The Rogue Prince

  “Don’t know. She has . . . high standards . . . for someone the Alliance . . . is trying to arrest.”

  “I’ll wager Stellacor just wants her back . . . and had the Alliance . . . put out an arrest warrant for them.”

  Jelena flicked her hand in acknowledgment. She couldn’t manage speaking anymore. Fortunately, the grass grew shorter and less thick under the trees’ canopy. They ran through mud and soggy leaf litter, while weaving around trunks and dodging low branches. Smoke tinged the damp air. It was darker in the woods, as if twilight had already come.

  The trees blocked the view ahead, but Erick held up a hand.

  “People up ahead,” he whispered, slowing to a jog.

  Though Jelena did not want to slow down, she forced herself to and tried to step lightly. If those Alliance men had been hand-selected to hunt down Thor, they would be good at their jobs. And they’d be very alert as they closed on him, not knowing what to expect.

  Just be conscious, Thor, she thought, sending the words out for him, if he was listening. She sensed him, but still couldn’t tell much about his status. She also couldn’t pinpoint his location. It was as if he, too, was using some drug to muddle her attempts at reaching his mind.

  I can’t tell where he is, Erick said silently, glancing at her. Can you lead us?

  Yes, but I’m struggling to get a bead on him too.

  Jelena jogged ahead of him, her legs leaden after the long sprint, and kept her staff gripped tightly. She could sense life in the woods, animals hiding and birds staying silent in the aftermath of the crash, but also men. Four of them. They were working independently rather than in a group, so she and Erick would have to be doubly careful approaching the wreck. She could sense the downed ship up ahead, and two of the men were near it. Since she couldn’t tell where Thor was, she and Erick would have to check the crash first.

  She slowed to a walk, stepping carefully, glad the leaves were too wet to crunch. Even so, she suspected they’d already been detected. The two men farther from the wreck were circling it and coming toward them. Coincidence? Or were they coming to see who had barged into the forest?

  Jelena bit her lip, torn between hiding from them and striding straight to the wreck, then using her power to protect herself if the men attacked. Imagining Thor lying broken and unconscious in his smashed cockpit, she decided on the latter.

  They know we’re out here, Erick told her, perhaps alarmed when she gave up stealth and strode forward with determined intent.

  So? We’re not assassins. They shouldn’t shoot civilians.

  What about civilians who are trespassing on a senator’s ranch?

  They’re trespassing too. You think an old imperial senator would welcome Alliance soldiers onto his land?

  If he wants to keep his land on this Alliance-run planet, yes.

  Orange light flared ahead, and Jelena did not respond. Was that some weapon? There hadn’t been an explosion.

  She stepped behind a tree and peered deeper into the woods. Flames leaped into view, racing along the soggy leaves as if they were dryer than straw. Jelena stumbled back. A wall of fire soon charged through the trees, lighting them on fire as it leaped from trunk to trunk. It roared toward Jelena and Erick, and fear surged in her chest. The fire stole the shadows as it grew in intensity, and the air filled with smoke.

  Fighting instincts to flee, Jelena forced herself to concentrate, to raise her staff and create a protective barrier around her and Erick.

  Good, keep that up, he spoke into her mind. I’ll try to figure out who . . . Smell that? QuickFlame. I think the soldiers started it intentionally.

  Focused on keeping the barrier up, Jelena did not answer. The fire reached them, and she poured more energy than was required into protecting them. The flames burning all around them, licking at her invisible shield, daunted her even if they weren’t touching her and she couldn’t feel their heat. If her mind slipped for a second, they would be burned to crisps.

  I bet they started it to flush him out, Erick added.

  A crash sounded up ahead, and a silvery figure sprinted through the trees. Thor? No, the orange light of the flames reflected off combat armor.

  Jelena groaned to herself. No wonder the soldiers wouldn’t be worried about the fire. Their insulated, temperature-controlled armor would protect them from extreme conditions.

