She took over control of the
Castel
from the autopilot, a chill prickling her arms. Never again would a pirate board her ship—she’d die before she let it happen.
Romir watched,
mired in helplessness, while Asrial played her hands across the panel, mustering the
Castel
’s defenses. Her concentration was absolute, a rock-solid determination to deny victory to her enemy.
How strange this battle was, so silent, unlike those he had fought against the Mughelis. It lacked the sizzle and crackle of opposing weaves, the cries of pain and shouted orders, the harsh gasps of effort, the stench of sweat and blood and burning flesh. Even the starship’s lurching contributed to the disconnect, since nothing he could see could account for the sudden shifts in weight. The chamber was motionless, quiet, and cool, with the slightest scent of greenery from the plant room. Only finger taps and clicks of the controls and an occasional scathing murmur broke the silence. That serenity made the battle seem more like a child’s game with little at stake instead of a race to freedom.
Red bloomed across the panel, an explosion of garish brightness that could not be good.
“Aft shields down to seventy percent—repeat, seven-zero percent.” The emotionless warning issued from the air around them, the ship comp Asrial had occasion to address in the past.
Asrial
tsk
ed, her jaw tensing.
He fought down a smile of relief at the report. Here was something he could do to help. He thrust his awareness toward the failing shields, leaving a corner of his mind to maintain the form in his seat. Becoming mist would be easier, but it would frighten Asrial at a time when distraction could be fatal.
The flows of energy from the vortex in the
Castel
’s heart fluctuated in his weaver’s sight, the feed to the shields thinning noticeably as if worn. As he watched, threads of light frayed and winked out.
Romir gestured, manipulating the energies to his will, weaving patches onto the feed to the foundering shields. They were temporary fixes at best—Asrial would still need to replace the damaged parts—but perhaps they would buy her the chance to make those repairs.
With his awareness focused beyond the chamber, he became conscious of the
Castel
twisting in flight like a wounded yfreet, lances of energy shooting from its skin. They struck insanely swift missiles swimming through the abyss between worlds, shattering them into brilliant shards that splattered against the
Castel
’s shields like so much mud.
But even mud could sting. As he watched, a portion of the already weakened shields faltered once more, and not even his weaves could restore them all.
When he returned his awareness to Asrial’s side, she was growling at what the glasses showed her. “They’re matching our trajectory and velocity.”
More lights flashed on the panel, their insistent repetition surely of import. Romir frowned at them, wondering what they signified. His ignorance pressed at him; there was so much he knew nothing of, and that failing could mean defeat in this particular battle.
“Proximity alarms,” Asrial said, pointing at a set of flashing lights without looking away from the controls. In the middle of battle, she had noticed his confusion and taken time to explain—distracting her from what was important, hindering her efforts against the enemy.
Romir dug his fingers into the arms of his seat, frustration flailing him for doing so little. He had to help Asrial somehow, aid her in her struggle. He was not helpless. He may not fully understand how she flew the
Castel
, but he did know energy. He could sense the enemy’s power, could see the lines with his weaver’s sight. Surely he could do something more than patching the shields, could find some way to attack the other starship.
“Aft shields down to thirty-four percent—repeat, three-four percent.”
A flare of energy jolted his awareness, coming from beyond the ship. The enemy?
“Grab net. The bastards intend to board.” Asrial muttered a scathing curse, her teeth bared in a ferocious snarl. “Not again, damn you to the ends of space. Not. Again.”
Not again?
This had happened before?
She was remembering her parents, Romir realized. They had been killed by pirates, and she blamed herself for their deaths—or perhaps for surviving when they had died.
The lights on the panel blinked amber and red, their ominous flashing painting Asrial’s face like flames. The dire expression they revealed boded ill for the pirates. But with the
Castel
caught in the enemy’s talons, the avenues for resistance were limited.
Her chest rose and fell with unspoken emotion. Despite the coolness of the chamber, sweat trickled down her neck and gleamed on her arms. She punched ciphers on her panel in rapid succession, the abrupt motions edged with urgency. With desperation?
Romir had a sick feeling of history repeating itself. He, too, had rued surviving his companions. Was Asrial determined to embrace the path he had failed to take?
His impotence battered him, an old torment renewed. Once again he was standing aside, forced to watch while disaster unfolded before him.
Not this time. Not Asrial!
There had to be something he could do to save her.
Something . . .
Romir thrust his awareness beyond the walls of the
Castel
to see for himself the trap the enemy had sprung.
In the abyss between worlds, the threads of creation shone bright against the emptiness. Energy extended from the other starship, furious strands spread wide to hold the
Castel
between two jaws.
But he saw more than that.
The vortex of primal energies in the heart of the
Castel
bloomed, roaring hungrily against its restraints. Power to challenge even a djinn. It beat against his senses, portent and potential both, wound into a single skein promising . . .
Hope hovered before him, blazing hot and chill with peril, waiting for him to stretch out his hand and grasp it. There was a way . . . if he was willing to pay the price.
“Can you Jump?”
“While tangled in a grab net, with no destination set?” Asrial shot him a wide-eyed stare across her shoulder. “The power levels—”
“Do it anyway.”
Trust me!
The
Castel
shuddered around them, the proximity alarms on her panel continued their malevolent flashing.
Her jaw firmed with decision. “Whatever you’re planning, get ready.” She slammed her hand on the square that initiated Jump, despite its steady red ring.
Twenty - six
In the heartbeat
before the
Castel
entered the portal, Romir took control of the weave, mustering every drop of his essence to bend it to his will. Primal energies roared through him, the threads of creation unraveling into a myriad colors, as he altered the flows. He reshaped the portal into a Heigen cloak around the
Castel
, a cocoon to protect it against the enemy’s pincers of power.
