Storm of Arranon Allies and Enemies

  STORM OF ARRANON

  ALLIES AND ENEMIES

  R E Sheahan

  Also by R E Sheahan

  Storm of Arranon

  Storm of Arranon Fire and Ice

  Available from Amazon

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright© 2014 by Robynn Elisabeth Sheahan

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Rule of Three Press

  http://www.ruleofthreepress.com

  ISBN: 13: 978-1500200084

  ISBN: 1500200085

  Printed in the United States of America

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The author is greatly indebted to the following for their exceedingly valuable help in the preparation of this book and series: Bob Harris, Ruth Harris, Linda Rodriguez, Russell Turney, Jodi Wainwright, Karen Parker-Editor, Jackie Jones-Proof Reader, and an special thank you to Martha Straube.

  A further thank you and acknowledgement goes to Jennifer Bagwell-artist for the incredibly awesome cover.

  For Bailey, Dylan, and Jacob

  A vicious attack on life and love.

  A race to deny death.

  Trust blurs and alliances break.

  The chase begins.

  Chapter 1

  THE SHADOW-CLOAKED FIGURE SPRANG from a crevice in the tunnel’s dark rock wall, delivered a single lightning-quick strike, and disappeared swiftly into the gloom.

  A fraction too late, Jaer registered a blade flashing in the muted-yellow glow of widely spaced overhead lights. He reeled back in shock and disbelief, gritting his teeth against the sharp pain. His mind screamed for his body to respond, to pursue, to crush the assailant.

  Instead he crumpled to the cold stone floor.

  Jaer’s anger surged. He struggled to raise his head and survey the immediate area. A dark pool spread beneath him. Thoughts drained from him like his flowing blood. His head dropped back to the rough stone with a thump. Frosty numbness raced from the tips of his fingers, up his arms, and into his core. Deep shadows swooped. Death’s black cape billowed, folding a thick darkness over the surreal scene, stealing sight, but not before Jaer knew he was alone in the dim corridor.

  Memories swirled through his mind, racing backward. Jaer fought to pull his consciousness to the present, but all attempts failed him. He groaned, wincing at the piercing burn in his chest. “Who . . .” The single word was a muted whisper slipping between trembling lips.

  Warm blood trickled down the neatly trimmed hair of his beard. His fingers twitched, lifted feebly. He didn’t have the strength to raise his arm and wipe at his chin. His hand stilled and he fought the urge to cough. A shallow breath shuddered into his lungs with a slow rattle. He no longer felt connected to the floor beneath him.

  A brilliant white beam of light opened before him. There was no pain, no cold, nothing—only a vague sensation of floating.

  Jaer’s battle was now with Death itself.

  And Death meant to win.

  ***

  Captain Erynn Yager turned away from a golden sunset over the snow-covered scramble pad and staggered as a sharp pain tore into her chest. She stumbled a few steps, entering the immense hangar bay and stopped, gasping and clutching her heavy flight coat. Her gaze darted across pale shadows under Interceptor wings and tail sections, and peered into open cargo holds.

  She found no assailant.

  Numb fingers groped for her holstered staser, eager to get off a shot before the unseen attacker finished her. She hadn’t detected the familiar high-pitched buzz and arc of white-hot energy from a discharging weapon, even after the bolt struck her.

  She pulled her weapon free, flinched and spun, aiming a trembling staser toward a scream of grinding metal.

  At the far side of the hangar, a mechanic smoothed a surface weld on a Herk [HrC-Hover Craft]. Ground crews bustled around various aircraft, going about their duties, unaware of any intruder.

  Erynn wavered on unsteady legs. She unclenched her fist and drew a shaking hand forward. Her thick white coat blossomed red. Warm blood dripped, spattering her boots and forming icy crystals as it struck the stone floor. The sharp coppery scent of this life-giving fluid filled her nostrils. Heat drained from her body. Her cheeks numbed, and she was enveloped in a cold sweat.

  She stared down, her vision unfocused as the bloody image vanished, and pain receded. Clarity returned, the scene around her sharp and vivid. Only a fading sensation of the burning, tearing ache that had stabbed into her remained.

