Destiny's Blood (11 page)

The Berganda sat wedged between Ardin’s seat and Layela’s legs, leaning against the side of the shuttle and staring at the other wall.

L
ayela felt drained to the core, her head too heavy to lift from the chair. She looked ahead towards the red, bleak landscape. Only a few mushroom farms marked the horizon, the giant purple fungi dotting the land.

It was gone.

All gone.

Before, when she’d had to leave an area, when she’d had to move to evade law enforcers, Yoma had always been with her. Laughing it away, soothing the pain of having to uproot once again with a gentle giggle or a well-timed joke. But Yoma wasn’t here now. She was elsewhere, possibly in worse danger than Layela.

She felt her throat constrict and she closed her eyes, picturing her sister and reaching out with her mind. They had always had that deep connection, through their powers of vision, to feel each other’s presence and moods. But, despite all that had happened to her and her desperate need to feel the soothing touch of her sister, Layela’s link remained quiet.

As though feeling what Layela forced her weary mind to seek, Josmere placed her hand on Layela’s folded hands and lowered her head to her lap, green hair spreading wildly.

Layela smiled, feeling closer to Josmere than ever before. Bergandas were not renowned for their loyalty, usually sticking only with their race, a people in self-imposed exile for reasons no one knew. She was grateful now that Josmere had seen something in the twins that had made her treat them as her own. Whether their connection was through ether, or simply because none of them had a home, she would never know. It hardly mattered.

What mattered to Layela was that her lap was blanketed and comforted by the spread of green hair, and she didn’t feel quite as alone. Visions whispered near her mind, unwilling to be quiet now as they had been at
Sunrise Flowers
, when she had felt safe. A tremor settled deep into her spine and she doubted it would ever leave.

The vision of the dying soldiers had been awakened in her years ago, under the whims of the Kilita. She hadn’t fully remembered it until seconds before it happened, but now she knew her fears weren’t unfounded. The visions locked in her mind would come to pass, and unless she could remember them, she doubted she could stop them.

But then, even if she could remember them, could she stop them? Idly, she wondered if that was why she had founded
Sunrise Flowers
in the first place. It had been safe, because no death lingered there. But the visions had still found her. She had been unable to escape them.

What other visions had she seen? All that she remembered of those days of assaulting visions was death. A thousand, maybe millions of lives streaming by her mind in a blur, only capturing the final breath. And then nothing. Nothing at all.

She looked down at Josmere, and as her heartbeat accelerated and sweat beaded on her brow, she was certain she had seen how her friend would die. But she couldn’t recall the details. She could only taste the fear, and thought maybe that meant she would be there to witness it.

If I could see your death, could I even prevent it? Is it already written in the history books of the future, or is the pen still waiting to ink the page?

The shuttle slowed and she looked up to see that they had arrived by the docks of Smuggler’s Cove. Hardly a cove, with neither mountain nor bay gracing the landscape, it was nonetheless filled with smugglers. Ship after ship, unmarked and suspicious-looking, were lined perfectly against a metal structure. The ships were never too close to one another, as though a silent vow had been taken:
Keep away from mine, and I’ll keep away from yours.

Ardin expertly navigated the busy streets, people and shuttles crowding the entrance to the market, appropriately named the Black Market.

“They really don’t care that people know, do they?” Layela asked, shaking her head.

Avienne gave a short laugh. “Imagine the government trying to shut this place down. Gomar himself wouldn’t want to go against this army of smugglers. Besides, the government accounts for about half the sales here!”

Layela glanced outside. People were laughing and joking, not the dark brooding souls some might imagine this so-called cove would hide. Smuggling had never appealed to her, and even thievery had been Yoma and Josmere’s specialty. She wondered what the job entailed exactly, and whether she would be any good at it. She had to begin rebuilding somehow. She had to get away from the uncertainty that now clouded her mind. Her visions were useless, anyhow. What difference could she possibly make when she couldn’t even recall them, save for seconds before the final breath or with a Berganda’s careful touch?

