Chapter 1
A plasma bolt lit up the night sky. Enrik side-stepped and it flew past his left temple. A sharp gasp from behind let him know one of his men hadn’t been so lucky.
He dropped and rolled down the ditch bank. “How bad?”
“I’m fine, sire,” Deled ripped off part of his sleeve and tied it around the violet slash across his bicep.
“No need for formality on the battlefield, Deled.” Enrik grinned. “Besides, if you keep calling me that, people will confuse me with my father.”
“Incoming fire!” someone yelled out.
Streams of red plasma bolts filled the sky. One of the blasts skimmed the top of the mounded dirt that Enrik and Deled crouched behind and lit a few stalks of wheat on fire. Enrik frowned at it. If the whole field caught on fire, there wouldn’t be any point to this entire battle. Just as he was about to order someone to extinguish it, a soldier jumped up, stamped out the flames, and dove back for cover.
Enrik looked over at Deled, who nodded back at him. As one, they pulled out their blaster pistols and fired blind over the top of the ditch bank.
The number of plasma bolts decreased slightly. Enrik nodded to Deled and they both rose, blasters ready.
A Vincetii warrior charged toward him, a blaster in one hand, and a sword in the other. Dark purple skin, dull wing claws. Not nobility. Enrik snapped off two quick shots. The Vincetii with the sword dropped to the dirt. The other shot went wide.
Five more Vincetii warriors charged toward him, and at least one of them had the light purple skin of a noble. That one could be trouble.
Deled fired three shots. The plasma bolts hit the Vincetii noble in the forearm, shoulder, and chest. They dissipated into his skin. The Vincetii didn’t even slow down.
Enrik pulled his sword, Vinrid, from its sheath and leapt over the bank.
Enrik pointed Vinrid straight out in front of him. “Alandrans, hold your fire and wait for my signal. We will defend this land!”
Enrik waited for the Vincetii noble to close, then stepped forward and to his right to meet the Vincetii’s blade. The enemy’s steel didn’t offer much resistance. Vinrid’s edge continued through the Vincetii’s sword, sliced his shoulder, and sucked in another plasma bolt.
He spun Vinrid in front of him, and the blade glowed orange as it sucked in the plasma bolts.
Enrik pivoted on his heel and swung for the back of the Vincetii’s neck. The Vincetii dropped into a roll, pulled out a small blaster, and fired. Enrik winced as the plasma bolt impacted with his ribs. The Vincetii’s eyes went wide. He’d probably been expecting the the blaster to do more damage. Enrik managed to alter his swing to drive Vinrid’s point through the Vincetii’s back.
Enrik straightened up and sucked in a breath of air. No more Vincetii warriors charged at him. Enrik wiped Vinrid off on the dead Vincetii’s pant leg before returning his sword to its sheath.
Deled stepped up to him and saluted. “Sir, the rest of the squad and I managed to capture the other Vincetii while they were distracted by your battle.”
“Good work.” Enrik clapped Deled on the shoulder. “Bind them and bring them back to the capital for interrogation.”
Enrik scrambled over the embankment to check on the wounded soldier. He was on his feet and answering a medic’s questions, so he probably wasn’t too badly injured. Enrik nodded to himself and watched the Vincetii prisoners as they were loaded into a transport craft. Most of them, especially the violet-skinned nobles, stood tall and proud, refusing to look their captors in the eye as they boarded the transport craft. A few of them fought the entire way, and had to be tranquilized, then tossed aboard.
As soon as everyone was ready, Enrik pressed the wrist control to activate his flight pack, and led the way back to the capital. The flight back was uneventful. No further Vincetii patrols interrupted the journey.
Enrik landed at the hanger and then checked over his shoulder to ensure that the rest of his squad landed in formation behind him. He nodded and led the way to the supply officer to turn in his flight gear.
Most of the squad dispersed off in various directions, to their bunks for sleep, or to the cafeteria, most likely.
Deled stepped up and saluted him. “Permission to accompany you to see to the prisoners, sire?”
