Page 51 of Hunting the Warlord's Daughter

As they crested the final hill at the edge of the woods, the pendant hummed steadily now, warm on her skin. “We’re close,” she whispered as if anything louder would disturb the peace of the lofty glade. From this distance, the location of the sanctum wasn’t obvious. “I expected something more.”

“More dramatic?”

“Something worthy of the Goddess treasure. Like a towering granite cliff soaring up to the sky, the entrance crowned with mist. Guarded by raptors soaring overhead.”

“But then we would have had to climb it.”

A classic Aral response. “I suppose when it comes to concealing treasure for millennia, it’s better to be small and easily overlooked.” She patted herself on the chest. “It’s worked for me so far.”

“Not so.” He pulled her close. Their utility belts scraped together, her pendant humming between their bodies. His voice rumbled. “I have never been able to overlook you. I find quite it impossible. As for your size, you may be petite, but you’re larger than life. The legendary boxing priestess, after all.”

His kiss muffled her laughter, a kiss that very likely would have escalated under different circumstances.

He smoothed her hair away from her upturned face. “All right, sprite. Take us in.”

She pushed ahead, now leading the way down to a clearing and the remains of an ancient village on a large, relatively flat mound. A group of five tumbledown spires looked forlorn and forgotten, covered in vines.

“There’s been damage to the site,” Aral said as they walked through the center of the ruins. “Caused by humans—gouges, plasma burns.” Then he went silent. She followed his gaze and that of the others to the smallest of the towers, the least impressive.

Like me,she thought wryly. On the crumbling structure she could just make out the indents of five marks carved in the stone but scoured by countless years of wind and rain. “The five marks! This must be it.” Stairs cut steeply into the ground behind the tower, disappearing under the mounded earth. She stared at the ancient staircase, taking a few deep breaths as if preparing for a deep dive, before Aral took her hand and they began their descent.

“You’ll unlock the sanctum and embrace its wonders, and the galaxy will be made whole once again.”Sabra had sounded so sure. But Wren hadn’t yet reached her twenty-fifth year. If she truly was the only Sacred Key, she assumed it was because her DNA could interact with the sanctum somehow, her unique genetic code. But what if she wasn’t yet old enough? Would she be locked out?

It turned out she didn’t need to worry. The front door was already open when they got there.

* * *

Admiral Bandar paced in front of the main display on theUnity’s bridge. “Hail them.”

Ensign Berloo hunched over his comm. “Unidentified vessel, this is theTASUnity. Do you read? I say again, this is theTASUnity. Please respond with your identity and intentions.”

Nothing.

Bolivarr made room for Hadley at the holo-vis. He was adorable, the way he glanced sideways at her so shyly. His hands had covered a lot of territory last night. She broke into a sweat just thinking about it. “A ship came down,” he said, tapping the display. Dense cloud cover wrapped much of the real Ara Ana in a cozy white blanket, but true to Tadlock’s word, theUnity’s highly advanced terrain mapping technology was finally providing detailed 3-D images. “It may have crashed,” he said.

She nodded. “I see the site. A gash through that wetlands area.”

“Scanning for life signs.” Ensign Berloo’s boyish face crumpled. “None detected.”

Rakkelle frowned at her display. “No emergency beacon activated, no transponder code. The ship appears to be powered down.”

“The crash looks survivable though. If so, where are they?” Hadley searched for clues. She’d had plenty of tracking experience on Talo before joining the military and a fair amount of practice after.

“There are signs of soil disturbance around the ship,” Dice said. Sergeant Rothberg was a master tracker like Bolivarr and Hadley. “Possibly footpaths.”

The resolution was excellent, but showed only the hardscape. Other subtler and more important clues, like trampled grass, had to be inferred. The footpaths Dice pointed out were visible only because the dirt had been worn away with use. “Agree. Someone survived the impact,” Hadley said. “It’s an old AG-250. A cruiser. It can carry a crew of one to six, max. Wasn’t Aral Mawndarr running around in one of those?”

“With the warlord’s daughter riding shotgun. She’s worth what—fifty million queens?” one of the Marines joked. “If we’re on an official mission, are we allowed to cash in on the bounty?”

“Wouldn’t that be sweet,” said another.

AG’s weren’t built for long-haul travel though, Hadley thought. “Whoever they are, they’re a long way from home. They’re crazy to be out here.”

“Or treasure hungry,” Dice said.

Tadlock was apoplectic. “They better keep their paws off my artifacts.”

Commander Johnson lifted his head. “I see evidence of a prior landing fifteen standards to the north.”

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