Gray smiled. "Follow me."
Glad when he turned his back to her, Zania struggled to keep her sanity. Just one more sign that the gods only meant for Zania to wage war. Love had never been part of her life and never would be.
The unfairness of it all intensified her anger. Good. She had to clutch that anger like a life boat, otherwise she would drown in self pity and burst into uncontrollable sobs. Both unacceptable behaviors for a warrior.
*****
That afternoon, tired from her morning battle with the Collectors, and mentally drained by Svend’s infidelity, Zania organized the frightened citizens. She divided them into groups of one hundred, making sure each group had the bare necessities for the journey.
Gray walked toward her at the head of a new party of citizens. Zania counted about fifty. Gray stopped in front of her and gestured toward his group.
"This is the elite," he said with pride. "They all have implants and can be your translators. They are scientists, physicians, traders, diplomats, and elected representatives. I hope they can help. We kept the shuttle pilots to transport the sick and the invalid." Gray waved and left quickly.
"Thanks." Zania considered her new recruits. "Each of you will be responsible for one group." It looked like the right proportion. "If there is a problem in your group, you report to me, and everything I order, you translate for them and make sure they do it. Got that?"
The elite citizens nodded. Zania inquired about their specialties, then assigned each of them a black armband and a specific group in the long snaking line that had formed on the esplanade. She made sure to space the physicians evenly in the caravan, so they could quickly reach any medical emergency.
As she walked along the evenly spaced groups in the line, Zania scrutinized each translator suspiciously. Which of them were the mysterious stable owners who had organized the clandestine fights. They had to be among those able to communicate with foreigners. It bothered her to think that they would end up in a position of trust and authority. But no one knew who they were. So she would watch the translators closely, looking for clues.
The depraved stable owners could hide behind their anonymity, but they would, no doubt, look out for themselves, not the welfare of the majority. They would attempt to exploit others and turn the situation to their advantage. Those wolves had no scruples about preying on a defenseless community. Zania would have to watch for abuse of power.
A caravan of five thousand represented lots of mouths to feed for days, with no time to stop and gather or hunt. Zania assigned one anti-gravity plate per group to carry essential supplies, but every individual would have to lug a sleeping blanket and personal effects.
The tribes had kept busy while Zania battled the Collectors. They’d gathered portable goods for the evacuation and brought them to the Temple esplanade. Several lines of anti-gravity plates hovered at the foot of the stairs leading to the Temple. Some heaped with fruit or loaves of bread, others empty. Normally, the aroma of freshly baked bread would make Zania hungry, but the sight of Svend kissing Dakini had spoiled her appetite.
On the esplanade, warriors and citizens helped each other. Some counted food items to divide equally. But other citizens just stood or sat, staring into nothingness, so astounded and frightened by the turn of events that they couldn’t be of help. Zania had seen similar behavior among war zone refugees on her own planet. The state of shock would take weeks to wear off.
Zania assigned a fully stocked medical kit to each group. "Make sure you have snake bite serum," she advised her translator, a trader named Coal.
As Coal nodded and translated for the group, Zania listened to make sure he didn’t omit anything.
For such inexperienced citizens, the jungle could quickly become a death trap. "And don’t forget to take your malaria pills. Lots of mosquitoes out there."
Coal translated.
"How much water should we take?" a female citizen asked.
Zania smiled to the woman, indicating she understood, then she addressed Coal. "Two bottles of water per person. We’ll refill them on the way. There are plenty of streams in the forest."
"Zania!"
At the familiar male voice, Zania looked up from the stack of bottle crates to see Svend hurrying toward her. She wanted to run the other way, but her legs refused to move.
"I have to talk to you!" Judging from the urgency in his voice he seemed very upset.
But Zania couldn’t even stand to look at him. "There is nothing to talk about. If you had any decency, you’d stay away from me."
"I need to explain..." Svend’s imperious tone didn’t help.
Zania wouldn’t play his game. "There is nothing to explain." Besides, she couldn’t think or function in his presence, a constant reminder of the pain and humiliation his rejection caused her.
"It’s not my choice." Svend reached for her arm.
Zania stepped back at his contact, her heart beating wildly. "You did make your choice. Now, go away."
Dakini appeared behind Svend’s shoulder, gloating. "Hear the lady? There is nothing to explain. Come, Honey, Gray needs your help with the maps." Dakini took Svend’s hand then turned and walked away.
Svend shook his hand off Dakini’s grip and glowered at Zania. "We’ll talk... later."
