Overlord

by Cyndi Friberg

  He straightened with a nod and moved behind her, wrapping his arm around her upper chest. He was uncommonly tall for a Sarronti, so he could easily see over her head. She’d watched the battle unfold from this hilltop. In fact, she’d spent many nights here observing the Outcasts, watching them spread like a pestilence and burrow deeper and deeper into the sacred ground. They must be obliterated, burned to ash like an infested crop, or a deceased animal.

  “How the hells did they control that ship?” Apex mused, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. “It should have plummeted like a stone once the disrupter pulse hit it. I thought for sure it would take out the Wheel just like we planned.”

  “It had to be some sort of magic.” She relaxed into the casual embrace, enjoying the feeling of strength and support. Too bad his ego matched his brawn. They had been together less than one cycle of the moons, and already he annoyed her more often than amused. “I tried to warn Cagor about their powers, but he wouldn’t listen to anything I said.”

  “Of course not. You’re female. He was too old and foolish to realize most females are more cunning and savage than any male.”

  The observation pleased her. It was moments like this that made her put up with Apex’s brutishness. He still took her for granted and underestimated her true potential, but he came closer than any other to treating her like an equal. Perhaps in time, he could be motivated to offer the respect she deserved. Though rough-hewn, he had potential.

  “Are the rumors true?” Apex asked after a long, silent pause.

  “Which rumors?” She glanced back at him, but couldn’t really see him without turning around. “There are so many. You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “Did you perfect your father’s technology? Are you able to command shadow agents, to create mind-slaves?”

  She rotated then leaned back against the rock formation, tilting her head so she could see his face. “Not for lack of trying, but no.” One of the reasons she’d wanted Cagor dead was because he’d confirmed this fact. Shadow agents were much less effective when others knew they existed. She’d be a fool to volunteer the information now. “Each person I’ve implanted died within hours. The prototype still needs work.”

  “Too bad.” He searched her gaze a moment longer, then looked beyond her again. “It would have been nice to have such a powerful tool at our disposal.”

  “I’ll keep trying,” she assured him with a secret smile. “I’m determined to make it work.” That much was true. She just wasn’t sure what role Apex would play in the final outcome.

  His only response was a distracted grunt, a sound she found particularly annoying. She narrowed her gaze as she studied his shadowed features. If he became any more suspicious—and if he won the challenge with Malik—she’d inject Apex with her shadow-bots. She already controlled two members of the Guiding Council. If she controlled the new general too, she could easily rule the world below without anyone realizing who held the true power.

  And then she’d finally have everything she needed to drive the Outcasts off her planet!

  EZA WOKE UP ALONE, as she had each time she slept since venturing into the world above. None of her friends would believe the overlord hadn’t touched her, hadn’t even attempted to seduce her. In fact, Kage had behaved more honorably than most of the Ayrontu males in her acquaintance. But then Sarronti males of the highest designation were taught they had a right to anything they desired and that included unbonded females.

  Cagor would have dismissed Kage’s courtesy accusing her of being so unappealing that she couldn’t even ignite the lust of a barbarian. Her brother had been cruel and selfish, much like their father. She’d wasted so many season cycles trying to gain their attention and earn their approval. Well, that chapter of her life was finally concluded. Like her mother, Eza was free of Alonov males.

  The thought sent sadness creeping through her soul. After decades of physical and emotional abuse, her mother sought escape in death. She’d postponed her escape while Eza matured and learned to control her power. Eza’s mother wanted her to have some hope of defending herself against the evil into which she’d been born. Eza understood her mother’s choice. Still, being unable to change the final outcome was one of Eza’s biggest regrets.

  Scooting to the edge of the bed, she swung her legs over the side and stretched out the tension in her neck and shoulders. Space was limited in the world below, but the common spaces and endless corridors seemed spacious and festive when compared to the dismal ships the Outcasts called home. Even the overlord’s chambers were compact and austere. All of the furnishings were sleek and functional, yet there was no artistic expression or personal flair.