  Stabbed?

  In Erynn’s peripheral vision Whill, the transport bay chief appeared.

  He stopped next to her. “Captain, I have those coordinates . . . Captain? Are you all right?” His gray eyes widened. “Erynn! What’s wrong? What happened? You’re white as new snow.” Whill reached out to steady her with one hand while tapping the COM implanted under the skin behind his ear with the other. “General Athru. This is Transport Chief Whill. There’s trouble in the hangar bay. It’s Erynn.” Long gray hair fanned over Whill’s shoulders as he swung his head right, left, and then back to Erynn. “Yes, General. The area appears secure, and I’m not leaving her.”

  Erynn wiped sweat from her face, sliding the staser back into its holster, her hand steadying. She shook her head. “Please. I’m . . . I don’t want Cale to worry.” She took in a deep breath and straightened. “Really. I’m fine. It . . . was . . . just . . .” She frowned.

  “I’ll let General Athru decide if he should be worried or not.” Whill’s tone wavered with concern.

  Whill’s strong emotions flowed over Erynn, interrupting her thoughts as she tried to concentrate. She sensed Cale’s approach. His apprehension surged ahead of him like a giant wave of energy, crashing down on her. Cale’s anxiety united with Whill’s in a barrage against Erynn’s attempt to focus on and interpret the terrifyingly real vision she’d experienced.

  With Cale nearly here, Jaer must also be rushing to the hangar bay. Just the thought of Jaer’s powerful presence calmed Erynn. Together they would sort out this prophecy of death.

  “Jaer.” The high voices of the Anim Blath—a sentient life form that linked her to the living world of Arranon—sang in Erynn’s mind, carrying his name like an icy arrow shooting straight into her heart.

  She knew. Comprehension slammed into her, replacing her internal warmth with the cold dread of certainty. Erynn’s heart skipped and then raced. A bounding pulse throbbed behind her eyes. The hair on the back of her neck rose as frosty fingers walked the ladder of her spine. Her knees again threatened to buckle.

  Her heart, her soul, her life—Jaer. The pain she’d experienced was his. The attack had happened to him. Erynn stiffened, eyes narrowing, her hands curling into tight fists. Heat fueled by rage flared into a fire that melted the ice encasing her heart. She turned and pulled from Whill’s grasp.

  General Cale Athru, the base commander, sprinted from the outer corridor and through the main access. Long coppery-brown hair heavily streaked with gray swung with each jarring step, the colors a vivid contrast to his white flight suit. Several security officers kept pace with and surrounded him, weapons at the ready.

  Whill touched Erynn’s arm. “Wait. General Athru is here, Erynn. Just . . . wait.”

  Erynn watched Cale’s rapid approach. She fought the urge to run past him
, away from the golden light of early evening streaming inside the hangar bay, and begin the search for Jaer. Her calmer, more logical side prevailed. She locked eyes with Cale as he stopped in front of her. Her voice relayed the urgency ready to explode from deep inside. “We have to find Jaer. He’s been attacked—stabbed!”

  Cale tapped behind his ear, activating the COM implanted there, his tense expression deepening the lines around his eyes. “Aven, alert the Anbas. There’s been an attack. Search every tunnel, every warren, all quarters and holds. Security teams are at your command.” He was silent a moment, listening, his lips drawing into a thin line. His answer to Aven’s unheard question came out in a low growl. “It’s your brother. He’s . . . wounded.”

  ***

  Jaer watched an apparition shimmering with a bright blue radiance walk toward him from the far end of the blinding tunnel of light.

  Long brown hair cascaded over the ghostly presence’s shoulder as he knelt down on one knee. “It is not yet your time, Jaer, Fayn of the Anbas Warriors. You have more to do. Both of you have more to accomplish before Arranon is finally safe.” He glanced at Jaer’s wound, and his shining face darkened with concern. “A poisoned blade,” he whispered and pressed his ethereal hand over the gaping puncture. “Only so much I can do, no more. This time, she must save you.”

