Legend of The Nalus Knights It is said of ancient times that one could see the blue glow of moonlight emitting from the Heart of Nalus when the darkest hours of night swept land. High courts ruling two dimensions opened passages freely between worlds named Earth and Nalus. Great technologies were shared. Magick and myth were everyday reality. The sister worlds blended into a near paradise of peace and equality. Surrounded by luxuries, some wanted more. The powerful appointed themselves to rule as high emperors and behaved as if they held godly positions. The dark days of Nalus were run by these men and women, driven by greed and dreams of grandeur. They saw nothing beyond their wants and endeavors. Lands were cleared by the masses to make way for progress with no regard to living things. The emperors began religions and civilizations in their names, corrupting hearts and minds. All this wounded the great spirits of Nalus. They had no choice but to retaliate to save what remained of themselves. The emperors rebelled in return. The clash began. Night came during daylight, riding on black ash of screams and hopelessness. Fear and despair clung to every citizen to create palpable darkness across the face of Nalus. Desolation affected every aspect of nature and caused storms and disasters of immense wrath. When great Mother Spirit of Nalus at last cried out in pain, her heart split into twelve shards—one shard for each continent. Eleven exploded into the sky. One fell to embed in the filaments of a bow in the northern most continent of Fiacwyn. Others found a whip in Thornfrid, an axe in Mar Jaluma, and a sword of diamond in Mal Jaluma. Still more pierced swords of curves in Coindis-Wri and Naodden, twin swords in Vordis and blades of flame in Alfsvor. The remaining shards touched the three-tipped sword of silence in Varbed, the spear of death in Glicra and the staff of shock in Morsis. Largest of all remained in Varlin, the center continent of Nalus. From it rose the sword-staff called Sektora, linked to each of the others. Behind each weapon stood a mortal, pure of heart and soul, chosen by the spirits of Nalus. The spirits, including Mother herself, revealed the dire threat plaguing them all and pleaded for help. The weapons allied the strangers and together they rode the lands and waters, hearing cries of pain and hopelessness. They gallantly, with courage equal to none, swept through the darkness, chiseling it away. The knights assisted in destroying the magicks needed for the passages between Nalus and Earth, trapping the emperors in Nalus. Great technologies were lost. The emperors, in blind fear, persecuted all who disobeyed them. They used their influence and powers to protect themselves, even sacrificing others in attempts to appease the spirits. All their efforts could not protect them from the Nalus Knights. For twenty years the chosen mortals patrolled the continents in search of injustice, cruelty, and the emperors. In those years, the anguish of the nature spirits ebbed. Storms lessened and balance was renewed. Peace settled wholly throughout the land with the eradication of the last emperor. Those were the cleansing years. Some said the knights each returned to their homelands where they placed their weapons in hiding. In the thousands of years since, they moved from mortals to history, and then to myth.     Chapter One Bryce never thought he could hate anything as much as he did the constant motion and total expanse of the water. The ocean breeze felt sticky cold on his skin when he faced the honey-hued sunset. He leaned against the silver railing at the back of the yacht—the aft deck, maybe. Bryce didn’t know a thing about boats or the ocean, but he somehow let himself get suckered into the trip from Miami to Bimini with his brothers’ in-laws, and Bryce’s ex-girlfriend. He’d been stupid to let his mother coerce him into baby-sitting Ryder. Married to Kara a month, Ryder was far from boyhood. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but Bryce couldn’t tell his mother that. Not this time, which was peculiar unto itself. Ryder’s announcement of his planned trip had sent their mother on some kind of worry frenzy, and something in her gray-blue eyes made it impossible for Bryce to ignore. She was truly worried, worried so deeply he saw it shadow her for days, lightening only a little when Bryce finally agreed to accompany Ryder. He blinked away the memory and sucked in ocean air, never a big fan of the smell. It always reminded him of soggy, week-old laundry and dead fish. Despite his opinion, nothing lingered questionable. Nothing other than the recollection of his mother. She had hugged him a little too tightly the night he stopped in to give her his house key. She told him to take extra care, called it "woman’s intuition," but said nothing more. It was all so strange because she had never fussed after her boys. She never directly put Bryce in a position to look after his little brother before either. He’d done it all his life, of course, only because his extra few years in age and dark strong features inherited from their mother’s Spanish great-grandfather awarded him a stature not many chose to challenge. Ryder took after their father’s side being blond, blue-eyed, and not nearly as ruggedly built. Not that it made any difference when they were grown. Not now. "Hey, you all right?" Bryce spun from the sun, startled by Samantha’s smooth voice. She grinned, deepening the dimple in her cheek. "Sorry, should’ve known you were daydreaming." "No, I’m fine," he said. She studied him with her chocolate-toned eyes. Golden rays danced in the wind-brushed highlights of her hair. Sam was a beautiful woman, inside and out. He tasted the last sweet drop of ice tea on his lower lip and directed his eyes from her, back to the water. He needed another drink, something stronger than sugar saturated tea. "What?" she said. He shrugged. "Not a thing." Sam sighed and leaned against the railing, shaking her long hair down her back as naturally as water would flow from a turned glass. "I know that look, it’s something more than nothing. Has been since you stepped on deck." Bryce grinned, doing his best to erase the "look." With most everyone else, he could hide everything, but not with Sam. From the day he’d bumped into her, rushing from his trigonometry class his senior year of high school, she had the uncanny ability to gaze right into him. "Nostalgia," she said. "Regret?" "Now you’re putting words in my mouth." "No, just asking." Damn Kara for getting him on her boat, firmly in her trap surrounded by the serenity of ocean air, sunset, and Samantha Canton. "Not exactly," he said. What he felt had all been said before. He did love Sam. He’d grown with her, been through so many years, so many changes with her. He’d been the one to notice their relationship hadn’t evolved like Kara and Ryder’s had, but she felt it too. What it was exactly, neither of them could fully put into words. All he knew was he loved Sam, loved her as deeply as he loved Ryder and Kara, but it wouldn’t go beyond that. Sometimes he wondered if it mattered; sometimes, seeing her like she was, bathed in dancing daylight, he hated himself for needing more. Yet news of her new guy didn’t upset him like it should have. "I hate how everyone else acts, is all," he said. "They’ll learn," Sam said. "Hard for them to understand it, I guess. We were joined at