Ice Baron (Ice Chronicles, Book One (science fiction romance)) (8 page)

“Over there. Behind the rock,”
Joshua said, and they swiftly knelt behind a huge rock topped with a deep cap
of snow. Anya peered through a crack formed between the tarp and the rock.

Yellow lasers shot from the
incoming aircraft. One flamed east, and a muffled explosion broke the quiet
night. Joshua’s ship, no doubt.

Another aircraft shot at the
mountain cave where they had been minutes before, and where Joshua’s
transponders still lay on the floor.

Anya watched in silence. It seemed
surreal. Onred
had
gained access to the military’s transponder codes. He
had tracked Joshua to that cave. Onred had breached Astana’s high security
military defense systems. But how had he done it? And when?

Another aircraft, close enough
that Anya could see the black underbelly of Onred’s distinctive, v-shaped
airbird, joined the first. Their mingled laser beams focused on the cave, and
it collapsed in a thunder of rubble.

The two aircraft dipped to hover
inches above the ground, while the remaining bird swooped over the terrain,
undoubtedly seeking glimpses of heat or movement. Joshua slowly pulled the tarp
down to the ground, forming a tent about them. They could not see the enemy,
and hopefully the enemy could not detect them, either.

Boots scrunched in the snow. Anya’s
heart beat faster when the heavy footsteps crunched closer. Beside her, Joshua
crouched as solid and motionless as a stone. He gave no inclination of his
intent until he whipped up the tarp and shot blue flame into the night. His
laser was on stun. Less likely to be seen in the dark.

He darted out and the tarp fell in
crisp, cool folds around her. Moments later, Joshua returned, pulling an inert
man under the tarp. “I’m going to disable one of the aircraft. Cover me.”
Before Anya could blink, he was gone.

Onred’s unconscious soldier breathed
in muted whistles. It creeped her out, having him behind her, not knowing when
he’d wake up. And Joshua. She pulled out her laser and crept around the corner
of the rock, tracking his movements. Where was the other pilot? Each airbird
carried one pilot, although the standard issue craft could carry up to four in
a pinch.

She finally glimpsed Joshua’s
cream jacket melding with the shadowed lumps of snow near the cave base.

What was he
thinking?
She
had assumed they would hide until Onred’s men left. But passivity wasn’t in
Joshua’s nature. Conquering was. Over the last ten years, seeing him only in
civilized, diplomatic environments, she had forgotten the stories of his
legendary—and often risky—heroics on the field of battle.

Both enemy airbirds continued to
hover, engines softly whispering, above the snow. Red lights chased in circles
around the lower edges. Orange lights from the console gleamed through the dark
windows.

Joshua moved forward in a low
crouch, laser at the ready.

Where was the enemy airman? Anya
swiftly searched the landscape for movement, but saw nothing. Then she searched
the sky for the remaining airbird, but it had faded into silence.

All at once, Anya guessed Joshua’s
plan. He would disable one of Onred’s ships and steal the other. Once they’d
ripped out the transponders, they could fly on blackout to her uncle’s
territory. A terrific plan, of course. Only one man stood between death and
freedom.

Anya edged out a little further,
searching for Joshua’s target. Yellow light flashed toward Joshua. Anya
pinpointed the source and fired. Blue light fizzed. Wrong setting. She kicked
it up a notch, but before she could fire, Joshua shot and a dark shape fell.

Both of Onred’s men were down.
They were free! When Joshua darted for the far ship, Anya grabbed her bag and
tarp and ran for the nearest one. She could search for the transponders and rip
them out.

“Anya, no!”

In surprise, she glanced at
Joshua. His face was shadowed in the darkness, but his arm cut downward at a
violent angle. Without thinking, she dove to the ground. Yellow flame seared
her arm.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Anya instinctively
rolled
into the snow, cooling the burning pain. Fiery
lasers hissed above her, then stopped, leaving darkness.

Pain and fear seemed to freeze her
thoughts. Who had won?

Joshua’s face appeared above her.

“Should have known,” she murmured.
“You never fail.”

He swiftly carried her to the
nearest aircraft.

The pain in her arm burned like
crazy, but Anya managed to climb into the dimly lit aircraft on her own. “Don’t
forget my bag…and the tarp.”

She took the seat behind the pilot’s
chair and eyed the orange instrument panel. Finding and removing the transponders
had been such a clean and simple goal a minute ago. Now her brain felt fuzzy.
Where was Joshua?

A glance outside spotted her bag
and tarp, still lying on the ground. Beyond them, a fallen man. His body was
long and lean. He wasn’t the beefy man Joshua had first stunned and dragged
behind the rock. The lean man who had shot her must have come from the third
airbird.

Yellow light flickered from the
direction of the boulder. And then Anya understood. Joshua had returned to kill
the first man. But why? He was no threat to them now.

Queasiness twisted in her stomach.
She felt sick.

Joshua dashed across the frozen
snow pack, scooped up the fallen bag and tarp and deposited both in the ship.
Cold air and the metallic scent of snow billowed in with him. He slammed the
door. With bare fingers, he ripped off the black instrument panel cover and
jerked out wires. Metal pieces clattered to the floor. He grunted in
satisfaction.

The engine whirred louder, and
they shot up, dizzyingly fast, into the air. Anya’s stomach dropped with a
sickening lurch.

Joshua pushed overhead buttons,
and the next moment the airbird swirled right. Yellow fire spit. A sharp turn
left, and more yellow fire lit the black landscape.

“You…blew up the birds?” Anya
managed to keep her voice level. The truth was, the pain searing her arm choked
her mind.

“No one will follow us. For a
while.”