  Pressure from the spectral being’s touch produced a fierce heat that flowed into Jaer, driving the numbness from his body. His lips barely moved as he faintly mouthed the words. “The light . . . so beautiful . . . warm . . . I will go.”

  The spirit smiled. Sympathy in his brown eyes shone through a profound sadness. “She is your light, and your warmth, Fayn Jaer. As you are hers.” His visage faded.

  “Wait. Who is she? Who are you?” Jaer whispered, his voice less substantial than the ghostly specter.

  The blinding light faded and the dim corridor came into focus.

  Words drifted from out of the dark. “I am Zander, her father.”

  Death’s black cloak whipped and snapped in an angry retreat.

  ***

  Erynn’s boots scuffed on stone as she hurried in silence down long murky tunnels. Concern, fear, anger, and mounting dread threatened to consume her. But this stream of emotional chaos didn’t originate from her own anxiety. The current flowed from the security team following a few paces behind. Erynn reduced her contact, her empathic connection to these sensations by visualizing a broad beam of light spiraling into a pinpoint. As always, this technique reduced the flood of emotions from others that often bombarded her. She spared a glance at Cale sprinting beside her, but sensed nothing under his tight expression. He kept his mind clear, concentrating on finding an injured Jaer.

  Who would dare attack Jaer, Fayn of the Anbas?

  An icy alarm circled her already swirling thoughts with a single crushing possibility. This nagging suspicion prodded and thrust, pushing forward, demanding recognition.

  Dhoran.

  This must be his doing. But Dhoran is locked in a heavily guarded cell . . . in a drug-induced coma. Then someone—or something—has acted against Jaer on Dhoran’s behalf.

  They continued down steps into musty, gloomy corridors. Erynn believed she knew where to find Jaer. Suspicion beckoned her to an isolated, dark, shadowy corner inside the mountain. An alcove on level ten in the deepest and most remote section of the base near an abandoned recycling dump had held a mystical opening that once led into Dhoran’s underworld.

  Cale sealed the doorway. Has the passage reopened?

  Cale held up his hand and stopped, halting their headlong rush from the last landing above the alcove.

  Muted light from the niche crept only as far as the lowest tread. An ominous silence drifted up from the shadows.

  Cale pressed his back against the stone wall at the third step from the bottom. He glanced back and nodded at the six shadow-cloaked faces of the security team. Clustered on the landing, their weapons drawn, they lined up behind Erynn. Cale raised his staser, stepped cautiously down, and peered around the corner. He relaxed his shooting stance and entered the alcove.

  Erynn followed, her gaze darting around the small space. “He’s not here. Cale? Where is he? Where’s Jaer?”

  Two guards stationed in the alcove stood to attention.

  Cale’s roaring voice echoed in the small alcove. “Why didn’t you respond to the alert?”

  The guards glanced at each other. “General. Sir. There was no alert, no communication of any kind since we came on duty.”

  Cale tapped behind his ear. “Dispatch, COM check. I repeat, COM check. Hangar bay, do you copy? Transport bay. Do. You. Copy?” He waited a heartbeat. “Nothing,” he growled. He turned to the security team leader. “Send someone to Communications. Find out what’s wrong.”

  The woman nodded. “Yes, sir.” She wheeled on a young man and ordered, “Stanik, go!” Stanik was up the stairs and around the landing before she finished the order.

  Erynn raked curls from her forehead with a shaking hand. “This is taking too long. The base is too large. We’re wasting time. We have to find Jaer before—”

  “Focus!” Cale demanded. “Use the same connection that showed you Jaer’s attack. That’s the only way we’ll find him in time.”

  Erynn closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. The air around her buzzed with prickling electricity. Static crackled inside Erynn, running down her arms to her hands. Power raged, ready to explode from her fingertips in a churning mass of snapping, popping currents of pure energy.

  Breath rushed from Erynn’s lungs. “Level four, behind the dining hall.” Her eyes opened.

  As one, the group turned, taking the steps two at a time. Boot heels snapping on stone and panting breaths punctuated their hasty retreat.

  Cale contacted Aven on the COM when they arrived on level six. Aven was on level two and would reach Jaer first.