the hip for a lot of years." "Do you?" "What?" "Understand it?" he said and wanted to smack himself the moment the words found voice. A spark of sunlight played along the surface of her chocolaty eyes. "Yeah, I do. And so do you. Besides, we’re good." She grasped his hand. "We are, and we don’t need to worry about anyone else." Didn’t stop him from feeling totally stupid. There wasn’t a man alive who wouldn’t want Samantha Canton—law student, smart and sassy—to share their life, their home, their bed. And he had walked away from it all. "We can’t help the way things are. Stop torturing yourself over it." "No. I mean, I’m good," he said, but he wasn’t sure he would ever forgive himself. He had cursed himself to a life alone for something he didn’t understand. A loud sneeze followed by a jarring honk interrupted the slapping of ocean water. Bryce turned to see Kara’s younger brother and mother round the corner from the front deck. "His allergies," Margie Sterling said. She guided Evan by the shoulders. She cooed to him and wiped his shaggy brown hair from his forehead. Evan seemed to melt into her. "I have the bed all set up for you, dear. We’ll get you settled in and you can sleep off this attack." "Those new pills your doctor sent aren’t helping," Evan said. His voice scraped through Bryce, more irritating than nails on a chalkboard. Bryce stepped out of their path, pressing heavily on the railing, whatever seafaring people called it. Another blast of a sneeze shook through Evan. Bryce hoped it was allergies and not some disgusting illness the kid would surely share with all of them before their journey was out. Ryder appeared beside him and chuckled. "Told you I needed another sane soul on board." "Uh huh," Bryce said, peering down at Ryder from the corner of his eye. Ryder pulled his hands up in defense. Ice swirled in amber liquid and clinked the glasses he held in his raised fingers. "I’m just as much a victim here as you." Bryce accepted the drink. "Victim?" Sam huffed, but couldn’t completely conceal her slanted smirk. "What’s the big deal anyway? A few days in close quarters with these people, then sunny, worry-free beaches galore," Ryder said. "No big deal except this whole thing was forced down my throat," Bryce said. He wished he had learned to say "no" a little more easily and consistently, but again, the worried look in his mother’s eyes haunted him. "I know the Heimlich," Ryder said. "We’ll be fine." Bryce hoped his brother knew more than their mother this time and sipped from his glass, surprised to taste the delicious bitterness of beer. He eyed Ryder again. Ryder smirked. "Mrs. Mom wasn’t watching. What she doesn’t know won’t kill her. Just keep it in a fancy glass." "Oh, you’re bad," Sam jested. "Tricking the mother-in-law already." Bryce sucked down more beer. "You’d be surprised." Ryder winked. Bryce leaned casually on the railing, crossed his ankles, and breathed deep. Frothed waves lined the yacht’s wake as if it were liquid smoke painted gold with sunset highlights. The rush of water filled the silence. "Cards?" Ryder said. "You think you can handle a few rounds of poker?" Bryce swirled the plastic-encased ice and savored another swallow of beer before he spoke. "We allowed to play such a game on a high and mighty yacht?" "Ha, ha. I’ll go dig up my deck." Ryder pulled the glass from Bryce’s hand. "And get you a refill. Give you enough of these and I might stand a chance." Bryce grinned, but only shook his head. Having one too many of anything was far from his mind. He glanced out across the smooth liquid horizon. The sun’s lowering reflection quivered with a rainbow of colors on its surface. The play of hues captured his senses, pulling him into the awe of it. As much as he hated to admit it, stepping away from home, bills, and job to view such beauty eased away some tension. But a new, unexplainable and foreboding angst grew. The glimmer of a sharp spark shifted in the distance as if something reflected the fading sun rays. He squinted, trying to see if another ship or boat occupied the waters with them, but dusk fogged his view. Deciding it didn’t much matter, Mr. Sterling had his craft totally under control, Bryce strode from the railing to the large table set a few feet away. ~~~~~ Sunlight beamed through misty clouds and over Kynly’s hands, serene, beautiful, though it couldn’t erase the melancholy flavor haunting her. She felt—poisoned. She struggled to steady her grip on the knife handle. Ribbons of gray skin curled damp around her knuckles, parting from the meaty root onto her silver blade. She usually enjoyed preparing her nightly meals, but this evening was different. Something hung wrong in the air. The feeling had accompanied her through two complete solstices, but the last few mornings, she awoke almost ill from its increased potency. No amount of walking among the trees helped her find a reason. No amount of mingling with the animals made anything more apparent. And there was no one left to talk with who would understand. The ugly feeling grew heavier with each motion of her blade. The atmosphere felt thick, solid. Her hands trembled. She felt her grip on the world slipping. Screams exploded in her mind with the suddenness of a slap. Faces twisted in pale moonlight, eyes squeezed closed in puddles of tears, mouths stretched wide in agony. Kynly felt their pain and fear. The shock of it knocked the blade from her hand. It clattered against the stone shelf where fresh cuttings of her meal lay. The room, a room she built with her own hands, swirled around her. Blue light of the universe flashed. A Terajek awakened. Emotions wrenched her soul. Fear, agony, then overwhelming triumph all so alien and true it drew bile to her throat. She clenched the wood of what she knew to be a chair and willed the vision away. She recalled it well enough and needed to not view it all again. She should have expected it, should have seen beyond her mind’s denial. Death flew near, many deaths resulting from terrible pains. The Ri’Nafeen. Their future victory tore through her psyche and forced stinging tears into her eyes. Her throat constricted, fighting against awful air, air she knew belonged miles away, maybe a world away, but she tasted it no less. Her knees weakened. Only because she fought against the nature of her mind. Only because she didn’t want to see. The floor liquefied beneath her palm. She forced her lips to open further, forced her mind to obey her will. She needed the energy of another living being to keep hold of her physical form and not slip into the terrifying future. "Dvari," she gasped. Claws clicked wood. She heard it, felt motion in the true air. Dvari brushed her side. She leaned against him and savored the river-washed smoothness of Dvari’s glider. He swept her cheek with his snout and lapped her ear with his warm tongue. Drool dribbled down her neck. The sensation pulled her conscious mind from the edge of the spirit abyss. Screams stretched thin as colors regained crisp hues. She sat on the wood floor of her preparation room, wiped away disgusting drool, and blocked Dvari’s hyper kisses with her hands. "End," she said, her breaths growing easier. Sweet forest air, sad but loving, caressed her cheeks between Dvari’s affections. "Yes, thank you. Now end." Dvari huffed in her face and scampered back a step, his claws clattering on the freshly cleaned floor. She usually didn’t