Slaves of Dardekum: The Lightbringer, Book 1

by Jake Stone

  “What the fuck, bro?” I ask, jumping to my feet.

  “I’m not your bro,” he says, leaning into my face. “And you’d do well to watch your back.”

  We stand there, holding each other’s gazes, until finally, he steps away, his eyes shifting to the side. He saw something. I follow his gaze and see a pair of Purifiers watching us from a few feet away.

  “Have a nice day,” he says, bumping my shoulder as he brushes past me.

  When it’s finally my turn to be served, I discover that I would’ve been better off staying on the ground. The stew is a thin gruel of grease, fat and some kind of meat that I’ve never seen before. It spreads apart like a degraded mash, dissolving instantly against my tongue as I take my first spoonful. The taste is putrid, pungent. I grimace as I force it down, stealing a glance at the other recruits to see if I’m the only one disgusted by it. I am.

  They spoon up the gruel like it’s chocolate, spoonful after spoonful until their bowls are empty. Even then they hold up the edges to their mouths, trying to sip the last of it.

  When they’re done, they wipe their mouths with the backs of their sleeves, glancing desperately at those around them who still haven’t finished.

  “You’re not gonna eat your stew?” one of the recruits asks me, a young woman with curly dark hair and bright hazel eyes. Her smile is clumsy, a naive expression, like that of a young girl who still believes people are nice.

  “Uh, sure,” I say, passing her the bowl.

  “Thanks,” she says, quickly shoving a spoonful into her mouth. “The name’s Glondark by the way.”

  “Xander,” I reply.

  “Nice to meet you,” she says, stew dripping from her lips. The food is incredible to her. And she lets out a moan of pleasure when she scoops up a big chunk of fat. “Wow, this is even better than my mom’s.”

  “Are you serious?” I ask. “This tastes horrible.”

  “Oh no,” she insists. “This is amazing. They probably included the testicles as well. You can taste it.”

  I clench my jaw as I feel my gag reflex coming on. “Don’t they have any water here?” I ask, my throat dry and scratchy.

  “Doubt it,” she says. “Water’s running short this week. The palace has us on half ration.”

  Half ration? Lexar. That mother fucker… He wasn’t kidding when he threatened Petronelous with the half rations.

  “I guess we’re gonna have to make do with our own sweat.” She wipes a bead from her forehead and tosses it into the stew, as if it were spice.

  “Great,” I grumble.

  From one of the tables, I notice the bald guy who shoved me is still mad-dogging me. He mutters something to his friends, tall scrappy guys with tattoos on their faces. They glare at me with wolfish grins.

  “Who’s that guy?” I ask.

  Glondark follows my gaze and squints. “That’s Wezler,” she says.

  “And his friends?”

  “Death Dealers.” Her gaze falls back to her stew.

  “Death Dealers?” I echo in a whisper, my stomach turning.

  “Yeah. They’re from my neighborhood. They protect people. Or, at least, that’s what they say. You just have to pay them with food or suck one of their dicks. I think they’re actually kind of sweet.”

  I watch as one of the meaner-looking ones stares at me and bends the metal cup with his teeth.

  “Yeah, I bet,” I say.

  “Balis was their leader.”

  “Balis was their leader?” I ask, my mouth falling agape. It all makes sense now. Why they don’t like me. Great…

  When our break is over, Petronelous leads us to an outdoor firing range under a large tent, where we’re assigned to separate firing lanes.

  I watch as Purifiers begin distributing what looks to be assault rifles amongst the other recruits. The dirt-stained recruits sneer with excitement as they’re handed the weapons. This is what they’ve been waiting for since the start, I can see. The lightsabers of their dreams.

  They aim down the sites of their rifles at the open desert, as if imagining some God-forsaken mutant was attacking them, then mimic the recoil of the gun as they pretend to fire.

  The sight of such raggedly dressed recruits, armed and dangerous, is worrisome, especially when they’re in the hands of the Death Dealers.

