Page 32 of Stealing the Star Stone

Chapter Twenty-Two

The moon, Lethara

Amenkar’s ‘throne’ room in Vael’Tir.

From good to oh-shit to argh-what-the-hell-is-that?

Day Five.

Nova kept her head up, hurrying to the throne room with determination in her stride. If only she could be done with all things Orien. In truth, she wanted to while away the day in Eli’s arms, but more sex would be wasting time they could ill afford.

“Tell me, is this a countdown?” She showed the woman the tattoo climbing her bicep.

Bigeeli cackled. “Figured that out, did you?” She stroked a gnarled finger along a tendril. “So many suns you have.” She shifted back to hold up eight fingers. “If the markings reach your heart before you form a soul tie, you die.”

Nova frowned—the knocks kept coming.

Find a stone or be stuck as Eli.

Got a stone, but one wasn’t good enough. So locate another, like they’re as common as mud.

Have sex and form a soul tie, or the next stone she touched might kill her. Done, only to learn that the first stone was trying to kill her anyway.

“It is poison from a shol shard,” Bigeeli added.

“But I wasn’t cut when the stone shattered.” Or maybe she had been and, in the ensuing chaos, hadn’t noticed it?

Bigeeli laughed, the sound so young and joyful. “The slivers melt on the skin when it finds its victim.” She hummed and veered toward the dais. “The boredom of gods… It is sad that your lord took a shol off this world. The gods do not need a bigger realm to play in.”

“He’s not my anything,” Nova snapped. “Sure, he’s human, but that’s it.”

A crowd had gathered, forcing Bigeeli to weave a path through. “My chief,” she said, dropping to a knee.

“It is done?” Amenkar asked, rising off a cushion.

“It is,” she said, staggering to her feet and stepping aside, exposing Nova and Eli behind her. Standing tall beside the chief was a familiar face.

Nova gasped, joy exploding through her. “Frederik? How… Where’s… I mean, hello.”

He smiled, looking good in jeans and a gray, dirt-stained T-shirt. “I’m happy you are well, Mr. Thorne.” He cast a glance at Eli. “Lord Orien will soon arrive.”

“Shit,” she said. “We can’t let him find—”

“He has been here before,” Frederik said. “Your escape made him even more…determined.”

“I know,” she said, catching Eli’s hand and drawing him closer. “We must leave now. Try and lead Orien away from here.”

“Wait.” Eli scowled at Frederik. “Does he know you helped us? How are you here without him?”

“I had a friend alter the security footage. As an actor, we have many vids of Mr. Thorne we could use. As to escaping Lord Orien’s party, I claimed to be unwell.

He thinks I am at the landing site.” Frederik bowed to Amenkar but said to Eli, “Tell him to lie to Orien, that he never saw you. Orien might believe him.”

Eli did as asked.

Amenkar stiffened. “Deception is not rewarded in the great skies.” He flicked his fingers, summoning the scarred man. “Zal, to the temple. Go now. Bigeeli, their things.”

She scampered away.

“Come with us, Frederik.” Eli hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “If he sees you here, he’ll know.”

“He’s many things, but he’s not an idiot. He must have guessed someone helped you.”

Frederik’s complacency gritted Nova’s teeth. Zal approached, Khepan trailing him with their bag and weapons. Bigeeli carried their clothes draped over an arm.

“Zal will take you as far as he can,” Amenkar said.

The scarred man bowed his head in greeting. “We must hurry. The bridge closes at midnight.”

When he ululated, Nova jerked back at the loud cry.

The crowd parted. He strode toward four black-clad men waiting by the pool. Behind them, descending the stone stairs was Orien, a young man scampering after him. She blinked, praying she was imagining things.

“Fucking you delayed us,” she hissed at Eli.

“And I don’t regret a moment of it,” he said. “Besides, I’d rather face him here than in a cave, alone.”

He had a point, but she wasn’t in the mood to acknowledge it. “Just us against him is better than endangering these people.”

