Coil of Worlds

Eiren’s voice rang through their bond. My Lord, we are coming. We’re not far from Areth’s main gate. You must tell me later how you reached Areth before us, especially since you were training at the Tal’Ai school. Are you safe at the moment?

They were close enough to speak to one another, which meant Eiren really was in the vicinity. Skye almost smiled in relief. Hearing her voice alleviated some of the stark loneliness that greeted him outside Areth’s fortified wall. While on the other planet, he’d missed her, but it was nothing like the yawning chasm in his soul a heartbeat ago.

During a brief lull in the conversation with Hente, he surmised with a chuckle, Lara must have contacted Chion when she screamed. He hesitated before answering her question, For the moment, yes, we are free from danger. But Lara isn’t in full control of her magic. I’ll keep her safe until you acquire our release.

For once, Skye sent a quick prayer to the Goddess. Lara could not lose control of her magic. Not here. The men sharing their cell hated magic, believing their faith condemned its use. Their abhorrence was a direct result of their loyalty to King Ragnar, the Purist King. Once, Skye had adhered to their religion with wholehearted fervor, but after the spectacular things he’d seen on the other planet, he knew magic was real and it wasn’t evil. Because of the Pyrannis’ captivity, he knew they would not, could not change their views. If anything, their beliefs had intensified to the point no Kurite was safe in their presence.

The Pyrannis’ prolonged imprisonment in the tunnels had changed them into less civilized men. He read the lunacy in no fewer than seven warriors’ faces, and every one of them was focused on the woman held secure within his arms. It was more than a need to abate their unmet desires. Lara was not Pyranni, so she was seen as ‘other,’ something to use and later discard without forethought or remorse. It was simply a matter of time before a few of the men lost their restraint. Skye only hoped the pakas could petition for their release before the attack came.

He also hoped they were rescued before he had to compose a reason for his presence in Areth without any other Pyranni warriors. Skye was terrible at spinning tales. The battlemates he’d trained with—particularly Dane, Thanel, and Timosy—always saw through his falsehoods. Time and again they’d advised him to stick to the truth. Before now, he believed the truth always served a much better purpose.

But speaking the truth was unconscionable in this situation. If the men learned of his outcast status, his life was forfeit. The only reason they hadn’t caught the holes in his story was because the men were shadows of their former selves.

Skye doubted the two Kurite guards observing the prisoners would protect Lara or him. Truthfully, as Tal’Ai, they could cross through the invisible barrier without aid. If Lara’s life was endangered, she could run for the barrier. Defending herself against two guards was far easier than a roomful of Pyranni warriors.

Interacting with his people didn’t produce the emotions he’d anticipated. Perhaps his reaction would be different if it was his three battlemates. The lack of longing baffled him. Already, in such a short time, the ache of loss was a barely discernible pull. They were his adversaries. Eiren was his new family, and Lara was an ally and a friend. The feelings of confusion and displacement he felt while on Lara’s planet were gone.

With these people, he understood his foes and their customs, for they represented the old him. After his experiences on Earth, he understood why Lara acted in the manner she did. It was her culture, and she had willingly shared her knowledge with him. It was his turn to keep them safe.

Drawing their attention away from her, Skye asked, “My brother of blood, Mikal Silverhand, fought in the battle at Areth’s gate. Does anyone know of his fate?”

Someone called out from the back of the chamber. Heads turned and people moved back, clearing a path for Skye to see the speaker. Skye looked at the man leaning against the craggy wall. Because the shadows were in constant motion, it took a while for Skye to realize the man couldn’t stand without assistance. His left knee was misshapen, almost as if the kneecap had been busted by a war hammer during the battle, smashing the limb into a straight stick. He’d seen the injury before on older warriors. They were never able to bend the leg again, though they walked with crutches.

Skye bowed to the man in respect, acknowledging the bravery this man displayed by surviving when so many did not. The man’s face was lined from pain, and Skye doubted they would ever disappear.

The man’s voice boomed in the small enclosure in a singsong pattern. “I am named Frey. When we were first captured, light wasn’t supplied by the Kurites. Without light, our men grew nervous, jumping at both real and imagined noises. After only a short time in captivity, warriors began attacking each other over slights that wouldn’t have stood in the God’s sunlight. We killed each other, turning against one another without thought of the Kurites watching. A few of us endeavored to stop the deaths, but we all felt the night’s evil effects. Nightsickness spread until it touched us all. It wasn’t until half our numbers were dead that the heathens gave us a means of light. If we all died, they couldn’t trade us for their own kind.” The man stared down at his crushed leg.

“You’re saying he was killed by one of our own men?”

The warrior’s eyes lifted to pierce him. “No, young Silverhand.” He shook his head in negation. “I’m telling you he was the man who killed our own.”

