The Seedbearing Prince: Part II

By DaVaun Sanders

Disaster strikes when the young Seedbearer destined to save the World Belt is captured by voidwalkers. Certain that all is lost if Dayn Ro'Halan is killed, the Ringmen Lurec and Nassir set out to rescue him. If he's to escape and defeat the voidwalkers for good, Dayn must accept the Belt's most terrible secret—before the voidwalker leader Raaluwos succeeds in twisting Dayn's own power against him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DaVaun Sanders
• Release date: Sep 14, 2013
• ISBN: 9780985925222

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The Seedbearing Prince: Part II

By DaVaun Sanders

Copyright 2013 DaVaun Sanders

Smashwords Edition

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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

Chapter 1: Where All Went Wrong

Chapter 2: Foolish Notions

Chapter 3: Nothing but Chaos

Chapter 4: A Heart that Cannot Die

Chapter 5: The Iron Bear

Chapter 6: Two Princes

Chapter 7: The Impossible Blend

Chapter 8: A Little Push

Chapter 9: A Teacher from Thar’Kur

Chapter 10: An Unknown Room

Chapter 11: Depart to Serve

Chapter 12: Endless Night

Chapter 13: Blessed with a Feast

Chapter 14: The Vision Tree

Chapter 15: The Breach

Chapter 16: To be a Defender

Chapter 17: Assault

Chapter 18: A Promise Kept

About the Author

Acknowledgements

PROLOGUE

Raaluwos braced himself for a punishing landing. His mount hurtled like a doomed comet toward one of the endless, dying pieces of the degenerate world. For once, something other than loathing stirred his heart at sight of the desolate city he was forced to call home, for as long any degenerate drew breath. An unexpected opportunity had made him eager.

His crossbreed slammed into the surface like teeth sinking into decayed flesh, sending fragments of rock streaking in every direction. Designed for siege, the creature’s exoskeleton easily withstood the rigors of the torrent, and had hunted well through the towers of the floating city. He would order more of this aspect to be created, but later. A more promising strategy awaited.

Raaluwos looked to the sky as the dust settled from his crossbreed’s impact crater. Crusos penetrated the caustic yellow clouds on his own mount, an identical breed. The clouds were rarely thick enough, but when the light was right and the cursed torrent did not show through the sky, this place almost reminded him of home.

Raaluwos banished the detestable thought from his mind, leaping from his crossbreed’s back. He swore irritably as Crusos landed hard enough for the ground to tremor. The crossbreed his second rode carried more promise within its fluid core than a hundred fresh soldiers sent from Thar’Kur. A thousand, if Raaluwos did his work well.

Crusos dismounted and dropped his chin in deference. I fear he is dead, leader. The taking was too much for him.

For your own life, that must not be true, Raaluwos replied. Stand aside.

Crusos bared his teeth and obeyed, grimacing at the spiny leaches that emerged from the cracks after his descent. Raaluwos peeled away his siege helm, and inspected the crossbreed. Grime caked its sides after their passage through the torrent. The orange fluid core held the proper warmth, but the degenerate within lay too still.

Raaluwos drove a fist into its underbelly. A growl rumbled in the crossbreed’s throat, but it did not attack him. Muck sloughed off its fluid core to reveal the degenerate who called himself Dayn. His eyes were closed, which was good—otherwise the fluid would blind him over time. Raaluwos needed him whole and strong.

Two more soldiers approached their landing site, moving swiftly across the razor plain of rock. Crusos began to direct the crossbreeds toward their makeshift base at Raaluwos’s nod. The first soldier assisted him.

Leader. The second, Dolik, fell in beside Raaluwos as they made their way to the ruins. He stared at the motionless boy before snapping his attention back where it belonged. The newest broodlings are fully spliced. They grow as we speak.

Losses?

