There was nothing that Jace could do but charge. Cowering in the repeller-car wouldn’t do him or the others any good.
One of the cavalrymen raised a rifle, but Jace ducked to the side and cut the barrel off. The blast of plasma exploded in the rider’s face. With two messy swipes, Jace hacked the man’s head off.
A different rider swung his Aes-shielded saber at Jace. Jace blocked it, but the Whistling Blade didn’t cut through. It ground against the edge of the elegantly-curved weapon, hissing and popping. The rider punched Jace in the mouth with his armoured hand.
Jace stumbled back, panting. Blood filled dripped into his mouth and he gagged on the taste of iron. He spat, then, holding the sword as tight as he could, he charged back towards the saber-wielding soldier.
The soldier deflected the Whistling Blade to the side, then cut across Jace’s shoulder blade. A surge of foreign shield-Aes raced through his body, shocking each of his nerves individually and trying to repel his flesh—never mind the shallow gash the soldier had cut. He fell to his hands and knees.
Soldiers ran past. They raced towards Lessa and Kinfild. Lessa shot at one, but at such a distance, the plasma blast barely dented the soldier’s armour. When she pulled the trigger again, the pistol just clicked—it was out of shots. A soldier knocked it out of her hands with the stock of his rifle, and another placed his saber beside her neck. She raised her hands.
Kinfild, still dazed, swatted one with his staff, but two more grabbed him. All around, soldiers pointed their rifles at him. A soldier ripped his staff out of his hands.
Growling through gritted teeth, Jace pushed himself up higher. His fingers shook, and he could barely grip the Whistling Blade. But he had to keep fighting. He had—
A soldier jabbed him in the shoulder with an Aes-shielded saber, and he shouted in pain. He staggered back, body writhing uncontrollably. The soldier ripped the saber out then shook the blood off it.
Jace kept swiping at the nearest soldiers, no matter the pain in his limbs and unopposed tiredness in the back of his mind. His body wanted to give up.
Distantly, he heard Kinfild shout, “Aur-Six! Get the Wrath out of here! Go! We’ll find you!”
As Jace slashed at a soldier, he saw the Luna Wrath’s boarding ramp rising. A few soldiers turned and ran towards it, but the ramp closed before they could climb aboard, so they settled for shooting at it as it took off. Their plasma blasts left dark scores on the lower hull and bit into the upper walls, but they did no serious damage.
A pair of riders ran for their repeller-bikes, but a different soldier (an officer, possibly; he wore a peaked cap instead of a helmet) called, “Let the starship go! We have the targets here!”
Jace started swinging with faster and broader swipes, and he turned back and forth less. A soldier stomped the Whistling Blade out of his grasp, then drove an armoured knee into his forehead. Two more soldiers grabbed his arms and pinned them behind him.
Jace had one trick left. He tried to launch himself with a hyperspace jump. Was it still on cooldown? He concentrated on his Aes harder and focussed his eyes on his target, and again, tried to launch himself.
Nothing. Still on cooldown.
“It was a valiant effort,” came Stenol’s deep voice. Jace craned his neck, trying to glimpse the Elder. Ivory robes fluttered in the corner of his eye. The Elder stepped down the ramp of the larger airborne transport, tapping his staff against the ground. “Did you think we would let you escape after all I told you everything?”
“Will you kill us?” Kinfild snarled. “Your student, an innocent candlefolk, and a worldjumper? I hope you—”
“I am not a barbarian.” Stenol walked into the center of the landing bay. “You three may have purpose yet, and so you may live.” He turned towards Jace quickly, robes fluttering. “Deal with them, please. Before the worldjumper’s cards come off cooldown.”
Before Jace could protest, a sharp pain erupted on the back of his head. Everything went black.
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Slowly, Jace’s mind cleared. He rubbed his eyes and wiped away the darkness, blinking furiously. A cold steel wall pressed against his back and a breeze rushed through the room. The floor vibrated, and the distant roar of starship thrusters made his ears tingle. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the harsh artificial light.
Pushing himself to his feet, Jace looked around. He was encased in a cage of thick metal bars—three walls of them, precisely. The last wall was a length of flat metal, only interrupted by a long, thin window that he had to tip-toe to see out of.
The moment he tried to stand up, a jolt of pain ran through his body. He reached for his shoulder and touched it. The wound was puffy and red, but the skin had been sealed. Probably some futuristic first aid. He brushed it gently with his finger, and it twinged and stung. The same treatment (some sort of futuristic healing technology—or magic) had been applied to the cut across his shoulder blades.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
He was in a brig. A starship’s brig. His backpack was gone, along with his shirt and boots, and he began to shiver. His hyperjump technique card was intact—it had been socketed before they knocked him out—but otherwise, he had nothing.
He was alone, but to his left, in a different cell, was Lessa. She still had her dress, but it was ripped and sagging. Kinfild was to his right, in nothing but an undershirt and pants. A metal cuff clasped both of his hands, and a heavy collar hung from his neck.
“Ah, you’re awake,” the Wielder grumbled. “They hit you pretty hard.”
