Ice Baron (Ice Chronicles, Book One (science fiction romance)) (4 page)

Joshua slammed back
another shot of raw alcohol. He
rarely drank liquor, and this particular brand tasted bitter and foul. The
truth was, he wanted to punish himself. And he wouldn’t mind deadening the pain
roaring through his heart and mind, too. Nothing would ever be the same again.
And damn it, but he would live with it. It was for the best.

With a curse, he hurled the glass
into the hearth. Flames exploded up into a hot, roiling inferno. Joshua seethed
another curse, this time at himself. “It’s for the best.”

Why couldn’t he believe it? Why
did fear clench his gut? Why did he feel like he had just made the biggest
mistake of his life?

“It’s for the
best.
” His
jaw hurt. “Damn you, it’s for the best.”

Was that why he had agreed so
quickly to let Onred have Anya? To get her out of his life and his city, so he
wouldn’t be tortured by his own dishonorable weakness anymore?

But this didn’t feel better. It
felt like death.

Ten years ago, it had all started
so differently, and with such promise. When Joshua had learned that Jason Dubrovnyk’s
will had designated him to become protector to Jason’s young brood of five,
along with the help, of course, of their nannies, he had felt honored. It was
nothing short of a miracle, for a man from his background. His new duties
wouldn’t be strenuous; be a strong male influence on the boys. Keep the girls
in line.

But then proof surfaced that the
baron’s first-in-command had poisoned the baron and his wife. The murderer had
wanted power, but wasn’t willing to trust fate for it.

Fate. Joshua smiled without humor.
Fate and superstition tangled through the odd laws of the Old Barons in middle Asia, frozen in a perpetual ice age ever since nuclear war had destroyed most of the earth
a millennia ago.

Although the Old Barons had wanted
to keep power in their families, they had superstitiously chosen to surrender
the ultimate, trump card to fate. They believed power should flow to its
intended recipient—whomever that might be. As a result, the Old Barons’ Law
stipulated that only the oldest child could inherit. If the oldest child died,
or if the girl child married out of the territory, power would go to the late
baron’s first-in-command. Unless, of course, the baron bequeathed power before
his death. A rare occurrence. Jason Dubrovnyk certainly had not done so.

Shocking to all, after Baron
Dubrovnyk’s first-in-command was executed, Joshua, as second-in-command, was
next in line for power. He had become interim baron; a position which would
last until Anya grew up and married, when her husband would become the next baron.
Joshua had taken the job in stride, and with single-minded tenacity had learned
all the intricacies of the baron’s duties in six short months. Plenty of
advisors helped him, but he had found his own way, all the while negotiating
the far more tricky duties of protector.

The oldest of Baron Dubrovnyk’s
children was Anya, and she had been thirteen when he had been thrust into the
role of protector. His own life had turned upside down at a similar age, so he
empathized with what she was going through.

At first, Joshua had believed
himself blessed. To become both baron and protector at such a young age was an
unbelievable honor for a young man who had come from absolutely nothing. He had
been twelve when he had joined the army. By sixteen, he had earned more medals
for valor than most men twice his age. Afterward, he had transferred to the air
fleet. He was fearless in battle, and praised by all of his commanders. And
shrewd. A man they wanted in their corner.

When Joshua turned nineteen, Jason
Dubrovnyk heard about Joshua and enlisted him into the elite service. The rest
was history.

Overall, Joshua thought he had
done well. The job of baron was difficult, but a perfect fit for his
aggressive, take-no-prisoners personality. He had even grown to like the children,
which was a good thing, as protector. The world was his…except for one thing.
Protector was a sacred trust. On oath, the baron’s family had become his own.
He could not become romantically involved with one of his charges.

Of course, the Old Barons’ Law was
meant to keep protectors from gaining power by unscrupulous means, such as by
marrying the oldest female heir. If Joshua did break this sacred trust at any
small point, all power and position would be stripped from him. He would become
as an enlisted soldier again, and the baron’s daughter would lose her
inheritance to power. But even worse, if a larger offense was proven, both
culprits would be stripped of all possessions, and cast from the territory
forever. Joshua’s honor would be forever lost, for he would have taken
advantage of one of his charges. A heinous crime, especially to the Order of
the Barons, who highly prized their children.

And now Joshua had finally
discharged his duty. Anya was about to safely marry another. He had kept his
honor and pledge to her father. And, by an undeserving twist of fate, he would
remain baron.

With a mocking twist to his lips,
Joshua raised his glass to heaven. “Your daughter is safe from me, Baron. Of
course, Onred…” A hoarse bark erupted. It should have been laughter, but it
burned, as if the very flames of hell licked down into his soul. Just the
thought of that grubby bastard touching Anya… All rational thought abruptly
left his head.

He snarled out a string of curses,
damning Onred to hell forever.

*  *  *  *  *

Anya surreptitiously checked her
watch. Ninety minutes of the journey had elapsed. Time to put her plan into motion.
Finally.

She pulled her carry-on bag onto
her lap. With a fake frown, she rummaged through it, aware that Onred’s men
watched her every movement. At length, and with an audible sigh of success, she
pulled out a compact. Of course, she had known its location the entire time.
Although the compact appeared to be a frivolous item, it also doubled as a
compass.

Anya peered into the small mirror,
pretending to study her face from all angles. She squinted, as though it were
hard to see. Finally, with a sigh of disgust, she shoved the compact back into
the bag and stood. Handles slipped over her forearm, she headed for the women’s
restroom.

Onred’s men, and one of Joshua’s,
hidden in the last seat, continued to watch her, but did not interfere. Where
could she go? Already they were speeding over frozen wasteland, several
kilometers above the earth’s surface. She glanced outside, at the massive Tien Shan mountain range rapidly approaching from the south. In half an hour, the shuttle
would pass over the northeastern ridge and head southeast to Bogd, Onred’s main
city.

