Chain of Shadows (Blood Skies, Book 6) (6 page)

He wasn’t sure which dream frightened him more.

He woke on the Bloodhawk.  They were an hour away from the island and the Maloj.

He’d fallen asleep as the ship made its way towards Ath.  Ankharra had already informed them that the damaged vehicle wouldn’t be able to make the complete journey, and they’d have to rendezvous with Talon Company and switch vessels along the way.  Crylos’ men were still battling renegade forces out of Fane, and with any luck Cross and the others would be able to see Maur, assuming he hadn’t already been taken to Meldoar to be healed. 

The ship rattled through the sky.  The damaged rear cargo doors wouldn’t close, which made it necessary for the ship to move slow at a low altitude to avoid asphyxiating everyone or losing people out the back.  Unfortunately, keeping those doors open made the inside of the Bloodhawk bitingly cold and loud, and Cross felt like he was sitting in the middle of a windstorm.  The freezing wind cut straight through his armor and clothes, and even though he and Danica sat huddled next to one another under a heavy blanket he still felt like they were out in the middle of the Reach. 

The vessel was crowded.  There were survivors from Ankharra’s section out of Talon Company, as well as those few members of the Grey Watch who’d actually made it back alive.  Flint and Shiv were safe and sound and asleep just to Cross’s left; Ronan was getting stitched up by a medic on the other side of the cargo bay.  Ankharra had done what she could to heal him, and said she was surprised he’d fared as well as he had.

So was Cross.  He could barely fathom how much they’d been through, how far they’d come.  They’d been isolated and held captive, had battled undead angels and wandered shadowy wastelands.  He’d somehow lost twenty years of his life after being transported back in time and held prisoner. 

It was all enough to drive a person mad.  Much of what had happened seemed distant, a half-remembered nightmare.  Part of him felt like he’d left the manor just a couple of days ago, and at other times his memories felt like scenes from someone else’s life.  His head was heavy, his body as brittle as slate.  He found himself shaking, and voices sometimes raced though his mind, the call of the blades.  He felt overwhelmed, crushed, with such tension knotted in his back he thought he’d break beneath the pressure.  When he closed his eyes he didn’t want to open them, because them would mean facing things he didn’t want to face.

All in all, I’ve gotten pretty shafted,
he told himself with a grim laugh, but it did little to lift his spirits.

He looked around.  Nothing seemed real – the ship, the fact that Dani was asleep next to him, the horrors they’d just witnessed – and he kept expecting to wake up somewhere else. 

If only it were that easy.  If only I could just wake up and have everything be okay, but that’s not going to happen.  You’re here.  Deal with it.

Cross looked out of the open cargo door and took a deep and shuddering breath.  He pulled the blanket tight around his body. 

Danica stirred and nudged close to him.  He softly touched her hair.  Her metal arm pressed against his body; he couldn’t begin to fathom the pain she’d endured when the Revengers had grafted it to her, or how she’d even managed to live through the experience. 

“
I’m sorry,” he said quietly. 

He thought about Ash and Grissom…and Kane.  He never thought anything would happen to Mike – he seemed invincible in his own way, the third member of their trio, the one they never worried about.  Cross had always assumed he or Danica would go first. 

But we’re all going to go
, he thought bitterly. 
And sooner than later.  None of us deserve this. 
He looked at the sky and tried to imagine a better place.  Memories of the world before The Black were becoming more difficult for him to recall.  It was hard to remember the way things used to be. 

Why are we doing this?
he asked himself.
Why are we risking our lives, out there getting ourselves killed, when we should be enjoying what little time we have left? 

Once, he thought he’d known the answer to that question.  Now he wasn’t so sure.

They landed on the eastern shore of Rimefang Loch just a few minutes later.  Cross had hoped for a chance to talk with Danica in private for more than the few scant minutes they’d had before she’d fallen asleep, but it would have to wait.