“He might not—”

She squeezed his hand hard. “He killed their last chief. We have to do something.”

“At last, Eli, Nova, I’ve found you.” Orien grinned, skipping down the final steps with his arms open wide.

“We weren’t lost,” Eli snapped.

“I know, I’ve been behind you every step of the way. You located another star stone. Faster than my entire team.” Orien pinched his lips. “Perhaps instead of studying you, I should hire you.”

“Not a chance,” Nova said, folding her arms across her chest and sidling in front of Eli to shield him.

Orien marched past the pool, ignored Zal and his men, and headed toward Amenkar. He bowed his head, not even bothering to kneel. Surely they taught archeologists to have better manners than this?

“My chief,” he said, his words translated by the young man. Orien paused to stare at Frederik, his left eye twitching. “Thank you for helping me re-capture these…thieves.”

“What the hell did we steal?” Nova demanded, bristling.

“My future,” Orien said with a sweet smile. “I want the stone you have.”

“What stone?” Eli asked.

She grimaced. He was right. Amenkar still had it. They would’ve traveled to the temple without it.

Orien drew his blaster and aimed it at Eli. “You’ve destroyed one stone and stolen another. Now, give it to me or someone dies.”

The translator announced to all Orien’s threat. Nova glared at the idiot while the crowd shuffled back.

Zal raised his spear with a heart-clenching war cry. He took two steps and slumped to the floor. A dark wound in his chest smoked around the edges.

Nova gaped, switching her attention between Zal and Orien with his blaster pointed at the fallen man.

The crowd scattered amid cries and ululations of despair.

In the chaos, Zal’s guards surrounded their chief, forming a wall of muscle between him and Orien.

“What the fuck, Orien,” Nova yelled, kneeling beside Zal.

The man lived but with a gaping hole in his chest. Dark blue blood poured from the wound. She held his gaze, trying to convey she’d do what she could.

Eli twirled the machete like it was a rapier and smacked the blaster out of Orien’s hand. The older man leaped back, dodging Eli’s slash.

Applying direct pressure to the wound, she spared them a glance, then caught Frederik’s gaze. “Help me get Zal to the pool.”

Khepan joined them. Between the three of them, they managed to carry a groaning Zal to the eels.

“Why didn’t you run?” she asked Khepan, her breathing ragged when they hefted Zal into the water.

The silver weeds shifted, making way for his bulk.

The eels swarmed him, slipping around his body to gather at the wound.

She rested her elbows on the rocks and washed the blood from her palms and fingers.

“I was there when he killed my chief.” Khepan grimaced. “I prayed to the gods for his death. I mean to witness it.”

“Fair enough,” she said, drying her hands on the front strip of her loincloth.

For so long, she’d wished she could see the life leech from Seth’s murderer, even though she didn’t know who’d done it.

Hence why she blamed Warden. “And how did you convince them we’re the ones you came to see? ” she asked Frederik.

“They know your names. I just repeated them until they took me to their king.” He hitched his thumb at Zal floating in the pool. “What’s with that?”

“The eels heal,” she said, her voice soft.

She was mesmerized, unable to drag her gaze away.

Eli and Orien were in an epic sword fight, dodging swipes and lunges. Orien used a lance, no doubt Zal’s, and had more reach. Eli moved like a snake, ducking and striking. Blood stained Orien’s shirt and cargo pants, appearing to be the weaker of the two.

Never would she have thought Eli could move like that or had any skill with weapons. He met Orien’s thrust with the blade skidding along the lance’s shaft until their faces were inches apart. The scene was incredible, his copper hair trailing him like a falling star.

“It’s like your movie Bang Bang, Binary Baby . Ms. Blake moves like you did.” Frederik beamed.

“Yeah, but I don’t know where this is heading. Worst case scenario, she dies. Best case, Orien finally gets his comeuppance.”

Frederik palmed his blaster—looking like a toy gun in his bulky hand. “I can’t fire. They’re jumping around too much.” He met her gaze. “I would prefer not to kill anyone, Mr. Thorne. Even if it’s Lord Orien.”

