it to.

No, it wasn't an obsession placed by a Sirenali. It was an obsession that psychiatrists might want to treat. Somewhere, deep inside my brain, lay a need to make things right, no matter the cost.

I'd fought battles with it in the past, and lost every time.

"I have this," Phorr lifted a small satchel at his feet and handed it to me. "Gold. There will be much more if you do as we ask. I only want you to disguise yourself—like this." He handed a comp-vid to me, which bore an image.

The one depicted was dead—I could see that by
Looking
. Barstle Cardino was desperate enough to kill in order to cover his actions.

I wanted to ask whom Barstle was afraid of. That information, like so much other information needed or wanted, was fogged and out of reach.

That spelled Sirenali involvement—
strong
Sirenali involvement.

"What does he want first?" I asked.

"He wants to get away," Phorr hissed. "With me and a few others."

* * *

Le-Ath Veronis

Lissa

I know you don't want to hear from me
, he sent.
But I have the criminal Barstle Cardino within my grasp, if you or those parked in Mundia want to see him
.

I knew in a moment that instead of Corolan, who was supposed to answer the ad from Vic'Law, my father had gone in his stead.

You have him right this minute?
I demanded.

I will have him shortly. I'm currently disguised as a servant that Cardino killed in order to explain my presence in Puntia
, he replied.
I'm staying long enough to see who now holds the upper hand against him, making him want to leave and promising a ridiculous amount to do it
.

Just grab him
, I said.
I'll have Kaldill and Daragar modify the shield around Mundia to let you in. We can question Cardino and find out what we need to know
.

Yes, you're probably right
, he sighed mentally.

Daddy, please. Just do this my way. If you stick around, too many things can go wrong
, I pleaded.

Baby girl, I'll do this—for you
.

* * *

Mundia

Bel Erland

Honey, you have to let your great-grandfather through your shield—Kaldill and Daragar have already modified theirs to let him in
, Gran said.

When is he coming?
I returned.

I don't know—he says he hasn't laid eyes on Barstle yet, so we have to wait until he does
.

I had difficulty accepting that Great-Grampa had actually contacted Gran. They never talked. Both wore a pained expression whenever the other was even mentioned. Grampa said Corolan was answering the ad. When had Great-Grampa intervened?

Why
had Great-Grampa intervened?

I'll fix it so he can get through
, I said.
Let me know if you get any updates
.

I will
, Gran promised.
Take care of yourself, honey
.

* * *

Quin

The sphere I'd taken from the hidden room in Avii Castle was in my hand as I stood at the library window, watching as more snow fell.

Caylon, Sal, Bleek and the others had gone to train the troops. I was exempt for two days—at Caylon's command while I built up my strength again.

The sphere fit easily in my palm and would glow if any sunlight struck it, but the day was gloomy and overcast while snow continued to pile up outside.

I couldn't help thinking that I should have carried a larger sphere away.

I had no basis for that thought, so I shoved the sphere in a pocket and wrapped arms tightly about myself—it was colder next to the window.

The feeling of dread that enveloped me was one I couldn't shake; I felt something terrible was about to happen, but once again, a fog blanketed the information and I was unable to reach it.

"My love?" Kaldill appeared behind me.

I turned to him and pulled his face down for a kiss. He was so handsome, my Elf King. He hadn't asked, yet, but soon I wanted to spend a night with him—the first of many to come. I felt I might bloom in his hands, just like the roses he could command to grow in solid rock.

"Do you feel it, too?" he asked gently when he pulled away.

"The cloud of doom settling over everything?" I asked, slipping a hand in my pocket to touch the sphere.

"Yes. It is a burden to carry, when you can't be certain of what troubles you."

He was right. It weighed on me and I couldn't shake it or leave it behind. We turned our attention to the snow outside—the flakes now smaller, their falling thicker, their purpose more sinister.

* * *

BlackWing I

"I've adjusted the orbit," Marco sighed. "We won't hit those archaic satellites, now."

"I can't believe that Vic'Law is still living in the dark ages," Winkler nodded. "Salidar says they had to supply the entire city of Mundia with solar power; the population was still using natural gas to power everything. Those people would be dead if they hadn't put up solar panels—the natural gas was shut off somewhere before it reached Mundia. Satellites instead of booster pods," Winkler shook his head. "Ridiculous."

"I don't recall that Earth's satellites were that big," Marco agreed. "These are monsters."