After locking the restroom door,
Anya quickly set to work. She pulled off her jacket and slipped on an
ultra-light, specialty vest, and then she slipped knives, a laser gun, and back
up solar charges into the loops in her belt. Next tucked in were matches, a solar
light, rations, and a cup-sized water purifier, complete with instant heater,
to melt snow into a hot drink. The minimum needed, should she lose her bag. She
pulled her parka back on, and adjusted the top pouch of the underlying vest.
Last of all, she tied the bag to her arm with thin black rope, which matched
the color of her parka.

Done. Although her heart beat
rapidly and nerves twisted through the pit of her stomach, Anya left the restroom
with a bored expression on her face. She wandered to the window and looked down
at the barren wasteland far below, which was bordered by the craggy Tien Shan mountains. She searched for the dip, indicating the pass through the towering
mountain peaks. There it was, to the south—the Dzungarian Gate. Her second
destination.

Her first destination, however,
was this white, barren, no-man’s land; but at a point as close as possible to
the Dzungarian Gate. She glanced at her watch. Previous calculations told her
that only two minutes remained. Heart beating harder, she swallowed and stared
outside. From this vantage point, it was impossible to tell that lakes lay
beneath the unending sheet of snow. Snow drifts had claimed frozen Lake Zaysan to the east, and to the west, Lake Balkhash. This wasteland, with temperatures
which reached as low as -42° C in February, was far too desolate for human
habitation, but she would survive well enough. Her hard, militaristic father had
trained both of his oldest daughters in the basic elements of survival. He had
wanted them to be prepared for everything.

Anya was glad for that now. But
she hoped she would meet no snow leopards. The animals, which used to prowl the
higher mountains, now hunted the warmer, lower elevations in search of food.
Her laser would protect her, of course—provided she saw the animal before it
sprang upon her.

Beneath her lashes, Anya glanced
sideways at the cabin. One of Onred’s men watched her, but the others had
closed their eyes, intent on a nap between here and Onred’s home city of Bogd, more than an hour distant.

She wandered toward the pilot
area. No one followed her. This was going to be easy. Anya actually felt disappointed.
She found she was itching for a fight. Was it because she was sick of feeling
impotent, with her entire life dictated by others…duty, the Old Barons’ Law....
Ultimately, of course, by Joshua. The gray door to the cockpit was at hand. She
pulled the laser from her belt, yanked open the door and barged into the small
space.

“Hey!”

“Get out,” barked the pilot.

“You don’t belong…” The sight of
Anya’s laser shut up all three crew members.

Slowly and distinctly, she said, “Open
the emergency door.”  As trained by her father, she knew that the cabin, at
these low altitudes, was not pressurized. Opening the door would harm none of
the cockpit crew, who were seatbelted, in any event.

One man’s hand crept across the
dashboard. Anya whipped her laser toward the emergency door handle and fired.
Green lights flickered in the cockpit, and something sizzled. An acrid smell
drifted to her nose. Everyone froze, staring at the madwoman who had invaded
their cockpit. Anya shoved the laser into her belt, ran for the door, and
rammed a shoulder into the emergency release bar. The door jerked right, and air
blasted into the cockpit. A hard lunge, and she was through, falling into
empty, cold air, hurtling toward the earth.

Soft snowflakes brushed her skin
as she yanked and jerked at the vest under her jacket collar, searching for the
ripcord. Where was it?

Below, the flat snow pack and a
few huge drifts rushed closer. Her fingers finally brushed the knotted cord and
yanked. With force, the parachute popped the back of her head as it shot from
beneath her jacket collar. The next second, the billowing chute jerked her
body, stopping its death fall.

All was silent. She didn’t hear
the shuttle. It was probably long gone. Cold snowflakes kissed her cheeks. The
earth continued to drift closer—faster than she had expected. She bent her
knees, bracing for impact. One of the drifts looked huge and bulky, as if it
hid a gigantic boulder, but before she could adjust course, she hit the ground
with teeth rattling impact. Clearly, an ice sheet lay beneath the surface of the
deceptively soft looking snow. She tumbled hard and spun sideways into the
craggy rock. Pain slammed into her shoulder and head, and then she lay
blessedly still.

She was safe. And, for the first
time in her life, completely free. No one—not duty, not the Old Barons’ Law,
and not Joshua—would ever rule her life again. It was a surprisingly freeing
thought. With a faint, grimacing smile, Anya slipped into blackness.

CHAPTER THREE

Astana

“She
what?
”

“Anya skyjumped from the shuttle,
sir. Onred is furious. He thinks this has all been a trick.”

Joshua’s curled fist went to his
head, as if that could put a lid on this insane turn of events. “She didn’t.
She wouldn’t.”

“She did, sir. What are your
orders?”

For a moment, Joshua couldn’t think.
Anya could be…. No. He would not allow the thought to form. She couldn’t be
dead. He would feel it. Somehow, he would know.

His natural command swiftly
returned. “Send out aircraft. Search the area where she went down.”

“She jumped in the middle of the
wasteland, sir. A storm is coming.”

Joshua swore. “Get my flight gear.”

“But sir…”

“
Do it.
”

Flying through storms had been his
specialty in the elite air fleet. He would find Anya. Never would he leave her
out there, alone, in the middle of a storm.

He
would
find her. But when
he did, he would kill her.

*  *  *  *  *

Anya’s eyelids fluttered open.
Frigid, furry snowflakes clung to them. It was so quiet and still.

Cautiously, she moved her head. It
ached. A glove touch to her chin came away bloody. Her shoulders and back felt
sore, but nothing to write home about. A grim smile curled her lips at that
absurd thought.