Minimal. A proud look slipped onto Dolik’s face. Tending the crossbreeds was dangerous work, but he had proven himself resourceful in gathering the raw materials needed to hybridize the creatures. There will be enough weep ready for an entire flight of new soldiers.

Good. I want you to...delay their hatching, Raaluwos said. Do not fill the cores of any crossbreeds that are ready. I have a different purpose for our captive degenerates now.

Dolik’s face twisted in confusion. What?

This is who killed three soldiers? A boy? Vancil asked, gesturing at the mount’s fluid core. His eyes narrowed in disbelief as Raaluwos nodded.

A hundred years in the fluid is not punishment enough, Crusos grated. The two soldiers muttered darkly in agreement.

Raaluwos spit on the crossbreed’s underbelly to wipe away the last of the dirt obscuring Dayn’s face. He took in every detail of the proud features. Skin browned by the sun’s touch. A strong jaw, but the thin neck of a runt not yet fully grown. Long black hair, twisted together in strange knotted rows to lay close to the boy’s skull. Why not just cut it and be done with it? The degenerate ways were beyond sense.

A muscle in Dayn’s face twitched, a spasm Raaluwos knew meant the boy dreamed. He still lives. Satisfaction curled his lips as he turned back to his soldiers. I want him removed from the core at once.

The two other soldiers tensed as Dolik bristled at the command. You would have me waste this work for some boy when—

Dolik’s eyes widened, but he did not move quickly enough to avoid Raaluwos’s fist. The blow knocked him to the ground. In two steps Raaluwos knelt to plant a knee under his chin. Dolik snarled, straining against Raaluwos’s weight to keep his throat from being crushed. The two crossbreeds made a rattling noise, but remained in place.

A dozen more of the leaches emerged from the cracks to investigate. The creatures were a plague among this terrain, swarming about for moisture, even if it meant consuming each other. Raaluwos snatched one up almost thick as a finger, ignoring the pale spines. He held the vile creature out for Crusos and Vancil to see.

Moridos died because he disobeyed me, Raaluwos said evenly. These degenerates are resilient in their own way. They will deny the end they deserve with all of their strength.

Raaluwos dropped the leach onto Dolik’s exposed head. His eyes went wide. The leach’s head moved this way and that, looking for purchase. It failed to penetrate the soldier’s tough skin.

The soldiers shared a tense glance before Crusos began uncertainly. Leader, I don’t see how—

Dolik spluttered as Raaluwos curled a hand around his jaw, prying his mouth open. The spines on the leach retracted. It slid down between Dolik’s wide yellow eyes.

We can pound at the degenerates for seven more generations, and they will endure. The torrent proves that for us. They rebuild, repopulate. Raaluwos studied his men intently for signs of weakness. He could no longer be lax with his ranks, not after Moridos’s failure. Too many of them had forgotten the nature of their work. The degenerates were a sickness to be purged, nothing more. They did not deserve vengeance, or hatred. If anything they had earned sympathy, but only after their obliteration.

Raaluwos... Dolik’s plea came out as a rasp. The leach had discovered one of his nostrils, but the opening was too small.

We require another generation of soldiers! Crusos spat. In the open, we will—

Raaluwos silenced him with a look. To break them completely, we must break them from within.

The leach slipped into Dolik’s mouth. He began to hack and curse. Raaluwos held him firmly in place as the soldier’s choking began.

There are too few of us to waste one soldier, Vancil protested. We’ll see the boy removed. Alive. Just don’t...

His words died out as a bulge appeared in Dolik’s throat, sliding from under his jaw until it disappeared below his collarbone.

Dolik began to spasm. Minutes passed as the soldier’s screams echoed through the treacherous crags. Finally he went still. Only then did Raaluwos stand.

A worm given the right purchase did more damage than hundreds of its kind in the wrong place. At last Raaluwos saw a reluctant acceptance of his lesson in his soldiers’ eyes.