allow Dvari into the preparation room. His size and impulsiveness led to a large mess more often than not. She hoped her need for him now didn’t give him false ideas. Her hands still quivered when she turned them over, inspecting her fingers and the juice-filled lines etched through her palms for any cuts from the slip of her knife. They were hands the color of the forest’s goldenwood trees, so much like her mother’s, not digits the color of the pale afternoon sky, smooth and sleek like her father’s. Tears boiled onto her lashes, tears of loss and resentment. She didn’t want the visions or knowledge her father had left her. They all weighed too heavy, especially when she felt so meager and insignificant without him, yet she couldn’t betray him or his dying wishes. "Help me, Father," she whispered to the sweet breeze. She desperately needed his guidance and unaltered love. "Help me do what you asked." She left her meal unfinished in the heat and thick humidity. Dvari rushed through the passageways with her, down the circular stairwell throat of her home and out into lowering daylight. The quiet woosh of the windmill filled her ears along with the faint rush of the watermill beneath the preparation room to her back. Feather-soft clouds hovered before her, broken only by the tallest trees pointing their foliage fingers to hidden stars. The path flowed familiar beneath her feet. Stones led downward, stacked as shallow steps. Through one turn and another she followed them until the forest canopy grew near. She leapt from the mountain side and slid her slim fingers over and around the silken skin of trees she knew as well as any other living thing in her forest until she landed solidly on the woodland floor. Dvari swooped down beside her, his gliders folding to his sides the instant he worked his stout legs to keep pace with her. She needed to reach her mother and have her call together the council members quickly. They would want to know of the Terajek’s reactivation, a reactivation Kynly had warned of for years. Even before her father’s death. Chapter Two Surrounded by the preparation room of her childhood, Kynly stared at her mother, sure she hadn’t heard her correctly. Cradling scents of fresh baked takana bread and herb coated arka fish clung to the illuminated walls, stirring merciful memories of simpler times, but no amount of memories could erase her knowledge of present. "So you’ll do nothing?" Kynly said. "I said nothing of the sort." Jacinta wiped her last plate dry. "I will call the council forward. What I said is, they may not act. Their opinion of me has faded of late." Kynly followed her mother around the room, skirting a chair. "But you are Father’s widow, a high council member." Jacinta turned, her golden-red hair showing gray at her temples. A year living alone seemed to have aged her a dozen. "What should be and what is are sometimes two very different things, Kynly. You of all people know this." Kynly lowered her shoulders, deflated by her informal name spoken as her father always said it. She circled the worn table and chairs. Restless angst didn’t allow her to stand still, despite the comfort available. "Then what must we do? The Ri’ are working to bring these builders here now, this night." Jacinta lowered her lashes over green eyes and tilted her head up as if looking deep inside herself. She too sometimes felt the future, not as clearly as Kynly, but enough to decipher clues. Kynly wanted the help now. She longed for it more than ever before. "I will go to the council, as you wish. I will tell them this news. But you must go to the river." She opened her eyes and turned to Kynly. "I feel you will know what to do when the passage opens." Kynly gasped. "Me? I know nothing beyond the fact that this must not happen. The council can stop it." "Truly?" "Yes. Tell them these two men from your world must not come here." "Or must they?" Jacinta wiped her hands on the garment she called an apron and strode quickly down several shadowed stairs to her sleeping quarters. "Wait…what?" Kynly hurried down the steps, so much taller now than her younger years when she followed the same path on the heels of her mother who knew everything. Now it seemed she didn’t know much of anything. Kynly strode through the door, determined to draw forth a more pleasing reply from her mother. The fresh, natural scent of her father filled her senses. Jacinta had left his shelvings just as they’d always been, full of Father’s few dressings, and his leather-bound books. Kynly longed for him, ached to hear his voice again. Jacinta fussed in the corner, then heaved open a tall section of wall, its thickness as domineering as its height. Kynly stopped fast, her heart seizing all heat from her blood. Pulsing light, so brilliant it mercilessly sliced the darkness and shook the atmosphere with an undecipherable song, washed over her. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced since the month before her father’s death. He brought her there, showed her the room and what it held, and all the years of training suddenly made sense. He always said she needed to be skilled in defending herself and taught her with weapons made of wood and iron. In truth, he taught her how to wield the weapon of the ancients. "Mother?" Kynly said, fear stealing volume from her voice. She crept forward, her knees soft, the floor beneath her steps even less solid. A shadow in the hidden room, Jacinta moved with no hesitation. She grasped Sektora. Kynly felt a pinch in her heart. Sektora’s long, curved blade sparkled blue above three tips along its inner spine. A crystal topped the opposite end, set inside an exquisite carving of gold thorn branches. It pulled all light into itself as Jacinta lifted it from its support. Anger ripped through Kynly and mixed with panic so strong she tasted bitterness on her tongue. "What are you doing?" She felt her head shake. "You cannot. Mother, put it back!" Jacinta struggled with its size, using both hands wrapped in heavy cloth to steady the tool. She held it out to Kynly. Kynly stepped back, every muscle in her body wanting to run. Only the solid stare from Jacinta’s tired eyes held her there. Kynly didn’t fear the coolness of Sektora, for she knew, since her father’s death, she alone could touch bare skin to the weapon without harm. Rather, she feared the implications of its removal. "Do you have any idea what this will cause? You can’t…" Kynly struggled for breaths. "Put it back. Now!" "Your father told you of this time, Kynly. Turning from it, running, will not change what must be." A tear broke from Jacinta’s lashes. "I’m so sorry this must fall on you, but no other knows what you know. No other has studied the L’ria as you have. No other can do what you can. I know this in the deepest parts of my soul. You know this." Kynly gritted her teeth against a scream and shook her head. A day begun with mild angst had grown to something worse than she ever dared think. So quickly, as quickly as it had the day her father died. "You cannot trust me with such decisions." Her voice erupted as little more than a raspy whisper. "Nonsense! I trust only you, as did your father. You are to take his place, not I, and only the council’s ignorance has forced your isolation. It is not your lack of knowledge, skill or worth, but theirs." Jacinta turned Sektora and rested its sharp tip on the floor at Kynly’s feet. The bluish jewel rose