  She started to rise then decided to contact her Shadow Circle. It was imperative that no action be taken until she returned to the world below. She’d assembled the small group of highly gifted individuals with meticulous care, and they’d become the backbone of the rebellion. The six members had no idea who the others were, at least that’s the way she’d designed it. If the members chose to contact each other, she couldn’t stop them. Most had guessed that she was Ayrontu, but she’d been careful not to reveal her identity. She knew the extent of their abilities and their locations, but she avoided personal information, really didn’t want to know who they were. Her intention had been to have a member from each village. Unfortunately, Goat Mountain chose not to participate. They were the wildest, and most hostile of the clans.

  The others knew Eza as Seer. Sarronti psychic sight could take on many forms. Some seers had visions of the future, some saw events as they took place in different locations, and others read objects or locations, reliving events from the past. The rarest aspect of sight was being able to see the abilities of others. Eza was one of the rare few who possessed the gift in its entirety. She was better at some elements than others, but she was particularly accurate when identifying the abilities so many of the lower designations attempted to hide.

  Those born into the lower designations were frequently exploited if they happened to have a paranormal gift. The risk to themselves and their families was seldom worth whatever they would gain by openly using their abilities. Which was the reason for all the secrecy.

  Leaning back on her hands, she closed her eyes and scanned the Wheel until she located Kage. He was in the war room on the upper level of the Viper, deep in conversation with four of his advisers. Satisfied that she wouldn’t be interrupted, she projected her conscience onto the astral plane, creating a psychic image in the shadow chamber. Each member of the circle would appear as a cloaked figure, voices modulated, features concealed by a deep hood. A nimbus surrounded their image, a differing color identifying each participant. Eza’s nimbus was silver. The cave-like chamber was highly shielded and only accessible to the other circle members. If any of them entered, the others sensed it and responded as often as their real lives allowed. It was late enough tonight that most should be in bed.

  Sage appeared first, not surprisingly. Sage existed in a state of perpetual meditation, and her nimbus was vivid blue. She was keeper of ancient wisdom, a historian and mentor willing to teach anyone with an open mind and a humble heart. Eza also sensed that Sage’s real-life occupation had significance, but refused to invade her privacy to learn what Sage did.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Seer, but Cagor’s death was inevitable.”

  Eza tensed, quickly scanning to make sure they were still alone. “How long have you known?” So much for anonymity.

  “I have always known,” Sage admitted, “but the others don’t. So calm your racing heart, or they will sense the truth. The boys are almost here.”

  Sage was right, as usual. Eza took a deep breath and centered her emotions. This was about the rebellion, not her family conflicts.

  Skinwalker and Sentinel arrived within seconds of each other. They never admitted it openly, but Eza suspected that they knew each other, might even be related.

  Skinwalker was able to take on the appearance o
f anyone as long as their body mass was similar to his. Rather than choosing one color for his nimbus, his shuffled through a variety of shades. Though Eza had only interacted with him on the astral plane, the subtle rebellion seemed in keeping with his personality.

  Sentinel often listened, only offering his opinion once everyone else had established their positions. It was likely he spent a lot of time observing others in real life as well. Sentinels created portals between destinations, allowing those who could not teleport to travel without the need for cumbersome ships. Tonight, his yellow nimbus was dull, and his entire image faded in and out of focus. He was clearly exhausted. “Is this important? I really need some sleep.”

  “It’s important,” Sage told him. “We’ll make it as quick as possible.”

  Sage was the only other female in the Shadow Circle, and she and Eza often defended each other. Eza felt connected to Sage more deeply than the others. Their abilities were similar, and Sage was easy to talk to, easy to trust. When it came right down to it, Sage reminded Eza of her mother, and Eza missed her mother very much.

