Heir of Shandara (Book 4) (7 page)

Aaron grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back. “No you won’t.”

Bayen glared at him and then glanced down at Verona. “You can’t save him,” Bayen said, and backed away, muttering under his breath.

Aaron came to Verona’s side. There was a shallow gash on his outer thigh. Tanneth handed him some water, which he used to clean the wound.
It’s a shallow wound. He can’t be infected, can he?
Aaron called for strips of cloth and tied it above the wound.

“This may slow the virus,” Aaron said, and stared at Verona, looking for some sign.

Verona met his gaze. “I don’t feel anything, but Aaron, if I start to turn into… one of
those
things… you need to do it.”

Cries of the wounded men drew their attention. They’d collapsed to the ground. Their pleas to save them became harsh growls as the minutes dripped by and their skin became pasty gray. The FNA soldiers around them looked on helplessly and glanced back at Aaron. Aaron reached out with his senses, seeking the lifebeat of the fallen soldiers, but there was nothing but darkness. In minutes, they went from normal human beings to lifeless shells, their bodies still convulsing while their limbs extended, changing into something inhuman.
 

Bayen watched him expectantly. Aaron nodded to the soldiers that held the plasma rifles ready. The soldiers made quick work of it and burned the remains.

“They’re the Forsaken,” Bayen said. “If you take any wounds from their claws or teeth, then you’re as good as dead.”

Aaron’s hands balled into fists. “Do you know the location of Halcylon and the Zekara?”

“Killing him won’t stop this,” Bayen said.

“It’s a start,” Aaron said.

Tanneth called him back to Verona, who was sitting up.
 

“His wound is changing,” Tanneth said.

The skin around the wound was turning black but hadn’t spread.

“I’m afraid I have something to tell you, my friend,” Verona began. “Roselyn has put the Nanites into me. She has been adapting them for us. I think they are fighting the infection.”

The Nanites. One of the Hythariam’s greatest scientific achievements that allowed them to extend their lifetime, cure diseases, and augment themselves in a number of ways. By the same token, the inception of the Nanites had led to vicious civil wars that, in turn, had led to the collapse of their world. In the hands of a monster like Halcylon, Aaron had experienced firsthand what the Nanites were capable of. The Eldarin had healed him, and he wondered if he could do the same for Verona.

Aaron drew in the energy and saw Verona’s lifebeat pulsing in rhythm with his beating heart. The lifebeat encompassed his whole body, springing from Verona’s head. At the location of the wound there was a small mass of swirling darkness. Aaron reached toward the wound with a tendril of energy, urging the body to repair itself.

Nothing happened.
 

The wound itself was a shallow gash and nothing else, but the flesh just beneath wouldn’t react to anything that Aaron could do. He could try using the Falcons and keying the bladesong. Aaron shook his head; it wasn’t the amount of energy that was failing but his lack of knowledge.
 

Tanneth brought out his scanner and ran it over Verona’s wound. “The Nanites appear to be stopping the spread of the infection, but they can’t rid his body of it.”

“Cut it out of me then,” Verona said.

Aaron glanced at the others. “There is no guarantee that it will work.”

“There’s no guarantee that it won’t work either, my friend,” Verona replied.

Aaron nodded. “We’ll need to seal the wound after,” he said.

An FNA soldier handed him a sharp knife. Aaron washed it as best he could. Tanneth withdrew a small tube from his pack and adjusted the dial on top. He motioned for the knife, and a beam of light came from the tube. Tanneth moved the light up and down both sides of the blade.

“It’s clean now,” Tanneth said, handing the knife back to Aaron.

“Hold him down. This is going to hurt.”
 

FNA soldiers surrounded them, taking positions so that they could keep Verona from moving. One handed Verona a piece of leather that he could bite down on. The wound was on the outer thigh. Aaron brought the knife just outside the blackened area of skin and looked up at his friend. Verona nodded for him to begin.

Aaron swallowed some of his angst away and steeled himself to the task. He drew in the energy, enhancing his strength so he could make a clean cut. With one final nod to Verona, Aaron cut deeply into his flesh. Verona screamed, his body went rigid, and the FNA soldiers clamped down to hold him in place. The darkened flesh fell to the ground, and blood rushed the area. Tanneth used the laser to cauterize the wound. Verona’s muffled groans gave way to silence. They burned the remains.
 

Tanneth scanned the wound. “I don’t detect any traces of the infection.”

Aaron released the breath he was holding and gave Verona a pat on his shoulder. “You said before that the Nanites send a signal so they can report in. How come you weren’t able to detect them before?”

“Roselyn must have changed the protocol to hide the test. Which means she did this without the approval of the council,” Tanneth said. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. It was always the intent to share all of our technology with the people of Safanar.”

“I don’t know if they’re ready for this, and honestly the decision is beyond just the council,” Aaron said.

Tanneth nodded. “We’ll need to keep an eye on Verona. The Nanites only slowed it down, and he was lucky the wound was so small.”

“We need answers, and we’re not going to find them by staying here,” Aaron said, and glanced at Bayen, who stood off to the side. He was hunched over with his back to him. “I think I’ll start with him. Let’s break camp.”

Aaron headed toward the mysterious member of the Safanarion Order. He approached silently.

“…The probability is still estimated at 55 percent. Thirteen days, twelve hours, and thirty-seven minutes until matrix moves out of alignment,” a low voice said.
 

