Hadrian's Colony: Chapter Fifteen Part One

 Notes: Hey, we're free! Except we've also got a freeloader on board...what could POSSIBLY happen next?

Title: Hadrian's Colony: Chapter Fifteen, Part One

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Chapter Fifteen, Part One

 

 

Photo by Jorge Sa Pinheiro

They fled.

After the initial rush of escape was over with and he thought the autopilot could be trusted to follow Carlisle, Kieron used the skimmer’s onboard scanner to show him exactly where all the trackers were. Once identified, he systematically ripped each and every one of them out, then showed Blobby the remnants. “Can you do another scan and see if you detect any more of these?” he asked. “It’s fine if you can’t.” Blobby’s size had diminished by a fourth, pieces abandoned in the pursuit of freedom, and Kieron burned with guilt over it.

Blobby made a spider-like shape and hovered over the components, then wobbled over to the main control panel. He synthesized the proper connector and plugged himself in. A few seconds later, two more lights gleamed on the scanner. They were tiny, set to ping off each other in a way that would only stand out to someone who knew the proper frequency to test on.

“Good job.” Kieron couldn’t get to both of them, but he managed to damage one to the point that it couldn’t reflect the ping any longer. “We got it, buddy.” Blobby let out a little chirp made from rubbing two of his pieces together, then climbed up into Kieron’s lap and settled in like a tiny, mettaloid catterpet. Kieron stroked his baby’s surface as he made sure the skimmer was still close on Carlisle’s tail, then stared across the floor at the man he’d hauled along for the ride.

General Hadrian Carr.

Kieron had already seen his grandfather diminished, nothing like the younger, upright version of himself that haunted his nightmares, but at least when he was awake he still had the shouty, brutally confident poise of the man Kieron recalled. But now, still unconscious and with skin a pasty gray color that probably should have alarmed Kieron but didn’t, it was very hard to find anything intimidating about the man.

Death came to everyone eventually, but the General had the look of someone who hadn’t seen Regen in years. Of course, Kieron would be surprised if anyone in the compound got access to Regen regularly—maybe for dire emergencies, but not the restorative treatments that kept humans youthful far beyond when they would normally have aged and decayed. Kieron had been given them as a child, twice a year. They’d had the means back then. Even now, after the collapse of the old colony and his time as a refugee, he’d still only gained about five years of biological age on someone like Elanus, who’d been bathing in Regen on a quarterly basis for his whole life, and not just thanks to Elfshot disease.

The General looked sick. Old and ill, and Kieron took a grotesque amount of satisfaction from it even as he recognized that, if they were hunted down and it came to a firefight, the only thing that would potentially save him was holding this old bastard’s life in his hands. Best case scenario, they escaped their hunters, found Elanus and Catie, and managed to find a tiny sliver of good-enough weather in which to escape from the planet entirely. Worst case scenario…

It didn’t bear thinking about. So Kieron sat there, and comforted his baby boy, and made sure he was following Carlisle. Staying on her tail got harder as rain, then sleet began to fall, and he finally had to turn the autopilot off and take over manual maneuvers to keep her in his sights.

The skimmer’s power was starting to get low, its fuel almost exhausted and its batteries reluctantly taking over. They were going to have to find a place to land soon, or they’d end up crashing. Kieron was reluctant to send a transmission ahead to Carlisle’s ship, so he used the skimmer lights to blink out a warning to her instead. After a few tries, she blinked back, then her ship veered to the right, toward what looked on the viewscreen like a plateau. It took a moment more to realize that the structure wasn’t actually solid, it was a series of rippling folds of stone, all of them jutting haphazardly out of the ground before somehow they’d been sheared off at about the same height.

“Well, that’s precarious,” Kieron murmured. Given how incredible unstable the ground was, he was startled anything could stand more than a few hundred feet high. He followed Carlisle anyway, down one of the deeper canyons until her larger ship couldn’t go any further. They stopped, and he set the skimmer down and cut all power with a grimace. This deep into the canyon, any sunshine hitting the skimmer’s solar cells would be totally insufficient to charge it. Turning it off now meant it was as good as dead unless they ran a line from Carlisle’s ship.

At least we won’t be immediately visible here. They’d made it over a hundred miles in a little under an hour of travel. One last look at the vanishing image of the map told Kieron they were about fifty miles from the creche, which seemed like the logical place to go in order to make it easy for Elanus to spot them.

Kieron set Blobby on the floor. “Salvage whatever you can from those, buddy,” he said with a gesture at the trackers. “Then we’re out of here.” Without power, the skimmer was quickly growing cold inside. The General looked worse than before, slumped over in his chair with a thin line of drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. Kieron hunted down a blanket in the emergency stores and tucked it over the rancid old man, ignoring the way his own hands were starting to shake from the cold.

There was a knock on the outer door. Kieron startled, then felt silly about it. It’s just Carlisle. Who else is out here? He manually undid the pressure locks, then raised the hatch. There she was, in a full EV suit that would help her regulate her temperature way better than any of the clothes he and the General had. “Let’s get you all over to my ship,” she said, her voice stiff through the helmet. “We need to figure out what to do next.”