Jace rubbed the back of his head. He found a large, swollen welt that stung when he touched it. Pain echoed in his skull afterwards. “Where are we?”
“Lessa and I deduced that they are taking us to Maehn,” Kinfild said.
“Deduced?” Lessa muttered, her flaming tail flicking side to side. “No, no, we overheard it. You recalled that Maehn is an outpost planet outside the Wall. They’re taking us outside the Wall. Oh, it’s gonna be so cool. We’ll get to see the wall? And everything outside it!”
Jace swallowed. He bent down in the corner of the room, then folded his fingers together.
Whatever this was, they were trapped. And they had to get out.
“What do we have?” he whispered. “I’ve got the hyperspace jump card, and that’s it.” He supposed he shouldn’t discount his pants, but he doubted they would help him escape.
“I have my cards,” Kinfild said, “but with these restraining cuffs and collar, I can’t trigger any of them.” He reached into his pocket and plunked down a cube of wires. “They left the Vault Core, too. Won’t do any of us much good; our physical form will still be trapped here.”
“They didn’t give me a collar?” Jace asked, rubbing his neck. Nothing.
“They didn’t figure you’d be stupid enough to try to ram through thick steel bars at lightspeed,” Kinfild said.
Lessa reached into her cumberbund and retrieved a thin metal rod with a wire poking out its rear—binding it to a small Aes-cell. “I’ve got my engraver still. And, uh, clothes, so I suppose I should be thankful.”
“They didn’t take that?” Jace whispered.
“If you haven’t noticed, Mr. Baldwin,” Kinfild whispered, “women are not highly regarded here. They do not fight, and they do not often hold positions of any sort of power. Some nobility are exceptions.”
Jace grimaced, leaning back against the wall. He had noticed that. “Still figured they would have searched her.”
Lessa whispered, “They must have figured a look up and down was enough.”
“Right…” He exhaled slowly.
“Mom never wanted me to adventure or fight,” Lessa continued. “She said I should just play by the rules. But I’m not gonna just sit around and let everyone else have adventures without me, and dad agreed with me. He taught me to shoot.” She lowered her head. “I’ll admit…I was a little sheltered.” After a few seconds, she looked up again, smiling. “But that’s no matter! I’ll make do!”
Always something to be bubbly about. Jace crossed his arms. “Kinfild, could you eject any of your cards?”
“I could, but there’s nothing that would help you. They are not compatible with your aspect—they are all flame-aspect cards. Orangeflame, to be precise.” Kinfild held out a finger. “Stenol, for reference, was redflame-aspect, as are most members of the Crimson Table.”
Jace blew a puff of air out his nose. “Well…I guess I’ll try something.”
First, he tried the cell door. He wrapped his hands around the bars and gripped them. Then, he shook. The door rattled, but it didn’t budge. “Lessa, could you use the engraving needle and pick the lock?”
“It’s a standard mag-lock,” she said. “I could poke it and carve some calligraphy on it if you want, though. Wouldn’t do much.”
“I see…sorry.”
He walked down the cell wall, testing each bar to see if it was weak. Nothing even shifted. He kicked the base of each as hard as he could. Nothing. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t squish more than his forearm between the bars—so even if there was something nearby to grab, he’d never get it back through the bars.
Jace dropped his arms. For a moment, he stood still, not moving at all.
The reality of his situation was catching up to him.
Everything he had clung to, everything he’d lived and wanted and known was gone. He’d done everything he’d been asked to do. He’d served his family as soon as he was old enough, and. He’d come here and helped Kinfild with all his quests, and so what? Nothing had come of it.
But still, his fists tightened. He didn’t know why, except for a drive deep down—to ignore the desire to give up, and instead, to do what he needed.
He took a deep breath, then marched back to the outside, hull-facing wall of the cell. First, he looked outside, and only then did he truly register what was outside. Golden light, white streaks. They were in hyperspace, and they were heading somewhere, but Jace had no idea where. Not really, save for a name.
Jace glanced back at Lessa and Kinfild. Both seemed beaten and tired, or at least resigned. Jace shook his head. That wasn’t him.
He’d find a way out of the cell if it was the last thing he did.
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Byseg Stenol settled down in the crew quarters of a separate shuttle, rolling his shoulders and popping his neck.
He had been an Elder with the Crimson Table for a few decades now, and a professor for even longer, and though he had managed to extend his lifespan for a few centuries, it wouldn’t last forever. He was nearing the end of his time.
But it had been a long while since he’d gotten into a fight like that, and he needed it. It was invigorating. Something to assure him he was on the right track.
He hadn’t felt quite so alive as he had the past few hours, even if it meant striking and defeating his old student. But his student refused to see the new ways, the proper ways, that they would use to save the galaxy. Really, there was no point in trying to beat any sense into Kinfild’s head—it rarely worked.
As the shuttle’s boarding ramp sealed with a hiss of steam and a whir of pistons, a Koedor-Terginian officer stepped inside. The man bowed his head. “As requested, sir, we left them with their Vault core.”
“Wonderful, sergeant,” said Stenol, cracking his knuckles. “Can’t have the worldjumper slowing down, now. He will prove very, very useful to us.”