Aaron cleared his throat, and Bayen cursed and spun around.

“I think it’s time you and I had a talk,” Aaron said.

“You got lucky. I’m not sure he’s out of the woods just yet,” Bayen said, nodding toward where Verona lay.

Aaron studied the young man. The way Bayen glared at him as if Aaron had wronged him somehow. “If there is a chance that we can save him or anyone else exposed to one of those things, then we should take it,” Aaron said.

“You haven’t seen what I’ve seen.”

“You can’t expect anyone to fight at your side if they believe that you’ll just strike them down the moment they get wounded by one of those things,” Aaron said.

“They’re called the Forsaken because once you’re infected, there is no cure. Striking down a Forsaken is a mercy both to the infected and the rest of us,” Bayen said.

“How can you be so sure? Tell us what you know, and maybe we can find a way to beat this.”
 

Bayen didn’t say anything but kept watching Verona.
What happened to him?
Aaron wondered.

“When you fought before, you protected the men around you, so I think we’re on the same side, but if you don’t work with me, then I’m not sure there is much point in you staying with us,” Aaron said.

Bayen tore his eyes away from Verona. “I don’t know where Halcylon is, but I can tell you where he is going to be.”

“How do you know where he’s going to be?” Aaron asked.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Halcylon is heading through the Waylands.”

Aaron frowned. “You said you’re the best hope for saving Safanar. What does that even mean?”

“You’ve seen the Forsaken. Now imagine this happening in a city or multiple cities,” Bayen said.

That haunted look in Bayen’s eyes gave Aaron pause. Verona rose to his feet and waved over at them.

“You were lucky this time,” Bayen said. “Next time, you may not have a choice.”

Tanneth ran over. “We’ve just got a report from Hathenwood. There is a large force heading toward Rexel.”

“From where?” Aaron asked.

“They are coming in from the north. This is no remnant fighting force of the former High King’s army. Gavril just sent this over,” Tanneth said.

The comms device on his wrist lit up, and a small holo display appeared. The picture was from one of the many reconnaissance drones they had flying overhead. The picture showed the tracks of vehicles traveling over land, and the only place they could be heading was Rexel. Bayen was right. Halcylon was heading to the Waylands.

“We need to warn them,” Aaron said. “I know we’re supposed to stay in quarantine, but if the rest of us haven’t been infected yet, then it’s a risk we’re going to have to take. We leave now.”
 

C
HAPTER
7

OLD FOES

Night would soon fall on Shandara, and Sarah glanced at the city skyline. The gleaming spires of White Rose Palace stood proudly in the distance. Neither she nor Aaron had so much as set foot inside the home of his ancestors. There hadn’t been time. She suspected the palace and what it represented made Aaron a bit uncomfortable. The man wouldn’t think twice at leaping through a sky filled with Ryakuls, but put one of the grandest palaces of all Safanar and the mantle that goes with it in front of him, and he hesitated.
 

Aaron didn’t crave power, which was one of the things that drew her to him. That and his broad shoulders and those dark, piercing eyes. Sarah brought her straying thoughts to a halt and slipped her hand down to caress her stomach. If the Goddess Ferasdiam smiled upon them, then their children would grow up here. She pictured it in her mind. A time of peace. A time when their world wasn’t in danger from powerful tyrants. Aaron feared becoming like her father, the High King. Both were Ferasdiam marked, making them the most powerful among them. Where her father had been consumed by his gift, using it to gather power and control everything around him, Aaron used his gift to give hope where there was none. He fought against overwhelming odds to a victory that hadn’t cost him his soul.
 

He asserted that he was the possibility of what any of them could achieve. The belief was bound to his very core, but after the battle with the High King, he feared walking in her father’s footsteps. She wasn’t naive enough to believe that it could never happen, but her faith in Aaron was secure. He would give his life so they could all live, and that was what frightened her the most. Their children deserved to have their father in their lives. Sarah would challenge the Goddess herself if it came to it. People who were Ferasdiam marked throughout history had one commonality that was universal to almost all: They died young. Her father had been an exception, and he became a monster.
 

Sarah returned to Roselyn’s lab, but just outside the doors she heard voices from within.

“…It doesn’t work the same as on the Dragons?” Iranus asked.

“No, Father. They’ve made it more aggressive, and they’ve tailored it for humans. It’s also highly unstable.”

“Unstable? What do you mean?”

“The base virus that appears in the Ryakul venom spreads itself through a host at an alarming rate. Since Halcylon had it modified for humans, there is a chance it will spread to other species, including Hythariam,” Roselyn said.

“I see, but viruses usually only cross similar species.”

“That’s not all of it. The Safanarions have a connection to their world and other life forms the likes of which we’ve never seen. This gift manifests itself in small ways in many of them, but for others, like the former Elitesmen and Safanarion Order, their gifts are an order of magnitude above everyone else,” Roselyn said.

“Are you saying that the likeliness of the infection spreading to the other species is dependent upon whom they’ve infected?”

“That’s my theory. Halcylon’s scientist should have known better than to create this,” Roselyn said.

“The general is considered a hero to his followers. He can be quite persuasive. Have you been able to make an antiviral that can also prevent it from spreading?”

“Father, they weren’t able to do that back on Hytharia before the civil wars happened.”