by Chad R. Odom
Heavy hands forced his arms behind his back and zip-tied them at the wrists. Two soldiers grabbed him under the armpits and sat him against the far wall before moving on, leaving one guard to make sure he didn’t go anywhere.
Sicari kept his head down. This was not only a defeat but a humiliation and, potentially, a deadly overstep. As he contemplated ways to get away, the guard kneeled by his side.
“I’ll bet you didn’t see this coming, did you?” he asked.
Sicari glared at him.
“Now, there’s a look I’m used to,” he said as he removed his helmet. Staring back at him was Therion.
“How did you…?” The color drained from his face.
“Even if Damrich didn’t, I’ve known about your little hideout for a long time. When I heard Tamrus was planning to raid it, I made sure I had a front row seat.”
“Kill me and get it over with,” Sicari spat.
Therion laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll be dead soon enough. I just wanted you to know it was me who was going to kill you. You see? I’m a man of my word.” He stood and shoved a boot into his side, shoving him to the ground. He unstrapped the vambrace from Sicari’s forearm.
“What do you want with that?” Sicari growled.
Therion came inches from Sicari’s face. “None of your damned business.” He sat Sicari back up and pointed his rifle at his face.
Sicari closed his eyes, and a tear mingled with the sweat on his face. Therion smirked and pulled the trigger, forever erasing a tragic lifetime of memories.
Popping his neck, spitting on his enemy, and slipping the vambrace into his jacket, he took one last jab. “Give my regards to Corvus when you see him in hell.”
He pulled the helmet back over his head and walked away. He wouldn’t be returning with the troops. Whatever they came for, he couldn’t care less, and he wasn’t about to risk exposure. Not far from this place was a safe house. He would walk there and arrange transportation. Sicari was done for.
Damrich was next.
***
The gunfire was closer, and Oyran could now hear soldiers fighting not far from his prison cell. The thought of Asher and Celeste filled his mind with desperation that his body could not match. His repeated failure to protect his family loomed large, urging him to keep going despite the futility of the attempt. He reached the door, only to find his face falling on top of a black boot.
“Hallway secured!” the soldier yelled. Rough leather gloves pulled him under his arms like sandpaper as the soldier turned him over. “Sir? Sir, can you tell me where you are?” he asked.
Family. Celeste. Asher. Oryan tried to say the words, but there was no sound.
“Can you tell me who you are? Sir?”
Even in his feverish, defeated state of mind, Oryan knew he was a surprising and valuable surprise. He forced his course throat to utter the only two words which could buy him a chance. “Oryan…Jeckstadt.”
The soldiers whispered excitedly between each other. The sandpaper hands carefully lay him on his side and move the ragged shirt away from his neck to peer down his back. The tattoo—it was a unique design made just for him and one that had been broadcasted across the world during his time as a Centauri.
“Oh my God,” the soldier said in a small voice.
Oryan no longer had the strength to keep his eyes open and the rest of his senses were surrendering. His consciousness fading, a soldier kept him going with the mention of a name. It sounded strangely familiar, but he could barely register what was said, much less make any further connections. Just before he slipped out of reality, Oryan pieced together several words. “…not the target…expecting…yes, sir…difficult to…best if you just come down…want to see this.”
***
Before his eyes were open, the distinct beat of rotors circling close by rattled his chest. Their distinct pattern grew louder until they were directly overhead. Oryan lay on another hard surface, and footsteps bounced off a metal floor. Voices were talking, mostly about him. When he mustered the strength to open his eyes, he squinted at the IV bag above his head with tubes running from it toward him, but their final destination was outside his field of vision.
Wanting to stay awake, he closed his eyes and listened. Apparently, his movement, although slight, had been noticed. “Rest, now old friend. Looks like you need it,” a very familiar voice said, laying a hand on his shoulder. It was the name mentioned in the hallway. That name was connected to that voice, but he couldn’t make sense of it.
“Family…” he whispered.
“What?” the voice said a second time. Someone moved to him, and their body heat brushing across his skin as they bent down near his face. “Say it again. I’m here. I’m listening.”
“Family…wife…son…” Oryan managed, choking on the feeble effort.
“Your family!” the voice said, staying close to his ears so he didn’t have to shout over the now moving transport. “Don’t worry about a thing, buddy. I got them too. They’re safe.”
A tear welled in Oryan’s eye. Somehow the voice was not just familiar, but its rise and fall filled him with confidence and trust. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to stay awake long, Oryan forced his eyes open to see this person, knowing he was so close.
“I gotcha. Everything’s gonna be all right,” reassured the voice Oryan now recognized as he locked eyes with a ghost. This person being there meant one of only two things: there was a God and miracles were a reality, or he was dead, and this was the afterlife. He let his body completely surrender, knowing, either way, he and his family were safe.
Ethanis Thomas told him so.
The Only Constant
Celeste leaned her head on the chair and closed her eyes. Asher slept comfortably on a sofa against the wall to her left. Oryan was in a hospital bed to her right, where he had been for the last two days.
His vital signs had been stable since they’d arrived. He had been on constant IVs due to his severe dehydration. To the doctor’s amazement, his internal organs were in excellent shape despite being water-deprived for almost four days.