“Good.” Anya sat quietly,
breathing shallowly, not wanting to draw attention to herself. They needed to
escape this airspace, and fast. The craft’s antiradar field would help hide
them from enemy radar, but nothing could disguise their movement. Satellites
would pick it up within minutes.

An Altai voice spoke from the
console, startling her. “Report, AirOpsOne.”

Tersely, Joshua muttered, “In
pursuit.”

“We’re not tracking you. Blue and
Nine are not responding. Report.”

“Damage. …Fading.” Joshua clicked
off the microphone and pushed the throttle. The ship shot forward, and gravity
pressed hard against Anya’s body, pushing her deep into the seat.

Silence ensued for long minutes.

“How long…do we have?” she got
out.

“They’re busy, fighting
resistance. We could have thirty minutes to an hour before they become
suspicious. Don’t worry. We’re flying open aces. They won’t catch us.”

Anya didn’t need to ask what “open
aces” meant. Obviously, it meant flying as fast as a demon escaping hell.

For the first time, she mustered
the courage to look at her upper arm. The dim light filtering back from the
instrument panel revealed that several inches were charred black. The wound
didn’t appear deep, though. Was the black color her charred skin, or her snow
wear, melted into her skin? Anya swallowed back bile and searched for the
medical kit.

A white box was snapped under the
pilot’s seat, and she battled the gravitational force to lean forward and pull
it out. It contained bandages, healing cream, and an antiseptic healing wand,
too.

“How’s your arm?” Joshua glanced
back, concentration etching shadowed lines into his face.

“I don’t think it’s deep.”

Joshua pressed buttons on the
console and swiveled to face her.

It startled her. “Don’t you need
to steer? I’m fine. I can handle it.”

“I’ll be the judge.”

If she had felt better, she might
have rolled her eyes. “Dictator should be your title. Not baron.”

“When one knows best…”

This time she did roll her eyes.

His teeth flashed. “Let me see.”

It hurt to move her arm, but he
solved that by lifting it for her. Gentle fingers tested the edges of the
wound.

“I don’t think it hit muscle,” he
murmured. “You’re lucky.” With two quick movements, he ripped the fabric of her
clothing in order to better expose the wound.

“Hold still.” He popped an antiseptic
healing cartridge into the wand, set the mode on “wide,” and pressed the button.

His head was bent very close to
her own. Never had Joshua been this close to her before, or gently tended her
wound himself. Never. The sweet intimacy of it made her heart both soar and
pound—and made her fiercely long for what could never be.
Would
never
be. For Joshua did not want her. And yet the way he gently touched her now,
with such care, could not prevent her heart from foolishly imagining all sorts
of impossible things.

Cool white light stroked over her
skin. A fine mist, mixed with healing alpha waves, sprayed from the medical
appliance.

She sighed with relief. “That
feels good.”

He looked up. A devilish grin
lifted one corner of his mouth. “You’ve never said that to me before.”

Was he
flirting
with her?
Anya flushed in confusion.

His smile faded, and he looked
down to concentrate on her wound.

A moment later, his expression
remote, he turned off the wand and leaned back. “That’s enough. You’ll need to
apply more in an hour.” His warm fingers accidentally brushed hers when he
pushed the wand into her hand.

He swiveled back to the console to
check the instruments.

Anya didn’t know what to think of
his out-of-character comment. If he had flirted, he certainly seemed to regret
it now.

Of course he did. Or, more likely,
she had misconstrued the whole incident. Her brain was overloaded. Too much had
happened in too short a time.

“Thank you,” she offered.

One shoulder jerked. “It’s my job.”

Protector, he meant. How Anya had
grown to hate that title.

“Rest,” he advised. “It’ll be
another half hour before we reach Aksu.”

Her uncle’s capitol city.

Anya didn’t think she could
possibly sleep, but she was tired. So much had happened in the last hour, and
her arm still burned from being shot.

Astana had been blown to bits. The
image of that horrific mushroom cloud boiling orange death into the night
seemed burned into her brain. Darkness lodged in her heart, rimmed by the fire
of unquenchable pain. Her home was gone. All of her friends were dead. And it
was all her fault, no matter what Joshua said.

Was her family dead? Or Onred’s
hostages? Grief gathered into an aching knot in her throat, and she wept. Anya
rarely prayed, but she did so now.
Let my family be alive, and if they are,
please protect them from Onred.

Anya silently swore that she would
rescue them, no matter what it took. As soon as she convinced her uncle to ally
with them against Onred’s forces, she would hunt down Onred and find her
family. She would not rest until her family was free and Astana avenged.

*  *  *  *  *

Anya’s eyes opened. Although the
interior of the aircraft was dark, orange instrument lights haloed Joshua’s
dark head. She must have napped, but for how long? “Are we almost there?”

“We’ll cross the last of the Tien Shan in a few minutes.”

And enter her uncle’s territory. “What
then?”

“You tell me. What was your
original plan?” No mistaking the soft bite to his voice. He wasn’t happy that
she’d led him on a merry chase over the past three days. Why? Because he cared
for her, and had been worried about her? How she wanted to believe that. But
she feared it was only because she had put a wrench into his peace plans and disobeyed
him.

Anya yawned in an effort to clear
her head. “I planned to convince my uncle to ally with us. Onred would fear our
alliance. That way, he’d think twice before attacking us. If my plan worked, we’d
have peace with Richert, and Onred, too, by default.”

“Why would Richert agree to ally
with us? Twenty years of blood lies between our territories.”

“His attacks have slowed down over
the last few years.”

“So you believe he wants peace?”

“I had hoped to convince him.”
Anya didn’t want to say more.