  Sculptor appeared next. He had one of the most interesting abilities Eza had ever sensed, and one of the most dangerous. He could bring inanimate objects to life, molding them into whatever he liked. His gift worked best with those things found in nature, but he claimed to be able to control some technology as well. A vibrant green nimbus encircled Sculptor’s image.

  Sorcerer was the most elusive of the six. He generally responded to the others if they were alone, but often ignored group invitations. He preferred isolation and refused to pretend otherwise.

  “Let’s give him a minute more,” Eza suggested. She wasn’t sure when she’d have time to fill him in on the developments. “He might be with someone.” They all knew that was unlikely.

  “Guess what everyone in my village is calling us?” Skinwalker asked amusement clear in his tone.

  “Shadow Rebels,” Sentinel said, not sounding nearly as pleased.

  “Well, Shadowborn Rebels, but the gist is the same.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Eza asked. This was the first she’d heard of it.

  “Ever since the bounty was posted, support for the Shadow Circle has exploded.” Skinwalker explained. “There have been fundraisers and demonstrations encouraging our efforts.”

  “I don’t give a shit what they call us,” Sculptor snarled. “Sorcerer is clearly being his disagreeable self. What’s this about, Seer? My days start much earlier than yours.”

  It was a subtle dig, but she didn’t take it personally. The Ayrontu had earned the resentment of others with centuries of arrogance and disregard. It was rude to make everyone wait because of Sorcerer’s predilection for solitude, so she began, “Has everyone heard about the battle?”

  “Is it true that General Alonov is dead?” Hope rippled through Skinwalker’s tone despite the modulation.

  “It’s true,” Sage told them. “The Outcasts have now seen a full demonstration of our military capabilities, but our military is currently without a leader.”

  “What does this mean for the rebellion?” Sentinel asked sounding as groggy as his image appeared.

  “It means we better hope that Malik wins the challenge,” Skinwalker stated. “Apex will challenge also, but he’ll be almost as bad as Alonov if he wins.”

  “Do we need to do more than hope?” Sentinel suddenly sounded more awake.

  “I’d rather let this play out naturally,” Eza told them. “I’ll ask Sorcerer to monitor the fight. If it looks as if Apex will prevail, I’ll allow some interference.”

  Sage nodded. “I agree. I don’t like to meddle, but this is too important to leave to chance.”

  “Can’t you see the outcome?” Sculptor’s hostility was more pronounced this time. He had never been personable, often seemed impatient, but this blatant antagonism was new.

  “Do we have a problem?” Eza asked, not in the mood for temperamental males. “We’re all a little sick of your attitude.

  “I’m pretty damn sure I’ve figured out who you are, and I can’t help wondering if we’re being used.” He moved closer to her, his green nimbus flaring.

  “Being used for what?” Sage asked. “Seer has the most to lose, and yet she supports the rebellion at every turn.”

  “But why?” Sculptor sneered. “Why would an Alonov support the rebellion? Her house is ancient.”

  “Alonov?” Skinwalker and Sentinel echoed disbelievingly.

  Then Sentinel asked, “Are you really an Alonov?”

  “She’s on the fucking council!” Sculptor shouted, gesturing with obvious agitation. “May I present Councilor Ezalondra Alonov. I think she’s the council’s spy.”

  “To what end?” Sage asked with more conviction. “How does she benefit from helping us? Do I need to list the accomplishments we’ve only achieved because of her assistance?”

  Eza raised her hand, backing off Sage. Eza appreciated the support, but she always preferred to fight her own battles. “Why would I organize this network only to sell you out to the Guiding Council? Your conclusion makes no sense.”

  “Obviously, you want the bounty,” Sculptor accused.

  “Why would an Alonov need money?” Sentinel argued. “She’s right. This makes no sense.”

  “Use the challenge to test my sincerity,” she suggested. “Only the rebels benefit from Malik becoming general. If I were a spy, I’d find a way to assist Apex. Malik is Jintta, allowing him to control the military is dangerous to the Ayrontu. Do you agree?”