tall from the hilt, stopping its ascent at eye level. It swirled with a liquid shimmer—blue, green, streaks of brown and orange. Kynly felt it pull at her mind, begging. She turned away. "And in removing this, I’m assuring myself that you will not be alone much longer. Ultimately, it is your decision now if all should be punished for the council’s stupidity, or if you will stand for the free people of Nalus as your father always did." "This is different," Kynly said. Her words seemed to slice her throat. With her father, she fought for the people of her city, her continent, but never for her world, and never without him. Jacinta bowed her head. "Yes, but it has been building. You’ve grown with this." "No! I failed the last time I tried to help." The Ri’Nafeen warrior had reached her father just moments before she had. "Did you?" Jacinta said. The hold Jacinta’s stare put on her slipped and Kynly pulled back to the bedroom door. She needed to escape into the humid night, where Dvari waited, and disappear into oblivion with him. "You choose to run? You choose to ignore that your father knew his time was near, knew he was to die? You choose to ignore the teachings of the Ancients?" Kynly raised her face to the domed ceiling, wishing the Ri’Nafeen had plunged his weapon into her on that nightmarish night instead of into her father. "He told you of Sektora and its power when he did because of what he knew. Deny it if you must, but I cannot. It pained him beyond explanation when he realized the turmoil in Nalus would not fall to him to heal, but to his child. It is not something he wanted to ask of or to place on you. Not at all. But he knew you must make this decision." "And what decision is it? Because all I can see is you want me to kill these men when they arrive, keep the Ri’Nafeen from taking them. Steal their lives…" Kynly turned to face her mother’s tender gaze again. "That goes against everything I stand for, despite what people think. And none of the others Father spoke of will arrive to assist this night." Kynly swallowed, a new realization stirring inside her. In multiple places throughout Nalus, Sektora, now removed from its haven, awakened other ancient weapons, calling to service the descendants of the first Nalus Knights, if indeed any still existed. If any did live, they were total strangers to her, soon to seek out Sektora and her, its Keeper. Jacinta’s eyes sparkled with deepening tears. "You will know the right thing to do when the time comes. Trust yourself." Kynly wiped her face. She knew what must be done. To prevent many deaths she would have to take the life of two. For people who hated her, she would have to give up a part of herself. She had caused death before in defense of herself and others, but this was different. And these deaths would only be the beginning of something much worse. She let her hands drop to her sides. "Killing them, even if they do not attack, I will be protecting you," she said. "Yes?" "Not all from my world are violent. But all I can tell you is you will—" "Know what to do," Kynly interrupted. "That is no help to me now." Jacinta pressed her hand gently to Kynly’s cheek. Kynly closed her eyes. She felt the pain in her mother’s touch. Jacinta leaned Sektora so its mid-section stone grip touched Kynly’s wrist. Her flesh tingled as if caressed, as if Sektora reached for her. Kynly brushed her fingers over the sheen mineral. She had held it only one other time, the night her father told her of its supremacy. With it she could call forth many powers of nature and the force of eleven other mortals. Kynly closed her eyes and wrapped her hand around it. The long staff hummed at her touch and folded inside itself, shortening Sektora to a sword weapon. One palm on both of her cheeks, Jacinta softly kissed Kynly’s forehead. "Trust yourself. Above all else, trust yourself," she whispered and brushed Kynly’s bangs from her brow. "I am sorry I can’t tell you more than this, but I feel things will go well." Jacinta released Kynly and hurried from the sleeping quarters. Kynly followed with Sektora tight in her grasp. For the size of the weapon it was not heavy, but carefully balanced, as if created just for her use. "I will do what I can to call forth our defenses. And I will try to have Council send a legion to stop the Ri’Nafeen," Jacinta said. Kynly heard no hope in Jacinta’s words, only the flat tone of emptiness. Jacinta pulled a thin shawl over her hair. She opened the door. A cool wind full of anger and breathless fear washed into the room, strange from the tropical climate. Kynly wondered at its annoyance. Hadn’t she done what all wanted? She’d taken rule of Sektora. Jacinta turned only slightly to Kynly again. A tear glistened on her cheek, but then she vanished into the darkness of Malajiar. Familiar huffing sounded from the far garden corner. A moment later Dvari stepped into the firelight, his large ears perked tall aside his crown of three thick spikes. Dvari would act with her this night. She wouldn’t be alone. She would always have her friend. Dvari. A gift from her father. The night wrapped her in its layers, hiding her from the city where she had been born and raised, a city that feared and shunned her when they discovered what she was. She climbed the hill behind her parents’ house to the ravine that led to a task she would long regret. ~~~~~ Moonlight replaced sunlight over flat water. Only a few running lamps lit the decks. Above, in the enclosed bridge, Bryce saw two of Mr. Sterling’s small crew. Everything was calm and going exactly as it should. Bryce didn’t know why he couldn’t sleep. For the first three hours past midnight the beer had helped lull him, but he awoke fully to the quiet hum of the yacht and ocean waters just a short time ago. The flashing light. His mother’s eyes. It all replayed in his memory too clearly, too strangely. The light had to be a reflection from some other craft. He knew the waters off the coast of Florida were heavily traveled. It was stupid of him not to trust the Sterlings. They had sailed the waters of the Atlantic a lot, from all the talking Kara did about it. She spoke of storms and feeling as if they were the only family on Earth for days. He wanted to return to his small loft bed, but a nagging bite deep in his gut kept him at the bow. He’d been on the ocean before, but never beyond sight of land, and never on a craft as large as the one he now rode, though with the vast moon-glossed waters around them, nothing about the yacht felt large. He scratched his stubbled chin, deciding the lack of dry land had to be what bothered him. Water slapped the bow. Once, and then again. The yacht swayed and wind swirled, carrying with it slapping cold droplets of seawater. Blinding light flashed, casting his distorted shadow in blinks before him. Bryce spun. The captain and his mate stirred inside the window-lined room above, but the glowing mass hovering low in the sky behind them commanded Bryce’s attention. A cloud, but not. It rolled in on itself with awesome speed, as if alive and aching to claw the yacht. Quick zaps of glaring lightning jumped inside the fog beast. The boat lurched backwards. Bryce stumbled. Shouts came from the captain and from somewhere below deck. Bryce couldn’t decipher words, but he heard panic. His stomach swirled and he dropped to his knees, suddenly realizing it wasn’t fear knocking him off his feet. The entire boat