Enrik rolled his eyes. “I’ve already told you that you don’t have to be so formal. Especially when it’s just us.” He sighed and headed for the door, waving over his shoulder for Deled to follow.
The prisoners had already been transferred to their cells in the short time it took Enrik to get to the observation room above the main detention floor. The individual cell blocks lined the main floor below them, and a row of monitors showed the interior of each cell. Every prisoner sat motionless, looking straight ahead.
“Fourteen cells.” Deled snorted. “What would we do if we ever caught more than a handful of them at a time?”
Enrik turned and raised his eyebrows. “Considering that the Secret Service gets almost giddy in the already rare event of any prisoners at all, I’m sure they’d find some way to accommodate them.”
Deled frowned and tilted his head to the side in acknowledgment.
“Well, it looks like the prisoners are secure.” Enrik yawned. “Excuse me. I’m going to get some sleep. Please let me know if anything requires my attention.”
Deled saluted him. Enrik nodded, and left the observation room to head back to his own quarters.
No one else interrupted him on the way. Enrik entered his room, closed the door and leaned back against it. He yawned and stumbled over the red carpet toward his bed. Blasted Vincetii. Why’d they always have to raid at night? He sighed, crossed to his bed, and sat down. He unfastened his weapons belt, tossed it to the nightstand, and started to pull off his shirt.
“Security breach in the detention area,” the intercom announced. “All forces, report in.”
Enrik looked up at the wood paneled ceiling and sighed, one arm out of his shirt. He shrugged back into it, and reached for his weapons belt on the nightstand next to his bed. An alarm rang out just as his fingers touched the buckle.
Enrik put a hand to each side to make sure Vinrid and his blaster were secure on his hips as he ran for the door. He turned sideways and launched himself through just as the door started to slide open. He ran down the hallway, the columns starting to blur together as he picked up speed.
He skidded to a stop at the entrance to the detention area.
“Let me through!” he yelled.
A soldier snapped to attention, saluted him, and immediately keyed in the sequence to open the blast door.
Enrik stepped through the door into the holding area and looked around to survey the damage. Scorch marks covered the white walls and debris littered the floor. A large hole had been blasted in the roof about fifty feet from where he stood, and a female Vincetii stood on the edge of the hole ten feet above the rows of cells. A line of Alandran soldiers stood off to the left, blasters trained on the intruder. Other than the alarm, it was eerily quiet.
Her skin was light purple. A noble, then. Her hair was auburn in color, unusual for her race. The base of her tail was about as thick in diameter as his wrist, and tapered down to end in a thin spade-shape about the size of his palm. The claws on her wingtips were larger than average for a female, and silver. This was no ordinary warrior. The glowing purple cylinder she held in her right hand wasn’t ordinary either.
Enrik looked over his shoulder to the line of troops. “Status report.”
General Torbain stepped forward and saluted him. “You arrived quickly, Your Highness. She’s been standing there since she blew the hole in the roof, and has demanded to speak with the king. She hasn’t said a word since.”
“Any idea what that is?” Enrik jerked his chin at the cylinder the Vincetii held.
“No, sire,” General Torbain said. “However, it’s giving off cardia radiation…”
Enrik glanced at the general, then back up at the cylinder. No controls that he could see from this distance. It was about nine inches long with silver caps on either end. The center tube was translucent. Black gas filled the cylinder, and purple light wafted around inside. Cardia radiation… that meant this one hand-sized cylinder had the potential to theoretically destroy the entire city.
Enrik stepped forward and waved the soldiers back. He lifted his chin to address the Vincetii. “The king is away on business. Will the heir to the throne suffice?”
The Vincetii stared back down at him, her wings half-spread. Enrik returned her stare. Her eyes were violet. They weren’t haughty, or full of hatred. That too, was unusual. Instead, he almost thought he saw fear in them, or possibly uncertainty.