Skye’s face froze into an emotionless mask. He refused to show the pain those words caused him. Skye squeezed Lara’s shoulder in anguish. His own brother had turned against his battlemates. He readily acknowledged the sickness was real, having seen its effects on returned warriors. Mikal’s loss of honor would have stricken his brother with despair.

Skye halted Lara’s hand from moving by digging his fingers into her shoulder tendons. He could ill afford her kindness. It was a weakness that if seen by the warriors, they’d find him wanting. Their situation was already too precarious. Skye gentled his touch in an attempt to atone for the rough treatment he dealt her.

When he didn’t respond in any way to the man’s description, the warriors in the room edged back. He understood. He was the blood brother of Mikal. Having lived through the first experience, they would dread another. The only one courageous enough to break the silence was the immobile warrior.

Frey divulged, “I do not believe he would have attacked us so soon after the battle if not for his grievous wounds. With light, some of us were able to see the damage he sustained during the battle. His head injury never healed following our defeat.”

His tone displaying none of his emotions, Skye asked, “How did he die?”

The warrior frowned, and the chamber stilled. Hente advised, “Brother of Mikal, do not ask us to describe his death. It is enough to know he regained his honor at the end.”

Skye studied every man’s face in the room. Many turned away, hiding their expressions from his searching gaze. When Lara shifted her weight, he was reminded of her presence. He was not alone.

What has happened? I feel your pain and sadness.

Had he reached for Eiren in his grief? He didn’t think so, yet she had felt his emotional upheaval all the same. I have only now learned of my brother’s death.

He couldn’t share the rest. It was too much. As a child, Skye had revered his brother’s prowess in battle, often dreaming of fighting alongside Mikal.

With a shadow making a silhouette of his face, Hente amended, “A death of a family member is difficult to hear.” He waved to an empty space in the middle of the room where a small fire burned. “Come, sit. Following a short rest, I ask that you share news of Pyran with us.”

He would have preferred to seat Lara closer to the invisible barrier, using it to protect their vulnerable backs, but he couldn’t think of a viable excuse. Carrying the charade forward, Skye told Lara to sit, pointing to a spot that was a little distance away from the other warriors. The movement made his shoulder throb. He joined her on the hard ground, stretching his legs out in front of him.

Skye glanced down at his shoulder as he rotated his arm in a circle. He still had full range of motion, and that was all that mattered. No one spoke for a long while. With activity at a minimum, he realized how tired and sore he was, but he dared not succumb. Lara laid her head on his shoulder, her exhaustion obvious in the deep lines of strain around her mouth.

Making sure none of the people around him heard his words, he whispered, “Sleep.” With a slight nod of her head, Skye felt her surrender, her body becoming heavy against his.

Breaking into his thoughts, Eiren replied, We’ve entered the city. We asked to speak with some of the councilors. It may take time as it is late in the day. She paused. As for your brother, My Lord, I grieve for you.

Thank you for your words. I cannot reconcile my brother’s actions to the man I once knew as a boy, but it is good to hear you are in Areth. We are safe at the moment. It is quiet.

He observed the men around him. They didn’t speak amongst themselves. It was eerie how they stared into the sputtering fires, like they were soaking in the sunlight from the pitiful flames. Stashes of moss were within easy reach. Periodically, a man at each of the three fires tossed some into the pit, sending a smoky spark toward the ceiling. Skye glanced up, only then noticing the room wasn’t filled with smoke. After a little searching, he located the crack above his head.

The quiet sank into his bones, making him drowsy. A few times he jerked awake when he felt himself falling, unsettling Lara and making her chuff in her sleep. Despite his need to stay awake, Skye slipped into a fitful doze.

It was Lara’s stillness that woke him. He was fully alert when his lids popped open. Skye lunged for his weapons before he remembered the guards had filched them. The sight was one he predicted. Two men stood above Lara with the intention of attacking her while he slept. One man was already reaching down to grab ahold of her leg. Skye didn’t move. He knew what was coming and planned to use it to gain the upper hand.

The instant the man touched Lara, the woman erupted into a fighting frenzy. Her powerful scream shook the walls, startling every man in the room. From her loss of composure, her magical shield had disappeared while she slept. The Pyrannis were fools. The emotions encompassing the room made her a danger to everyone in this room—including him.

Due to the sheer potency behind her kick, Lara knocked out the second man who still leaned over her in shock. Skye watched with impassivity as the man fell to the floor beside him, then he reached out and snapped the man’s neck. Skye bolted up from the ground, leveling a stare at anyone who looked his way. A snarl erupted from Lara’s throat. Without looking, Skye knew the moment the other man dropped in a boneless heap. Unease swept through the cell.