twisted, moving too fast—sideways, then backwards. The running lights died to a sickly yellow. More shouts. Pounding footsteps. Bryce gripped the railing and stumbled to the aft deck, toward the strange cloud. It continued metamorphosing, churning darkness into radiance. The vessel pitched. Bryce’s fingers slipped. Shadows raced over the boat in harsh swirls. Bryce pressed his hands to the floor in an effort to keep some balance. Kara shouted something to Ryder, then someone screamed. The boat tipped wickedly to the right. Bryce rolled hard, smacking his shoulder. A chair slid into him, cracked against his ribs, then flipped to its back. He grappled to catch hold of something solid. He felt weightless against the floor boards, as if gravity shared the fate of the dying lights. An invisible beast sucked away air and deflated his lungs. He hit the deck hard. Pain stabbed his spine, hips and skull. The demon cloud huffed one last thundering roar. Everything fell motionless. Total silence. Bryce slid his hands over the slick wooden surface supporting him. His muscles shook, but he managed to push himself upright. The entire boat was dark, highlighted only by glints of moonlight. He heard Ryder’s voice, then Kara called for her father. "I’m here." "What happened?" Margie said. "Jim, what was that?" "I don’t know. Everyone all right?" "Yeah. Bryce, Sam?" Ryder’s deep voice sounded too thin. "Fine," Bryce said. He braced himself upright with his palms against his knees, feet apart for a moment, his head still reeling. Deep shadows of spilled furniture surrounded him. "I can’t see a damn thing," Mr. Sterling said. "Carl, start her up." "Can’t sir, we’ve lost everything." "What’d you mean, we lost everything?" "Oh, dear God," Sam murmured. Bryce faced left, where he thought he heard her. "Sam, you okay?" "Look up," she said, the words little more than a thick whisper. Quivers of fear raced up Bryce’s spine and pulled his head back, against his will. He felt the solidness under him spin again. The view was very wrong. Directly above, a celestial pale orb glowed far too large in its fullness. As alien as it appeared, the bright rust colored moon nearly concealed behind it and the partly shadowed blue-tinged globe to the left in the sky cemented the fact. Margie screamed. Ryder swore. Bryce forced his head down, struggling desperately to grasp the situation. Dark forms of trees surrounded them. They were still floating, moving forward, but the air didn’t smell like sea. It held a hint of wet soil so fresh it coated his tongue with earthen bitterness. Wind whisked through leaves, as if shushing the panicked voices on board. The first thing they all needed to do was calm down. "Sam, where are you?" "I’m over here. Please tell me I’m seeing things." Bryce reached forward, felt nothing but humid air, and noticed it was suddenly too warm, like a sauna. He inched ahead. He hit the leg of an overturned chair with his shin and winced from the spark of pain. A shriek from off-deck pierced the night. Everyone scrambled at once. Bryce slammed into Sam, her hair tangling in his fingers. She gripped him so tightly her nails pinched his bicep. Her wide eyes, bright with terror, reflected what little light the three celestial orbs shared. More raspy screams sounded at all sides. Something three dimensional streaked in front of the strange moons. A thump vibrated the wood beneath Bryce’s feet though the hammering of his heart muffled all sound. He shoved Sam behind him. Something cold and rock-hard struck his jaw, breaking skin and knocking him off balance. A huge shadow towered above him. Sam screamed. Bryce felt the leg of another chair, gripped it, and jumped up swinging. The chair splintered against something much too solid. The thing howled a sound nothing like pain. It stood taller than his six-foot three-inch build. He grabbed Sam and pushed her back until they crashed into Kara and Ryder. "What’s going on?" Jim Sterling shouted. "Carl, the pistols!" "Light," Margie shrieked. As if her command flipped a switch, a flame of bright orange huffed to life atop a large staff. Three broad men with jutting brows and square jaws peered at Bryce. Their thick hair looked matted, like the unkempt fur of a stray dog. They each wore straps over their heavily muscled chests, one with what looked like a battle horn at its end, the others with things unmistakably made to slice and stab. They wore little more than woven grass pants and moccasins. Kara whimpered and Ryder breathed in loud huffs, very near to Bryce, close enough to watch over as long as Bryce could keep them there. "We wish you no harm, but you must come with us. Now." The middle male spoke strangely, his words barely comprehensible. Mr. Sterling moved on the above loft and into the light. "Who are you?" The brute handed the tall torch to his left side companion. "Answers you will be given. Later." "What do you want? Get off this boat," Margie shouted. The big man gave one short nod. "With Kendlar." Heat leaked from Bryce, despite the hot atmosphere. His mother’s haunted gaze flashed through his mind. A guttural gust screamed from the heavens and slapped Bryce’s cheek. He turned his face from the sting, searched the darkness above. Something had touched him. The intruder’s torch flickered wickedly, the flames growling and casting harsh shadows all over the deck. Shadows laced the strangers’ eyes. One uttered odd sounds, the other hummed something in return. "You must come with us now," the middle male said and reached out toward Bryce. Again the wind swooped, this time causing the three big men to duck. The two with weapons pulled them free of their straps. Bryce raised only his gaze to view above and all around again. Nothing visible moved against the dark gray sky, but too many surprises had fallen on him for a lifetime in just a few minutes for him to believe things were finished. Not even close. Something more concrete than air filled the howling gusts. "The tall dark one in front and the smaller pale one beside him, those are the two we need. Take them now." A woman spoke from ink-black shadows beyond the familiar yacht. Sam clutched Bryce’s wrist from behind so tightly his fingers numbed. He stepped in front of Ryder. "None of us are going anywhere," he said. He wanted the others to hurry below deck. They had a better chance if they could bottleneck the intruders. Wind swirled again, ripping flames from the torch, setting them loose to die in the sky. The woman off-deck screamed harsh syllables ending in a sound that plunged ice deep into Bryce’s soul. More barbarian men rose from the night. Margie fell first, her scream cut short by a blade to her throat. Screeching grunts and the breaking of bone sounded from above where Mr. Sterling and his crew stood. Kara screamed and dove for her mother, but Ryder pulled her back. There was no way to stop the killings. They were all going to die. Bryce kicked the chair beside him, bouncing it up his leg to grasp it. He swung at the big man’s neck, then smacked him over the head so hard the chair splintered. The man fell, but another replaced him. Iron-strong hands grabbed Bryce’s arms. He wrestled free, glad for all his years of lifting cement blocks and steel beams. He hammered flesh with his fists, knocking down more men. Ryder yelled out in fury, but he was no match for the titans before him. Bryce turned to help, but another howling breeze