“Are you authorized to meet my demands?” The woman’s voice had a clear and pleasant tone, yet another surprise. The other Vincetii that he had fought had either deep gravelly voices, or high shrieking ones. But then, most of them had been trying to kill him.
“My father will stand by my word,” Enrik said.
The Vincetii paused. Her gaze flicked down to the sword at his waist, then back up to meet his eyes again. “I want you to release the prisoners that were captured in the last raid on our settlement.”
Enrik frowned. “We ‘raided’ that farmland to recover supplies that were stolen from us. The thieves have been apprehended.”
The Vincetii looked down at the cylinder she held, then back to Enrik.
“Very well.” Enrik sighed. “What do you give in exchange for the prisoners, then?”
She raised and eyebrow and glanced down at the glowing cylinder. “Not blowing up your city.”
Enrik’s eyes widened. “You do realize that in doing so, you’d kill the prisoners that you’re attempting to free. And, though we would die, we would most likely kill you before you could escape.”
The Vincetii’s shoulders sagged a little. “I offer myself in exchange for them.”
Enrik raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected that offer.
General Torbain leaned closer to Enrik. “We can’t trust the word of a Vincetii.”
Enrik looked over to the general. “If she had wanted to kill us all, she could have done it without warning.” He turned back to the Vincetii. “May I have your name, then?”
The Vincetii slowed the flapping of her wings and lowered herself to the floor. She folded her wings to her back and took a step towards Enrik. The soldiers around Enrik raised their weapons. Enrik held up his left palm.
“I am Natiah, queen of the Vincetii.”
Enrik cocked his head. The girl didn’t look old enough to be the queen, yet she seemed sincere. And intelligence reported that the Vincetii queen had recently died. Unfortunately, they didn’t have enough information on internal Vincetii politics to verify that report, or to know how the Vincetii determined their leadership structure. He’d best be cautious in dealing with the girl. “I was led to believe that the queen of the Vincetii died in battle a month ago.”
“That’s true.” Natiah straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I am her youngest daughter, now queen.”
Enrik bit his lip. Why would the youngest daughter be promoted to queen? For that matter, why would any Vincetii offer themselves for anyone else? There wasn’t anything ordinary about this girl. Still, she was a noble, and she did have a deadly weapon in her hands…
“Sergeant.” Enrik held out his hand, and a young man stepped forward. “Binders, please.”
Enrik took the binders from the sergeant and stepped toward Natiah.
She jerked the cylinder up in front of her. It emitted a loud hum and left a purple after-image. “The prisoners first.”
Enrik paused mid-stride, and waved the soldiers back. “Then what’s to stop you from leaving with them? If you’re serious about your proposal, then I suggest a show of good faith. Allow me to take you into custody. The soldiers will stay back. Then, once the prisoners have been freed, you willingly give up the cylinder.”
It was a gamble. The Vincetii were cruel, vicious, and untrustworthy. Enrik couldn’t be certain that Natiah wouldn’t detonate the cylinder once the prisoners were freed. This could have been a planned suicide mission from the beginning. Plus, there was no way to know if she really was the queen, or if this was all an elaborate deception.
Still, this was the best way he could think of to potentially avoid as many deaths as possible. And the young Vincetii woman seemed different. She was certainly young, and possibly naive. Why else would she come up with such a harebrained scheme instead of just attacking? And since when did Vincetii care about what happened to each other?
Natiah stared into his eyes as she thought the situation over. She swallowed a few times and took short, shallow breaths. Her wingtips twitched.
She’s not sure this is a good idea, either, he thought.
“Very well,” she said eventually. “I feel that I can trust you. I surrender myself into your custody, as long as the prisoners are freed and you give me your word that you will be personally responsible for my safety.”
“You have my word.”
Enrik stepped forward and Natiah held her hands out in front of her. She breathed harder now, and her entire body noticeably trembled. She still clutched the cylinder in a death grip. Enrik placed the binders around her wrists. She didn’t meet his eyes.
“I’m afraid we will have to bind your wings, as well, Your Highness.”