Kieron stared at her for a moment. He was exhausted, freezing, in pain from a dozen small injuries and at least one broken bone that he hadn’t had time to focus on yet, and felt on the verge complete mental collapse. It was all so much, and yet all so familiar at the same time.

What do we do? We put it away. Fight it off and board it up and never, ever let our guard down. It wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t sane, but it was what he knew, and he needed that experience more than ever now.

“Of course,” he said, and put Blobby on his shoulder before turning to the General and mobilizing his chair. “Lead the way.”

 

Sneak peek for Winds of Destiny!

 Hi darlins!

Instead of our normal Lord of Unkindness post today (because I need to plot my way out of a hole), I'm going to post the first chapter of the novel I have coming out with Entangled next month! The book is called Winds of Destiny, and it's a poly, M/M/M romantasy with secret identities, bandits and battles, and big swords. BIG swords, lol. I hope you enjoy it!

More Lord soon, I promise!

 

Chapter One

Cam

“…confirming the engagement of Prince Camrael Rabann of Zephyth to Prince Eleas Megethos of Huridell…”

That’s as far as I get before I see red and slam the offensive document down as hard as I can. Every piece of paper on the polished wooden table explodes away from me, creating a hurricane of parchment that settles only slowly, along with my wretched mood.

Such a display would be impressive under other circumstances—proof that the power of Zephyth’s god Ophiucas thrives in my blood even though the everwinds themselves have ceased. As it is, though, it’s mostly annoying, particularly when triggered by my temper.

At least that’s what Turo thinks, if the way he rolls his eyes is any indication.

“Are you a child?” He sighs before bending over to begin picking up the pieces of correspondence, maps of the continent, and reports from his spy network that he’d meticulously laid out not ten minutes ago. “You knew it was going to be an announcement of marriage.”

He’s not wrong, but… “I don’t even know this cursed prince.” I pout as I openly ogle Turo at work. I’ve never seen a man with a better ass, and I’ve seen a lot of men. He moves as fluidly as a serpent, with all the grace of a cat.

The fact that, despite his slender build and smaller stature, he could break me in half if he put his mind to it is definitely part of the allure too.

“Would you have preferred Queen Dian’s eldest nephew? He’s five years younger than you, and I distinctly remember you telling me that trying to make out his handwriting gave you a raging headache.”

“At least I had a correspondence with him,” I reply, determined to be upset about this because damn it, I deserve to have some say in the person I end up married to, don’t I? Not according to my father, I guess. “And with Melarr of Lutha for three years now—and Melarr’s a king!”

“The king of a minor city half a continent away from here,” Turo points out. “Even the message birds can’t make that flight without getting lost half the time. And Lutha’s been too busy fending off King Embros’s incursions to send you letters for the past year. Other than them and Prince Eleas, the only other person you could reasonably have been betrothed to is Embros himself, whom you have had the chance to meet. Would you honestly prefer him?”

Ugh, no. My disgust must be written on my face because Turo takes one look at me and starts to laugh. It makes him look as young as he actually is, with only two years on me instead of the twenty he likes to imagine.

“Of course not,” I say, leaning down to help clean up the mess I made. “But I don’t think Father would seriously consider an offer from him, not after his attacks on Lutha and Danteen.” Or make it easier for Embros to dominate yet another great city through a marriage contract, like he did with Dian of Antasa. I had no doubt Embros had asked for me, but my father would never put me in the position of second spouse, especially not to Embros.

That king is hungry for power—too hungry. My father is many things, most of them beyond frustrating, but he understands the politics at hand better than anyone. If our home city of Zephyth, wealthy with the sea’s bounty and flourishing despite how the everwinds and our own wind powers have largely abandoned us, is to remain under our control, then we need a powerful marriage alliance with a ruler who isn’t so eager for war.

That leaves Huridell to the north. That means the king’s eldest son, Eleas, a man whose father has refused to allow correspondence with him since I was old enough to formally request it. That means being given to a barbarian mountain man I’ve never met before in exchange for the safety of my family, my city, and my god.

The starkness of it all makes me tremble, but even I can’t deny that it’s more than a fair bargain for Zephyth.

Turo squeezes my shoulder. “Camrael,” he says softly.

I exhale a shuddering breath as I look up at him. He’s beautiful now that his disguise is gone, the false face he wore on his last mission abandoned since he’s back with me, safe and sound. His full lips are pressed into a concerned line, elegant eyebrows pulled low over his warm hazel eyes. His forehead is high, his cheekbones defined—he looks more like a prince than I do.

The only thing marring the effect are the streaks of white threaded through his shoulder-length hair. He’s had white hairs for as long as I’ve known him, remnants of childhood trauma he never speaks of and I never have the courage to ask about.

“Are you all right?”