whipped over the boat, and this time something unyielding struck him. He flew backwards. The railing of the yacht punched his kidney before he fell over. Cold water whacked him, then opened its throat to swallow. Pitch black liquid devoured him. His lungs burned. Water fogged his senses. He didn’t know which way to swim. His heart thumped louder and harder than a nail gun to wood. He twisted about again, desperately reaching for air. His fingertips broke the surface and he kicked forward, shooting free of the fluid hold. He choked on his brother’s name, his lungs straining to restart. "Ryder!" He turned full circle, seeing nothing but shadows under the huge moons. The water tasted sweet on his lips, not salty. Screams echoed in the distance. Something dropped from the tree tops, splashing water over Bryce, then the thing burst from the water. Too large, dark and growling, it lunged at him. Bryce kicked the thing and pumped his arms, pulling himself backward, away from it. Water sprayed his face, stung his eyes. The thing pounced on him, dragging him under. Claws sliced his neck, his arm. He twisted and thrashed against its tearing hold. He broke free and swam as quickly as he could toward shore. Nothing seemed to follow. He felt along the soggy banks for solid ground, then scrambled up the slippery side. His clothes hung heavy and water raced down his face, arms, and chest. The river appeared still behind him, reflecting only a faint blue sheen of moonlight on the ripples drifting away from where he escaped. Bryce swept droplets from his eyes with his wrists and stumbled farther from the river’s edge. He looked both directions, the yacht invisible. He closed his eyes to focus on the sounds around him. Seconds ticked by. His breaths quieted and he heard the slapping of water against wood, hollow. To his right. He stared into the dark until his eyes adjusted enough to decipher shadows of trees from earth. Then he ran. He smacked aside huge limbs and leaves, jumping over uneven ground. A faint flickering flame flashed off glass just ahead. A jarring blow materialized from the gloom and flattened him to the ground. He rolled downhill, somehow managing to scramble to his feet. Gold-hazel eyes reflected distant firelight too brightly. Bryce raised his fists to the being. Night peeled from a glowing blue blade at least three feet long. He stumbled back, his fists no match against it. Fear whipped through him, followed by agonizing anger. Things weren’t supposed to be this way. Things couldn’t be this way. He had to protect Ryder. "Who the hell are you people!" The being raised the weapon horizontally before his chest, its curved blade poised to slice him in half. "You just going to kill me? No explanation? Nothing?" Darkness flashed over the golden eyes. A blink. He sensed the being’s height to be less than that of the men on the boat, and he doubted what had pounced him in the water stood before him. It seemed as if every direction held a new enemy, not giving him a chance. He turned his head to view the dim light on the yacht. He wondered if Ryder still lived—if they had killed Sam and Kara too. And the strange moons above… He raised his chin, peering at the awful heavens through the trees, everything in him screaming protest. "You come to kill," the being said, its hoarse voice sounding between a shout and a whisper. The blue blade raised its aim to his throat. Frustration ripped through him. The only killing wasn’t being done by him. Somewhere just ahead, his little brother needed him. Kara and Sam needed him. His lungs throbbed against his swelling heart. Nothing he could do would get him to his brother. "Down." The command sounded like a bark of wind. "On your knees." Bryce shook his head. If he was going to die, it wouldn’t be on his knees. He held his hands out, palms open. "What did I do to deserve this?" he asked. "At least tell me that much." The blue blade shook. "Down!" "No! I’m going for my brother. You want me dead, you’ll have to come at me here and now, just like this." The being swung. Bryce leapt away. The big blade’s razor edge missed his throat but bit the meat of his left bicep. It melted into him like acid and tore a rough scream from his throat. He stumbled from the hit, but managed to remain upright. The second blow, a kick, knocked him to the ground and blue streaked under his chin. Icy coldness radiated from the blade to wash over his damp face and chest, promising pain and death. Bryce sucked in a quick breath, his last, and held it. The razor edge pressed against his Adam’s apple. Golden eyes glared down at him. He met the gaze, held the challenge. Seconds ticked by. He exhaled against the weapon, wincing from its pinch, but it went no deeper. The being huffed above him and whispered syllables he couldn’t quite hear, then, as quickly as it appeared, the being vanished, blue blade and all. For a long moment everything held still. Nothing new dropped from the night. Water lapped soil. No screams, no sounds at all came from the yacht. Bryce raised his hand to his throat. His flesh was intact. The same wasn’t true of his clawed chest and collar bone, or sliced arm. His arm felt as if flames boiled within it, spreading across his shoulders and into his fingertips. He rolled to his stomach. Dry foliage felt brittle, yet slimy, under his palms. He shook his head to clear it and rose up on his hands and knees. The steamy air felt cold on his wet skin. The burn from his bicep spread up his neck to his skull. Every inch of him hurt. Exhaustion dragged his eyes closed. He tried to force them open, crawled forward to a tree and pulled himself up, but his legs felt strange, weak. He fell. His cry of frustration echoed in his ears as darkness deeper than night folded over him. Chapter Three Trees surrounded her but shared no comfort. Jacinta’s words reverberated through her mind and tore her in two. She knew Bryce Kendlar had to die. If he didn’t, his building skills and knowledge would help create a floating battle empire for the Ri’Nafeen, one unconquerable. She had seen the creation in her mind—beautiful, brilliant, deadly. The fact Coinndis-Fosska-5 was the date she read from the sky, with K’sac the closest moon and L’sac the farthest, both in their full moon phases, only heightened her apprehension. She remembered the astrological maps on the doors and walls of the ancient temple, centered on L’ria Island in the lake filling the center of Varlin. The very heart of Nalus. The signs led her to believe something pivotal would happen with the phase of the moons corresponding. First the two above would match their full moon phases and that had already happened. More than a year later, all three moons would line in their new moon phases, unlocking something world changing. She felt certain, or mostly certain, the event would happen because of Bryce and Ryder Kendlar. Yet something stopped her from ending Bryce. Kynly didn’t want to trust herself. The fear of being wrong, no matter what decision she made, nearly paralyzed her. She had him, Sektora to his throat, yet she couldn’t force the final thrust. She saw something in Bryce Kendlar she couldn’t ignore or explain and it seemed as if the energy in Sektora pushed against her, forbidding the killing blow. She swooped from the highest limb to a lower one, catching the branch easily in her hand. Somewhere below, Bryce had fallen. A part of her hoped the wounds she