“A reasonable precaution. May I ask for some of the prisoners to be released first?”
Enrik bent down and looked into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated, and they were a darker shade of violet now, a sign of fear.
“Very well.” Enrik waved over his shoulder. “General.”
Enrik grasped her wrist with his left hand as General Torbain walked over to the first cell bank. The Vincetii’s arm quivered beneath his hand.
She relaxed a little when the first wave of Vincetii prisoners flew out of the hole in the detention block. Enrik wrapped binders around her wings, securing them together so she couldn’t fly off. She whimpered a little when he did. Were they sensitive?
General Torbain walked down the row, entering his access code on each cell. The doors opened, and another bank of prisoners was released.
Enrik stretched out his hand. “The cylinder, your highness?”
“I will surrender it once the last group of prisoners is away.”
Enrik looked down at her with new respect. She was obviously terrified, yet she still had courage. But did she have honor? No Vincetii he had met had seemed to, yet if this one did not, he was gambling with the lives of everyone in the city.
He took a deep breath and nodded to the General, who released the last group of prisoners.
Enrik looked Natiah in the eye and placed one hand on the cylinder. It was warm to the touch. Natiah released it, and Enrik handed it to a solider.
“Take this to the lab for analysis.”
“Yes, sir.” The soldier stepped gently and held the cylinder out away from his chest as he departed.
Enrik snapped his fingers.
Another soldier stepped up to him and stood at attention. “Yes, your highness?”
“Take her to a secure cell.”
Natiah whipped her head around and looked him in the eye. “Your word?” she whispered. Her eyes pleaded with him, and she shook visibly now.
“You will not be harmed.”
“Could… could you take me to my cell? You’ve given me your word that I won’t be harmed. And all the stories about what Alandrans do to prisoners…”
Enrik wondered for the first time if Vincetii children were told tales of horror about the evils of the Alandra just as Alandran children were told tales about the Vincetii.
“Very well.”
Enrik waved the soldier back and placed his hand under Natiah’s elbow. “If you would come this way, please.”
Enrik returned his father’s stare. The king had come back to the palace a few hours after the attack and had summoned Enrik to the throne room.
Enrik stood at the base of the steps that lead up to the gold-plated throne. The smaller throne to the right of his father was empty.
His father just sat there looking at him. He’d been doing that for the past half an hour. He hadn’t yet spoken to Enrik.
Enrik swallowed and glanced at the columns that lined the throne room. The other councilors weren’t here either, so this was probably a private scolding rather than an official reprimand.
“Well?” the king finally asked.
“Father?”
“Why did you let the prisoners go?”
“The queen threatened to destroy the entire city.” Enrik squared his shoulders. “I took the course of action that I thought would save the most lives.”
“Yes, and that’s commendable. However, it’s rare that we get prisoners. We hadn’t even had a chance to get much information out of them yet.”
Enrik raised both eyebrows, but managed to keep his tongue. His father knew as well as he did that Vincetii prisoners very rarely gave up any information at all.
“What really troubles you about my conduct, Father?”
The king leaned back on his throne and looked Enrik up and down. “I’m trying to decide whether I’ve raised a good leader or a sentimental fool.”
“Sir?”
“You’ve fought the Vincetii. You know what they’re like. Yet you believed that young whelp of a queen wouldn’t actually destroy the city if you released the prisoners. Oddly enough, she kept her word—a first for a Vincetii as far as I know.” He leaned forward. “I need to know if we’re all alive today by a fluke accident, or if you know what you’re doing. How did you know you could trust her?”
Enrik took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I’m not sure, sir. Everything about this one is different. When have the Vincetii ever cared about anything? Why give us the chance to cooperate? Why offer herself at all instead of just demanding that the prisoners be released or she’d blow everything up?”
Enrik paced back and forth. “None of it made any sense, and I wanted answers. I looked her in the eyes.”
He paused and glanced up at his father, who had straightened up at that.