  Wezler finds me amidst the lanes and grins, sending a chill up my spine as I see a mouth of broken teeth.

  “Alright,” Petronelous announces. “The weapon you hold is known as a Pulser, an automatic rifle that shoots forty plasma bolts a minute. Get to know it quickly, because it’s going to become your best friend.”

  At the end of the range, circular red signs, tattered from previous gunfire, snap upright with a loud click, drawing the attention of the entire class. We stare at the beaten targets, our eyes narrowing against the ultra bright sunlight, while Petronelous takes her position at the end of the line.

  “Your targets in the field will be much larger and quicker than these signs,” she says. “In fact, some mutants in the frontier have been clocked at forty miles per hour. And there are others who can run even faster.”

  Recruits let out whistles of astonishment.

  “There’s no way I could shoot one that fast,” Glondark admits, shaking her head.

  “Relax,” I say. “You’ll be okay.”

  The chatter catches Petronelous’s attention.

  “Is there something you want to share with the rest of the class?” she demands as she marches toward me. With crossed arms, she leans into my face, waiting.

  For a moment, my world of dirt and sweat and pain is swept away by the scent of her smooth skin and sweet breath. It’s as if I’m in the backseat of a car, about to kiss my date. But I’m not. I’m in a shit-hole firing range underneath a hot sun.

  “No ma’am,” I say.

  “You ever fire a Pulser before?” she asks, pushing into me.

  I swallow. “No, ma’am.” I can’t explain it, but even though she’s yelling at me in front of the whole class, her attention, and more importantly, the feel of her body against mine, is well worth the price. “But I’ll do my best.”

  She snorts. “Your best will get you killed. If you want to avoid ending up roasting over a flame with a spitfire rammed up your ass, I’d advise you to be perfect. And that goes for the rest of you. Anything short of that will get you killed!” She looks out at the rest of the class. “There’s no room for fuckups. No room for half-assing. You got me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the class replies.

  “Good,” Petronelous says. “Now line up and get ready to fire.”

  I’m about to aim down my sight, when, from the corner of my eye, I spot the purple-eyed beauty from the other morning staring at me from the end of the firing range. She’s like one of those amazingly gorgeous actresses from China. She studies me with that suspicious look again, as if I’ve wronged her somehow.

  Leaning against the frame of the tent, a sniper rifle strapped to her back, her curvy hips shifting to the side, she waits for me to fire my weapon.

  Nerves. They hit me hard. The extent of my coordination is limited to first-person shooters and reading a book while walking. My expertise is science and numbers; not shooting a real weapon. Her intense stare and striking features makes my heart begin to race and my throat goes even drier.

  I press the trigger, halted by the rigidity of its pull. Something’s wrong. It’s not working. Is it broken? I try again, but the trigger feels stuck. I’m taking too long.

  Throwing caution to the wind, I give it my all, shocked by the unforgiving recoil of the weapon as I fire. The barrel springs upward, and I’m thrown back, stunned by the abrupt force of the plasma bolt. Desperate to see what I hit, I gaze out at the target, disappointed to only see a plume of dust rising just left of it.

  Fuck.

  The beautiful Purifier turns away, marching back toward the training grounds, leaving me to feel like an idiot.

  The other recruits are
firing off rounds with no problem. They’re like little kids at a pizza arcade. Glondark is the only other recruit besides myself having trouble.

  “How do you fire this thing?” she asks. She turns her pulser to the side, and my heart leaps into my throat when I see it aimed at Petronelous.

  Oh shit!

  As fast as I can, I bat the end of her barrel with my hand, able to pull it up just in time. But the pulser goes off and a stream of plasma bolts tears through one of the poles holding up the tent, bringing down the entire canopy.

  Before I can even breathe, Petronelous unsheathes her blades and leaps at the falling tarp, slashing the thick cloth in two. The movement is quick and fluid, like a cheetah pouncing on a deer. And I watch in amazement as the stained canopy falls gently around us.

  When Petronelous lands, she sheathes her blades firmly in their scabbards and shoots me a wicked glare. “You,” she says accusingly.

