Brides of the Kindred Volume One Read online

  “How many guards around him?” Baird asked.

  “Probably four if it’s like last time,” Lock answered for him. “His main guards are huge but slow—except when the AllFather is controlling them.”

  “They’re soulless,” Deep added. “He can work them like puppets when he wants to so beware of them.”

  “It is my father’s personal power—his ability to get into your mind and control you—that we need to be most concerned with,” Xairn said. “If the rest of you will help me clear a path, I’ll try to engage him.”

  “We can’t just let you fight him by yourself,” Deep objected.

  Xairn shook his head. “You have to. You see, I have some of the same powers.” He took a deep breath. “I can withstand him as the rest of you cannot. At least, I hope I can.”

  “Then we’ll do all we can to see that you have a clear shot at the AllFather,” Sylvan said decisively. “But if we see you struggling and there’s anything we can do, we can’t promise to hold back.”

  “True.” Deep nodded. “Kat cares deeply for Lauren—she’d never forgive me if I didn’t do everything I could to be sure the mate of her friend returns safely.”

  “That goes double for us,” Baird growled. “Olivia would have my hide if I let the mate of her kin die.”

  Xairn felt a surge of gratitude for the strong males beside him, pledging their help and support. Here was the same feeling he’d experienced with Lauren, but in a different form. Family. Brothers. Maybe after this is over I can really become one of them. It was a hope he couldn’t help cherishing. After his lonely, cold existence on the Fathership, the idea of having people to care about, who also cared about him, was certainly tempting. But in order to get to that point, he had to confront his father first.

  “I thank you,” he said again, bowing formally. “And if any of you has a weapon I could borrow, I would be grateful for that as well. Mine is completely out of charge.”

  “Will this do?” Sylvan produced a black piece of metal that was curved on one end. “It’s a cryo-knife,” he explained as Xairn examined it. “Not as much range as a projectile weapon, obviously, but it’s good for close work. Plunge it to the hilt in your enemy’s chest and you’ll flash-freeze his heart and all his internal organs in a tenth of a second.”

  “Intriguing—I’ve never seen a weapon like it before,” Xairn murmured. He thumbed the switch at the bottom and a thin, ice blue blade made of pure energy hummed out of the curved end. “Where did you get it?”

  “It’s an ancient weapon developed on my home world,” Sylvan said. “We know a lot about cold on Tranq Prime. This particular cryo-knife was carried by my father until he passed it on to me.”

  “Then I am indeed honored to carry it into battle.” Xairn nodded gravely and turned the knife off again. “If you’re all ready, I will to pilot a course for the Fathership.”

  “Lead on.” Baird grinned and pounded him on the shoulder. “I’ve been spoiling for a fight for months now. I know it makes our females nervous, but a male needs to go to battle sometimes. It’s in our blood.”

  “I agree.” Sylvan smiled and put an arm around Baird’s shoulders. “Let’s go knock some heads.”

  “Forget knocking heads.” Deep gave him a bloodthirsty grin. “Let’s kill the bastards.”

  His twin brother nodded. “We will spill their blood like water.”

  “We’re in agreement then,” Xairn said. “Let’s go!”

  The approach to the Fathership didn’t take long and, as Xairn had expected, the docking bay doors slid wide with no trouble at all. His father was welcoming him home—like a spider welcoming a nervous fly. But I’m not nervous, he told himself as a cold cloak of certainty dropped over him. I’m here because I need to be—this confrontation has been a long time coming—maybe my entire life.

  He felt the males behind him tense as the small Kindred ship settled in the huge, empty space. Behind them, the docking bay door slid silently shut and then the entry level access irised open revealing…

  “Nothing,” Baird said, breaking the tense silence. “There’s nobody there.”

  “Where are all the Scourge warriors?” Deep wanted to know.

  Xairn opened the ship’s door. “There aren’t many of us left—not true Scourge anyway. We’ve been dying out for years now, as you know, and the only way we have to replenish our race is by growing soldiers in our flesh tanks. They’re like automen—poor copies of a twisted reality. They aren’t smart or fast but there are many of them.”

  “Not here, there aren’t,” Baird muttered as they all descended from the ship.

  “Or if they’re here, they’re hiding,” Sylvan put in.

  “Just wait,” Xairn said grimly. “Now that we’re inside the ship my father will know I’m not alone. We had all better be prepared to fight soon.”

  “Where will the AllFather be, do you think?” Lock asked.

  “In his throne room.” Xairn nodded down the long, empty corridor. “This way. Come—the closer we can get to him before we’re blocked by the vat grown soldiers he sends, the better.”

  “Let’s go,” Deep said. “If we no longer have the element of surprise on our side, at least we can have speed.” He started off at a dead run for the empty hallway and Xairn and the rest followed. They made good progress through the echoing corridors and he was just beginning to think they might actually get all the way to the throne room unmolested, when the first wave of vat grown soldiers appeared.

  “Watch out!” Deep kept charging even as he shouted. He had his blazer out and ready and was already carving his way through the silent ranks. The rest of them followed, doing the same, but for every vat grown they cut down, two more rose to take its place.

  The vat grown soldiers moved forward, a noiseless, grasping mob, arms outstretched, reaching for anything they could rend or destroy. Some were armed with knives, though none of them had a kusax, Xairn was relieved to see. Though silent and stupid they were big and strong and there were hundreds of them to their small force of five.

  “They’re like insects,” Sylvan shouted, batting away a Scourge soldier with a long knife and getting a nasty gouge on the arm for his trouble. “Cut one down and a dozen more pour in to take its place.”

  “Just keep going!” Baird roared. He was forcing his way through the corridor now, cutting swaths through the ranks of the vat grown with his blazer and leaving a trail of steaming body parts in his path. Xairn was right beside him, stabbing the ones that got too close with the cryo-knife. Again and again he plunged the glowing blue blade to the hilt in a vat grown’s chest. Again and again he watched as their bodies went stiff, a fine patina of frost covering the muscular torso before they fell to their knees, only to be trampled by their fellow soldiers.

  The Kindred were fighting valiantly beside him and Xairn could see the huge double doors which led to the throne room far ahead at the end of the hall. But the narrow metal corridor was getting clogged with bodies, both living and dead, and there were only so many each warrior could fight off at once. Xairn had several freely bleeding wounds on his arms, chest, and back and all around him he could see his new friends receiving similar injuries.

  “There are too many of them!” Lock’s voice was a hoarse shout of despair. “They’re everywhere.”

  With a feeling of desperation, Xairn realized he was right. Even if the entire lot of silent, deadly soldiers dropped dead that moment, their bodies would still block the way to his father. Why is he doing this? he thought, looking through the seething mass of bodies to the open doors of the throne room. He wants me here—he lured me back himself. This must be some kind of a test.

  “How right you are my ssson,” the voice of the AllFather hissed in his head. “The question is, can you passs it? Can you find your way to the foot of my throne before your darling mother isss no more?”

  Xairn cursed aloud in his harsh native tongue. His father’s mocking laughter echoed in his head in reply. Clearly the AllFather