They weren’t keeping him under; his body was simply so tired all it could do was sleep. Celeste wasn’t worried for him, but there was no way she or Asher would be anywhere else while he slept.
She and Asher suffered no ill effects from their confinement. Their room at Sicari’s safe house wasn’t luxurious but they were provided for and treated well. Sicari had come to their home at the camp with his thugs and kidnapped them both. Even though he’d reassured her it was for her safety, what she’d learned about him from Armay made her fight at every turn. Sicari had her subdued calmly and gently. She hadn’t known about the massacre at the camp until Sicari told her, and only after he’d found Oryan.
Then a new set of troops showed up, dismantled the safe house, and took her and Asher away. Now, she felt she could trust no one. Not with her life or Asher’s or Oryan’s. While Oryan was vulnerable, she would watch out for him. Even with the guards outside the door, she would remain his last line of defense, and she would kill to protect him.
A soft knock came at the door—another doctor coming to check on Oryan.
“Is it okay if I come in?” a voice she didn’t recognize asked.
She lifted her head from the back of the chair and slowly opened her eyes. Standing before her was an old man with silver hair and a silver beard. He appeared important in his professional attire, but his body language suggested he was genuine.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I’m sorry.” His eyes widened and mouth fell open slightly. “I’m not used to not being recognized. I’m Arnem Tamrus, the king of Vollmar.”
Celeste mirrored his surprise. She’d long been outside world events. Oryan spoke highly of him. He said he was kind after Akon when he didn’t have to be.
“Well, it’s your kingdom. I can’t really stop you, can I?”
Tamrus stood up straight. “It’s your family.”
Someho
w, that statement put her at ease, and she dropped her guard slightly. She nodded, he left the doorway, and pulled a chair close to Oryan’s bed. An awkward silence filled the space. Celeste was still guarded and not sure what she should or shouldn’t say. Tamrus, on the other hand, was trying to decide how best to put her at ease.
“He’s going to be all right,” he said, looking at Oryan.
“I know.”
“I’ll make sure he’s back to one hundred percent as soon as possible. And…I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”
Celeste fell silent.
Tamrus had overplayed his hand. “I’m sure you’ve heard that before.” He paused and deep contemplation crossed his face. “Okay. Let’s try this another way. I’ll shut up and let you ask me the questions.”
“How do I know what you’re telling me is the truth?”
Tamrus shrugged. “You’ll have to decide for yourself.”
What could she possibly ask that would matter? What could he possibly say that she would believe? She decided to go for the throat.
“Why are we here?”
“You’re here by accident.”
“W-what do you mean?” she stammered.
“We were looking for someone else. We found you.”
Celeste furrowed her brow.
Tamrus elaborated. “I set up a sting operation to capture Lucius Kovac. The political atmosphere in Navarus had become so toxic that we needed to remove him from an unstable situation. Despite Balsa’s rhetoric, Kovac is too powerful to leave unchecked. We felt he…I’ll spare you the boring details. Suffice to say, we felt he was worth more to us here and away from Balsa.
“Our forces carried out the operation. We had a trusted soldier in charge of guarding the general after his capture. He was never to leave Kovac’s side. In case of Kovac’s escape, this man had our most efficient tracking mechanism in place.
“On his glove, he had a very simple device. It was a very small needle, laced with a radioactive dye that, once entered into the blood stream, is traceable for up to a month.”
The color faded slightly from Tamrus’s face. He raised a hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s completely harmless. He’ll have no side effects from it. We’ve used it on other targets because it has a very unique radioactive signature traceable anywhere across the globe, if you know what you’re looking for.
“Our man in the unit didn’t report to us that night or even the next. When we learned that things had gone awry with the capture, we tuned one of our satellites to find that radioactive signature. We thought we were tracking Lucius Kovac. Imagine our surprise when we didn’t find him.” Tamrus turned a very suspicious eye to Oryan.
“What are you going to do with us now?”
“I don’t have any plans.”
Celeste thought about any further detail she might want to reveal before shaking her head. “That’s all I have,” she said quietly.
“That was easy.” Tamrus leaned back. “Do you mind if I ask you some?”
“Fire away.”
“How do you know the man who ran the safe house?”
“Sicari?”
“Was that his name?”
She hesitated, not sure how to take his statement. Was Sicari someone else? And why was he using past tense? “Did something happen to him?” she thought out loud.
Tamrus’s eyes scrolled from side to side as if he were trying to read something for the answer. “I forgot I gave the order not to debrief any of you until I talked to you first. Sicari was killed in the raid.
“I’m sorry to be the one who has to tell you,” Tamrus said kindly. “How did you know him?”
“He took care of us for a while,” Celeste replied with a toneless voice.
“How long’s a while?”
She shrugged. “I really don’t know exactly how long.” A mix of emotions filled Celeste at the thought of his death. It was good that he was gone, but the memory of the kind man who took her and Asher in, prodded at the edges of her mind. “Why do you want to know about him so much?”
A more stoic expression replaced Tamrus’s fatherly one. “What do you know about him?”