  A dark shape stepped out from the burning tree beside her, and she almost shrieked and lost her concentration. Some of the heat seeped through her barrier when it waned, and fear clutched her again. She poured everything into her shield and could feel Erick channeling energy into it too.

  The armored soldier, someone as tall as Erick but much brawnier, reached toward them. Jelena fought her instinct to jump back, trusting in her barrier. The man’s silver gauntleted knuckles bumped against it. He stared at them, the flames all around reflected on his faceplate. She couldn’t see his eyes, and if he said anything, she couldn’t hear it over the roar of the fire.

  His helmet shifted as he looked past them. Had he heard something?

  He leaped over her barrier as if he were on a trampoline rather than solid ground, then sprinted in the direction he had been looking. The direction of the wreck.

  Jelena’s stomach twisted. I’m going that way, she warned Erick silently.

  With you.

  She wanted to run, but she walked, careful to keep the barrier extended around both of them. The core of the fire had swept past them, but individual trees continued to burn, and flames danced on fallen logs and branches on the ground.

  Full night seemed to have fallen, or maybe the thick smoke was blocking out the fading light from the suns. Even with her barrier up, the scent of charring wood and leaf litter reached Jelena’s nose, coming up from the ground they passed over. Heat rose from the ashes they walked across, and she did her best to extend her protection into the ground.

  She stretched out, again trying to get a sense for where Thor was, but it was a struggle to maintain her barrier and read the area around them at the same time.

  There’s his crash site. Erick pointed past her shoulder.

  A breeze cleared some of the smoke, and the mangled shape of the old imperial star clipper came into view, the nose smashed deep into the ground, the hull warped and contorted. The remaining wing had struck a tree, and the trunk lay across the back of the craft. A testament to the sturdiness of the hull, it hadn’t been crushed, but Jelena couldn’t get a good look at the cockpit from her position. It was possible the pilot had been pinned in there.

  She quickened her pace, but before she’d gone more than a few steps toward the wreck, Erick gripped her shoulder. He pointed to something else.

  One of the armored soldiers lay on his back on the ashes. Was it the one that had stared at them? He wasn’t moving now, and when she reached out with her mind, she didn’t sense any life.

  Not sure she wanted to, she walked closer. His faceplate was broken. More than that, it looked like the liquid Glastica had been blown in or blown out, leaving a huge ragged hole. When she peered into his helmet, she jerked back, sucking in an alarmed breath. The man’s face had been burned away, leaving nothing recognizable, nothing alive.

  Thorian must be awake, Erick spoke grimly into her mind as she turned away, not able to look any longer. And able to defend himself.

  You think he did that? Jelena asked, drawing back from the idea, preferring to think that the man’s faceplate had broken in a fall and that he’d been a victim of his own fire.

  Erick came up beside her and shook his head slowly, pointedly. I’m sure it wasn’t the retired eighty-year-old senator who lives here.

  Jelena had temporarily forgotten that they were on someone’s property and not out in the wilderness. Would some of the senator’s people be along to check on the fire and the ships soon?

  She quickened her pace toward the wreck. It was hemmed in by other trees, some still dancing with flames, and they had to climb over the log atop it to reach the co
ckpit. Keeping the barrier up while they navigated the obstacle was difficult, but every time Jelena felt a hint of heat seeping through, she reinforced it.

  To her relief, the cockpit wasn’t smashed. The cracked canopy had been lifted, and there wasn’t anyone inside. Good.

  Jelena started to withdraw but paused. In the flickering orange light, she made out a dark spatter on the seat and more drops on the control panel. She hesitated, then touched her finger to the liquid. It had almost dried from the heat of the fire, but a smear came away on her finger. Blood.

  He’s injured. She showed her finger to Erick.

  Anyone would be after that crash, but he’s clearly got his faculties about him. He—

  A wrenching sound came from behind them, and they both spun away from the wreck. A massive tree toppled, the draft it created stirring the smoke. A crunch echoed through the woods, and someone screamed.

