Beyond the Shadows (16 page)

She opened her eyes wide, but drifting pink and blue spots from her burned retinas dominated her blurry field of vision.

“Are you okay?” Ishan asked.

“I’m fine,” she answered, which was far from the truth. She’d never been so tormented in all her life. But she wasn’t about to share that with the boy. She was unharmed, but she had a lot of questions.

And she was going to get some answers as soon as they were safe. She wouldn’t let Cyrus back away.

“I’m sorry they touched you. I couldn’t help,” he mumbled.

“It’s okay, Ishan,” she soothed. “We’re free.”

THE DOOR HISSED OPEN, SLICING THE NEAR DARK WITH THE LIGHT FROM THE corridor. Ishan scurried away, hiding deeper in the shadows of the dim room. “Carry her,” Cyrus ordered to the other man posing as a slave. “Boy, you follow quick.”

Yara felt the burn of embarrassment as the heavy-chested Hannolen man wrapped her quickly in a thin bit of cloth, then lifted her into his burly arms. Cyrus removed her chains, leaving the cuffs on her wrists and ankles locked together. They had to maintain the slave deception until they were safely out of this proverbial mud pit.

Yara closed her eyes and tried to fight off the lingering dizziness from the tranquilizers. As they left the Kronalen ship, a crush of noise rose up and swallowed them. Yara tried to stay conscious as they left the shipping docks and entered the auctions.

Yara opened her stinging eyes. Fires burned on long posts, casting the thick fog in a creeping orange glow.

People, naked and starving, huddled together in cages, the adults shielding children in the centers of the groups like wild sheep at the slaughter.

Voices of hawkers and hungry crowds carried over the muffled cries from the cages, while the sickly sweet odor of filth and humanity clung to the blanketing fog.

Yara had never seen actual slaves in her time during the war, and the sight made her gut clench.

The man holding her stiffened. With her head resting on his chest, she could hear his heart beating with a sharp, erratic rhythm. He was Hannolen, and these were mostly his people.

By the swift blade of Yarini, she would help fight this. When she ascended to the throne, Azra would fully join the war, not for their own gains and experience. They would not hold back. They would help end this depravity.

She swore it.

Cyrus and his friend picked up their pace as they crossed over the wide wooden bridge that spanned the pits. Mud from years of foul feet caked the span, muffling footsteps as the misery from the auctions below rose up like a tormenting specter. They moved swift and steady as if their fear would betray them and chain them to the nearest hawking block. As soon as the sounds of the auctions faded, and the fog around them thickened, Cyrus stopped and yanked the wig from his head. He tucked it in his belt, hastily rubbed his head, then turned and pulled out a cutter from the bracers he still wore beneath the Ankarlen robes.

The cutter made short work of the cuffs binding her wrists and ankles together. Yara almost cried in relief as Cyrus pulled their heavy weight away from her raw wounds. As soon as the slave bands circling her biceps were off, she’d be free.

“Give her to me,” he ordered as he held out his arms to her. “Take the boy. He’s exhausted.”

Yara gratefully circled his warm neck with her arms. “Thank you, Cyrus,” she whispered, but stopped short as she looked him in the eye.

Even in the dim light, they shone pale and gloriously green, like the leaves in the canopy of Azra. She had never seen such green eyes on an Earthlen. His skin had been stained darker, and his face reshaped. It all looked odd on him, except for his eyes. Somehow, they seemed natural and suited to him.

“Thank you,” she murmured again and let her head rest against his shoulder.

“Let’s get out of here, Pix.”

He pressed his cheek against the top of her head, then strode with purpose toward a pale glow and looming shadow in the fog. He had her. As soon as they got the bands off her, she’d be safe, and he could finally rest his weary conscience.

Crewmates filed out from the ship, carrying blankets and steaming mugs. Cyn waved them off as he ascended the cargo ramp.

“Whose ship is this?” Yara asked as Cyn gently placed her on her feet. His hands shook with relief as he steadied her. She looked around the cargo bay.

“Xan’s the captain here. I never would have been able to find you without him or the boy enslaved with you. They saved your life.”

