Simban Read online

  The Ardak prowled around behind her, and suddenly, sharp claws dug into her sides, lifting her slightly off the ground. The Ardak let her slide down slowly, slicing her skin with its claws.

  Against her will, her eyes dropped to the wounds. She shuddered as she watched blood bead up from the slashes, droplets running down her hips turning to streams.

  With startling clarity, she realized the only thing she had to look forward to was more pain, and then death.

  In the end, it didn’t matter. When she didn’t give it any information, the Ardak slashed her legs so deeply that the pain was unbearable. Blood poured down her legs and off her feet, and her vision wavered. She tried to feel pride that she hadn’t given in, but all that existed was pain.

  She shrieked and writhed, praying to the gods for help. For death. But no help came for her. She called to the earth, but as her blood left her, her connection weakened, as if each drop took her magic with it until finally the thread was so thin that it snapped. Her connection to the earth severed, leaving her hollow.

  For the first time, she was truly alone.

  When Irielle woke, she was lying on the floor, the upside-down bowl beside her head, the hearth cold, and the air around her freezing.

  It happened for the first time after the red smoke clouded the sky. She’d heard an Ardak battle call in the distance, and had fallen facedown on the forest floor, barely able to make it under a fallen log. That time, she’d dreamed that they had let her go and then followed her to Renwyn as they’d threatened to do.

  That was when she realized she really couldn’t go back. Couldn’t even find out if the Ardaks had left. Because Ardaks, cyborgs, stress, any of those things could cause her to have another blackout. If she were out in the open when one hit, she’d be dead. And if one hit as she tried to enter Renwyn, she could inadvertently allow them in with her.

  What caused it this time?

  Then she remembered the roar of a cat and her blood ran cold. It had been close. Too close. She had no idea why it would be this far from the mountain. Or if it had seen her footprints in the snow.

  She beat her fist against the floor angrily. She’d braved the bitter winter in the mountain to avoid the cats, as well as these horrid blackouts.

  And yet one of the cursed beasts had still found her.

  Chapter Three

  Simban

  Simban sat on the highest turret of the elven palace. It had been a month since he came to Renwyn, since his chip hadn’t been fixed with the elven magic.

  And I’m still the same. A broken cyborg.

  When Tordan found out the room hadn’t worked, he had attacked the problem as the king attacked everything else—by enlisting the help of the best elves to research different types of healing magic, crystals, and natural remedies. But none were effective in fixing Simban’s chip. Queen Aielle had even tried to heal him herself, tears in her eyes as she had to tell him that she didn’t have a crystal big enough to produce the necessary magic.

  Aria and the others still hadn’t examined all the information from the Ardaks on how to fix the cyborgs, but that was the only hope he had left. And she had told him with the amount of information they were trying to understand, it could be months before they had an answer.

  The white powder had cured the elves of the Red Death sickness, and the throne room brought the cyborgs back their memories, so everyone was back to normal.

  Everyone but me.

  Convoys had been sent to the other realms and races—the mermen, the river people, and even the humans. But Simban hadn’t volunteered this time. He wanted to be alone.

  The mountains to the west had been their home before the Ardak attack, a home many cyborgs couldn’t stomach returning to. Many, but not all. Most of the mountain people who were freed had chosen to stay with the elves rather than go back to the mountain where they’d lived through such horror, but some had returned to rebuild their home.

  Simban definitely didn’t want to go there.

  It was the mountains in the north that called to him. There was snow there. And a lot of trees.

  And somewhere within them was the elf.

  He had tried not to think of the woman. Of her glowing, golden-brown eyes and red-gold hair. Of the nimble way she walked, even though the Ardaks had tortured and broken her. Of all people he had come across since he’d woken in that trash pile, she had been one of the few who had seen him. She didn’t care that he wasn’t normal, didn’t treat him any differently. Maybe she even saw past what the Ardaks had done to him, saw deeper and into the parts of him that were still normal.

  Irielle.

  When he came to Renwyn, he’d hoped to find her. He’d quietly asked everyone he could, only to be told that no one had seen her since her capture by the Ardaks.

  They weren’t aware of her escape from the mountain, and he didn’t tell them. As much as it pained him to think it, maybe she hadn’t survived after they had parted ways.

  But even if she wasn’t there, the mountains would be peaceful. Quiet.

  And I will finally be alone.

  It hurt him to be around others, to see the pity in their eyes. He wanted to go somewhere he didn’t have to see what others thought of him. Where he could simply be himself.

  A hand clapped his shoulder.

  Valdjan.

  His brother glanced over the wall where Simban’s feet were dangling over the canopy and shuddered. “You know it isn’t safe up here, right? A good gust of wind and you’ll be down there, your brains splattered onto the dirt.”

  Simban looked over the edge, eyeing the forest below. More than likely he’d be staked through by a bunch of tree branches on the way down. He tried not to sigh. “I’m not a child.” He winced at the sentence. The words sounded slow and childlike coming out of his mouth.

  “I know.” His brother stood behind him, watching the sun go down over their former home.