  Imagining Thor being crushed, Jelena ran toward the tree. Someone was pinned under the thick trunk, but it wasn’t Thor. It was one of the men in armor, ash and soot dulling its silver sheen. He lay on his back fully under the tree, but he was still alive, and even as they watched, he gripped the charred trunk with both hands. He roared and hefted. Surprisingly, the trunk moved. He shoved it several feet into the air and rolled to the side with amazing speed, clearing the ground before the tree landed again.

  Jelena stared, hardly believing the feat. Yes, the combat armor would increase his strength, but even with it, should he have been able to lift a massive tree? Especially from that position with so little leverage? Maybe he was one of the Alliance’s cyborg soldiers. It made sense that the best would have been chosen to go after Thor.

  Pain radiated from the man, but he jumped to his feet. He turned toward Jelena and Erick and jerked his arm up, the blazer weapons embedded in his armor popping up, ready to fire.

  Jelena gripped her staff, letting more energy flow into maintaining her barrier. She was getting a headache from the ongoing effort required, but to let it down would be suicidal.

  Though clearly prepared, the soldier did not shoot. He must know that neither of them was Thor. His target. But at the same time, he would find their presence here suspicious.

  Jelena opened her mouth, but she wasn’t sure what to say. We’re not your enemies? Was that true? When they had come to help Thor? But even if she wanted to help him, she didn’t want to pick a fight with the Alliance. It was already possible they would be linked to the death of the other man. And what then? She couldn’t run freight for her family if she was wanted by the Alliance, not when their control extended over half the system now. The desirable half of the system.

  Once again, the wrenching of roots being torn from their beds sounded behind them, along with thunderous snaps. Jelena turned toward the noise, afraid one of the trees would smash down on them. Seeing movement, she threw everything into her barrier and lifted her staff toward the sky.

  But, though less than ten feet away, the tree did not fall in their direction. It smashed down between them and the wreck, the ground shivering as it struck.

  It might be a good time to leave, Erick spoke into her mind.

  I . . . am not sure I object. Yet Jelena did not truly entertain the notion. She didn’t know if Thor was nearby and knocking over these trees, or if they were falling because of damage from the fire. He might very well be hunkered in hiding somewhere, his injury making it difficult for him to flee.

  Erick looked gravely at her, and whether through his telepathic link or from her own thoughts, an image appeared in her mind of the man with the broken helmet and his face burned off.

  She turned back toward the soldier, both because it wouldn’t be a good idea to leave him at their backs and because she thought she might negotiate with him. With words if not mental power—she assumed the men’s drugs hadn’t worn off yet. Maybe she could offer to help them track Thor but then lead them away.

  But the man wasn’t standing anymore. She stepped back, horror lurching into her at the sight before her. His armored body lay in the ashes, and his helmet—his head—lay several feet away.

  “What in all the suns’ hells?” she blurted.

  Even Erick seemed stunned. He gripped her shoulder, and she felt his horror through the tightness, his alarmed fingers squeezing her. She sensed that he wanted to get out of there, to throw her over his shoulder and carry her away if he had to.

  What could have done that? She stared at the helmet, at the decapitated man, unable to tear her gaze away. A properly angled and sustained cut from a blazer beam might severe a man’s head from his body, but not an armored man’s head. Blazer fire usually pinged right off combat armor. Sustained fire might bore through it, but damn, Jelena hadn’t been looking away for that long.

  A pissed-off, surly teenage assassin. Erick’s grimness came across far more than any sense of humor.

  Using what? she demanded incredulously. She doubted even Grandpa could tear a head from an armored man’s body with his mind. Not that he would try. This was more like something his crazy brother Tymoteusz might have done, but even then, she couldn’t imagine how. And her mind shied away from making a connection between Thor and her dead uncle.

  The squeal of blazer fire rose over the snaps and crackles of burning wood. It seemed to come from somewhere behind the wreck. Jelena walked in that direction, climbing over the fallen log again.

  Are you sure we want to check that out? Erick asked.

  Jelena paused in the shadow of the wreck, dreading the idea of coming upon another gruesomely killed soldier. No, she admitted honestly.

