Without a Front: The Warrior's Challenge (Chronicles of Alsea Book 3)

  Table of Contents

  BOOKS IN THE SERIES CHRONICLES OF ALSEA

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  PART ONE: CONFLAGRATION

  CHAPTER 1: Burned

  CHAPTER 2: Incompetence

  CHAPTER 3: Non-interference

  CHAPTER 4: Restriction

  CHAPTER 5: Window to a bond

  CHAPTER 6: Release

  CHAPTER 7: Publicity

  CHAPTER 8: Freedom

  CHAPTER 9: An unlikely source

  CHAPTER 10: State House quarters

  CHAPTER 11: Little spy

  CHAPTER 12: Breaking the boundary

  CHAPTER 13: Warrior types

  CHAPTER 14: Herot’s message

  PART TWO: SPINNER IN THE WEB

  CHAPTER 15: Investigations

  CHAPTER 16: The whole truth

  CHAPTER 17: Picking up pieces

  CHAPTER 18: Micah speaks

  CHAPTER 19: Salomen’s strategy

  CHAPTER 20: True terror

  CHAPTER 21: Skimming Ehron

  CHAPTER 22: To Herot’s health

  CHAPTER 23: Lead Guard Vellmar

  CHAPTER 24: A different way

  CHAPTER 25: Sharing a search

  CHAPTER 26: Oath of service

  CHAPTER 27: Group Sharing

  CHAPTER 28: Traitor

  CHAPTER 29: Game of tiles

  PART THREE: PLAYING TO WIN

  CHAPTER 30: It’s still magic

  CHAPTER 31: The payoff

  CHAPTER 32: Plan of action

  CHAPTER 33: Fear and failure

  CHAPTER 34: Extraction

  CHAPTER 35: Team blue

  CHAPTER 36: Path of the Return

  CHAPTER 37: Counting heartbeats

  CHAPTER 38: Redmoon

  CHAPTER 39: Prisoner waking

  CHAPTER 40: Scope of betrayal

  CHAPTER 41: Isolation

  PART FOUR: ENDGAME

  CHAPTER 42: Loyalty test

  CHAPTER 43: Herot’s education

  CHAPTER 44: Morning in Redmoon

  CHAPTER 45: Family

  CHAPTER 46: Bondlancer

  CHAPTER 47: Strategy session

  CHAPTER 48: Stuck in the web

  CHAPTER 49: Dream job

  CHAPTER 50: Siblings

  CHAPTER 51: A breed apart

  CHAPTER 52: Sparring

  CHAPTER 53: Bedside visit

  CHAPTER 54: Awake in the dark

  CHAPTER 55: Looking for the Lancer

  CHAPTER 56: The warrior’s challenge

  CHAPTER 57: Fahla’s champion

  PART FIVE: INCLUSION

  CHAPTER 58: First run

  CHAPTER 59: The return

  CHAPTER 60: Sentence

  CHAPTER 61: The Chosen

  CHAPTER 62: Autumn feast

  CHAPTER 63: Damage control

  CHAPTER 64: Inclusion

  CHAPTER 65: Flames in the temple II

  GLOSSARY

  ABOUT FLETCHER DELANCEY

  OTHER BOOKS FROM YLVA PUBLISHING

  Sign up for our newsletter to hear

  about new and upcoming releases.

  www.ylva-publishing.com

  BOOKS IN THE SERIES

  CHRONICLES OF ALSEA

  The Caphenon

  (Book #1)

  Without a Front: The Producer’s Challenge

  (Book #2)

  For all the tyrees.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I could probably make this section very short and simply say, “Please read the acknowledgments from Without A Front: The Producer’s Challenge,” since the same team supported me through both that novel and this. But that’s a bit of a cop-out, because who is going to get out of their comfy chair and go pull another novel off a shelf to check the acknowledgments page? Or close this file and open a different one on their e-reader?

  So let’s give these people the recognition they deserve for all their hard work and support.

  As always, the greatest thanks go to my tyree, Maria João Valente. She taught me the difference between contentment and happiness, and inspired me to pursue the latter. She also makes really, really excellent gin and tonics.

  Karyn Aho was indispensable when it came to analyzing characters and plot lines, and kindly pointed out when I dropped a detail or two while juggling a few hundred of them. I am particularly grateful for her expertise in psychotherapy, which came in especially handy in two chapters of this book.

  In addition to general beta reading, Rick Taylor made sure that any references to swords or sparring carried the weight of realism and provided the impetus for me to turn a throwaway mention into several paragraphs of world-building. It never occurred to me to think about whether a sword was single-edged or double-edged until he asked.

  Rounding out my list of expert consultants are Saskia Goedhart for martial arts and S. N. Johnson-Roehr for astronomy. Thank you, ladies, for making sure I didn’t guess wrong.

  Rebecca Cheek hired on for the beta-reading and fact-checking job without the slightest idea of what it would require, and though I’m certain it involved far more time than she had anticipated, she dove in with the focus and drive for which she is famous. (And also with a good dose of acerbic Southern commentary, which I understand is good for me.) I completely rewrote one chapter in response to her feedback, and it is so much better for it.