“I’ve only ever seen hostility in Vincetii eyes. Anger, hatred… But this—this was different. I saw fear and trust in her eyes, so I took a chance. And I still believe that choice was the best outcome to avoid loss of life.
“If I accepted her offer, and she betrayed that trust, then where would we be? Right back where we were, either dead in an explosion anyway, or in the middle of a battle. At worst, accepting her offer would be a waste of time, so I took it.”
The king grunted. “I suppose so. I’m not sure I would have seen it that way. Good job, son. Now go and see if you can get anything out of her.”
“Yes, Father.”
Natiah swallowed, but there was still a lump in her throat. She leaned against the bars of her cell and stared at the prince’s back as he walked down the hallway and out of sight.
Now what? She glanced around the cell. There were no obvious recording devices, but surely the Alandrans monitored the holding cells.
Natiah sat on the hard plastic bench that was the only furnishing in the cell, besides the sanitary facilities. She bit her lip and studied the cell again. Now that the prisoners had been released, it was her duty to escape. She grinned to herself. The Vincetii council had called her a fool, and swore she’d never be able to rescue the prisoners.
She squared her shoulders. She’d been able to do one impossible thing, how much more difficult could another be?
Her train of thought was interrupted by the clicking of heels coming from the hallway. An older Alandran woman with blond hair wearing an Alandran Secret Service uniform strode down the hall and stopped in front of Natiah’s cell. From the insignia on her uniform, the woman was a major. And, if memory served, the patch on her left shoulder indicated that she was the division leader.
The major stood at ease and studied Natiah silently through the bars. Natiah stared back for what seemed like forever. The major had a friendly smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t glare, and didn’t seem like she was trying to wear Natiah out.
Despite that, Natiah felt like she had to speak first, knowing that in doing so she lost. “I suppose you’re here to interrogate me?”
The major put her hand to her chest. “Me? Of course not, I just came to check on the prisoner.” Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “The only prisoner.”
Natiah squared her shoulders. “My people were taken by the enemy. I had to get them back. You’d do the same, if our positions were reversed.”
The major sighed. “I’m not sure if you’re an idealist, or just an idiot.” She shrugged. “Ah well. I’ll let the prince toy with you for a while, then you and I will chat in my office about some hard truths.”
She smiled, almost apologetically, turned on her heel, and strode back down the hallway.
Natiah watched her go and shuddered. She had no intention of having any sort of private discussion with the Secret Service, at least not if she could help it.
She examined the cell bars and flicked one with her fingernail. It felt like normal steel. Thick enough that even a noble couldn’t pry them loose, but regular steel nonetheless. Natiah frowned, glanced at her wing claws, bit her lip, then looked back to the bars.
Well, now was just as good a time as any. She took a step back, half extended her right wing, and sliced low at the bars while turning her torso and stepping forward with her legs.
The claw tore through the bars with minimal resistance, but a loud shearing sound. An alarm rang out in the hallway. Natiah jumped. No one was in sight yet, but with that alarm, they had to be on their way. She took a deep breath and sliced at the bars, higher this time. Five of the bars clanged down to the floor, leaving a hole just large enough for her to squeeze through.
Let’s see the soldiers brought me in from the left… Natiah glanced down the hallway. No one was yet in sight.
She sprinted down the hall and tried to remember where she needed to turn to find the way out of the maze of the prison complex. She ducked around what she thought was the correct turn and continued down the hallway. The next turn should be at the second right.
Footsteps echoed from somewhere ahead. The sounds bounced all around in the hallways, making it difficult to determine the exact source. Natiah pressed her back against the wall next to the corner she needed to take. It didn’t sound like anyone was down that hall. She took a deep breath and sprinted around the hallway.
The corridor was clear. For a while. When she made it about halfway down, doors ahead of and behind her opened, and Alandran soldiers spilled out into the hallway. Natiah punched the one directly in front of her. He crumpled to the floor, but before she could throw another punch, the other soldiers dogpiled on top of her. Something cold and metallic pressed against her neck, and everything went dark.
