Chapter 12 #2
“My guess would be this Malasses wanted to keep the price low, so he withheld information. He wouldn’t want to share their powers or drive up the price for the abductions.” Ellard hated seeing the couple like this. In the short time they’d known them, he’d become fond of them.
“We’re okay,” Leeam said and bounded to his feet. “Thank you for feeding us. I was starving.”
The tension bled from Ellard when Sheera also stood, looking healthier and more robust.
“Careful,” Ellard warned. “Stay down. They might have visual security.”
Leeam gave a swift nod and subsided in a boneless heap to the floor.
“Have you heard of this Malasses?” Gweneth asked.
“Yes.” Leeam sounded grim and much older.
“Some of our people used to have a symbiotic relationship with the people of Kiraxes. They withheld food and forced them to do unspeakable things to gain material advantages. Those who could escape did so before the Kiraxes forced these collars on the remaining Incorporeal citizens. We heard they starved to death, rather than agree to follow orders.”
Gweneth frowned. “It sounds as if Malasses wishes to get his hands on that power again.”
“Yes,” Sheera said, and fear shook her slender body.
“The collars keep you bound?” Ellard bent forward to study the lock on the cell door. Maybe he could get it open. Although the ship had some mod-alterations, this part seemed older.
“As long as we wear them, we can’t escape,” Leeam said.
“I’ve tried to remove mine, and each time, it burns my palms and around my neck.
” His slender fingers lifted the collar, and Gweneth gasped at the vivid blue of his flesh.
When he released the collar, his fingers glowed a faint blue, and he flexed them, his expression set in pain.
“How would Malasses know to set a trap in that area?” Ellard asked, trying to understand. “How could he know you and Sheera would be there?”
“Courting couples often go there to choose a precious stone for the dragons to mold into a promise ring. We go there to collect stones for the dragons and to relax. If he’d been watching, he’d know this. It’s common knowledge in our town. Someone must have talked.”
“An argument against letting outsiders onto the planet,” Gweneth commented.
“But they can’t stay isolated either,” Ellard said.
“Some of us need to find new homes,” Leeam said.
“And the dragons need to expand, too,” Gweneth added. “If they’ve contacted Lynx and Shiloh, they’ll know where we are.” Her gaze zeroed in on the lock of their cell. “We need to be ready. I think I can pick that.” She slid her knife from her boot heel and worked the lock.
“That’s my girl,” Ellard said, full of pride.
Secs later, the lock clicked, and she opened the door. She darted out and performed the same magic on the other cell.
“I’m going to try to get the collars off. Leeam first.”
“Sheera first,” Leeam ordered. “Please.”
Gweneth gave a swift nod. She reached out to grasp the collar, and a faint buzz sounded. Her entire body juddered, a shower of blue sparks shooting from the metallic-looking band. Sheera moaned, her jaw clenching.
“Let go,” Ellard ordered.
“C-can’t.”
Ellard hurried closer and peeled Gweneth’s fingers free, one digit at a time. His heart beat faster than normal, and his feline clamored for release. The collar kept sparking, each blue spark that struck him shooting a shock down his forearm.
Gweneth went limp, her eyelids fluttering. Finally, finally, Ellard dragged her free and both women slumped.
“That’s not going to work.” Leeam stated the obvious as he crouched beside a limp Sheera. The white skin around her neck glowed a glacier blue to match her pupils.
“No. I’m going to leave the pair of you in your cell with the door unlocked. If you remain inside, the reivers might not notice. They don’t seem particularly bright. Pretend to be unconscious if you hear them coming to check on you.”
“What are you going to do?”
Ellard glanced down at the unconscious Gweneth. “I’ll rouse Gweneth and hide. Then, we’re going to capture the reivers one by one and take them out of commission. We’ll find a way of removing your collars once we have control of their ship.”
“I like confidence,” Leeam whispered, his hands stroking Sheera’s hair.
“No other way. Besides, Lynx and the others will come for us. The reivers won’t make it back to their base before we’re rescued.”
“Thanks.” Sheera’s pained reply deepened Ellard’s resolve. Despite his confidence, he didn’t know if Lynx would arrive before the reivers met their contact. For all he knew, this Malasses might come to meet the Scothage reivers.
“I’m sorry you were injured,” Ellard said as he awkwardly levered Gweneth up and placed her over his shoulder—the easiest way to transport her with his handicap.