and Dvari inflicted had killed him. She knew a bloodletting cut of Sektora was poison, but the other half of her dreaded his death so deeply it drilled painful cold sensations to her stomach. The reaction made no sense, but it caused whispered words of mercy to drift from her lips on his behalf. Dvari grunted, the clattering of his claws barely audible, as he speedily climbed the tree to her. He too had ceased his attack. She knew her pet could have drowned Kendlar easily. Dvari could breathe under water, as all of his species could, yet he hadn’t finished the man. In the distance, she heard the rustling and grunting retreat of the Ri’Nafeen. They had taken their prize—three young Earthlings, two female, and the other builder—but the youngest wouldn’t be the one to develop the fast moving structure. Bryce would create it, and the one below her was that man. She’d heard the other call him by name and she recognized him from her visions. What the Ri’ wanted with the female Earthlings, she could only imagine. Her heart ached for them, but she knew the Earth humans were of bad blood. They brought war and pain to her world in years past, along with diseases and hate. The council sent most Earthlings to the Morsis continent, far north in the West Sea. Only a few like Jacinta lived elsewhere. Most Earthlings on Morsis were descendants of an ancient time, when the portals were opened in casual pleasure, though she heard their gene pool was not as pure as many liked to believe. Others, fresh and pure from Earth, had been swept into passages during glitches when the ancient Terajeks would flare, sparked by a storm or some other disturbance. Those humans brought with them horrifying weapons and other bad things, but some glitches caught others, like Jacinta. Her mother called what happened "hiccups between the worlds." She told of triangles on Earth being unsolved mysteries and how she had fallen into one. Kynly’s father, Kynthelon, claimed he saw something special in Jacinta’s aura and couldn’t so quickly force her to Morsis. Kynly knew her mother’s tenderness and the powers she called "psychic abilities," but others in Malajiar and throughout Nalus were more afraid, less trusting. Kynly stared past dark limbs and foliage. The Earth genetics were not guaranteed tainted with evil. She herself had some of those genetics in her blood, but the stories and things she saw and studied scared her no less because of it. Despite Jacinta’s tales explaining those who brought death, evil, and weapons were creatures called drug smugglers, pirates, and military, Kynly couldn’t believe the man below her had any intention other than evil. Still, she couldn’t kill him. His aura had shocked her, stirred her mother’s words. Were he and his brother meant to come? She sucked damp air through her nose and exhaled through her lips. Her forest would kill him. With his wounds, his total lack of preparation, the rain forest would show no pity. As for the others the Ri’Nafeen took, she felt a sad kinship with them, but nothing more. The Ri’ were sure to bore of their new toys quickly and those humans would too perish. Nalus would remain safe. She wanted to believe it. Kynly slid her hand over Dvari’s fuzzy back. He purred and nuzzled against her. Things would be fine. With Sektora in one hand, she used her other to grasp tree limbs and move quickly through the canopy, Dvari close behind her. ~~~~~ Strange squawks and howls rained from above. Bryce saw golden foliage, silver bark, blue sky. He sat up too quickly, wondering how he’d fallen asleep on deck after such a vivid and horrid nightmare. His head thumped, the slice in his chest pulled, and his bicep pulsed with ache. The wooded view ahead of him shimmered in his burning eyes and mixed with swimming sparks that slowly faded. He looked down to find his fists skinned and bloody, his gray t-shirt torn and scarlet. Not a dream. But the sky showed blue with weak morning daylight. They’d simply gone off course somehow and the night had distorted the appearance of his attackers. He decided he had to find the yacht, see if anyone was left, and radio authorities. Each motion sent new pinpricks of lights swirling in his vision. It seemed to take forever for him to stand. He didn’t know how much blood he lost, but he guessed it was more than a little from how cold and weak he felt. He focused on lifting one leg, then the other, until he stood on the muddy river bank. He scanned the gray water, saw the sun’s reflection and something else. He closed his eyes, willing the scene away, and looked again. The red orb remained in the east, much smaller than the moon he studied many nights from his parents’ back porch. It was also red and still vaguely visible in the dawning rays of sunlight. Tension strangled him. He dropped to his knees. What had happened, or how, evaded any explanation. He cupped his hands to his face. Where he was, what he could or should do next, none of it came to him. Birds, or what he guessed to be birds, shrieked and squawked, blending together into a chorus of racket. A distant cry of panic shattered the seclusion. Evan. Bryce scanned the river to his right where the waterway turned and the forest grew thick. Between large jagged leaves and limbs of silver, he spotted something polished and white. Someone was alive on the yacht. He stumbled up the bank to more solid ground. He leaned on trees he passed for support until the river bend appeared beside him. He slipped down to stand in a few inches of water and realized he could see almost to the bottom even at the center of the waterway, a place he knew had to be deep to allow the draft of the yacht. It still floated, only stopped because no one directed it around the bend. Drifting shadows of marine life shimmered on the stone bed, creeping through quivering streaks of sunlight. His blood marred the perfection in drips and melted to ghostly scarlet wisps, sinking ever downward. "Hey!" he called to the boat. "Anyone up there?" Evan appeared on deck, his face as pale as his white cotton shirt. Smears of blood streaked his sleeves and the side of his chest, not dark enough to be his. Bryce felt a strange swirl of relief not to be alone even if the only survivor was Evan. "Ryder, Kara?" He studied Evan’s blank expression. "Is anybody else up there with you?" Evan’s lips moved but no words surfaced. "Evan, come on. I’m in no shape to swim over there." "They’re…no one…gone… all this blood…" Bryce scrubbed his forehead. Frustration pounded his skull. He wanted to ask how much blood, wanted to see it, to find out if Ryder and the others were still there somewhere, but he knew water would only help to soften and reopen his wounds. Bryce had no idea how much help he could count on from the kid. "Can you get down here?" Evan’s blue eyes widened. "Why would I do that? No, I’m staying here. Radios, the radio…" He rambled on as he turned away. Uneven sobs and things being shoved about mixed with the sounds of water licking the shore. A warm breeze wafted through the trees, so fresh it tasted sweet on Bryce’s tongue, untainted. He wondered if Evan had looked to the sky. He sat on a boulder at the river’s edge, letting the sun warm him and dry his still damp clothes. He pressed his left hand to the deep wound on his left arm and wished he had surfaced on the opposite bank the night before. Then he could have reached the yacht without swimming, studied the