No one else would even think to ask me that question. Before I realize what I’m doing, I wrap my fingers tight around his wrist and haul myself upright, then fall forward into his startled embrace. We don’t hug much—not nearly as much as I’d like—but there are no one’s arms I’d rather be in. I’m a few inches taller than Turo is, but he’s more than strong enough to hold me up.

“What if they don’t let you come with me?”

Turo’s arms tighten, one hand cupping the back of my head. “Why wouldn’t they?” He tries to keep his voice steady, but I can hear the emotions that seethe just beneath the calm. For all that he won’t close the final distance between us, he’s as devoted to me as I am to him.

“You’re the court spymaster’s second-in-command,” I point out, voice muffled from where I’m pressing my face into his shoulder. It’s a childish pose for a grown man, but I can’t help it. I can never be close enough to Turo. “You’re meant to take over when Doric retires.”

“He can train up someone else.”

“He won’t want to.”

Turo shakes his head. “He brought me here for you. From the moment I came to Zephyth, I was yours. Everything I can do, every task I can perform or duty I can carry out—it’s all for you, Cam.” He pulls back far enough to look me in the eyes. They shine like stars, gleaming with sincerity. “No one will make me leave you.”

He believes what he’s saying. I want to believe it, too, but I know my father too well. He’s seen how I look at Turo. When I was young, people found my puppyish adoration of him endearing. As I grew older, though, the love that should have faded only flourished, and I realized too late that I should have hidden it all along.

My father won’t let anything interfere with his plans for me, especially not something as ephemeral as love. Not when there’s so much change in the air.

More and more children are showing nascent abilities with wind powers these past few years. If our city is changing like this, it’s likely that others are as well. I feel like we ought to lean into relearning our power and use it to protect ourselves, while my father thinks that Zephyth needs a strong alliance with someone who can help protect us as the status quo becomes a thing of the past.

The king is no fool, and he knows that a man like Embros can’t be trusted.

Which means I’ll have to play nice with the arriving Huridell delegation, because a choice between Embros and Prince Eleas is no choice at all. Ugh.

Turo smooths his hands down my back, then takes a breath and steps away. It’s all I can do not to follow him. “When are the Dellians meant to arrive?”

“Um…” I shrug sheepishly. “I actually didn’t get that far before I…”

“Had a hissy fit?” He points at the paperwork still scattered across the floor. “Then you’d better find it so we can take steps to prepare.”

Steps to prepare. He speaks about it like we’re going to war. I kneel down, picking up papers and letting my mind wander. When I find Turo’s updated map, showing every trading route between the cities as well as the places no one else dares to wander, I pause. My eyes are drawn up to the top of the paper, where a ram’s head is drawn nestled into the peaks. Huridell.

It’s a city I know little about. Set high in the forbidding mountains on the northern edge of the continent, Huridell is completely unassailable. Legend says that its people have kept their magic better than the rest of us—not that they’ve bothered to boast about it if that’s true. They’re a warrior culture, and it’s common for the head of each family to take multiple spouses. The current king has over a dozen children—which is probably why he’s comfortable letting his heir take a man as his first spouse. His line of succession is secure regardless of Eleas’s preferences.

Dellians are said to be as strong and lusty as their patron god, an immense, curly-horned ram. I’ve met a few of them in diplomatic delegations before, and their boisterousness sets them apart from everyone else. They’re always loud and often crude, but there’s honesty in their reactions.

“Are you going to put that away, or will you keep trying to light it on fire with your eyes?”

“Turo.” I press the map to my chest with a look of innocence as I stare up at him. “This map is months of your work. I would never disrespect you by setting it on fire.”

He smirks. “Let me guess, you’d prefer to fold it into a paper boat and sink it in the bay.”

“Nothing so elaborate. I would much sooner accidentally spill ink all over it, oh no, what a shame, I suppose we’ll have to miss the meeting with my father to straighten this mess out.”

“Right. Much more subtle.” He seems like he’s about to say more, but then the distant, reverberating sound of a horn immediately captures his attention. Turo moves over to the open window, staring out at the city below us and the plains stretching beyond. His blue, long-sleeved tunic catches the light just right, making the fabric glow in the sun. He looks ethereal—or would if he didn’t have such a scowl on his face.

I abandon the papers and join him. “What?” I ask as I come to stand by his side, pressing our shoulders together. “What is it?”

“That’s Doric’s signal.”

I frown. “The scout already handed over the marriage announcement—we know they’re close. Why bother signaling when we already know he’s nearly home?”

Turo narrows his eyes. “He wouldn’t bring attention to himself like this if something wasn’t very wrong.”

My fingers clench against my will. “Do you think the Dellians changed their minds?” I didn’t know whether to be pleased or dismayed by the thought. “Could they be trying to renege?”

“No.” He points, and I follow the line of his finger. There’s something glinting in the distance, kicking up dust as it speeds along the ground. This isn’t a merchant caravan or wagon; this is small, fast, and armored.

A chariot.

A Kamoran war chariot.

And it’s not the only one.

“We need to get out there.” Turo turns a dark look my way. “Before Embros kills the competition.”

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