Racing Hearts (Shadow Quest 4.5) (5 page)

The voices became loud, just outside
the door. She froze. Her breathing stopped. Only when the voices
and footsteps continued past the door did her body
relax.

She was tired, so tired.

The couple of weeks without food had
greatly weakened her. And she had slept badly on the cold iron
floor, sometimes only falling asleep when exhaustion overruled the
chill in her bones.

She pushed into the now empty corridor
and continued with caution. The hallways remained quiet.

The path she had hacked allowed doors
to open at her approach. With each threshold, her anxiety was
reborn. Each hallway was like a repetition of the first. There was
nothing distinguishing, nothing but grey walls illuminated by dim
overhead lights.

With her nerves grated, she had finally
made it to the docking bay.

A merchant ship was indeed docked, both
ships connected and open to each other. She'd almost cried out with
a surge of an unfamiliar mixture of emotions.

Joy. Relief. Anticipation.

That is, until she’d spotted the blond
guard blocking her path. A large, strong looking male, a bored
scowl etched in his features. Spiky blond hair framed his face and
a black short sleeved shirt revealed his muscular arms and chest.
Black pants and a pair of black boots covered his lower half. He
leaned against the wall of the ship, wearing an aura of danger.
Like he could rip you apart with his bare hands, while maintaining
that look of boredom.

Luckily, he hadn't seen her. She was
already halfway hidden behind large piles of cargo. The stack of
boxes towered high enough to hide a body three times her size. She
had to hold her nose to contain a building sneeze as she caught a
whiff of spices.

She didn't know how long she remained
in her semi-hidden position, but the time dragged. Any minute now,
the docking bay would be flooded with workers, sent to gather the
goods. She could only wait and hope for an opportunity, the perfect
moment when no one was watching so she could hide herself away on
the merchant ship. She prayed for a distraction.

The docking bay was a huge room. The
ceiling stretched high overhead, and the walls were covered in
white. Three floors tiered around the great round room. Massive
machines used for lifting heavy cargo loomed above her, bolted to
the thick retaining walls. No one was currently manning
them.

Usually a slave or two was brought with
each delivery, though she didn't see any this time. Darius liked to
acquire things, people included. Although most of the crew were
free, many were slaves, mostly women. And though they were treated
just as poorly, they were rarely kept as isolated as she
was.

Each crew member, slave or not, had two
things in common. First, they were all handpicked by Darius,
selected for their great strength, knowledge, or beauty. He
demanded only the best at his command. Second, they feared their
leader.

When he wasn't punishing Analia for
some perceived infraction, he often forced her to watch as someone
else suffered. In order, she suspected, to frighten her into
submission. It worked.

She was once forced to
witness a group being
disciplined
. One of the men had been
condemned to death. The other three were ordered to take his life
or die themselves.

Analia never learned what they did to
deserve such a punishment. They were given no weapons to carry out
the act. Horror struck, she watched as they pounded at the
condemned man with only hands and feet to save their own lives. If
she didn't watch, if she’d closed her eyes, then she would be on
the receiving end of her own punishment.

She shook the memory away. This was her
first real attempt at escape. She'd thought of it many times
before, dreamt of what it would be like to be in possession of her
own life. To do what she wanted when she wanted. Oh, how she craved
freedom. To think, act, and speak with no fear of consequence. No
one forcing her to use her ability until her body, drained of
almost all its essence, gave out in exhaustion. No man to encroach
on her body, when she hadn't the energy to fight him off. She shook
her head.

Focus
.

She peeked from behind her hiding spot.
The guard was still there, blocking her escape. He hadn't moved
from his position since she last chanced a look. She'd never seen
the man before, which meant he was a member of the merchant ship,
and was standing there for the sole purpose of keeping people, such
as her, from trespassing.

Her plan had been simple, well…in
theory. She planned to sneak onto the merchant ship, hide until it
next docked, and then sneak off the ship, disappearing forever from
Darius' reach. Easy, right?

She just needed a little more luck,
just a little to get her on that ship, one step closer to freedom.
She deserved it, dammit! How much more should she be made to
suffer? How much more could she take?

“Calic!” a male voice
shouted.

Analia jumped at the sound. She peeked
to see the guard's attention diverted to something inside the other
ship.

“What?” the blond guard
snapped.

“The last load is stuck!” the other
voice yelled. “We can't get it through the doorway! It won't
fit!”

“It helps if you're smarter than the
door,” the blond guard muttered before yelling back, “We got it in
there, didn't we?” He sighed before disappearing into the ship and
out of Analia's view.

Her heart beat heavily in her chest.
She waited a few seconds, expecting him to return quickly. When he
didn't, she sucked in a breath and moved forward, hesitant at
first, and then she dashed for the opening. She could hear nothing
but the rush of blood in her ears and the quick thud of her wild
heart.

Closer. Closer.

Her breath caught when she crossed the
threshold onto the other ship. No sign of the blond
guard.

She took in her new
surroundings. The room was significantly smaller than the docking
bay at her back, suggesting that the merchant ship as a whole was a
fraction the size of
Extarga
.

There were two doorways, one to her
front and one to her right. As voices came from the right, she
sprang for the opening to her front. Spying ahead first, she moved
through the door and into a long hallway. The air was warmer here,
and a soft tan carpet tickled her feet. She was shocked by the
sight of color on the walls, a mocha brown warmed by the touch of
soft overhead light.