You don’t want us to free the boy, Crusos said slowly as he stared down at Dolik’s body. The leaches had a violent gestation period. Dolik’s hardened black cortex would eventually bulge and crack as hundreds of hatchlings devoured his organs. You mean for us to unleash him. How?

Just remove him from your mount. Raaluwos allowed himself a smile. Leave the rest to me.

CHAPTER ONE

Where All Went Wrong

More and more, I spend my nights recounting my mistakes. I fear when this is all over I shall sleep even less than Nassir.

-field notes from the Preceptor Lurec

On the world of Montollos, proud white towers rose and fell, their ancient design ensuring the stone foundations never kissed the ground. Ribbon walkways glided through the massive columns by the hundreds, like streamers held by children skipping around a stern parent’s legs. The Montollene expected the mighty stone to outlast the Belt itself, but today the people of the Great City faced a different truth.

Lurec Obeth stumbled along a shattered ribbon leading toward the fifty-ninth plaza, which floated in the shadow of a rising tower. He did not run alone. Desperate Montollene fled alongside him, failing to outrace the spiral cracks spreading along the ribbon’s crystal and stone like a cancerous ivy. Fine powder streamed from those wounds at their every step, until an awful groan split the air and the whole section broke free.

Bound! Lurec shouted over the people’s terrified cries. For your lives!

He leaped for the fractured edge of ribbon five spans ahead. A dozen people bounded after him, rising like a flock of terrified, awkward birds. The damaged section fell away, taking two screaming Montollene with it. Lurec dropped onto the piece of ribbon that still held and rolled to a stop. Montollene stumbled and fell as they landed all around him.

A shaken man with a narrow face helped Lurec to his feet. They both jumped at a thundering report below, followed by fresh screams. Peace bless you, offworlder, the man said with a gasp. That might have been us!

The people sprawled around Lurec were unhurt. Two weeping boys stared over the ribbon’s broken edge, calling after loved ones fallen beyond the tower depths. Lurec checked himself for injury with shaking hands. He failed to offer any meaningful sympathies for the lads, he barely had the words to steady himself.

Only moments ago, Lurec had spotted Dayn fleeing near a destroyed tower wall. Nassir had bounded ahead to retrieve the boy, but Lurec was forced to wait precious seconds until his skybridge touched Dayn’s ribbon. He had not seen the voidwalker’s approach until he heard Moridos’s voice behind him, like fingernails dragging over bleached bone. There is no place I will not find you, boy.

Moridos had charged for Dayn, his monstrous frame hidden in a thick cloak. Lurec had acted without thinking as the voidwalker ran past and stuck his leg out. Such a simple delay. The strange armor covering the voidwalker’s body had ripped through trousers and skin alike, leaving a fine wound on his shin. Lurec considered a few days’ limp to be a good bargain for helping Dayn and Nassir escape. Moridos had given chase, but Lurec’s relief over being ignored by the voidwalker was short lived once the damaged ribbons began breaking apart.

Hurt in the leap? The Montollene man looked on with concern as Lurec picked bits of crystal from the gash. Surely not flecks of voidwalker armor. I’m no pathman, but I’ll take you to a tower of solace for—

That’s quite all right. Lurec straightened and hurried off. He could not afford to stand here and dig a hole through his leg for worry of some Thar’Kuri foulness settling into his skin. I must find my friends.

Following two coursers through Montollos on foot made for a fool’s prospect. Reason dictated that Lurec return to the haven towers and ensure the Seed was secure. He would hand it to the Montollene Regents himself before letting the voidwalkers acquire it. His punishment for such a decision would be extraordinary, but Lurec’s superiors aboard the Ring could not deny his logic.

An undamaged ribbon leading back toward his haven tower drew near, but Lurec let it pass. A part of his mind screamed at his error, but he shoved the thoughts away. The Seed mattered above all, but the idea of sitting in their rooms at the haven while Dayn and Nassir coursed for their lives proved more than Lurec could bear. He was taking a terrible risk, but somehow he felt certain that Dayn needed him.