She needed the few answers the Malavants might be able to give her.

“Why were you looking for me?” Layela asked, breaking the silence.

Ardin shrugged. “We were hired to protect you.”

“That’s it?” Layela asked suspiciously, Josmere raising her head in interest.

“There she is. The
Destiny
,” Ardin replied, sidestepping the question and pointing to a ship.

Although Layela did not know much about ships, she knew that what she was looking at was old, beautiful, and very different from any other ship she’d ever seen before. Rejecting the modern shipbuilders’ sleek and dull visions, the ship’s sculpted design suggested the ancient grace of sea ships, from keel to mast, all depicted or hinted at on her massive metal shell. Her obsidian hull gleamed in the sunlight, the carvings giving the impression that the sails might start flapping in the wind at any moment. Even the poor red sun of Collar could not undermine her beauty, the shadows only accentuating and defining each port and plank.

She was sturdy, solid and battle-scarred. All of her markings had been removed long ago, leading Layela to believe that she was a stolen ship. Layela was, after all, dealing with smugglers, dealers in illegal goods, or perhaps even pirates, a most dangerous lot who pillaged and plundered without rhyme or reason.

The ship stood silently in the dock with a stoic grace not shared by her neighbours, and Layela almost expected to see an anchor falling from her hull. But, although illusions of complex shapes had been worked into the metal, giving it a unique beauty, the
Destiny
was still only a metal ship that travelled the vast coldness of space.

One that had seen more than its share of battles.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Ardin whispered from up front, smiling.

“She is,” Layela whispered, unable to say differently.

“It’s home,” Avienne said, with both affection and sadness in her voice.

“But could you imagine a more beautiful home?” Ardin said, as if to himself.

“I can,” Layela whispered, the explosion of
Sunrise Flowers
still ringing in her mind.

“Urgh. I can’t believe I’m back here,” Lang moaned. “Can’t you drop me off now?”

Ardin accelerated and veered, much to the delight of his sister, who cheered. The shuttle swerved by the
Destiny
, all light blocked by the tall ship, only its metal hull visible by Avienne’s side.

Another moan escaped Lang as Ardin jerked on the controls and turned hard towards the ship, Layela gasped as the metal hull opening just in time to grant them access and reveal a poorly lit docking bay.

“Hope you don’t chill easily,” Avienne said as she opened the hatch, a cold breeze immediately infiltrating every corner of the shuttle. Lang exited next, Ardin helping Josmere and Layela exit the cramped quarters.

Avienne yawned expansively and stretched, smiling as a male voice boomed over the speakers.

“Welcome home, sailors.”

“Let’s go,” Ardin said, walking toward the bay doors. Lang muttered, but followed nonetheless.

“You two head to the bridge, and I’ll take our guests to their quarters.” Avienne called back and Ardin’s walk stiffened.

Josmere and Layela exchanged a glance, both having noticed the change in Ardin’s pace. Avienne did not miss their exchange.

“Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you,” she sighed. “I am going to lock you up, but that’s simply because we know nothing about you and this ship has its own secrets. But don’t worry,” she added with a grin, “I’ll make sure you have plenty of blankets.”

“You expect us to trust you?” Layela asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No. I expect you to be smart enough to know when to quietly follow and wait. You needed to get off the planet and, well, we’re getting off the planet. Now come on. I have to get to the bridge too, in case they need me.” Her hand dropped to her gun as she motioned for them to start walking.

“Let me guess,” Josmere said dryly. “Tactical control?”

Avienne grinned but didn’t answer as they passed through a metal door, the light of the docking bay shutting off as they exited. The corridor that now stretched before them was even more poorly lit. She passed in front of them, her hand no longer on the gun. Instead she flipped a knife, throwing and catching the blade in lazy sweeps with barely a glance.

“Hope you don’t mind climbing,” she said. The knife vanished and she opened a latch to reveal a ladder. She indicated to Josmere to climb first, and took the rungs next, leaving Layela little choice but to follow. The ladder reached up into the darkness of the hull, its length not fully illuminated, the metal rungs so cold they stung Layela’s bare flesh. Her arms and ribs protested each movement, the cuffs still hanging from her left wrist clanging on the metal as she climbed.