  ***

  Jaer drifted between reality and oblivion. Distant shouts echoed down the murky corridor, summoning consciousness to a present he did not comprehend. Hurried boot steps reverberated on stone. Hands fumbled over him, opening his jacket to reveal his injury. The pressure and warmth of Zander’s touch remained.

  “Jaer! Can you hear me? Jaer! You’re going to be all right. Stay with me!” The strident demand filtered down to Jaer as if from a great height.

  Aven. My little brother. I recognize his voice, but it is different—the timbre of a man, not a boy. Why is he here? Where is here? Think! I know these answers.

  Jaer’s thoughts became difficult to keep in order. Memories as a young boy mingled with his Anbas training.

  I am an Anbas Warrior.

  A sense of pride at this accomplishment rushed through him. Being an Anbas Warrior was all he ever wanted, all he needed, except for . . .

  An image formed in his mind—a young woman. Long red hair fell in soft curls over her shoulders, accentuating her fair complexion and startling ice-blue eyes. His heart ached at the sight of her. She smiled and the darkness surrounding him was eclipsed with a brilliant light.

  Jaer’s thoughts tumbled, slipping away, and the vision vanished. Wings of unconsciousness spirited him away, and Jaer forgot . . .

  Everything.

  Chapter 2

  GENERAL HANN GADEN, BASE WING commander, sat behind his desk staring out the open door of his small office. Dim lighting cast a faint glow in the peacefully quiet corridor beyond. “A false peace. It won’t last much longer. Time for a change of command.” The corner of his lip turned upward in a sneer.

  “How long have they held Dhoran? One day? Two? Too many,” he rumbled in a low growl.

  To free the extraordinary prisoner from the tiny holding cell would prove no easy task. The Anbas Warriors did not intend to surrender their prodigious prisoner without a fight. And a fight with the Anbas never ended well—except for the Anbas. Tightened measures included motion detectors, constant surveillance by vid, and personnel posted in the chamber outside the cell.


  Problematic, yes. Impossible, no.

  There was the remarkable prisoner himself, Dhoran, back from the dead, possessing a new body—no ordinary detainee, even under heavy sedation. Dhoran possessed astonishing supernatural powers due to his blended parentage—his mother was from the surface of Arranon and his father was from the underworld. Cale and the Anbas could not keep him a prisoner much longer. Gaden would see to it.

  The ease of Dhoran’s escape relied on Gaden’s plan and the proficiency of the teams chosen to ultimately carry out the rescue. The timing must be perfect. The current disruption of communications would soon lead to a complete failure of the system, with only a selected few of Gaden’s most trusted remaining connected.

  A sympathetic technician in the Medical Unit had solved the issue of the drugs keeping Dhoran controlled, administering instead a medication counteracting the effects of his constant sedation.

  Gaden leaned back, propped his elbows on the arms of the chair, and tented his long fingers under his chin. He stared at the DVSL monitor on the wall opposite his desk showing a split view of different areas inside the base. Interceptor fighters at the front of the queue inside the massive hangar took up the left side of the screen. The transport bay with its immense vehicles lining the stone walls covered the center, and the dining hall that teemed with personnel held a position on the right.

  “Soon the base will be mine. I will remove all nonbelievers. With Dhoran to guide us, we will begin a revolution for the good of our world and all who will follow him. Never again will an invasion of an alien race threaten Arranon’s existence. I will see to it Dhoran is freed from those who intend to destroy him.”

  First, he had to ensure Erynn couldn’t interfere.

  Captain Erynn Yager, a mere child barely legal age. Gaden’s experience as her superior officer these last few weeks warned him against underestimating her, though. She was an accomplished pilot, intelligent, well respected, a heroine to both worlds, and special in ways he was only just beginning to understand. Her honest innocence belied the tumultuous power behind those vivid ice-blue eyes. But there was also her untamed nature, her constant departure from regulations, and the impertinence to strike out on her own with no regard for the consequences to others. Athru allowed and encouraged her behavior, boasting of her daring, as proud as if he were her father, not her commanding officer.