  Sculptor crossed his arms over his chest, but muttered, “I agree.”

  “And do you also agree that a spy would not stand back and let it happen?”

  It took him longer to respond this time. “You might do it just to spite me, but I doubt it.”

  “Then will you drop this if Malik wins?” Eza persisted.

  His shoulders squared, and his chin came up, revealing his bristly jawline. “If Malik requires our help to win, I’ll let this drop. If he wins on his own, I’ll still watch every move you make.”

  “You’ll watch every move she makes regardless because you’re paranoid.” Sentinel shook his head, not needing features to convey his disgust. “We’ll never accomplish anything if we start fighting amongst ourselves.”

  “Agreed,” Skinwalker stressed, sounding equally frustrated.

  “Lower your hood,” Sage demanded. “You told us who Seer is. It’s only fair that you make yourself just as vulnerable.”

  “She knows who I am.” Sculptor waved away the suggestion.

  And she did—now. This attack had been personal, not political. The conflict was old and bitter, but she’d thought it had blown itself out. Apparently not. “It’s not necessary, Sage. He’s right. I know who he is.” His real name was Tajon Marr and his brother, Lorton, had been Eza’s mate. The Marr family blamed her for Lorton’s death, Tajon most vehemently of all.

  “But the rest of us don’t,” Sentinel pointed out. “Fair is fair. Lower your hood.”

  “I have nothing to hide,” Tajon snapped. “My identity reinforces my motivations.” He lowered his hood long enough for the other’s to see his face. “It also explains why I don’t trust her.”

  Eza shook her head. This just got incredibly complicated.

  “We’ll meet again after Malik wins, and you will apologize to Seer,” Sage insisted.

  Tajon muttered something obscene under his breath as he disappeared.

  “There was no excuse for that,” Sentinel moved to stand in front of Eza. “I do not doubt your dedication.”

  “Nor I,” Skinwalker stressed. “This has nothing to do with you. Sculptor always has an attitude. I think he was born with a pebble in his boot.”

  Eza nodded, but she knew it was personal, and it was not going to resolve on its own.

  “Will he cause trouble for you in the real world?” The concern in Sage’s tone made it obvious she understood the full scope of complications this unm
asking had caused. The others hadn’t reacted as strongly, so it was unlikely that they knew all the details. Those from other villages had little interest in the social drama among the elite. They were too busy keeping their families fed.

  “He can’t incriminate me without implicating himself,” Eza pointed out. That might slow him down, but she doubted it would stop him.

  “He’s Jintta, and most of his family is Layot,” Sentinel pointed out. Clearly, he understood the situation better than she’d given him credit for. “Even if he tries to make trouble for you, he doesn’t have the power or authority to do any real damage.”

  Generally, she would agree, but her standing among the Ayrontu had been tenuous ever since she voted to abolish the designations. The proposal had failed, but most of her “friends” stopped taking her comms. Others were downright hostile. “Time will tell.” And she didn’t have the energy to worry about something she couldn’t control, not when there was still so much to do. “I need to contact Sorcerer before the overlord returns. I better get started.”

  “You’re still on the Wheel?” Sage sounded horrified. “I thought you returned before the battle.”

  Eza shook her head and smiled, then realized they couldn’t see her face. “There are a few things the overlord and I need to settle before I head home.”

  “You’re the only one I know who has actually interacted with him.” Skinwalker drifted closer to Sentinel until they both stood in front of her. “Is Razel as savage as they say?”

  “Not at all. The Outcasts are mercenaries, war is their life, but they are not mindless savages. Anyone who believes that has never spoken with one.”

  “You honestly believe they’ll help us?” Doubt sharpened Skinwalker’s question, making it sound accusatory.

  “Again, time will tell. I should know more when we meet again.”

  “Can we still call this the Shadowborn Rebellion?” Skinwalker returned to his usual teasing. “I really like the sound of it.”