She got it. Ending someone’s life wouldn’t sit well on anyone’s conscience. Well, maybe not true for Orien. She didn’t want to pull the trigger either.

A yelp snapped her focus to the swordfight.

Orien had jumped to the side, his eyes wide, his expression dazed.

Eli was covered in blue sparks, skittering over his body like static electricity brought to life.

They traveled along the machete’s blade, painting Orien’s face aglow with the tip of the weapon a breath away from his neck.

Eli’s hair floated around his head, forming a halo.

Orien threw aside the lance; it clattered across the floor, distracting her for a second.

In that time, he dived for the discarded blaster.

Frederik gasped.

Boom.

Orien flew back, landing on a pile of cushions. Blood bloomed across his chest.

“Shit,” she said, sprinting to him. She cast a glance at Eli amid a blaze of blue. “The pool’s not big enough for two men.”

Frederik stood beside her. “You want to save him?”

“You shot him,” she snapped. “I get it, you hate his guts, but if he dies, how will we explain it to the authorities?”

An image of the half-eaten man fallen into the cave came to mind. What would Orien have told the man’s family? Would he have even bothered?

“I will take him,” Amenkar said, skirting around his guards.

“You have more eels…quet?” She rested on her heels, letting his men carry Orien away.

“Khepan, ensure they reach the temple.”

The old man bowed and headed toward Zal, who’d sat up dead center of the pool, his brow furrowed in confusion.

He climbed out of the water, met her gaze, and knelt. “My thanks. I will fulfil this task, my chief.”

Amenkar flicked a dismissive wrist, as done with this day as she was. “Use the yuxmets. Midnight is soon.”

“Come with, Frederik,” she said.

He stared at the translator then smiled. “I must stay.”

He was too big to force, so she said, “All right, then ask for raw quet. One bite will open your mind to their language.”

His eyes widened. “We didn’t know this.”

She shrugged. “Ms. Blake stumbled on it.” She offered Eli her hand. A little jolt was more than bearable if she could keep him near, needing the comfort.

He hesitated, his focus on the sparks skittering over his body even though they’d faded.

“After everything we’ve seen, this bothers you?” She arched a brow.

He huffed and laced their fingers. “How’d you feel if you were short-circuiting?”

She held his gaze. “Calm like you,” she said.

Bigeeli steered them into a covered alcove, shoving their garments at them.

They were damp but wearable. Clean was clean in Nova’s book.

Unraveling the loincloth took moments, and when she peeled on the cargo pants, a sigh escaped.

It was good to be covered. Socks and boots hadn’t dried fully, but she didn’t care.

This part of the adventure had to end, and dilly-dallying because of laundry would be stupid.

If only she’d had a cup of tea.

Clothed, armed, and ready, she marched to where Zal waited. Without a word, he led them up and out of the sunken palace. The night was darker than expected with the waning submoon.

When she neared the top, she froze. “The stone,” she gasped.

“It is in my possession,” Zal said.

Relief slumped her shoulders, and she hefted the bag to settle it better. Eli grabbed the rifle. And behind him, the crowds reformed in trickles. Her stomach gurgled, reminding her she’d turned down the offer of food multiple times.

“Protein bar?” Eli suggested.

She flashed him a tight smile, dug into the bag, and pulled one out. “Wanna share?” she asked.

“All good,” he said.

She chewed through the bar while they reversed their steps until they reached the pillars lining a path to the lake. But Zal and his men veered left and stopped at a sand-covered building.

The stench was…indescribable, so bad that her nostrils burned. She covered her nose and blinked the tears from her eyes.

A rumble preceded the schlurping of a long-haired animal lumbering out of its shed. The closest she could compare it to was a giant rhino. Its brown-gray hair was matted and covered its face, a wet nose peeking out. A girl hurried toward them, leather reins in hand.

Nova froze, sheer horror churning the undigested protein bar. She shuddered. “I am not riding that.”