  Then a snap came from the other direction, from where the beheaded soldier had fallen. Jelena had barely turned around when an armored figure leaped over the log toward them. A rifle hung on a strap slung across his torso, but the man did not grab it. He yelled in fury and sprang toward them, his gauntleted hands open, his fingers spread, as if he meant to grab them and tear them limb from limb.

  “We didn’t do it,” Erick yelled.

  Jelena reinforced her barrier one more time to make sure he did not reach them, but she stepped back as she did so, intimidated by the huge armored man. Her heel caught on something under the ashes, and she pitched backward, losing her balance. She flailed and caught herself on the scorching hull of the wreck.

  Pain burst from her hand at the contact, and she yelped, clutching it to her chest, forgetting the soldier—and her barrier—for a second.

  A second was all it took. The man bowled into Erick, slamming him against the wreck. Bone crunched, and Erick yelled in pain.

  Jelena started to remake her barrier, but it was too late. She couldn’t block out the soldier when he was grabbing Erick. Instead, she lunged at the man, channeling her power into her staff and thrusting it at his hip.

  Lightning crackled all around his armor, but he kept yelling, too full of rage to feel the pain. Jelena struck him again, this time in the side of the neck. He roared, hurled Erick over his head, and whirled toward her. He grabbed for her staff as Erick flew over the log and landed out of sight on the other side. Jelena tried to yank her staff away before the man caught it, but he was too fast. Another cyborg?

  For a moment, fear overrode her concentration as she remembered being a kid and watching Leonidas come out on top in sparring matches against a former Starseer crew member, Abelardus.

  Her staff did not break and crack under the soldier’s squeezing grip, but without her power flowing into it, it didn’t crackle and do any damage to him or his armor. He yanked on it, almost pulling it from her grip. She hung on tenaciously and found herself flying through the air.

  She twisted, trying to get her feet under her as she soared past the burning log, glimpsing Erick as she went. He’d regained his feet and faced the soldier while she twisted and landed in a crouch beside him, her staff striking the ground and flinging up ashes.

  With her barrier down, heat and smoke railed at them, and Jelena couldn’t keep from coughing. Ashes coated
her mouth and throat. She forced herself to stand, certain the soldier would spring after them. She was right.

  But as he leaped over the log, Erick thrust his own staff out. He struck the man with a telekinetic blast. This time, the soldier was the one to fly backward, his back striking against the hull hard enough to dent his armor. Even so, he landed on his feet and ran at them again.

  His face grimy and grim in the flickering firelight, Erick hurled him backward again. “We are not your enemies!”

  The soldier roared and didn’t seem to understand—or maybe he couldn’t believe Erick. He must believe they’d been the ones to decapitate his comrade.

  Jelena stood next to Erick, ready to lend her power to his, but not sure how to stop the determined soldier. Instead of charging them again, the man yanked his rifle up. Jelena made her barrier faster than she ever had in her life.

  Crimson blazer bolts streaked through the smoke, bouncing off their invisible protection. Even though he must have known he wasn’t getting through, the man did not relent. He stalked forward, finger squeezing the trigger, one long sustained beam pointing at them, as if he could burn a hole through the barrier.

  Maybe he could. Unlike before, Jelena’s head ached, and she felt herself weaken at the power that was required to keep her barrier up under the onslaught. She had done too much. She was tired. It was almost as if she were the Snapper, and her shields were slowly being depleted.

  “Erick,” she whispered to let him know she needed help.

  He growled in frustration, maybe already aware of the problem, and stepped forward, raising his staff. Once again, the soldier flew backward into the hull. The soldier cried out, but he kept his grip on the rifle, kept firing at them.

  His face angry and tense and frustrated, Erick attacked again, making the man’s helmet bash into the wreck over and over. Finally, the rifle dropped from the soldier’s hands. The man slumped to the ground, his helmet dented in a dozen places. Jelena reached out with her senses, praying they’d only knocked him unconscious. Yes, he was still alive, but he would need medical attention soon.