Prelude

"We must go," Abby whispered. He looked back at Sandy, Brendan and Shafara, and wondered what they could see in his eyes. The Gods knew--the Gods truly knew--that he didn't want to go. He wanted peace. He wanted...

But Tristan, at least, understood. And as much as his friend wanted to say they could stay, he did not. There would be peace someday, somewhere.

But will we be with friends? Abby asked, and looked away from the three.

We'll be with each other.

Abby bowed his head, accepting that as an answer that soothed yet another parting. They could not stay. Better to go now, and quickly.

Tristan lifted his hand and reached for the magic again. Shafara’s, hair caught in the breeze as she spun a ward around them, her power strong and sure.

Tristan opened the door to somewhere else. Aubreyan looked up at a portal to somewhere--darker, he thought. Very different. I don't want to go! He glanced at Shafara with such open regret, loss and longing that she must have felt it. Her ward wavered for a moment and then steadied again. Abby's fingers held tighter to his friend's shoulder as he and Tristan...stepped away toward a blackness lit by diamonds, a night sky without a world.

Going....

Brendan played for them in those last moments, sweet, soft music filled with subtle hopes and whispered longings. Tristan wanted to stay and listen. Gods, he didn't want to go again. And neither did Abby.

They could have turned back. They could have returned and stayed--but they would have to leave again, some day. Abby glanced back one last time to etch the place and the people in his mind....

But when he looked ahead, he saw even Tristan shivered at the blackness ahead of them. Empty places, lost places, where they had no right to go.

The Kiya dragged them forward, through a corridor of magic where time had no meaning, to places they could not name. The Janin hummed the tune Brendan had made for them.

Part One: The Cost of Freedom

1

Etric looked up as the small craft swept across the dull early-morning sky and dipped toward the private landing port behind the hill. Wes Ias had returned from his tour of the other fields. It wouldn't be long now.

Etric moved slowly away from the huts with the others following in a line down the narrow, well-worn trail. Bane had fixed his sandals last night, and at least he wouldn't cut his feet on the charred, hardened stubs of jungle growth. He'd have to find some way to thank the boy...

Though if what he planned worked, it might be thanks enough.

The foul air tasted of mingled jungle rot and the too-sweet fragrance of the midori field. The bright-green flowers bloomed in profusion above their pale white stems, each blossom worth a thousand credits when picked, processed and sold on the black market. The end-result drug slowed the metabolism and gave humans prolonged dreams so vivid that reality paled. Midori was the strongest hallucinogenic in the Empire, and being caught dealing in it landed the person a mandatory twenty years in prison.

Of course, dealing in slaves was even worse.

Rays of orange sunlight touched the upper edge of the encircling jungle as the slaves reached the fields, ready for the day's labor  Humid, fetid air hung like smoke, so thick that more than a few gasped and coughed, some unable to move on even when the overseer's prodded with stun sticks. They would not live much longer. Wes Ias would be bringing in fresh blood soon.

Etric looked up toward the two-story house on the flat-topped hill, and glared at the sight of prosperity and oppression. Wes Ias stayed inside that compound on his frequent visits to Ahira, safe behind the grid work of a fence that killed at a touch. The guards lived there all year round. The white walls of the building gleamed like some temple of hope, though Etric knew the white was only a covering to protect the building from the mold that destroyed the slave huts. The laser cannon, mounted with a clear view of the field, caught the light.

Wes Ias walked over and stood by the weapon and its guard. Tall, massive, well-dressed--he made Etric angry just to look at him.

Not that he had time to stare for long. The guards signaled the group forward, one person per row of plants, and handed each a basket that they hung from their shoulders. Etric moved to his row and bent to pull one of the errant jungle growths that always encroached on the field. The blue sap stung his fingers and he wiped them on the rags of his shirt before he began to carefully pick the midori flowers and place them gently in the baskets at their sides. Any damaged flower would earn half a dozen blows from a guard.

It didn't take long before the guards retreated back to the edge of the fields, finding places at the shadowed edge of the jungle. They had little fear of the slaves trying to escape. Except for another ten of these small plantations, there was not a single settlement on the world. And no one survived long in the jungles, where seekers waited in the trees, looking like limbs that caught and strangled, or willies crawled over a person as soon as they slept and burrowed into the softest tissue they could find.

The work went on...but when the sun stood directly overhead and even the guards could stand no more, they blew a whistle. Slaves often died if they worked through the hottest, most humid hours of the day, and even Wes Ias couldn't stand to waste so much manpower. For a while they could lie in the shade and rest.

Etric carefully pulled the rope handles of the basket off his shoulder as he sat, trying not to rub them against the whip marks that had only barely begun to heal. The hot day pounded him, and he took short, slow breaths, distancing himself from reality as much as he could.  His fingers worked at unsnarling his brown hair as he patiently waited. He had learned patience in the last two years standard he had worked in these fields.

Even so, the lure of running wild in the woods still sometimes lingered at the edge of his sanity. Every day that he looked toward the wall of green, it beckoned him with a stronger call.

But he held back. He had waited, watched...and learned the weaknesses of those who held him here.

Another slave crawled toward him, a mane of golden hair moving through the line of plants. Crystal had been working the fields for at least twice as long as Etric, and he still wondered how the young man had survived this long. Crystal had a look of wildness that had never been quite tamed.

They had become allies in the last few weeks. They worked well together. Crystal smiled when he neared but kept low. The guards didn't like them to visit.

"How did it go last night, Crystal?" Etric asked. "I didn't hear an alarm."

"Of course not!" Crystal said and smiled. He had the look of a child who had succeeded at some little mischief. "The port gate locks weren't a problem. They didn't see me at all. Everyone was far too busy watching you. There has to be a better way of getting their attention, Etric. They could have easily killed you."

"Wes Ias wouldn't want them to waste a slave, not for something as trivial as tripping a guard.” Etric shifted, trying to ignore the pain across his shoulders and back. He'd been beaten before, and for less reason. "And it was almost worth it. I couldn't have timed it better if I'd tried. Siper went headfirst into the mud. Best laugh I've had since I got here."

"I wish I had seen it." Crystal's smile finally faltered. His eyes looked toward the jungle for a moment. "I could use a laugh."

Etric hadn't realized Crystal stood so close to the edge. The thought that he could lose this man to madness...that he might not find another with the same abilities again, nearly panicked him. They dared not waste more time finessing this plan.

He took hold of Crystal's arm, surprising him. "We'll have the best laugh. Tonight."

Crystal looked stunned, and Etric wondered if he had stopped believing they would ever really make the escape attempt. Tonight was the best chance they might get. West Ias had arrived on world for the semi-annual harvest; and if they didn't take the ship in the next two days, he would be gone for another half a year. The only other ships that came belonged to smugglers and slavers, and they always had large crews. He, Crystal and their small band of people who knew anything about crewing a ship would never be able to take one of the larger craft, even if they could get up on one with the shuttles. Only the smaller craft landed on planets. Wes Ias's little ship would be their only chance.

Etric wanted off this damn world.

"We better part now.” He looked up at the sky. "Eight hours and we'll make our try. Good luck, Crystal. And be careful."

"You, too, Etric. Don't provoke them too badly. I would hate to have to come back and pull you out of trouble."

"You won't." Etric looked into those wild eyes. "You will take the ship and get help."

Crystal blinked. He saw disagreement in those eyes, but it faded away. Crystal nodded and moved away again, a slow crawl back to his own work.

The last time. When the guard blew his whistle--early, of course--Etric carefully stood again, shouldered the basket, and went back his work. He wanted to pick a lot of midori today. It would be the final time he walked this field...one way or another.