Thankfully, they only had to climb one level.

“Don’t you people have elevators?” Josmere asked as she helped Layela out of the shaft, Avienne flipped her knife once again, boredom etched on her ivory features. No wonder the Malavants were both in good shape, if they did this regularly!

“We do,” Avienne said as she nodded with her head towards another poorly lit corridor. “But that requires more power, so unless we have cargo, which we don’t at the moment, we climb.”

“Are you sure you don’t have cargo now?” Layela asked, gritting her teeth as she fought to hide the waves of pain from her ribs now washing over her, reducing the length of her breaths. The smuggler looked surprised for a moment before laughing heartily.

“I guess we do! Fine, next time we’ll take the elevator.” She punched a number into a nearby keypad, shielding the code with her body. Her gun was now in her hand.

“In the meantime, if you ladies will make yourselves comfortable, we’ll see to your needs in a few hours.” She motioned grandly towards the simple room with two beds, plenty of blankets as promised, and stark lighting.

“I’m asking nicely now,” Avienne said as her grin widened. Not a good thing with this woman, Layela had already decided.

“Aren’t you just the grateful one,” Josmere hissed as she walked past her into the room. Layela followed.

“I consider us even, actually.” The woman softened for an instant. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Someone cared enough to send help your way.”

With those words, the door closed and Layela took a deep, cold breath. She watched it steam out of her mouth, and wondered how safe they would be in the hands of these unsuccessful smugglers.

i

“I’m disappointed she escaped,” Dunkat said softly. The words had the desired impact on the Kilita, who reeled as though physically struck. The Berganda, a mercenary Dunkat fully realized he had precious little control over, shrugged where she sat, as relaxed as Aquilone was stiff.

“Your troops got in the way, Colonel,” the Berganda
 
—
 
Seela
 
—
 
said mildly. Dunkat was not fooled for one second by her silken tones and young looks. She was ruthless, he knew, which was only part of the reason he had sought her expertise. The fact that she was a Berganda willing to be contracted out was where her true advantage lay.
A bloom above the rest
.

“Those troops were adequately punished for their...zeal. Still, I expect two individuals with your vast talents could overcome such a small obstacle as a platoon.”

Aquilone seemed both elated and crushed. He cleared his throat.

“Permission to speak, sir,” Aquilone asked, still standing at perfect attention despite the obvious backhanded compliment he had received. Dunkat really liked the man’s discipline and pondered promoting him to second-in-command once this mission was accomplished. What a stir that would cause.

Noro would surely object.

“Permission granted,” Dunkat said with no decorum, which he knew the Kilita would respect.

“I touched the girl with my bare hands in the flower shop, sir. Directly on her skin.” The Berganda looked up, interested. “She passed out the first time, possibly due to...
 
fatigue. But the second time, there seemed to be little reaction. She actually managed to fight me off.” He pondered a moment further, seeking the right words.
“If she is what you suspect her to be, my skills would have incapacitated her.”

Dunkat felt his anger rising, all thoughts of promoting the man gone. He kept his exterior in check, but knew his dark eyes blazed as he looked deep into the Kilita’s.

It was her.
Layela Delamores.
He was as certain of who she was as he was of what needed to be done. The Kilita race’s ethereal connection had simply weakened over the past twenty years, to the point of becoming useless. He wondered if the Berganda’s powers were still somewhat intact, or if she would prove useless as well.

He turned from the Kilita and looked at the Berganda.

“She travels with another Berganda. Do you know her?” Dunkat asked. Seela looked up with no interest in her eyes.

“Do you think I care?”

He fought back his impatience, remembering a time when these races were strong, revered and respected. Now, they were simply a nuisance, as lost and clueless as all the others.

“Can you track her?”

Seela nodded. “Easily.” As though an afterthought, she added, “It’s not like there are many of us left to track.”