“We had to try. Sheera and I have never experienced the collars. Our grandsire mentioned them in tales. We might not have our full powers but Ransom encouraged Niran to teach us to fight. I might manage to get some kicks in before they send a zap through the collar.”
Ellard patted Leeam’s shoulder. “Last resort. Play dead first. Save the surprise attack for right at the end. Shut the cell door after me.”
Leeam nodded. “Some of our people are against Ransom teaching us to fight. They’re wrong. We can’t rely on our ability to shimmer in and out.”
“When we get out of this situation, I’ll teach you some tricks,” Ellard promised.
“Me too?” Sheera croaked.
“Both of you.” With one final curt nod, Ellard cautiously moved in the direction the guards had disappeared.
He peeked around the corner, saw that no reivers lurked in the corridor, and hurried to the end.
Here, the corridor split, and he heard several voices coming from the room halfway along.
The scent of food wafted on the air. A galley or mess of some sort.
Ellard took the quieter direction and loped away from the noise.
He paused at each door, frustration stirring in his gut when he couldn’t balance Gweneth over his shoulder and open the doors to the rooms he passed.
All he could do was pause and listen, casting out his feline senses to ascertain if a reiver occupied the room on the other side of the door.
“Grata.” Not much sound transmitted through the doors, despite the age of the Scothage ship.
Deciding not to risk entrance, he padded to the end of this corridor and halted.
Without warning, hard fingers pinched his butt.
He jumped and spat out a curse, whirling so fast that Gweneth’s skull connected with the wall.
“Ouch! You can put me down. I’m awake,” she said in a hoarse voice.
“You couldn’t have just told me,” he muttered, helping her slide down his front. He held her steady and watched her rub her left temple. “You okay?”
She studied her fingers and offered a wan smile. “No blood. That’s a good start.”
“Can you stand on your own?”
In reply, she toddled a few steps and almost fell. “Might need a bit of help.”
“That, I can do. It will be easier if you can balance. If I carry you, I don’t have enough hands to open the different rooms. I can’t hear through the doors,” Ellard said in a low voice.
“Have you seen any of the reivers?”
“Heard some the other way. I think it was a mess room or a galley of some sort since I could smell food.”
“I could do with some food,” Gweneth said, her voice hopeful. “The stuff in the tubes looked nasty.”
“We’ll check this way first. See if we can find any reivers on their own to increase the odds in our favor.”
Gweneth nodded then winced. “Next time, I won’t pinch you. Not straightaway.”
“Good to know you learn from your mistakes.”
A snort emerged as he slipped his arm around her waist.
A voice sounded from in front of them. “Cal, that you?”
Ellard glanced at Gweneth and found her more alert. He signaled with his hand, indicating she should go low and prayed she understood. She jerked her chin, her muscles tensing as the clomp of boots came closer.
“Cal, that you, aye?”
Ellard waited and cursed under his breath when the footsteps halted. They needed to move. Now.
As one, he and Gweneth flew around the corner, driving into reiver’s chest. Both of them. The reiver toppled back with a shout of surprise, and Gweneth slapped a hand over his mouth.
“I told you to go low,” Ellard muttered.
“No, you didn’t.”
“I signaled with my fingers.”
“Oh, I thought you had a cramp and were stretching them.”
“But—” Ellard snapped his mouth shut. She didn’t train with his soldiers.
They hadn’t known each other for long, so he couldn’t expect her to read his mind.
“Next time I make this signal.” He demonstrated with his fingers pointed at the floor.
“It means go low. If I make this signal,” he pointed at the ceiling, “it means go high.”
“Very well.” Gweneth tilted her chin, more alert than earlier.
The Scothage male moaned, and Gweneth punched him hard in the face. His moan cut off, and his head lolled to the side. Still breathing but unconscious.
Ellard sent her a look of respect.
“What will we do with him?”
“Drag him into one of these rooms,” Ellard said. “Tie him up and move on.”
“Let’s do this.” She opened the door to the closest room, scanned it, and backed out. “This one will work.”
Together, they dragged him inside, Gweneth found an abandoned plaid tunic on the floor and hacked it into strips. Five mins later, they’d trussed the male like a fat pig-bird, ready to roast.
Gweneth cautiously opened the door and peered into the corridor. “It’s safe. Let’s go.”