They’d kissed.  Part of him was excited about what that meant. 

And the rest of me is scared shitless.

The rocky shore was wreathed in icy mist and vehicular fumes.  A number of Bloodhawks and larger aerial troop transports had been parked on a stony field a few hundred yards from the water and a half-dozen Seahawks floated in the Loch, their rotating guns scanning the sea to make sure no threats approached the encampment.  According to Ankharra this wasn’t the main contingent of Crylos’ Company, but it was where he and most of the forward command were located for the time being.  Fane’s thrust towards Ath had taken everyone by surprise, and the invading forces had penetrated deep into the Southern Claw lowlands.  Kalakkaii had reputedly been wiped out by Kothian undead and Fane had pushed north and west and completely avoided the heavily fortified city-state of Seraph, which had allowed the rebel army to make significant overland progress before the Southern Claw could mount any sort of real response.

Why didn’t they attack the capital?
Cross wondered.
  What’s so special about Ath that they want to strike their specifically?

Cross, Black, Ronan, Flint and Shiv were shown to a large and surprisingly comfortable tent, where they were given fresh blankets and plates of hot stew full with chunks of carrots, potatoes and beef.  Its aroma was somewhat pungent, but Cross was more famished than he’d thought, and everyone sat in silence for a few minutes on benches and cots while they greedily devoured their meals.  A privacy screen and some supply cabinets occupied the tent, which led Cross to believe the place was normally used as a medical bivouac. 

The air was cold and wet, but Danica used her spirit to keep everyone warm.  Cross noticed the shift in her ability to control her spirit, how much of a stricter rein she was able to place on him because of her arcane limb.  He also noticed how she winced whenever she channeled her magic, or sometimes even if she even moved a certain way. 

Ronan sat by himself.  He seemed lost in thought.  Ankharra had done everything she could to heal him, but most of his cuts still looked fresh, and though the injuries had sealed they still oozed fine lines of black puss whenever he moved.  On top of that, no amount of medical attention could change the fact that he was clearly exhausted.

Cross lifted his shirt up and inspected himself.  He thought he’d died when the wolf had thrust its claws through his torso, and now there was a thick and jagged scar like a bloody valley running down his chest and abdomen. 

Damn it.  It feels like every one of us has been torn apart and sewn back together.  It’s a wonder we’re still standing.

Shiv ate happily, and kept looking at Cross and Danica and smiling.  Flint noticed, and told her to keep her mind on her food.  “This place is cool,” she said.  “Nicer than the last camp.”

“
Gee, Cross, you know how to show a lady a good time,” Ronan laughed.

“
And you are…?” Danica began, and Cross was about to say something but Flint put his bowl down, wiped his hands on his shirt and mumbled an apology.

“
We haven’t been properly introduced,” he smiled.  “My name is Flint Storm.  This is my daughter, Shiv.”

“
Hello,” Shiv said.  “You’re Danica.”

“
Yes,” Danica smiled.  She seemed genuinely nervous.  “Yes I am.”  She took Flint’s handshake and smiled.  “It’s very nice to meet you.”‘

“
You’re last name is Storm?” Cross asked.  “You didn’t tell me that.  I like it.”

“
I
hate
it,” Shiv said.  “Shiv Storm sounds stupid.”

Danica laughed.  Flint tried to suppress an embarrassed smile.  “It’s an honor to meet those who fight alongside the Southern Claw, especially if they’re willing to put up with this crazy bastard,” he said with a nod towards Cross.  Flint turned to Ronan.  “And you’re…”

“Ronan,” he said quietly.  He seemed reluctant, but Cross gave him a nod and he offered up his hand.  “Pleasure.  Where did Cross find you two?”

“
It’s a long story…” Flint started, but Shiv jumped in. 

“
He saved us,” Shiv said.  “From a slave caravan on its way to Dirge, and we’ve been with him ever since.”