Hente’s accusing voice filled the room, “The woman is inhuman, a savage. She’s an accursed heathen.”

As if the other warriors awaited only for the right provocation, they stood en masse from where they crouched. Their bodies shrouded the light, leaving deep shadows in its place. Skye couldn’t see, but neither could they.

With no desire to fight his own people, Skye warned them, “Do not. We will kill anyone who comes near.”

Several men spat on the ground. Hente answered for them all, “If you fight with her, then you are a traitor to Pyran.”

The statement was almost identical to the words thrown at Skye when he was branded outcast, and he relived the rage he’d borne then. Beyond bitter, Skye retorted, “Pyran betrayed me long before today. My loyalty now lies with this woman, not you.”

Never taking his eyes off the men, he yelled both out loud and through his link, Eiren, I need you now.

Panting with the volatile emotions running rampant in the room, Lara stepped up, positioning herself beside him. He was surprised when she spoke through the emotional pounding she was receiving with scathing disdain, “You are the ones without honor. Attacking a woman while she’s asleep is beyond low, even for prisoners of war.”

The power of her derision flailed when the sound of hysteria passed her lips soon after her statement.

“Lara,” he cautioned, praying she wouldn’t abandon what little sanity she had before she lost consciousness. Skye was relieved when the woman choked off the sound.

His inattention was a mistake. Skye felt a push of air right before a man slammed into him from the side. He was barely able to stay upright from the tackle’s momentum. With a grunt, Skye slipped his arms around the man’s shoulders until he found rib bones. He rammed his left elbow into the man’s back until he heard a loud crack. He jerked his knee up into the man’s unprotected stomach. The man groaned and twisted away. Months of stationary living had deteriorated the Pyrannis’ physical muscle mass, giving Skye the advantage he needed.

Lara hissed long and loud. Turning, he realized that while his opponent diverted his attention, two more men had attacked. In the dark he couldn’t make out the scene. What he did know was that she fought like a wild woman, viciously attacking any unfortunate limb that crept close enough for her to grab onto. Her unpredictability made the men hesitate.

Lara didn’t need his protection. Skye no longer viewed Lara’s magical ability as a weakness. The others’ strong emotions gave her strength against those who sought to harm her; that was, if she could wield the magic from the Tal’Ai bond correctly. Skye focused on the crowd before him, calming himself, steadying and flexing his muscles. He swore to himself he’d protect Lara from the others.

On impulse he closed his eyes. Almost as if it waited for that exact action, his senses expanded outward and shimmered. With the new sight, he knew the location of every man in the room and their fighting stance. Two men hurtled toward him. He made a fist with both hands, waiting for the first one to reach him. He stepped to the side—letting the Pyranni rush by—and swung his makeshift club into the man’s throat.

It was a direct hit.

The man choked as he failed to squeeze air through his collapsed throat. Even with his back turned, Skye pinpointed the exact movements of the second man. His foot shot out, using the hiking boots’ heavy soles as a weapon, kicking the man’s jaw, snapping the neck. With a loud crunch, the man fell backward.

Although he couldn’t make out the expressions of the warriors around him, he saw their reluctance to attack in the sudden shifting of feet. With his eyes still closed, Skye located Lara. Two more bodies were piled around her. Held prisoner by the emotions flowing through the chamber, she kicked the head of one of her attackers with a piercing scream.

When she swung her foot back again, Skye told her, “Leave him, he’s dead.”

She shook herself like a wild animal and left the body to rejoin him. In the brief respite, he realized he could see the Kurite guards observing the fight and hear their rapid breaths. Safe on the other side of the opening, they were excited by what they saw. He tested his newfound magical power on the warriors in the chamber. Frey sat along the wall in the back of the room behind the five or six warriors blocking his path. Hente scuttled toward the back, placing the lower-ranking warriors in front of him.

He did not need Lara’s warning to know three more men dug the balls of their feet into the hard ground before jumping forward in a combined show of strength. Pumped full of aggression, Lara ran to meet the one on the right and dodged the man’s punch by sliding to the ground. She kicked out and made contact with the man’s groin. The Pyranni squealed on impact, falling to his knees and curling into a ball. Using the man’s long hair, Lara grabbed his head and kneed him in the face, crunching his nose in a spray of blood.

A constant flow of information trickled into his brain while he fought off the other two combatants. One of the men slipped through his defenses, planting a solid punch to his right cheekbone. Though he saw stars with his regular sight, his other sight was left unaffected. Skye blocked the next punch and broke the Pyranni’s arm right below the elbow. The man cried out, but he didn’t retreat.

Skye was blocking a low kick with his knee when a roar detonated in the chamber, suspending everything that breathed with the eruption. His ears rang with the sound. In its aftermath, a streak of white and black hurtled into the middle of the room.