Night Song (The Guild Wars Book 9) by Mark Wandrey (best ereader under 100 .txt) 📕

we just leave them here?” Tucker asked. Porter narrowed his eyes. “Hey, who’ll know?”

“I will,” Porter said. He sighed. “I gave my word.” He glanced over as five of his men came out of the command center, carrying one pup each. They were howling in outrage. Just a week old, according to Crent. Their mother had been killed in a sneak attack the day after they’d been born. He scowled as the ear-splitting whine of the pups passed him, and he thought about what Tucker had said.

No, my word is my bond, he thought. “We’ll raise them as best as we can,” he said. Tucker shrugged and saw to the evacuation. “Hopefully this Coshke will come to get them, and we won’t have to worry about it for long.” Saying the words didn’t make him feel like they were real. He pushed the thought away and went to help them load.

Part I

Chapter 1

The day calls, and I see its light,

The night calls, and I sing its song.

Space opens up, and I embrace the void.

I am a child of Zuul, and I have no fear.

 

Prayer of the Three Songs—Unknown

14 Years Later Brisbane Australia, Earth, Cresht Region, Tolo Arm

Drake lifted his nose, testing the wind. Bright edges of salt, the ebb of changing tide, and a tang of early morning. Perfect surfing weather. For a long moment he stared toward the ocean, eyes half-closed against the rising sun.

“Not ducking out on work?” Zech asked.

His ears flattened, but he pushed them upright and turned his head slightly, catching the scent of another of Silent Night’s youths. Tye, one of the Humans, roughly his own age in equivalent years, but unbearably young in his mannerisms.

He considered answering, but then there would be a conversation, and Zech would walk with him all the way to the main building…Drake shook his head, shrugged, and loped away, ignoring whatever sounds Tye insisted on making.

Drake managed to cross the complex, enter the main building, and check in for his day’s assignment without talking to anyone else, which improved his mood slightly.

If he couldn’t be out on the water, inventory would do. Rote, solitary, and if he handled his business, he could catch the evening high tide. Wouldn’t be as good as this morning would have been, but at least he wouldn’t have to hear about it from Tye or any of the other merc siblings.

“You’re on inventory too?”

Three hours. Three quiet hours he’d had to himself before Tye’s pitch-wavering voice intruded.

Drake grunted, the noise rumbling in his throat. The boy crossed his arms and leaned back, scowling.

“I had to run errands before I got here, doggo, so I’m not late. And I’m not trying to spend all this time with you, so—”

“So you might want to watch your words, boyo.” The fur down Drake’s legs lifted, though he kept his expression still with an effort.

“Aw, c’mon Drake, I call everyone doggo; you know I do.” The boy’s words rushed together, and he smelled nervous but genuine. “It’s not ‘cause you’re a—a—”

“I know I’m a Zuul, Human. I’m not the idiot in this conversation.”

That bought him another stretch of silence, but as always, Tye bounced back before too long.

“We got incoming today—the flight line’s been cleared, but none of the units are due back. You hear anything from your dad?”

“Porter?” Drake snorted, flicking an ear. “He’s not going to tell me anything the company doesn’t know.”

“Yeah. Guess you’re still a minor, too, even though…” Tye gestured at the Zuul’s height and shrugged.

“Not a member of the company, just like you.”

“You don’t want to take your VOWS?” Tye stared at his slate, noting quantities with deliberate care, even as he glanced back at Drake.

“I don’t want to talk while running inventory.” Drake scanned through another box of ammunition, keeping his lip from rising only by counting each individual pack. The faster he got through, the sooner he could get on the water. More than enough reason not to knock Tye down to shut him up.

* * *

The roar of the waves overpowered the thrum of his engine, and his fingers eased on the wheel. Salt and the pull of the tide were never out of his nose’s reach in Brisbane, but even his ears lost the ebb of the sea when he got too far.

The edge of his nose twitched, parsing the pull of waves from the sour tang of ocean life baked into the sand, and he could barely keep his ears still as he parked his ATV and leapt into the rough sand of the pull-out. Unfastening his board, he allowed himself a moment to close his eyes, release the pull of Silent Night and all its unending administrative tasks, and listen to the ocean. He filtered out Human voices with the ease of long practice, so thoroughly that by the time he reached the curve of the isolated beach, he was almost surprised to see the small cluster of Humans lounging in their wetsuits. He took a longer way around, focusing on the patterns of the water to block out any change in their sounds. Rarely did Humans shout anything of value for him to hear, and less so when it was a group of unfamiliar young males.

They may have called things to him while he carefully waxed his board, but the meditative strokes took all his concentration, and he didn’t so much as flick an ear in their direction.

He paused in the coolness of the water, floating the board in front of him and holding its leash. After young male Humans like these had once found many clever things to say about leashes and dogs surfing, he’d refused to latch himself to his board for months. A great deal of excess swimming,