Her expression softened as she looked toward Venet, who fussed over the Hannolen youth like a mother tiger. Xan remained close at the boy’s back, leaving Cyn to deal with Yara.

He took a deep breath as the rending pain in his heart lessened. The visions of Yarlia screaming as the mudrats carried her away slowly pushed back into the recesses of his mind. He hadn’t been able to save his first love, but he had saved Yara from the same fate. Now he had work to do.

Those slave bands had to come off before they poisoned her any further.

“Take them up to Med,” Xan ordered, pulling off the tunic. He threw a long overcoat on his bare shoulders and replaced his eye shades, immediately transforming his appearance from a slave guard to a pirate captain.

“Are you strong enough to walk?” Cyn asked Yara as he took her hand. It felt cold in his palm. She clutched a thin blanket wrapped under her arms and over her breasts.

Damn his memory. Now that he knew exactly what her breasts looked like, he’d never forget a single detail about them. They had the power to taunt him now, even when he couldn’t see them.

He could barely process what had happened. It was almost too much sensation. His shame and guilt ate at him. But he couldn’t deny the power of the feel of his hands smoothing over her soft skin.

It was wrong. He had no choice. He did everything in his power to keep from touching her shamefully.

Insecurity pecked at his mind like a vengeful imp. Did she blame him for what he’d had to do?

She looked up at him and squeezed his hand. He had to look away as they boarded a lift.

“Cyrus?” She leaned to the side, so she could meet his gaze. She shifted her fingers so the slender digits wove together with his. “Let’s get these things off me.”

The lift slowed to a stop. He nodded and led her the rest of the way to Med.

Xan’s medical bay may not have looked like much, with the worn beds and the industrial racks holding supplies and medical equipment, but it was certainly clean and functional. Xan’s crew had seen their fair share of war wounds and spilled enough blood on this floor.

The lights had been dimmed to the faintest glow, while Venet ran a diagnostic tool over Ishan’s eyes.

“How does he look?” Xan asked, keeping his shades on even in the near darkness. Venet pinched her lips together, not a good sign.

“We’ll fix him up,” she assured in a way that left Cyn with a bad feeling about the boy’s prognosis. But there was little he could do to help. Maybe if he brewed more kiltii water, it could help heal the boy’s eyes. It wouldn’t hurt to try, but there was nothing he could do about it now. His only kiltii vine was back on his ship. No, it wasn’t his ship anymore.

He just hoped Maxen had enough proof to arrest the Kronalen bastard for flesh trading as soon as he entered Gansai’s atmosphere. Once the bastard was arrested, his property would be “salvaged” and taken by the circle, including Cyn’s ship. He’d been able to send Maxen a quick message to strip the ship and store his possessions until he returned, but he’d never see the Black Serpent again. It was pirate law.

“Have a seat.” Cyn returned his attention to Yara as he helped her up onto one of the beds. He pulled the control pin for the slave bands out of his pocket.

“No,” Yara insisted as she placed her hand over his. “Get them off Ishan first.”

“Yara . . .”

“Please.” She gathered the thin blankets tighter around her chest as the lights in the sickening bands flickered.

Cyn sighed and handed the control pin to Xan. “Who knows how long he’s had those on. Be careful,” Cyn warned. “We can’t exactly go back for another one or our cover’s blown.” He grabbed a programmer for the pinchers in his face and flicked it on. Slowly he dragged the glowing yellow bar over his cheeks and eyes. The pressure released from the pinchers, but the relief was tempered by the stinging pain of the needles pushing back out through his skin. He carefully pulled each bloody spine out and dropped it in a shallow dish.

Yara offered him a bit of cloth, and he pressed it to the miniscule puncture wounds dotting his cheeks and brow.

“You look better,” she admitted.

“Thanks.” He dabbed at the wounds, then let the cloth drop. “I just hope the skin dye wears off.”

“How did you change your eyes?”

He looked up at her, confused. “Huh?”

“How did you turn your eyes green?”

Shit, he had forgotten about that. He hadn’t gone without his contacts in over a decade. For a second he had forgotten that his eyes were naturally green and not black. “Contacts. Ancient Earthlen tech. I should take them out.”