scene, and gotten dry clothes and bandages. At least fifteen minutes passed. Odd spots swam in Bryce’s vision and the unmistakable feeling of light-headedness sank through him. "Evan," he said. No reply. He called out again, louder. "What?" the kid snapped. "Nothing is working. Nothing works!" A squeak cracked his voice. "I need you to help me," Bryce said, doing his best to pull the boy’s attention from the horror around him. "I need you to help me out. Can you do that?" Silence. A door banged. Evan appeared at the rear of the yacht again. "I can’t swim over there like this," Bryce said. "What happened? Where are my parents? Where’s everyone else?" Bryce studied Evan’s high brows, his eyes so wide, white showed all around. He hadn’t found any bodies. "I don’t know," Bryce said, though he knew for sure Margie and Jim were dead, along with the two-man crew. "A group of guys attacked last night. I fell over. I don’t know what happened up there after that." "What the hell, why didn’t you do something?" Bryce winced at the shot of guilt and anger Evan’s words produced. He had tried to do something, to stop what happened, and failed. He didn’t need anyone else to point it out to him, especially not Evan Sterling. "Has it not occurred to you that if you don’t help me, I’m not going to be around to help you?" Evan’s gaze finally focused on Bryce. He shook his head. "What? How? I’m not swimming in this." "There’s no life raft or something?" Bryce struggled to smother his sarcasm. "A first aid kit to stop this bleeding and some dry clothes would help a lot, and something to drink." Evan shoved his hands through his hair. "I don’t know, I don’t." "Snap out of it!" Bryce yelled. The force of the command worsened the wooziness in his head. He pressed the heels of his hands to his temples. "Get your act together and figure it out." A guttural animal scream sliced the air. Evan jumped away from the railing. Bryce’s heart raced, pounding pain deep inside his chest wound. If he died on the river bank because a twenty-something kid couldn’t focus enough to help, he vowed to haunt Evan to his death. He leaned over, his head between his knees. "Bryce," Evan said. Beads of moisture dampened Bryce’s forehead, though he couldn’t believe it was sweat with how cold he felt. "Don’t you leave me alone out here," Evan squealed. Bryce sucked in deep breaths. "Then—I suggest—you get your ass down here." He sat upright, then leaned back to stare at the alien sky. It darkened, then brightened as if someone pulled sheer black curtains closed, then opened them again. His ears hummed, drowning out most every other sound. He jumped when something fell on him, then he saw Evan above him, the edge of a blanket in his hands. Evan rambled words that drifted to Bryce only in pieces. Bryce’s wounded arm ached more strongly under the weight of something warm and dry. Darkness pulsed near but soon, the sky gradually lightened. "Come on, wake up." Evan pushed the blanket up so its end brushed Bryce’s jaw. "You’re a mess. Hope this washes out or Mom’s going to kill me." Bryce pulled his dry lips open. His tongue felt glued to the inside of his mouth. He heard Evan still talking, saw the fuzzy image of him above, and felt movement. Water dribbled into his mouth. "Don’t you pass out on me again. I swear I’ll never forgive you if you do." Bryce swallowed. The sun’s heat soaked into the blanket. He turned his head to the side and saw the bright yellow of an inflatable raft. He wanted to sleep, he felt totally drained, but he knew it probably wasn’t a good idea. He reached for the container Evan held and sucked down more water, not for Evan’s benefit, but for his own—and for Ryder, Kara and Sam. If Evan hadn’t found any bodies there was a chance they hadn’t all been killed. "Penicillin?" His arm still burned, so much like an infection. Evan had wrapped it nicely in gauze, though blood had already saturated it. Evan’s eyes seemed to fade out of focus. "I—I’m allergic to it, can’t touch it." Bryce pulled the box from Evan and opened it. Inside he found another container half as big with Evan’s name in black marker. The kid had his own medicine shop. Bryce found the small bottle of penicillin, injected it below the wound in his bicep himself, and pulled out another roll of gauze. Using his teeth to hold the end tight, he wrapped the deep wound a second time as tightly as he could tolerate. It continued to ache, feeling more like a bad burn than a slice. But he remembered the blue blade feeling cold when it touched his neck. He slid the box aside to close it, but Evan stopped him. "Your… Um, your throat, it needs cleaned," he said. "I couldn’t reach it the way you were." Bryce glanced down at his chest wound. The slices were covered with a wide bandage, but blood tightened on his stomach as it dried. "Let it go till I get back up there." He nodded to the yacht. "Good. See if you can get the radios working." "Doubt it," Bryce said, but decided not to say more. He had an inkling Evan’s reaction to the alien moon above wouldn’t go well. "Then what are you even bothering for? It’s not easy getting back up there." "Supplies," Bryce said. "There’s a few days worth of food somewhere." "Yeah, only three or four days." Evan huffed. "We need to get the radios working and get out of here." "Enough for nine people for those three or four days," Bryce said, "and I won’t be able to get the radio working." "It might just be a fuse, you should check the fuses." "Forget the damn radio!" Bryce shoved the blanket off, tossing it to Evan. Evan stumbled back as if scorpions covered the thing, not streaks of blood. "Why, you’re a construction worker, you know about these things." "I build buildings, I don’t wire them," Bryce said, though it wasn’t the full truth and it was beside the point. Evan puffed up his skinny chest. "You just don’t want to help me. I see it now, you think it’s funny, me out here in this disgusting mud…" Bryce reached out to shake the kid, but stopped and decided shock might shut him up faster. "Look up," he said. "Behind you." Evan narrowed his eyes. "Just do it." "I turn and you hit me. Maybe you caused this whole thing." "If I was going to smack you, it wouldn’t be with your back turned." Evan stumbled away, glancing back and forth between Bryce and the uneven muddy ground until he reached a larger boulder and couldn’t go any farther without climbing. He glanced at the sky, then back to Bryce. His eyes widened and he spun, tilting his head back so far he lost his balance. He grunted when he slapped the mud. Water sprayed Bryce. He wiped it from his cheek and stepped to the inflatable boat. "Can you swim?" Bryce asked. He tossed the first aid kit into the craft, then struggled to keep his balance enough to climb into it. "I—it…" Evan shook mud from his hands and whimpered. Bryce half expected him to cry for his mother. "Can you swim? Yes or no." "Yes, of course. What is that, what…" "Good." Bryce used the small oar to push the boat from the shore. Evan shrieked. "You need washed up somehow. I’ll meet you on deck." "I’m not swimming here!" Bryce breathed deep, careful not to pull too hard with his wounded arm, and headed steadily for the opposite bank. The water beneath him was probably cleaner than anything they could draw from a tap at home. He figured Evan’s need to be near someone would have him swimming in a few short minutes, but if not, he would go back, eventually.