“
Don’t you two want to get home?” Danica asked.  “Cross said you were from, what…Rhaine?”

Flint was about to answer, but he was interrupted as a group of people entered the tent.  Everyone hastily put their bowls down like they were in trouble.

Cross hadn’t seen Alex Crylos since the Battle of Karamanganjii, when Talon Company had helped search for the elusive Woman in the Ice.  Time hadn’t been entirely kind to the now Captain, who in spite of being in his early thirties had a world-weariness about him, a hollowness behind his eyes and a battered expression on his face that bespoke of the horrors he’d witnessed.  Still, the blonde-haired officer seemed genuinely happy to see Cross, and as soon as he shook his hand he went straight to Ronan and greeted him, as well. 

Ankharra, the dark-haired and rune-covered witch, accompanied Crylos, as did the Doj matron Wara.  Two of the others were Southern Claw officers Cross didn’t know, a lean dark-haired man and a leaner dark-haired woman with short-cropped hair; both had no nonsense expressions, battle scars and grease smudged on their faces.  Cross soon learned their names were Stark and Reza.  Ronan seemed to have had some prior experiences with them both; while Reza seemed at least indifferent towards him, Stark looked like he was just itching to draw a weapon and start shooting.

The last of the new arrivals was Marcus Laros, a tall and clean-cut man in dark leather armor and a thick black cloak.  Cross immediately noted the presence of Laros’ hostile female spirit.  Laros was a warlock out of Thornn, the city’s primary magical adviser, and a member of the White Council, the group of privileged mages who worked directly with the White Mother, leader of the Southern Claw, Savior of Mankind…and, as just Cross and a few others knew, avatar of the obscure Pale Goddess, who seemed to be locked in some sort of eternal conflict with the creatures of The Black. 

“
Laros,” Cross said stiffly. 

“
Cross,” the warlock nodded.  “You’re looking…older.”

“
But no wiser,” Cross said.  He looked around at the now crowded tent.  “So what’s going on?”

“
That’s what we’re here to discuss,” Laros said. 

“
We can’t start yet,” Cross said.  “Not all of my team is here.” 

“
The rest of your team is gone, Eric,” Laros said.

“
Bullshit,” Ronan said.  “Maur is here, isn’t he?”

“
Yes,” Crylos nodded.  “He and Creasy both arrived a couple of days ago.  Maur is stable, but he needs further medical attention.  Per his request we're sending him back to Meldoar.”

“
I’d like to see him,” Ronan said.

“
We
all
would,” Danica added.

“
In due time,” Laros said.  “We have matters of the survival of the human race to discuss first.”

Cross shook his head.  He would never argue against Laros’ loyalty or drive, and there was no question the mage held the safety and security of the Southern Claw of the utmost importance, but everything the warlock said came out like a sneer, and in the past he’d made his disapproval of Cross’s team all too plain.  He felt there was little place in the Southern Claw for mercenaries, but he’d been forced to suffer them thanks to Elias Pike.

But Pike isn’t here,
Cross thought.
  And I don’t like this.

“
Stark,” Crylos said.  “Go get Creasy and Maur.  And bring the prisoner.”

“
What prisoner?” Cross asked.

“
A witch named Jade.  She was with them.”

“
Jade is alive?” Danica asked. 

Ronan nodded.  “These yahoos took her into custody the second we met them.  Seems she has a price on her head.”

“We’re losing focus here,” Laros said, and he strode to the middle of the room and moved his hand over his head in a sweeping arc.  Bright sapphire lights exploded from his fingertips and filled the air like burning stars.

“
Because heaven forbid our attention is on anything but
you
…” Cross said.

“
I see getting older hasn’t improved your attitude,” Laros said coldly.  “Trust me, Cross, if there was anyone else I could turn to in this, I would.”

“
Turn to in what?  The three shadow wolves out in the middle of the Loch?”  He watched Laros coldly.  “I didn’t see
you
out there.”