  The sun gives way to a pair of moons rising over the horizon as I fight to do another sit up. The entire class has already left for the day, gone back to the thin-fabric tents and racks of metal bunks that have become our home.

  Even Glondark has left, oblivious as to why I had knocked her pulser away. But I chose not to say anything. Doing so would’ve gotten her in trouble as well, not something I wanted to do, especially when everyone else is already upset with me.

  “I hope you ate all of your stew,” Petronelous says as she circles around me, giving me the perfect view of her solid thighs and camel toe. Over the day, her bodysuit has begun to ride up her ass, forging a deep wedgie that makes my cock hard as fuck. “Why do you force me to do this?” she asks.

  “I already told you,” I say through trembling lips. “To save a woman.”

  “Ah yes, the hollow promise of love. It’s not worth it, you know? It’ll just end up stinging you in the end. That’s if she’s not dead yet.”

  “She’s alive,” I say.

  “And how do you know this?”

  I don’t, actually. I have no idea. But the thought of Rachel being tortured or raped is enough to keep the fire inside me lit. It’s an unbearable thought, one that if I allow, will consume me absolutely. I need to find her. That is all I can do. “She’s alive,” I say. “I know it.”

  Petronelous snorts, her arms crossing below her chest, cradling her large breasts. It’s a great sight.

  “Is that why you fought so hard against Balis?” she asks. “For her?”

  “I did what I had to do to win,” I say.

  “Did you know that Balis is the leader of a dangerous gang?” Petronelous asks.

  “I don’t know if you’re aware of this,” I say, “but I’m not from around here.”

  “Ah yes, I’ve heard about this. The Light Bringer, the young man who appeared out of nowhere in the night with his love, only to be stolen away by slavers. You’re becoming something of a legend in the city.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” I say. “I just know that I have to become a Purifier. Even if it means being hated by everyone else.”

  “They won’t forgive you,” she says. “You’ve humiliated one of their leader.”

  “I don’t give a fuck,” I say. “I’m here for my own reasons.”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  I struggle to lift myself up, my movements wobbly and slow. I can barely do them now. But I figure as long as I don’t stop, she can’t punish me for trying.

  “I guess I should be thankful,” she says.

  “For what?” I ask.

  “For saving my life.”

  I glare up at her in disbelief. “You knew?”

  “Of course, I did.”

  “And you’re still making me do this?”

  Her face darkens at my insolence, and my face is quickly filled with dirt as she kicks the ground. “A Purifier’s survival is contingent on their discipline and that starts with knowing their place. Now keep going.”

  I cough as I spit dirt out of my mouth.

  “Don’t think I’m not…grateful for what you did, Xander. But today’s the first day, and I can’t show any deference to any of you, regardless of your performance.”

  “Well, in that case, can I stop? I mean, nobody’s here now.”

  She laughs, dropping to a squat beside me as if to chastise me more. But with her legs spread apart, I’m quickly distracted by her opened crotch and spread ass. The curves on this woman are unbelievable.

  She follows my gaze and frowns as she realizes that I’m looking at her pussy. “Not on your fucking life,” she says, gripping the front of my shirt, her breath hot on my lips. “I’d never let an off-worlder like you stick his cock in me. Do you understand that?”

  I nod.

  “Good,” she says, releasing her grip and standing up. “I’ll tell you what. Because you saved my life, you only have to work for another hour. No stops. No breaks. If you can do that, I’ll let you rest.”

  Trembling from exhaustion, barely able to hold myself up, I gaze up at her with sweat in my eyes and nod. The creatures of this world, both human and mutant alike, are savage beasts, I realize. To save Rachel, I’ll need to become strong enough to kill them all.

  In fact, I’m actually grateful for this discipline, knowing that with only a week before the slave auction, I’ll need to get as tough as possible

  “Thank you,” I say.

  The words are confusing to Petronelous. Her eyes narrow and her head tilts to the side, trying to figure out my angle. “Just do it,” she says.