“I like them,” she admitted, “even if they aren’t real.”

He brought his gaze to hers, unsure of how to respond.

“We’ve got a problem over here,” Xan called. Cyn turned away from Yara to help with the boy. Venet carefully extracted the needles from one open band while Xan leaned over the other.

“These bands are so old, the connector to the release key on the command pin is corroded. The bastards hardly ever take these damn things off people. The first one was nasty, and this one is worse.” Xan moved to the side so Cyn could take a look. The boy stared at him, not saying anything, but his fear shone clearly on his face. It didn’t take much to set off a slave band to kill.

Venet smoothed a hand over the boy’s greasy hair while maintaining pressure on the raw wounds of the boy’s upper arm. Cyn carefully took up the command pin, lodged in a small port just beneath one of the injector lights of the band on his other arm.

Cyn tried to activate the connection enough to give the voice command to release, but no matter how he worked the pin, it wouldn’t connect.

“Xan, do you have a nanoscope?”

“Yeah.” Xan handed him the palm-sized viewer and a syringe. The boy flinched.

“Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.” Cyn inspected the syringe. Once he injected the gel into the port, the nano components would automatically arrange their projection structure, sending images to the viewer of the interior of the slave band. He injected a tiny amount into the port, conscious of the risk of setting off the band.

The screen on the viewer glowed, giving him a good look at the broken connector. If he came at the connector from a slightly skewed angle, he might be able to make enough of a connection to get the thing off.

With steady hands, he made the connection and issued a sharp command to release. The band opened with a hiss, and the boy exhaled loudly as Xan pulled the terrible needles out of his arm.

“Thank you,” he whispered with a hoarse voice. “What happens now?”

“What do you mean?” Cyn asked.

“You bought me.” The boy looked at him with a sad resignation in his dark eyes.

“You’re free. You don’t belong to me.”

“Where do I go?”

Cyn looked at Xan, who had busied himself trying to remove the command pin from the band. “Stay here with Xan. He’s a good captain. He’ll teach you well.”

Cyn heard a snap. “What?” Xan grumbled.

He shot his friend a quick glare. “I no longer have a ship. I can’t take him on. You have plenty of room. He’s Hannolen.” Cyn pushed the viewer into Xan’s hand. “He needs
you
.”

“
Hork,
” he cursed.

“Damn it, Xan, you can’t hide forever.”

“It’s not that.” Xan handed him the band and the viewer. “I think the command pin is broken.”

“Shit.” Cyn examined the viewer and tried to dislodge the pin, but it was hopelessly stuck in the corroded band. He looked over at Yara. Her brow creased.

“You can’t get the bands off?” Her eyes widened.

“You have any microbes?” he asked Xan.

The pirate shook his head. “We used the last of them when we overtook a large transport.”

Cyn ran a weary hand over his sore face. “I’ll have to pick them.”

“Can’t you get another key?” Yara’s voice pitched higher.

“The key was coded to the trigger programming in the bands for the two of you. Usually these pins are only used to transfer the codes to a master control. But we don’t have any other slaves, so we don’t have a master control, and we can’t go back to the Kronalen and ask for another copy of the code. The only way to get them off now is to pick them.”

“Can you do that?” Yara kept her expression very still, but Cyn caught the slight tremble in her voice.

“Yes.” He tried to answer with as much confidence as he could give her.

“Are you any good?”

At any other time, he would have teased her. Perhaps he should have, to ease her fear, but he knew just how serious this was. One slip and he’d kill her. This would take all his concentration. “I can do this.”

She pinched her beautiful lips into a tight line. “Okay.”

“We’ll take the boy up to quarters to clean him up and find him some clothes,” Xan stated as he pulled the boy to his feet.

“His name is Ishan,” Yara snapped.

Ishan looked up at her and blinked his clouded eyes.

“That’s not a Hannolen name,” Xan commented as one of his brows arched above the rim of his shades.

“He is the blood of Isa the Bold.” She gave Ishan a slow nod then turned her glare back to Xan.

“It’s a good name. Come Ishan.” Xan looked as impassive as ever, but his stance shifted. “Good luck. I’ll leave the med alert on.”