Sons of the Crystal Mind (Diamond Roads Book 1) by Wallace Andrew

Author:Wallace, Andrew [Wallace, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AC Experiments
Published: 2014-12-19T08:00:00+00:00

21

I feel my eyelids move as they open and close but I can’t see. Everything is white. A slap to the side of my head shocks a hoarse, pathetic shriek out of me. I try to move my arms and legs but can’t.

“Wake up.”

It’s a woman’s voice close by, charged with the kind of rage that smoothes out all inflection.

“Who are you?” I say, shaky with fear.

“Scan me why don’t you, you stuck up little bitch?”

“I can’t,” I say, “I can’t see.”

There's a charged pause as blindness enhances my other senses, especially touch. I feel the woman nearby, coiled and ready. When the second blow thuds into the other side of my head it should be a relief but she knows how to hit. Echoes of it lock my trembling neck as I cry out and stinging tears crawl down my face.

“Stop it, stop, please.”

I try and shift my whole body to get out of the way of more attacks but I can only move each limb slightly. The back of my head bumps against a hard surface, while aches in my knees and bottom let me know I’m held on a seat. I screw my eyes shut and then open them. After I do this a few times I can make out indistinct shapes.

“Charity!” Ursula’s voice sounds slightly further away than the woman's.

The shapes resolve into people, standing still. Some look at me and some at Ursula, who sits facing me about three metres away secured to an upright pole. There is a red hand mark on her wide-eyed face but I can’t see any other injuries. Thick diamond bands restrain her arms, legs and neck.

I'm held in the same way. My bare feet are pressed against the floor of a featureless diamond box about ten metres square. People line the walls four deep, watching us silently and without expression.

The woman stands looking at Ursula with her back to me. She has Ursula's height and the physique I would possess if I spent six hours a day working out instead of two. Thick, almost black hair tumbles down her back and whips out as she turns to glare at me.

Her face is heavy-featured and almost brutally sensuous. The delicate tone of her very pale skin is offset by a sense that she doesn’t bruise easily, while the furious, unblinking stare of her dark eyes seems to reach the back of my head. She uses her whole body in her movements as if she is powered by so much fierce energy she has to constantly try and use it up but never can. She grips a fuze with sufficient force to make the whiteness of her knuckles visible from here.

Her name is Ashel 5.

My gaze moves from the fuze to the ridged musculature of the Ashel 5’s exposed midriff. She hasn’t got a navel. I look at the heavily armed crowd that surrounds us. Not one of their proudly exposed bellies is marked by a navel either.

Ashel 5 sees the realisation in my face and a small contemptuous smile flickers across her full mouth.

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