"Likely added onto through the years, employing warlock or wizard power instead of putting a crew up there to modify them, or replacing what they have. They look like floating piles of junk, now. Probably kept in place by a warlock spell, if my guess is correct. Their orbit should have deteriorated by now and they'd be crashing somewhere inconvenient without outside interference."

"Do you know why Lissa wanted us here instead of in the shipping lanes?" Marco asked.

"She said something is going on—I'm not at liberty to explain."

* * *

Puntia

Brenten Arden

I'd been retired from the Saa Thalarr for centuries. The work I did now while waiting for Barstle Cardino's appearance was worse than any assignment I'd had then. Cleaning the kitchen by hand was something I hadn't done in a very long time. Back in the day, I'd only cleaned up after myself.

Cardino had a palace filled with servants, guards and others, none of whom apparently picked up after themselves.

Cardino deserved the worst Lissa could give him; he'd killed a hapless, innocent servant so I could take his place. His other crimes were probably many and much worse. After all, he could have ordered the servant to hide or leave—at least he'd have kept his life that way.

Cardino thought it more convenient for the man to die.

Shoving trays of dishes into the dish machine, I turned it on before grabbing a cloth to wipe counters. The cook or cooks, whoever they were, were quite possibly the messiest I'd seen. Flour was everywhere, as was sugar and—
wait
.

Two tiny, red seeds. I was suddenly grateful for the cooks' messy style of baking. Anyone who'd ever been around criminals before would recognize those two seeds.

Drakus seed
.

The game had just ramped up to another level.

* * *

Le-Ath Veronis

Lissa

This is what I found
, my father informed me when the envelope dropped onto my desk.
I think perhaps I should wait a bit to see what the plans are.

Don't you think Barstle will know all that?
I asked.

I worry that he doesn't. He's been in a meeting all day—food was taken in earlier. I'm cleaning the kitchen—that's how I found those seeds
.

You think the plans are to place Barstle and anyone else who doesn't willingly cooperate under the influence of drakus seed?

Likely.

Is this a new development, or something that has been going on for a while?

My guess is it's new—but why is this new threat only now reeling Barstle in?

You haven't been able to
Look
to find out?

Something is fogging it, whatever it is. That's why I wanted Cardino—so we could question him
.

You haven't seen any Sirenali, have you?

Not yet. I'm sure they're hidden and well-guarded
.

I'll destroy the seed
, I said.

Thank you. I didn't want to throw it out—those seeds can lie dormant for years and then sprout under ideal conditions. Before you know it, you have it growing everywhere.

Keep me posted, then
, I said.
I don't like this—something is worrying me about it
.

I too
, he replied.
I'll let you know whatever I find
.

* * *

"My father found this," I handed the envelope containing drakus seed to Karzac. "Will you examine the seeds to see if this is a new strain? I'm curious about it."

"I'll check," my Refizani mate agreed. "I'll destroy anything left of it."

"Thanks."

* * *

Quin

I was distracted, but Berel and I taught Jayna and Barc their lessons anyway. Berel carried most of the weight—I stroked Barc's hair as he read from a book, his head snuggled against my shoulder.

"Time for dinner," Bleek announced as he walked into the library. He'd already cleaned up after drilling and training Mundia's army.
How's he doing?
Bleek sent mindspeech.

He's learning at near light-speed
, Berel replied.
He wants to know everything, as of yesterday
.

Six lobes
, Bleek grinned.

What excuse do you use when things go badly?
I teased.

Six lobes
, he laughed.
Brain's too crowded to think straight
.

I had no idea he'd be anything except offended by my teasing, and to be honest, I'd sent the message before thinking about it. My mind had been so filled with worry that the humor came unexpectedly.

"I'm starved," Jayna stretched before standing.

"Son, come wash your hands." Bleek was still grinning and he winked at me before turning to leave, Barc right behind him.

* * *

Puntia

Brenten Arden

By the time Barstle Cardino appeared while I helped serve dinner, it was already too late.

He was under the influence of drakus seed.

Perhaps it was fate—or punishment—for his misdeeds in the past, when he'd done the same thing to guards and servants alike, to keep them under his thumb.

Phorr, for whatever reason, had disappeared. I suspected he was dead.

Barstle walked right past me, as if he no longer recognized the face of his servant. Whoever had raised this strain of drakus seed had found a new and terrible use for the drug.

Yes—I considered that I could be in danger. I had plans to make and a disguise to change. That would be easy enough—I'd seen the same face, repeatedly. I knew, too—eventually—why that was.