Without need to breathe or to keep a heart pumping, he could manage the feat by himself. This was the reason the Mughelis created djinn—the perfect shuttles to weave their will. If he were not djinn, his expenditure of power would have been fatal, and still he would have failed.
Now, the vortex in the heart of the
Castel
sang to him, and he rejoiced in the boundless energy at his command. The threads blazed in his weaver’s sight. With a twist of his hands, he expanded the cloak, driving it into the pincers.
The attack shattered, unable to contain the flash flood of power. Out of the chaos of flaring energies, he gathered the flows of the enemy’s pincers and channeled them all back up their track, the path of lesser resistance.
Back to the ship that wove them.
The
Castel
bucked around them. His seat straps snugged tight, the sudden sensation snapping his awareness back to the pilot chamber and Asrial.
“Crap! What did you do?” She gaped, her eyes and mouth wide, her arms frozen in mid-reach.
The glass showed an explosion from the enemy’s ship. It veered away and fell behind. Tumbling through the abyss like an injured yfreet, it broke up.
His prison yanked on his essence, sucking it down through the black star of the djinn. Pain clawed his shoulder, the chain snapping taut. He had spent his strength; nothing was left to resist. That was the price of weaving that much power.
But he had not failed Asrial.
As he faded to mist, he clung to that certainty.
They hadn’t Jumped.
In violation of all safety protocols, she’d activated the jump drive while within close proximity of another ship and still caught in the grab net. Without allowing the drive time to power up to Jump levels. Without proper calculations. Without a set destination.
They should have been lost in Jump.
But despite all reason, they were in normal space.
They were alive.
Gulping air, Asrial stared at her primary display and the image of the disintegrating pirate ship. Her greatest nightmare vanquished. Over in the space of a heartbeat. No endless battle while she sat trapped at her board.
Impossible.
Somehow Romir had used the jump drive as a weapon.
She powered down the drive, activating the autopilot and releasing her shock harness with trembling hands. Her heart beat so fast it felt like it would tumble out of her chest. They were safe!
With a crazed smile, she spun to Romir.
Elation turned to shock. His seat was empty, only a shimmer of mist quickly fading filled its space.
“Romir!” Without thinking, Asrial threw herself out of her seat, toward the indistinct form of her lover. Safety be damned.
Fending off the pirates must have taken all his power. He’d protected her—at the risk of losing his independence.
The mist fought to escape her, swirling between her fingers like sentient fog, like the specter of failure come to life.
No!
She couldn’t lose him now. Not when they were so close.
Asrial clung to him, pressing her body wherever she could touch him. Heat answered her, the only indication she had of his presence. She could barely see him. This was her worst fear made real—and this time he didn’t seem to be struggling against his prison!
She reached up to where his head should be, straining to see his face. Only the barest mirage was there—heat illusion, her eyes playing tricks on her. It couldn’t be! “Romir, fight it! Stay with me.”
Resistance met her grasping hand, a hint of thick hair. She tangled her fingers in it. Sensation, pleasure—those were what anchored Romir’s freedom at her side. She had to try.
With her free hand, she fumbled for his neck, his jaw, trying to hold him in place for a kiss. Pressure against her mouth, firm and searching, told her he reciprocated. She opened herself to it, feeling something slide across her lips, seeking entrance. She poured her heart into the kiss, desperation heightening her senses.
Please. Spirit of space, don’t take him from me.
With her eyes closed, she could imagine Romir was still with her, still in her arms, that his hard body still strained against hers. She could feel his chest against her breasts, his thighs between her calves, the bold ridge of his erection against her mound.
“Ha!” The harsh sound by her ear jerked her eyes open. Golden brown skin filled her gaze, looking every bit as solid as her own, with not a speck of otherworldly shimmer. She could see black hair, a strong jaw, taut muscle, the hollow of his throat. The cords of his throat worked as she stared. “I am here.”
Gasping in relief, Asrial covered his face with desperate kisses, gloried in the passionate ones she got in return. He really was in her arms!
She hid her face against Romir’s neck. Fear made her weak. Tears spilled over, painting her cheeks with heat and wetness.
Too close. That was too close.
Romir’s tight embrace drove the air from her lungs. He pulled her down to straddle his lap, holding her as though he would never let her go. She didn’t want him to let her go.
His heat filled her arms. Hard muscle pressed against her thighs and calves, against her cheek and breasts. Beloved heat. Her lover’s.
Gradually the reality of his survival sank in. She trembled, her body burning, needing more intimate contact, but there was no time for that.
Right.
She had to check the
Castel
for damage. They couldn’t Jump until she was sure the drive was stable. And just because she’d seen an explosion from the
Eikki
didn’t mean the pirates no longer posed a danger.
Enough of the weepy jill. She had a ship to fly.
Asrial wiped her cheeks free of tears, though she couldn’t do anything about those trickling down his chest without drawing attention to them. She pulled away reluctantly, her eyes clinging to Romir as she slid off his lap and got her feet back under her. “Will you be safe like this?”
With a weak smile, Romir stood up and cupped her face. “I will stay near.” And true to his word, after she returned to her seat, he rested his folded arms on her seat back. His mouth was just a breath away from her shoulder and neck—and she knew that for a fact because he closed the distance more than once. She didn’t know if he needed the contact, but the gentle friction certainly reassured her.
Though it had felt like forever, she hadn’t been away from the pilot board that long. The pirate ship was still well within near distance range of the
Castel
’s sensors.
She checked the screens a second time. Their readouts remained the same. The
Eikki
’s uncontrolled tumble was unchanged. No thrusters were firing. No deceleration nor change in vector was detected. No communication was received. The gap between the ships continued to open.