Ignoring the exhaustion and hunger that
loomed over her, she moved quickly, seeing no promise of shelter.
She was exposed, and if anyone spotted her now, all would be
lost.

After passing through a few empty
corridors, guided by instinct alone, she spotted an open doorway.
Beyond it, a sight she hadn't seen for a very long time.
Disbelieving, she was drawn forward.

The room was round with computer
consoles wrapped around the edge. A center console near the back
wall to her left stood alone. A large window blanketed more than
half the room and revealed a sight she'd been callously deprived
of, a sight she had longed for. Awe overpowered her as she gazed
through it.

Space!

Black. Deep. Vast. Space, speckled with
pinpricks of light. Endless possibilities masked in darkness. The
power of it held her where she stood. Her tightly wound emotions
nearly exploded at the beauty of it. Only one thing was able to
tear her eyes away and bring her back to reality.

She was not alone.

A young dark haired male sat facing the
encompassing window with his back to her. His attention was on his
computer console, clicking away, oblivious to her.

“Cargo's unloaded!” a distant voice
came from behind. Someone was coming toward her. “The captain wants
the ship ready to go as soon as he returns!”

Her stomach tightened, and a bead of
sweat ran down her spine. Slowly, she edged away from the door and
crouched behind the main console, the only place where she could
hide. Unfortunately, she was only partially hidden. The approaching
male might not see her upon entering, but if the other man sitting
at his station turned, he would spot her instantly. She watched him
intensely, holding her breath.

Shit. Shit.
Shit.

After glancing around,
realization hit her, and her throat went dry. She swallowed hard,
taking in the rest of the
control
room. The heart of the ship! A room that will soon
be filled with bodies ready to take their stations. And the console
she was crouched behind, considering its location in the room, must
belong to the captain!

In a panic, she searched for another
escape. There were no other doors. There was nothing else to hide
behind, in, or under. The station she crouched behind was only a
few feet from the back wall. She studied the wall for a moment,
feeling that something was there. Something she was not
seeing.

Then she caught it from the corner of
her eye—a small latch near the floor, not too far out of
reach.

The male entered the room. “Did you
hear me?” he said to the other man. “Call the crew back to their
stations. We'll be departing as soon as the captain
returns.”

“Yeah, I heard you.”

Analia scooted out of view as the male
advanced into the room to attend an unoccupied console next to his
colleague, leaving his back to her.

She reached out and gently lifted the
latch. There was a soft click. Her breath caught at the sound.
Glancing at both men, she was relieved they didn't seem to have
noticed the noise.

She pulled gently, half expecting the
tiny door to squeak from lack of use, but it silently revealed a
small opening just big enough for her to fit through. Shuffling
through the space, she pulled the door closed behind
her.

Click
.

She almost growled at the sound, which
seemed louder this time.

After a moment of bloodcurdling
stillness, she released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been
holding and surveyed her surroundings. It was a small, cramped
space, seemingly for maintenance purposes. Tubes of varying
thickness ran along one wall, lit by a dim line of lights. The room
was barely large enough for her to lie down with her knees bent,
which, at the moment, seemed like a really great idea. Every muscle
in her body was pulled taut. Her heart still pounded with
adrenaline.

Making herself as comfortable as
possible, she fought against an exhaustion that threatened to drag
her into oblivion. Passing out right now would not be good. Once
she felt safe, she'd relent, but not yet. The ships had yet to
detach and everything could still go wrong. She tried to listen to
what was happening outside her tiny enclosure. Nothing, it seemed.
She pictured the two men clicking away at their
computers.

Light and dark spots began to star her
vision, indicating that she was losing her battle against the
overwhelming fatigue pressing down on her. She had succumbed to
exhaustion enough times to know that she was lost. Still, she
strained to stay awake, rubbing her eyes to reinvigorate them in a
near useless attempt to keep them from closing again. Her brain
pounded with the need to shut down. Only now did her heart begin to
slow. Breathing was becoming easier. Body relaxing, her head
lulled.

Stay
awake
.

Vision blurred.

The last thing she heard was the voice
of a man, someone who had just entered the control room. She was
unable to make out what was said, but the deep masculine timbre
seemed to ease her in some way. She allowed it to roll over her, a
vibrating energy that wrapped her in a cloak of security. Or was
that just exhaustion making her delusional? Still, she couldn't
deny the energy she felt from him, even from within her enclosure.
His rumbling voice boomed again. There was no making sense of his
words in her tired mind.

She closed her eyes as she felt her
body fall into blackness.

Chapter 2

Sebastian Uthair sat in the all too
familiar spot, across from Darius in a chair similar to his, but
slightly lower to the ground. Darius sat behind the large wooden
desk, as usual. Wood was difficult to acquire in space, vastly
expensive in its raw form. Fully crafted, it sold for astronomical
prices, and was acquired as a means to display status or
wealth.

Wealth Darius had, which was made
obvious by the overabundance of wood furnishings and expensive
tapestries decorating his office. But status in space was
meaningless. Space was a hostile environment that required a sharp
and cunning mind over prestige any day. That, and a shit load of
weapons.

Most of the items in Darius' office
were displayed to exude a sense of upper-class and distinction,
objects placed meticulously to build a sense of importance.
Sebastian saw it for what it was: a facade of an egotistical man.
This man was no more important than a leaf on the wind. As a
merchant, Sebastian had to deal with these all-too-self-important
types constantly.