  What Valdjan didn’t know was that before Simban had thought of the mountains to the north, he’d been thinking of jumping. Of being free from his body. A place where the chip could no longer control him. For, although it didn’t control his thoughts, by hampering his body and mind, it controlled him in a different way.

  He’d thought about it and then dismissed it. There was real danger he might not die and would end up terribly injured but still horribly alive.

  When the last rays of the sun disappeared, Simban rose, and Valdjan stood aside as he climbed down from the ledge.

  Simban brushed his pants several times, all the while willing his hands to stop brushing. Then he looked his brother squarely in the eyes. “I’m leaving.”

  “What? When? Where are you going?” His brother’s expression was incredulous, as if he couldn’t go anywhere by himself.

  That made him even angrier, and his hands started to twitch. Shakily, he pointed in the direction of the mountains. “Away. North. Tomorrow.”

  The shock on Valdjan’s face was almost comical. “You can’t leave,” Valdjan blustered, an edge of panic creeping into his voice. “You’ll miss the winter solstice celebration. The elves say it’s going to be amazing, especially because it’s their first celebration since the Ardaks invaded.”

  “Have a good time,” Simban answered.

  Valdjan lowered his voice. “Look, I know you’re unhappy that the magic didn’t heal you, but we all knew that it might not work.”

  Simban snorted. Unhappy was an understatement.

  “But that isn’t a reason to leave. We have friends here. You can be happy. Just give yourself time.” Valdjan’s eyes were pleading.

  Simban shook his head. Valdjan had friends, but Simban couldn’t communicate well enough to make them. He had people who simply tolerated him. And he didn’t want to face another winter solstice holiday alone.

  Valdjan wasn’t finished. “It’s winter up north. There will be snow up to your waist and the terrain will be almost impossible to navigate.”

  “I know. Very happy about that.”
Simban wished he could use words like his brother, but the chip didn’t let him make long sentences coherently.

  “We have the rebellion to join, too.”

  Simban winced. That was a low blow. What good was he to the rebellion? His only saving grace so far was that he’d been a better fighter than most before becoming a cyborg. But since the change, half the time his body didn’t do what he wanted it to, and the other half of the time his chip didn’t work. He’d been a wreck on their last mission when his chip failed to download files properly from the Ardak computer. Even though he’d finally been of use on the way home, it was just too late. “No help. Body too slow. Chip too slow.”

  Valdjan obviously knew what he was thinking. “Tanis sabotaged that machine purposely so you’d be slow. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know.” But that didn’t change the fact that his chip was still unintegrated or that he was still unbearably slow. “Want a break.”

  “Then you are coming back.” Valdjan’s voice quavered slightly.

  Simban tried to meet his brother’s eyes, but he couldn’t. If he didn’t find what he was looking for. If he didn’t die. Then he might come back.

  He shrugged.

  “Fuck. That’s what I thought.” Valdjan kicked one of the stone blocks that made up the top wall of the turret and let out a long stream of curses.

  His eyes grew bright, and Simban looked away.

  Valdjan pulled himself together and squared his shoulders before putting a hand on the hilt of his knife in his belt. “Then I’m coming with you.”

  Simban shook his head firmly. “Alone.” He knew his brother would never accept him leaving, but he wasn’t going to argue.

  Valdjan straightened, his chin rising. “You’ll need someone with you if you want to make it through some of those passes this time of year.”

  “No.” Simban usually had trouble making his tone of voice obey his thoughts. But not this time. The word had been flat, decisive.

  Valdjan flinched as if he’d been struck. “Why not? We’ve always been a team.”

  That thought almost made him waver. He was leaving his brother for a journey he didn’t know the end of and for an elf he might not find. Yet his heart knew that it was something he had to do alone and that his brother needed a chance to be free of him. “No. Going alone. Will leave in secret if I must.”

  Valdjan’s eyes grew suspiciously bright again and he lowered his voice. “I know you’re this way because of the chip. But I know it’s you in there, and . . . you can make your own decision. I won’t stop you. But please reconsider. If you want to go, I should come, too. I have nothing to hold me here. You’re the only family I have left.”

  And that was exactly the problem.

  His brother deserved a long, happy life. He had been mated young, and was devastated when she passed away. He deserved to find a new woman. And no woman would want Valdjan if he always had to take care of his slow brother.

  Simban hated to see the hurt in his brother’s eyes, hated to leave him. But Valdjan would recover. His brother had many friends, and he would bounce back.

  Simban, however, could not go on this way. He put both hands on Valdjan’s shoulders. “Will be okay.”

  Valdjan didn’t look at him. “You, or me?”

  Simban smiled. His grin was too wide so he tried to control it, but he couldn’t. “Both.”

  Valdjan stared off into the darkness. “You know I need you, right?”

  Simban let his hands drop. His brother only thought he needed him. He had always wanted to feel useful. He needed to be needed. A wife and children would take care of that desire—it shouldn’t be focused on his broken brother. “You will be fine.”

  “Fuck!” Valdjan kicked the stone wall again and then turned away, squaring his shoulders. “Fine. Go without me. I don’t feel like freezing my balls off in the mountains, anyway.”