Besides, if Thar’Kuri do come for the Seed, I’ll make a poor opponent, Lurec muttered ruefully as he hobbled onto a ribbon. It quickly plunged lower among the towers, as if the stone yearned to become a waterfall. There’s no certainty they know of our haven.

Lurec chose ribbons drifting toward the ugly smoke rising deeper in the city. A diagonal skid marred the side of a nearby tower, as if some monstrous beast had dragged claws across the stone. Montollene were everywhere, gawking at the damage or hurrying along the ribbons in fear. Lurec limped across two skybridges, then allowed a rising plaza to carry him past a tower of minor commerce. The ribbon adjoining part of that tower’s portals had been broken away, undoubtedly from a transport collision. Lurec made for the nearest shop to ask when the damage occurred, and hopefully glean some clues of Nassir’s flight. The inquiry died on his tongue after he ducked inside the shop.

Broken glass trinkets and metal jewelry covered the floor, along with ruined shelving. The still forms of six ragged men lay atop the mess, two of them tied hand and foot with rope. A woman with wisps of hair trailing from her gray bun and an ugly bruise on her cheek stood over a third. Her eyes darted up as Lurec’s shadow fell upon her, and the blood drained from her face. She dropped the rope in her hands and scooped up a wooden club with a motherly battle cry. I’ve sent for Prevailers, whoever you are, so if you think to—

Good woman, please! Lurec stepped back in spite of himself, eying the unconscious men lying at her feet. I’m no friend to these men. What happened here?

The shopkeeper squinted at Lurec for a moment. To his relief, she tucked the club into a belt around her waist. I took them for thieves. They set after this sweet boy... She trailed off at the expression on Lurec’s face. You know him, don’t you?

I’m looking for him, yes. He’s...a friend to Montollos, from Shard, Lurec admitted carefully. Rumors would doubtlessly spread about Dayn throughout the city, after this flight and the sparring contest. There may as well be good mixed in with the rest. He is spreading word of...a precious gift for the World Belt to share.

Gift? Besides the Pledge? the woman asked suspiciously. You’re no Shardian yourself, offworlder.

Nor am I Montollene, but— A moan from one of the men stopped Lurec’s reply. He glanced at them in dismay and caught sight of himself in a shard of mirror. His blue eyes stood out against a face streaked with dust and sweat. His time on Ara had reddened his skin and lightened the edges of his fair hair. It was longer than he liked, but not unruly. Throw in his worn gray Preceptor’s overcoat and Lurec could not fault the shopkeeper for her mistrust. A little more grime and he would be indiscernible from the ruffians on the floor.

Well, give him my thanks, the woman said. She reached for a pocket sewn into the folds of her dress and produced a handful of Shardian gems, firedrops and moonstones. Boy gave me enough to buy two more shops. Thrashed these louts good. She stuck a toe in the ribs of one of the unconscious men. Now old Evlyn is tying you up with your own rope!

Lurec pursed his lips at her words. I do not doubt your knots, but these others may awaken before Prevailers arrive, and your own injuries need tending.

Evlyn nodded reluctantly, and they left the ruined shop together. She gaped over the destroyed ribbon before striding off, clutching Dayn’s gems. Lurec took a rising skybridge heading in the opposite direction. The shopkeeper’s words gnawed at his thoughts long after she whisked from his sight.

Why bring the rope? Lurec muttered to himself. Those men were clearly friends of Thar’Kur. They could just as easily overpower Dayn or kill him if they were sent merely to take the Seed. Perhaps Moridos had ordered Dayn captured? Why? He held Dayn responsible for his brother’s death, back on Shard. Vengeance made the most sense, but Lurec worried that he had overlooked some vital insight. What if the Seed can heal the voidwalker’s blighted world? The possibility intrigued and terrified him at the same time.