  Chapter Twelve

  When I was eight-years-old, my father took me on an expedition to Ethiopia where I watched him build a salivation plant that could recycle what little water there was for the local populace. The heat was unbearable. One that I’ve never forgotten. Right now, here on Dardekum, it’s even worse.

  I stand in formation, along with my fellow recruits, trying not to sway from heat fatigue. Even Petronelous and the other Purifiers have huddled beneath the food tent, choosing to bear the putrid scent of Holga’s stew rather than stand under the hammering sun.

  Water has become so scarce here that the entire city is under a water-watch. Only church officials—privileged men and women who toil endlessly in beautifully decorated, air-conditioned offices—are allowed to drink the daily eight-glass recommendation.

  I force a swallow as I squint at the blinding sun, my skin as dry as the dirt I stand on. Things feel weird. I’m not myself. I’m dehydrated, I realize with a start, noting the classic symptoms: rapid heartbeat, dizziness. I can only hope that it doesn’t get any worse.

  Petronelous departs from her shaded paradise, leaving the other Purifiers to linger behind her. She’s tough, that one. She marches out with her shoulders back, her head held high, refusing to show any sign of discomfort. But I can read it on her slim face, the slight frown at the corners of her lips, the slant of her gait. She’s just like us. And that’s what scares me. If the church doesn’t care about those who protect it, what importance does an off-worlder with no family hold?

  “Alright!” she yells. “We’re barely halfway done. Let’s go!”

  Half way done? My stomach churns. The sun is only going to get hotter as the day goes on. Wiping my brow, I pick up my pulser which I’ve been using as a crutch this entire time and, along with the rest of the class, begin to run in place.

  After a couple of hours, recruits begin to fall like flies. Some fall over from standing positions, while most give up during sit-ups. Only I and a few others are still standing. But soon, even I begin to lose it.

  Stars fill my eyes as the world turns to black, and I quickly fall to the ground, using the last bit of my energy to keep my pulser from going off. I lie there in silence, ignoring the protests of Petronelous and a couple of the other Purifiers who are screaming for us to get up. All I want to do is to lie here, to rest against the ground and close my eyes as I pass out.

  But instead, I hear something. It’s faint at first, like a subtle vibration p
assing through the planet’s crust. But then it grows, building and building until it’s as clear as the sky above me.

  I know that sound. I’ve heard it before. My mind is thrown back to Ethiopia, when I was a young child helping my father, and my eyes burst open.

  “Water!” I mutter mindlessly. “Water!”

  “What?” Glondark’s voice is like a whisper. “What are you talking about?”

  “There’s water here,” I say, pointing to the ground, delirious. “Right here.”

  Petronelous stands over us, our discussion drawing her ire. “What the hell’s going on here?”

  “I don’t know,” Glondark answers.

  My mind spins with ideas. I look around, picking out parts and materials I could use to pierce the ground and draw out its water like the tap of a keg. The designs are endless, and I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling.

  Petronelous frowns at my madness. “I’m not going to ask you again, recruit, what the hell’s going on here?”

  “There’s water underneath us,” I say, standing up to meet her gaze. “Right here, under this very ground.”

  She looks at me, confused. “And how the hell do you know that?”

  “Because I can hear it.”

  She looks at me like I’m a crazy person. By now, the other Purifiers have closed in around us. Their faces tense as they stare between us, waiting for Petronelous’s command to subdue me.

  “He’s mad from dehydration,” one of the male Purifiers says. “We should shoot him and be done with it.”

  “Nah,” another replies. “I’m too tired to cart off another body.”

  “Well if that’s the case, why don’t we make him drink his own piss?”

  The Purifiers erupt with tired laughter, but Petronelous remains silent. She’s considering me.

  “Digging is illegal,” Petronelous says. “The church has assured us that there are no more aquifers left on this planet.”

  “Well, they’re lying,” I say.

  My exhaustion has made me careless, and I realize the gravity of my mistake as a period of disquiet quickly follows.