Sheera trembled like a tree leaf in the middle of a violent storm.“I’m scared.”
Ellard tucked her against his right side, leaving his arm free.Gweneth nudged closer and looked up at the hovering ship, visible through the bubble of the force field.
“Tracking beam,” Ellard said.
A ray of illumination shot through the bubble and focused on them.Gweneth’s skin tingled, and Sheera whimpered.
“It’s okay,” Ellard said.“This is a good plan.We’ll know what we’re facing, and once we’re out of the bubble, the dragons will have a better chance of finding us.”
He broadcast confidence, and Gweneth worked on presenting the same air of self-assurance.As the beam enclosed and lifted them, he prayed this idea worked.
Tension gripped Ellard’s chest, a tight band of steel restricting his breathing as they whooshed upward toward a ship hovering above the dome of the force field.Sleek and long in shape, the hull bore a patchwork of paint, which told its age and pedigree.An older ship of military origins sold for scrap.Someone had patched her up and done a reasonable job, given the purring of her engines.
As they neared the open cargo hold, the urge to roar his frustration almost overwhelmed him.Instead, he worked hard to channel his training and keep alert for escape possibilities.Of course, one part of his plan might get them killed.Gut instinct told him they’d wanted the young couple for their special abilities and knew of their existence.If their captors decided he and Gweneth were surplus to requirements, nothing would stop them.
He might have led the woman he admired into a trap.
A trap that might end with them both dead.
No wonder he was having trouble breathing.
“Recognize the ship?”Gweneth murmured against his ear.
His respect for her rose another notch.Most women would’ve embraced full panic mode by now.Sheera continued to tremble and shudder between them, but not Gweneth.
He studied the black-and-gray ship again with no recognition.“Not yet.”
“They might kill us.”
Ah, that sharp brain of hers had already played the angles.
“At least we’ll be outside the dome.”
“There is that.”
A frisson speared him, the sense of someone brushing his fur the wrong way as the beam drew them through the force field without difficulty.A mustard-colored cloud obscured the ship for an instant, the oily and sour stench making his breathing raspy.A cough racked Sheera, her slight body twitching uncontrollably between them.The cloud skittered away, and the hovering ship grew closer, bigger, and something about it pulled at his memory.Something familiar.
“If a debris storm didn’t do us in, I have no doubt we can get through this too,” Gweneth said.
“That’s my girl.”
Neither of them commented on the tremor in her fighting words.
She smiled and the warmth almost penetrated the anxiousness shadowing her green eyes.“Am I your girl?”
“Sheera, make yourself invisible.I want you to do something important for us.The instant we’re inside the ship and on solid footing, move away and try to find Leeam.Can you do that?”
The girl sniffed and swiped the back of her hand over her nose.
“Leeam is counting on us,” Gweneth said in a low voice.
The girl pushed back her shoulders at the reminder, gave a curt nod, and faded from sight.“Yes, I can do that.”
The beam guided them into the open hold, a cavernous space previously used to hold military supplies.At present, the area stood empty.Ellard scowled.A quick jaunt then.They wouldn’t have much time to effect an escape.The cargo doors slid shut behind them, the protesting creaks continuing for some time before the ship became sealed again.Without warning, the beam loosened its grip on them, and Ellard tensed, ready to fight.Nothing to use as a weapon in this dingy hold.The walls and floor bore evidence of rotations of service, the walls a military gray covered with dents and scratches and graffiti.
A door creaked open, as grumpy as the main hold door, and four bearded men strode through.Ellard took one look at their swinging leather kilts and the assortment of weapons—swords and blasters—and groaned.Bloody Scothage reivers.At one time, reivers had preyed on the few trade ships visiting Viros.Lynx and Shiloh had seen them off, and he hadn’t heard of them traveling near Viros since.
“Where is she?”The man’s bushy black beard didn’t hide the knife scar on his cheek.His grease-streaked plaid shirt in checks of red and green also bore a chieftain’s badge.His black boots slapped the dusty floor as he strode toward them, his leather kilt swinging.