Three Montollene stepped onto Lurec’s latest ribbon, talking excitedly. He leaned in casually as he waited for an approaching skybridge to drift near.

Likely some stunt for the Cycle, suggested a man with thinning brown hair.

There must be slush between your ears! His sour-faced companion gave the first an incredulous look. "I said the entire ribbon is gone. Do you know how many people are over there this time of day?"

At least that crazy navigator finally crashed in the lower towers, the third man muttered. I hope he survived it. Deserves to be thrown to the Chasteners until his bones rot.

The bridge drew close, and Lurec stepped on with new purpose. The lower towers rose near the city core. He reached it fairly quickly, thanks to some luck with the ribbons. The further Lurec descended, the danker his surroundings grew. Fewer people walked in the lower heights, and signs of a transport chase appeared everywhere. Chunks of stone from a clipped tower littered a plaza floating crookedly to Lurec’s right. A shattered ribbon buried a smaller bridge in the distance. Fallen Montollene with limbs twisted at wrenching angles lay still amid the rubble that Lurec passed. He wished peace’s rest on the fallen, dreading what else awaited him. Unlike these poor people, Dayn and Nassir were protected by a layer of sheath, but it did not mean they were invincible.

Echoed, angry shouts drew Lurec to another ribbon that curved between a pair of towers like a lazy river. He stopped short after only a few hundred paces. The ribbon brushed past a shadowed plaza as it descended, the stone pitted with age. A third tower loomed beyond, with a gaping hole that marred an entrance of discolored glass. Dust hung in the air, and a single transport rested on the plaza. The refitted hull gleamed white instead of gray, and a railed deck took the place of the cargo hold, ruining the craft for offworld flight. Lurec tensed although he perceived no Thar’Kuri presence nearby, none of their dreadful thrall.

Five Prevailers emerged from the wounded tower, their boots crunching through the glass. They wore garish armor, silver-plated with gold trim at the joints and inscriptions of the Regent’s Criterion etched along their forearms. Lurec nearly cried out in dismay as he realized they pulled Nassir along between them.

The Defender overtopped the tallest of the Prevailers by a hand. Pale dust covered his sleek black armor and the wicked Defender’s mask that hung from his neck. His dreadlocks whipped back and forth as he struggled, and the Prevailers cursed loudly as they fought to subdue him.

Release me! Nassir raged, his fury hot enough to cleave a world in two. The Prevailers exchanged alarmed looks at the Defender’s strength. Nassir’s left arm whipped loose in a viper-like motion to smash one in the throat. The man staggered away, face purpling.

Kreegen, mind the drop! The remaining Prevailers looked on in horror as their comrade tipped over the edge. Nassir used the moment of shock to break free. His right hand closed on the sword hilt affixed to his back. The Prevailers lunged for it as one before he could draw. An edge of panic touched their shouts as they wrestled Nassir to the ground.

Lurec limped forward, heart pounding as he stepped onto the plaza. The remaining Prevailers were so fixed on pummeling Nassir senseless, they failed to realize their comrade had caught the plaza’s edge. His legs churned the air frantically.

Help me! Kreegen screamed.

Nassir’s eyes widened as he caught sight of Lurec through the barrage of golden fists and silver boots. The Defender shook his head sternly, even as the savage kicks made the sheath on his armor flash. No, his eyes said. Lurec edged closer, slinking toward the transport. He refused to abandon Nassir to these men, not now.

Pull me up! Kreegen screamed to his right. The Prevailers finally heard. They looked up just as Lurec slipped behind the transport’s hull, out of sight.

He didn’t drop! Lurec heard a Prevailer exclaim. Navigator! Bring wingline, now!

Trampling boots sounded faintly from inside the transport. A slight man in a crisp white overcoat popped onto the craft’s deck directly above where Lurec crouched. The navigator tied a coil of wingline to the transport’s rail with a complicated knot. He passed within inches of Lurec as he leaped down to the plaza with line in hand, rushing to aid the dangling Prevailer.