“What do you mean she’s not in her cell?” Enrik bellowed.
The guard cringed. “I’m sorry, sir. She had to be taken to the medical ward.”
Enrik leaned up against the wall and rubbed his temples. “Why?”
“As soon as you left she tried to escape. She cut through the bars with her wing claws—“
Enrik looked up. “What?”
The bars were reinforced steel. Even Vincetii claws shouldn’t have been able to cut through them.
“Yes, sir. We have it on camera.” The guard turned around and pressed a button. The monitor behind him changed from a schematic of the facility to an overhead view of the Vincetii queen’s cell. She peered out from the bars, looked up and down the hallway, and then slammed a claw across the bars.
Enrik gasped as the claws sliced through the steel bars. It wasn’t exactly like a knife through butter, but the bars didn’t offer much resistance.
“After that, she ran out of her cell and headed for the exit. She injured two guards before we could tranquilize her, but we got her. General Torbain ordered her claws amputated, and your father approved it,” the guard said.
Enrik sunk into a chair and lowered his face into his hands. “What a day.”
He didn’t know what to think. On the one hand, he had given her his word that she would not be harmed. On the other hand, she had attempted to escape and injured two guards.
He stood, thanked the guard, and headed to the medical ward.
The Vincetii lay strapped to a bed in the recovery ward. He stopped short in the doorway. She sniffed, and tears ran down her cheeks. She didn’t cry loudly, in self-pity, or to get attention. They were the kind of tears his people would shed when experiencing inner torment.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I was not made aware of this…” he gestured to her wings. “—procedure, until it had already happened.”
She blinked the tears from her eyes and turned to face him.
“It’s not your fault. It was my duty to attempt escape, and now I must suffer the consequences of that failure.” She turned away and her body shook as she fought back more tears.
Enrik reached down and released the shackle around her left wrist.
A medical tech ran into the room. “Sir, you can’t do that!”
Enrik raised his head to glare at the tech. “Are you presuming to tell me what I may or may not do?” He kept his voice low, but put as much steel into his tone as he could manage.
The tech’s adam’s apple bobbed visibly. “No, sir.”
“She is my responsibility now.”
“Yes, sir.” The tech stood there wringing his hands.
“Is there anything else?” Enrik asked.
“Yes, sir—” The tech glanced back and forth between them, the conflict between helping an enemy and caring for a patient evident on his face. “Uh, she should rest or be limited to light duties for the next day or so… So, um…”
Enrik turned to look at Natiah before answering the tech. “Don’t worry, I’ll see to it that she isn’t harmed.”
Enrik placed binders around her wrists before he removed the rest of the restraints that held her to the bed. He stepped back, allowing the girl to sit up. Her face was round and soft, her skin was tight and unblemished. She didn’t have any visible scars. She didn’t look old enough to be a queen. If she was a young woman and not a child, she was just barely so. He stepped to the side and observed her from that angle. She might just look young for her age.
“Natiah,” he asked.
“Yes?” She answered in a small voice, not meeting his eyes.
“If I am to keep my word to you, I need your word that you will not attempt another escape, that you will not harm any of my people, and that you will obey my word.”
Natiah looked up at him. “That is much to ask of a prisoner.” She looked down at the floor and lowered her voice. “And of a young woman.”
“You already have my word that I will not harm you.”
She looked Enrik in the eyes again. “Do you not realize how the oath you wish me to take would bind me, and that it could harm me in ways that I do not understand if I misjudge your character?”
Enrik smiled. “I believe so. Do you understand how large a risk I take in trusting the word of a Vincetii?”
A hint of a smile did flicker across Natiah’s face at that. “As much as I can trust the word of an Alandran.”
She stared into his eyes for a while, her whole body taut, face pale, arms wrapped around her sides. She slowly let out a jagged breath. “Very well, Prince Enrik.” Her voice was a whisper. “I give you my word, though you know not what your request means among my people.”
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