  Erin Saluta wrapped up my beta reading team, acting as the proxy for readers who lead with their hearts. Since I lead with my head, I need that alternative viewpoint.

  In the production department, I’m grateful to Glendon Haddix of Streetlight Graphics for the atmospheric cover, and Astrid Ohletz for being both publisher and friend. My editor Sandra Gerth is a joy to work with, as is my copy editor Cheri Fuller, who is not averse to cussing me out in the margins because she got emotionally involved while scanning for errors. Lisa Shaw is possibly the fastest proofreader in the West, though I’m still grumbling about the amount of work she caused with a single observation.

  Finally, thank you to Daniela Huege and all of the folks at Ylva Publishing. You’re a great team.

  PART ONE:

  CONFLAGRATION

  CHAPTER 1:

  Burned

  “Andira…wake up.”

  “I can feel you. You’re almost there.”

  “Please, tyrina. Come the rest of the way.”

  “No change?”

  Tal heard Salomen’s voice, but the words made no sense, not until the deeper tones of Micah registered. She wanted to assure them that she was all right, but everything seemed so slow.

  “No.” Salomen’s voice again. “I can feel her; she’s just under the surface. Thank the Goddess I at least have that. If we hadn’t Shared, they would probably have sedated me by now.”

  “She’ll be all right. Healer Tornell is the best in her field. If she says the damage can be repaired, then it can.”

  “I know. It’s just so hard to see her like this.”

  “Like what?” Tal mumbled.

  A gasp sounded above her as someone touched the back of her neck.

  “There you are!” Salomen’s voice was in her ear. “You frightened me most of the way to my Return!” Soft li
ps kissed her neck, and Tal managed to open her eyes. She quickly shut them again; the room was far too bright.

  “Sorry.” It hurt to speak, but she felt an urgent need to tell Salomen that she hadn’t meant to frighten her.

  Salomen’s laugh was halfway to a sob. “Don’t you dare apologize to me.”

  Another kiss was pressed to the same place, and Salomen lingered there before pulling away with a reluctance that Tal could barely sense. Her mind seemed to be wrapped in feathers.

  And her throat felt as if she had been chewing on cinders. “Thirsty…”

  Footsteps hurried on a hard floor, away and back, and Salomen’s voice came from a different direction. Below her, somehow. “I have some water here if you’ll open your mouth.”

  She did, expecting that water would be poured in, but then something bumped against her lower lip. Instinctively, she closed her lips on it and sucked. Cool water filled her mouth, and she held it for a moment, marshaling the courage to swallow when she knew it was going to hurt.

  Oh, but it was worth it. The hot coals in her throat were quenched, and she imagined wisps of smoke coming out of her nostrils. She sucked up a lake’s worth of water, then cleared her throat and tried her voice again.

  “How bad is it? What do I look like?”

  Much better. Her voice was rough, but she could speak normally.

  “Like something the fanten stomped over and refused to eat,” Micah said.

  “Thanks, Micah. I can always depend on you.”

  “Can you open your eyes?” Salomen asked.

  “I think so.” Tal carefully opened her eyes a bare slit, testing the brightness and finding it tolerable this time. She widened the slit and blinked several times, confused by the fact that she saw nothing but the blue of the ocean on a summer afternoon.

  Oh. It was a floor.

  “No blue floors in Hol-Opah. Are we in Blacksun?”

  Salomen’s face appeared at the edge of her vision. “Yes. We’re in the healing center. How are you feeling?”

  “Like something the fanten stomped over and refused to eat. Though a good deal better than before.”

  Micah’s face appeared next to Salomen’s. “I was joking. You don’t look bad, considering what might have been.”

  “Healer Tornell says you’ll be on your feet in half a nineday,” Salomen said. “Your back is badly burned, and you have a few burns on your legs as well. But she says the damage can be repaired. The hard part will be staying on this restriction bed for five days while the gel packs are working.”

  Tal shifted her head in the padded ring supporting it, wanting to look at them more directly. She frowned when she found them crouched down in order to see her. “Do they not have chairs?”

  Salomen sat cross-legged on the floor, and Micah soon followed, though with far less grace. “None low enough for this,” Salomen said. “It’s so good to see you awake.”

  “It’s good to see you, too. But I can’t feel you. I can’t feel anything.”

  With a trembling smile, Salomen caressed the part of her face that she could reach. “That’s the medication. It blocks your empathic senses as well as your pain receptors.”

  Tal remembered now. She had required that medication on other occasions, with the same result. It was the worst thing about being under the care of a healer. She stared at Salomen, trying with all her might to break through, but all she could pick up were whispers of emotions. When Salomen dropped her hand, even those vanished.

  “I would almost prefer the pain. To go from a Sharing to this…”

  “I know. I’ve been trying to tell myself that this is more of Fahla’s sense of humor.”

  Tal looked at her more closely, seeing the signs of past worry and fear. “Are you all right?”

  “Thanks to you, yes.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” She was beginning to feel a little more in command of herself. “You were Sharing my pain.”

  “It’s gone, Andira. It was gone as soon as I let you go. I’m tired, but all right.”