Wasting no time, Lurec bounded up to the transport’s open deck, holding in a groan as his bruised shin caught his weight. The Montollene had removed the hull of the craft’s rear hold to create the deck, which left him exposed where he stood. Fixated on Nassir, the Prevailers failed to notice him. The Defender lay much too still as Lurec hurried into the transport’s hangdeck, where the navigator’s chairs awaited.

The Montollene had not altered the craft’s vapor array, but that helped Lurec little. Arrays were common enough, but the nuances of operating a transport were not among his skills. He took a deep breath and plunged his fingers into the vapor.

How hard can it be? he muttered. He flicked his thumb and forefinger through the suspended droplets of waters, plotting a command he expected to set the transport to rise. If enough of the Prevailers gave chase to retrieve it, Nassir might gain enough advantage to escape—if he still remained conscious.

The craft lurched into motion. He grasped hold of a chair as the floor pitched sharply to the right. A terrible grinding shuddered through the hull, and Lurec felt the craft sinking as he scrambled back out to the open deck.

He emerged to find the armored men skidding towards him from across the stone. The entire plaza teetered at a drunken angle due to the craft driving itself down into one side. The Prevailers cursed loudly as their armor sparked against the surface. They slammed into the transport’s hull in a tangle of arms and legs.

Defender! Lurec shouted in alarm.

Nassir also slid along the unbalanced plaza. His arms and dreadlocks trailed limply behind him as he skidded feet first toward the edge. Wake yourself! The drop—

Nassir’s eyes shot open. His hands darted to his waist just as he slipped off. Lurec went rigid in shock as he watched the Defender plummet, a dark streak in the open air. We’re lost. He has no wingline!

One of the Prevailers clambered onto the open deck. Another Ringbound! he snarled.

Lurec backed away. The navigator’s wingline was still knotted to the railing, but it was of little use. He was no courser. In desperation, Lurec whipped out a belt knife from one of his coat pockets and lunged for the line.

Stay back! he warned, holding the blade over the taut line. I’ll cut your man loose!

The Prevailer laughed. You’re a Ringman! he said with a sneer. A Preceptor, by the look of it. You’d no sooner cut that line if I held my sword to your throat!

The man spoke true, and he knew it. Lurec lowered his arm, fighting panic.

A tremendous crack froze the Prevailer’s advance. The transport shuddered under their feet. Lurec cried out in alarm, clutching the nearby rail. Indecision flashed for a brief moment on the Prevailer’s face as he stared at the taut wingline next to Lurec. The transport’s drive hummed dangerously now, loud enough to rattle Lurec’s teeth. With an oath the Prevailer spun away, bounding free of the craft’s deck.

Lurec stood to follow just as the plaza gave way under the transport’s weight. He let loose a terrified shout as the craft broke loose in a spray of crystal and shattered stone. Lurec wrapped his arms tight around the rail, overpowered by the rush of air across the deck. The craft spiraled in widening circles, nose down and out of control as it picked up speed.

A bloodcurdling scream drew his eyes to the tilting horizon. The Prevailer who had first fallen off the plaza still held to the wingline, now trailing after the transport. Seeing Kreegen shook Lurec out of his own terror. Peace willing, the Prevailer knew how to navigate. Lurec strained, fingers grasping for the tied line. His hand closed on the tangled knot. The Prevailer began to scream again as the wingline unraveled before Lurec’s eyes.

Confound it! Lurec looped a coil of line around his waist just before it snapped free of the rail. He gasped in pain as the silver fibers bit into his sides, but tied the line tight.

Ringman, help me! The flailing Prevailer screamed, hopelessly tangled in coils of wingline. They were out of time, for the transport’s path now arced inexorably back for the tower’s surface.

In the deepening twilight, the Defender stood out as an ebon spot against the rest of the city’s gloom, falling with arms outstretched. The transport had overtaken