Read Online Destiny Abounds (Starlight Saga Book 1) by Annathesa Nikola Darksbane, Shei Darksbane - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Annathesa Nikola Darksbane, Shei Darksbane
Tags: Space Opera
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around, eyes wide with alarm and concern for her friend, but relief rushed in instead as her eyes confirmed that Merlo was not mortally wounded. The girl grinned fiercely back at her, hints of pain, determination, and pride all vying for space in her expression as she turned her attention back to the fight. They settled into a defensive stance together, watchfully eying the crowd, standing ready for the next wave of attacks.
“What now, Captain?” Merlo cast the question sidewardly at Branwen as she tensed for further action.
Branwen rapidly surveyed the scene before her with a practiced eye and growing apprehension. Ten uninjured, four picking themselves up, three milling at the edge of the treeline deciding whether to engage, and one man further back was readying a ranged weapon of some sort. The crowd edged closer, fear and desperation hanging in the air, liberally blended.
Too many. She noticed Merlo tug the six inch blade from the meat of her arm with an easy pull, discarding it to the side as her bodysuit closed over the wound of its own accord, shutting off the generous dripping of crimson from the puncture like sealing a valve. Branwen inclined her head, a gesture of respect to the mob for their courage as they pushed and then started to again surge forward. She sighed to herself and flicked on the plasma edge to her sabre, and it obediently flickered into abrupt, deadly life as she opened her mouth to reverse her previous request not to kill any—
KABOOM.
Branwen's ears rang painfully from the sudden sound as something slammed into her with what felt like terrific force, worse than having your helm slammed by a mace. Time slowed, crawling like it always did when this kind of thing happened, allowing her ample opportunity to feel the searing in her flesh as something small and hot tore a bloody channel through her coat and her chest, then exited from somewhere in her back with a burst of adrenaline-dulled pain.
She’d never been shot before.
She stumbled back from the force, some small portion of her strength seeming to leave her immediately as she faltered. She tried to collapse to a knee, but didn’t have the luxury of choice and instead fell onto her back. A jutting piece of covered cargo stuck up at just the right angle to poke at the newfound territory of her wound, delivering a blaze of agony like the jab of a flaming spear. She knew she cried out through gritted teeth despite herself, slamming her arm down with defiance and trying to rise; she could feel the alarming contrast of cool liquid running down from the searing blaze of the wound.
She heard Merlo cry out what she supposed was her name, but found she couldn’t make sense of it, the sound coming to her distantly, as if from across a great, sudden void. She gripped the rough tarp covering their cargo as she bled into it, still stubbornly trying to rise, but could only curse herself both for foolishness and for abandoning her young friend as she started falling again, the blackness and cold of space seeming to draw her close.
4.1 - Branwen
Branwen drifted in that starless black, as if on a raft in a pitch-dark sea that occasionally deigned to float her closer to the dawn of consciousness. More often, it felt as though she drifted the other way instead; sometimes when that happened, she felt something inside her push back, as if to say: Not here. Not now. If she had been awake, she would likely have called that her warrior’s spirit, or perhaps simply stubbornness, but she wasn’t. So, except for those few times, she drifted.
She imagined at times she could hear voices; a light would start to grow above her and she could feel her body, heavy and hot. Those feelings gave way to concern for Merlo, and for dying so far from her home, and what that might mean for her soul, but spared little of that concern for fear. She had evaded death many times, so perhaps it was only right that now, it could finally catch up.
Eventually, she
“What now, Captain?” Merlo cast the question sidewardly at Branwen as she tensed for further action.
Branwen rapidly surveyed the scene before her with a practiced eye and growing apprehension. Ten uninjured, four picking themselves up, three milling at the edge of the treeline deciding whether to engage, and one man further back was readying a ranged weapon of some sort. The crowd edged closer, fear and desperation hanging in the air, liberally blended.
Too many. She noticed Merlo tug the six inch blade from the meat of her arm with an easy pull, discarding it to the side as her bodysuit closed over the wound of its own accord, shutting off the generous dripping of crimson from the puncture like sealing a valve. Branwen inclined her head, a gesture of respect to the mob for their courage as they pushed and then started to again surge forward. She sighed to herself and flicked on the plasma edge to her sabre, and it obediently flickered into abrupt, deadly life as she opened her mouth to reverse her previous request not to kill any—
KABOOM.
Branwen's ears rang painfully from the sudden sound as something slammed into her with what felt like terrific force, worse than having your helm slammed by a mace. Time slowed, crawling like it always did when this kind of thing happened, allowing her ample opportunity to feel the searing in her flesh as something small and hot tore a bloody channel through her coat and her chest, then exited from somewhere in her back with a burst of adrenaline-dulled pain.
She’d never been shot before.
She stumbled back from the force, some small portion of her strength seeming to leave her immediately as she faltered. She tried to collapse to a knee, but didn’t have the luxury of choice and instead fell onto her back. A jutting piece of covered cargo stuck up at just the right angle to poke at the newfound territory of her wound, delivering a blaze of agony like the jab of a flaming spear. She knew she cried out through gritted teeth despite herself, slamming her arm down with defiance and trying to rise; she could feel the alarming contrast of cool liquid running down from the searing blaze of the wound.
She heard Merlo cry out what she supposed was her name, but found she couldn’t make sense of it, the sound coming to her distantly, as if from across a great, sudden void. She gripped the rough tarp covering their cargo as she bled into it, still stubbornly trying to rise, but could only curse herself both for foolishness and for abandoning her young friend as she started falling again, the blackness and cold of space seeming to draw her close.
4.1 - Branwen
Branwen drifted in that starless black, as if on a raft in a pitch-dark sea that occasionally deigned to float her closer to the dawn of consciousness. More often, it felt as though she drifted the other way instead; sometimes when that happened, she felt something inside her push back, as if to say: Not here. Not now. If she had been awake, she would likely have called that her warrior’s spirit, or perhaps simply stubbornness, but she wasn’t. So, except for those few times, she drifted.
She imagined at times she could hear voices; a light would start to grow above her and she could feel her body, heavy and hot. Those feelings gave way to concern for Merlo, and for dying so far from her home, and what that might mean for her soul, but spared little of that concern for fear. She had evaded death many times, so perhaps it was only right that now, it could finally catch up.
Eventually, she
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