Celeste realized for the first time the position she was in. How could she possibly explain what she had seen and heard without sounding like a woman who needed psychotherapy? “He helped me out of a bad situation.”
“I see,” Tamrus relaxed. “I can understand your suspicion, but I’m not your enemy. To be honest, I’ve never heard the name Sicari until you said it. Some of the information we were able to recover in the place you were being held, reveals this Sicari was a very bad man.”
Not a surprise. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Who says this is about you?” Tamrus asked.
Celeste shot a glance at Oryan.
“I know who you are, Celeste. I know him and I know who you are to him. What I don’t know, is why I found both of you when I was looking for someone else in a very dangerous place with very dangerous people.”
Celeste gripped the arms of her chair. Her feet slid instinctively beneath her. There may not be animosity behind his voice, but there was suspicion, and she knew there was no way her answers would satisfy his questions. As subtly as she could, she glanced at the still-sleeping Asher to gauge the distance between them.
Tamrus followed the movement and relaxed his shoulders, taking a far less aggressive posture. “How old is he?” he asked softly.
She didn’t take her eyes off Tamrus. “He’s six.”
“He looks like his daddy.” Tamrus grinned affectionately at the familiarity.
“Yes, he does,” Celeste’s muscles relaxed almost involuntarily. With everything she’d been through, her automatic response to anything was anger and aggression. Especially after Sicari, she had to force herself to accept her gut feeling that all was well.
“Is he a fighter like him?”
“What’s it to you?”
Tamrus raised his hands. “Nothing. You know the old saying, like father, like son? My dad held public office, so do I. His dad was a soldier…” He motioned to Oryan. “Some things are just in the genes.”
“Why are you so interested in Oryan?”
“Something in the genes.” Tamrus mused at his own cleverness. He sighed and returned to a more serious tone. “I was perfectly content to let him live out his days however he chose to, so long as he didn’t pose a threat to my country.”
“Will you both shut up?” a feeble Oryan spoke. “You make enough noise to wake the half-dead.”
They both stood. Celeste grabbed his hand and kissed it. Tears rimmed her eyes. “Hi, baby,” she said gently.
“Welcome back,” Tamrus chimed in.
“Celeste, be nice. He’s my friend,” he said then turned his head to Tamrus. “Tamrus, that’s my wife you’re talking to. You piss her off—”
“You’ll come after me?”
Oryan weakly smiled. “You wish. She’s way tougher than I am.”
Tamrus placed a calm hand on Celeste’s shoulder. “This is my cue. I’ll be back later.” He quietly shut the door behind him.
“Hey,” Oryan said to her.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine. How are you feeling?”
Oryan licked chapped lips. He shut his eyes tightly, squeezing tears from each. “Terrific,” he replied sarcastically. “Where’s Asher?”
“I’m here,” said a small voice from near the foot of the bed. His eyes were positively beaming, and Celeste could tell he wanted to jump on his dad like he had done ever since he met him.
“You’ll have to be careful, honey. Daddy’s still a little tired.”
Asher acknowledged with a hint of disappointment.
“I can take it,” Oryan said with all the energy he could muster.
Asher didn’t wait for his mother to restrain him. He jumped into the bed next to his father. Celeste held her breath, but thei
r son showed restraint. He crawled up and laid his head on Oryan’s chest. Oryan used his free hand to run his fingers through Asher’s white hair.
“I love you, Daddy.” Asher hugged him.
“Love you too, bud. Did you take good care of your mother while I was gone?”
Asher nodded emphatically.
“Good boy. Looks like you did a good job.”
Asher’s voice became even more elated, “Hey, dad?”
“What, son?”
“I took care of Shadow, too.” Asher beamed.
“No kidding?” There was genuine surprise in Oryan’s voice. He had considered his wolf long gone. “Where is he?”
“What? We’re not good enough for you?” Celeste teased.
Oryan released Celeste’s hand and patted it on the bed next to him. She gently lay in the bed next to him, putting her head on his chest opposite their son. She wrapped her arm over him and Asher. The only constant in the world was change, but for now, she would hold onto them as if change would never come.
***
Ethanis Thomas watched Celeste hug her family on a video screen in the security room. Oryan was alive. He had been told the opposite. Why had they lied to him? Why wouldn’t they tell him his best friend had survived, just as he had? He tried to connect the dots in his head, but that did not come easily for him anymore.
It was frustrating beyond measure not to be able to see the big picture as he could in the past. Answers were a struggle, and often the conclusions he came to were wrong. He felt like a child amongst adults, just sniffing around, trying to gather the scraps from off the strategic table. Everyone around him seemed to look down on him. He resented sympathy most.
He remembered his part in the battle on Akon. He remembered infiltrating the command center and crawling through the dark passageways with Oryan. He remembered climbing the stairs to freedom and even the sound the air-raid sirens made. The conversations he had with his friend were a blur. The minor details were either gone or a jumble of information he couldn’t place. How he’d wound up in the hands of Tamrus and Vollmar had been a mystery. When he recovered from his wounds, Tamrus had been good enough to fill in the details. From the king, he’d learned the Captain had lived through its ordeal on the beach during the invasion and had been waiting for him and Oryan on Akon.