  “Thank the Goddess.” There was so much more to say, but not with Micah there. “What time is it?” she asked instead.

  “Night-two.”

  “So it’s only been a few hanticks.” She looked at Micah. “Did you get him?”

  “He’s in custody on the base. Colonel Razine has already questioned him. I asked her to take care of it personally.”

  “And the weapon?”

  “It was a plasma gun. He claims it’s been in his family for three generations, and Gordense and Iversina confirm it.”

  That made no sense. “Nobody uses a plasma gun for a long-range sniper shot. They’re not accurate enough.”

  “We think this was an isolated action. Cullom is on the very low range of mid-empathy; Colonel Razine had no difficulty with him. According to her report, he was acting entirely of his own volition. It wasn’t exactly a well-planned or well-equipped mission.”

  He watched her too steadily, and Salomen’s gaze was on the floor.

  “My senses may be blocked,” Tal said, “but I know there’s something you’re not telling me. I want to see that report.”

  “Perhaps you should wait until you’re feeling a little better,” he suggested.

  “I’m feeling well enough. Give me the report.”

  Micah looked at Salomen, who nodded.

  Tal narrowed her eyes. “I don’t recall abdicating my authority to Salomen. My brain is still functioning quite well, thank you. What are you two hiding?”

  Without a word, Salomen got up and left the room.

  Tal watched as far as she could crane her neck, looking back at Micah when she heard the door shut. “What is going on?”

  He sighed. “This hasn’t been easy for her.”

  “I…I know that.” Damn, but she hated feeling like this. “Micah, I’m blind as a sonsales and I don’t know what’s happening, but something obviously is. Just tell me the truth. I can handle it.”

  Even now he hesitated, and she began to worry. Something was seriously wrong.

  “Cullom had help,” he said at last. “Plasma guns may be inaccurate, but they’re good enough if all you need to do is hit a large window.”

  She stared at him, trying to see what he was leading to. “So he knew that was my room? But…” A shock ran down her spine. “He knew I sat in that seat, didn’t he? At a regular time each night. He had inside information.” There was only one person it could have been.

  Micah nodded. “We’re still looking for Herot.”

  “Oh, no,” she groaned. “Salomen…”

  “She has the bearing of a warrior. You would never guess to look at her that she nearly died because of her own brother.”

  “I’ll kill him with my bare hands. That fantenshekken! He’d best run long and far, because when I find him I will tear him apart.” She already knew which of his bones she would break first.

  “And you will lose Salomen,” Micah said sharply. “This isn’t you talking. You have some powerful drugs in your system, and one of them is interfering with your emotional control. Healer Tornell told us to expect it.”

  Tal closed her eyes. Perfect. Maybe she really should abdicate temporarily. No empathic senses, no emotional control, and no ability to do anything except lie in this damned bed and let everyone else deal with the crisis. “All right. At least knowing that allows me to recognize it. Just tell me everything. I promise to be reasonable.”

  “Don’t make promises you cannot keep.” He settled himself more comfortably. “There isn’t much to tell. Cullom was intercepted on Hol-Opah, thanks to your information on his location. The three outer Guards were at different areas on the holding, and he timed it just right so that none of them were in empathic range. We can thank He
rot for that. If Cullom hadn’t been told that all he had to do was hit the window, he would have required a much closer approach and would have been well within range of our empathic net. He would never have gotten off a shot.”

  “But Herot told him that I sit in the window seat every night after evenmeal, so all he had to do was wait until he could see a shape in the window through the targeting lens. Which is easy at night when the room is lit.”

  “Actually, he didn’t wait at all. As I said, this was not a professional mission. He was drinking at the tavern with Herot and left after Herot told him that you…well, that you thought you were untouchable with your Guards, but anybody could kill you without half trying. When Cullom pressed him on it, Herot was apparently very forthcoming, explaining that you could be taken out with a simple shot through the correct window from the west side of Hol-Opah. He also informed him that only three Guards were patrolling the outer ranges of the property.”

  Tal could hardly believe it. “He may as well have taken the shot himself. How could he hate me that much and hide it?”

  “I don’t know. Neither does Salomen. She doesn’t believe he did, but right now we’re all questioning our assumptions about him.”

  Tal hoped that wherever Herot was, he was terrified out of his mind. He deserved that and so much more. “So Cullom left the tavern, probably worse for the spirits, and decided to act out a little fantasy.”

  “Yes, after stopping by his house to pick up the plasma gun, which his father kept in a case in their parlor.”

  “And Gordense didn’t question his son running off into the night, drunk and carrying their heirloom plasma gun?”

  “He says he never saw Cullom return from the tavern. I wouldn’t have believed him, but I took Gehrain with me and he confirms that Gordense was telling the truth.”

  “Ironic,” Tal said. “We’ve always been so concerned about a professional attempt by someone in the warrior or scholar caste wanting to create an opening for themselves. Or something arranged by the fringe that wants me dead because I broke Fahla’s covenant. And when it finally happens, it’s a young, spoiled producer who gets drunk and decides to go out and kill the Lancer before bedtime.”