  Simban’s grin was so wide it made his cheeks hurt. “Thank you, brother.”

  ***

  The next morning, the sun dawned bright and clear. Simban had packed a small bag with food and water and was anxious to be on his way. To his surprise, Valdjan was waiting outside his door. With Tordan. The king.

  Simban nodded his head cautiously in greeting.

  Valdjan held up his hands. “We aren’t here to stop you.”

  King Tordan stepped forward, his eyes serious. “I want you to take this powder in case you need it,” he said gravely, opening a large blue leather pouch.

  Simban’s eyes widened at the sight of it. He could see white powder inside, glistening in the dim light. It was almost like tiny, sparkly grains of sand. He had never seen so much of it at one time.

  “Too much,” Simban argued. He didn’t want the responsibility of caring for this much white powder. “Enough for an army.”

  Tordan grimaced. “I hope you won’t need it. But we haven’t gone to the mountains since the Ardak invasion, and there are rumors of villages up there. Maybe you’ll run into a group living in the mountains you can help.”

  Simban’s expression must have belied his disbelief.

  “All right. To tell you the truth, we also haven’t found all of the Ardaks who ran away. I gave you enough to help people, but also, if you run into one, you can kill it. Which reminds me—” Tordan pulled out a strange-looking device from his belt, like a tiny spring-bow. “You’ll need this. And these.” He grabbed a second pouch and opened it, pulling out something that looked like a small arrow.

  Simban took the arrow. “What is it?”

  “It’s one of Aria and Roihan’s inventions. A looks like a simple arrow, but the tip has white powder in it that will release on impact. And this device will shoot it at someone.” Tordan showed him how to place the arrow in the slot and then how to activate it and shoot. “If you see a cat, shoot it,” he said bluntly. “And keep shooting until you kill it.”

  “I will,” Simban promised, placing the device and the arrows in a pouch at his hip. He was grateful, even though he knew he didn’t have a hope in hell of loading the device. He didn’t have that kind of dexterity with his broken chip.

  “All right, I guess this is goodbye for now,” Tordan said, looking between the brothers before reaching forward to clasp Simban’s arm formally. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t cure you. Many of us owe you our lives. I wish you safe travels and pray you don’t need that powder for anything other than to heal.”

  Simban clasped his arm in return. “Goodbye, Tordan King.” He watched Tordan leave, striding across the room without a backward glance.

  He was loath to turn and face his brother, but he could feel Valdjan’s eyes boring into him, so he sighed and met Valdjan’s gaze.

  You cannot come with me, he said silently, wishing he could at least be like the other cyborgs who communicated with their minds. But as in all things, his chip failed in that, too.

  Valdjan seemed to know what he was thinking anyway because he swallowed and looked away.

  “I’m sorry,” Simban said. “May come back.”

  Valdjan snorted and grabbed him in a fierce hug, his eyes suspiciously bright. “You’d better come back, you bastard.”

  Simban returned it. “Not bastard. Same mother.” He grinned as Valdjan lightly punched him in the shoulder.

  He had envisioned this moment and thought he would be overcome with sadness. So, when the heavy weight was lifted from his shoulders, it was a surprise.

  When Valdjan finally let him go, he turned and, just as King Tordan had done, strode toward the front doors of the castle without a backward glance.

  I’m going to the north.

  And in the back of his mind there was a flash of brown hair streaked with red and glowing golden-brown eyes.

  Chapter Four

  Irielle

  Irielle finally rose from her place beside the hearth, slowly inching her way toward the front of her domicile. The coughing had plagued her all night long and she’d barely slept a wink.

  Her magic
should be healing her, but deep down she knew it wasn’t. When she had almost died, she had lost all her magic. Slowly, a small portion of her earth magic had returned, but her healing magic was still gone.

  Even still, elves rarely became ill, and if they did, they never remained ill for long. Her ability to heal naturally was still there, so she should have recovered.

  Yet, she was so weak she could barely put on her coat and weapons. There was no other choice, though, if she didn’t find meat for strength and gather snow for water.

  When she parted the trees to exit, she paused just inside.

  Someone was standing not far from her door. He faced away from her, and at the back of his neck, a tiny light blinked.

  Her body started to shake, and she reflexively grabbed her bow and notched two arrows.

  Though she knew she would see someone eventually, she was still unprepared for both an Ardak and cyborg to roam so close to her shelter.

  She needed to kill him while she still had the upper hand.

  He must have been alerted by the noise, because he turned just in time to see her pull the bow taut.

  She was so surprised that she loosed the arrows, watched as they both struck home, and then wanted to scream when she recognized his face.

  Simban.

  The handsome cyborg who had saved her from the Ardak garbage pit.

  Simban roared in pain, shooting her an angry look. “Not fair! Not fair at all!”

  He stomped his feet heavily as he came toward her.

  A wave of dizziness overcame her, and her heart began to race. Another blackout was coming and she had a split second to make the choice.

  Let him in or shut him out.

  His angry growl made the decision for her.

  She barely had time to close the entrance before her world went dark.

  Irielle awoke in darkness, every part of her body burning.