"Don’t bother." To Zania’s dismay, Svend turned about and followed Dakini with angry strides. Did he have no pride? What had this woman done to him? But he obviously had made his choice. How could he act so differently from one day to the next? If Zania wanted to remain sane, she must keep him out of her head... and heart.
"Are you okay?" Morrigan had approached silently from behind. Her bright red hair clashed with the dull garb of the citizens. She hefted a loaf of bread in one hand. "Need help?"
"Sure." Grateful for the distraction, Zania also wanted to clear the misunderstanding with Morrigan. "Can you help me fill these crates with fruit from that pile?" The ripe orange fruit resembled pomegranate and filled the air with a sweet fragrance.
Morrigan set down the bread and picked up a light silvery crate. She set it on the next antigravity plate then started filling it from the waist-high stack. "Dakini is bragging to the Amazons that she is marrying Svend as soon as we get to a safe place." Her green gaze studied Zania. "Is it true?"
"I’m afraid so." But Zania refused to talk about Svend’s betrayal. "Have you come to help or watch me squirm?" She couldn’t focus on the simple task of filling a crate.
"I’m sorry..." Morrigan reached for Zania’s hand across the mound of fruit. "I know how you feel."
Zania pulled back her hand. She’d recently rejected Morrigan and needed no reminder of that guilt trip. Unsure how to broach the topic, Zania dove in. "Are you familiar with the Collectors?"
"I heard you destroyed their ship." Morrigan’s smile illuminated her freckled face. "Since they stole me from my country and sold me time after time, I say, good riddance."
"They didn’t just steal and sell people." Zania closed a crate and carried it to the next anti-gravity plate. "They replicated them."
"What do you mean?" Morrigan started filling another container.
"They made copies of existing people." Zania hoped she wouldn’t have to explain cloning. She was no scientist and only knew of it.
"Only the gods can make people." Morrigan chuckled. "But women can make babies."
How could Zania explain the concept? "Children take time to grow, and you never know how they’ll turn out."
"True." Morrigan brought a ripe fruit to her lips but thought better of it and deposited it in the crate. "Even if the Collectors could, why would they make copies of the same people?"
"So they would sell more high-priced slaves." Judging by Morrigan’s obtuse expression, Zania had to explain further. "The people the Collectors replicate are special. They have valuable talents... like you and me."
"That can’t be true." Morrigan frowned. "You are just trying to confuse me with a bunch of lies."
"I never lie." Zania stared st
raight into Morrigan’s eyes. "If you know me so well, you should know that about me."
"I do..." Morrigan averted her gaze and focused on her work. "But you’ve changed so much since the Andromeda Sector... You’re not the same."
"Exactly." Zania hoped she could get through to Morrigan. She leaned against the gravity plate. "When I went to the Collectors’ ship this morning, I learned I was..."
After the long silence, Morrigan looked up from her crate. "What?"
The word didn’t come easily. "A clone... A copy of the original Zania."
Morrigan stopped stuffing her crate. "You expect me to believe that?"
"No." Zania shook her head. "I didn’t believe it myself, so I asked to see the original."
"And?" Morrigan stared.
The picture in Zania’s mind brought sadness and pain. "There she was, staring at me through the glass of a white pod in a sea of other white pods. Not dead, but not alive either. The funny thing is, she wore the tattoos of my military unit, and the scars of my former life in my desert world... and I don’t."
Morrigan’s eyes glinted with a spark of understanding. "I thought it strange that you didn’t have your scars from the Andromeda Sector. Besides, you look younger, softer. And why would you ever grow your hair?"
"I didn’t." Zania smoothed a long chestnut lock. She was starting to like her hair. "I just woke up like this the day I met you in the bunker. And I only remembered my life as a soldier on my desert world."
"So what are you saying?"
Zania measured her words. She valued Morrigan’s friendship and hoped she would understand. "When I was hanging between life and death, after you retrieved my body from the arena, I had a strange vision."
Morrigan perked up, her shining self again. "I have visions sometimes."
Zania smiled. "In the vision, I saw many copies of myself, some old, some young, some with scars I never received. They told me to go back to life, that it wasn’t my time to die. But one Amazon in particular told me to be kind to you."
"Who?" Morrigan’s face froze and her green eyes opened wide.
Finally Zania made some progress. "I believe it’s the Zania you knew in the Andromeda Sector. She looked like she’d seen many battles. She had short hair, a fierce demeanor, and a deep white gash that ran the length of her left forearm."
"I remember that wound. A tiger’s claw. It oozed for weeks. I thought she would die from the fever." Tears welled in Morrigan’s eyes as she recognized the truth. "But if this is true, it means..." Abruptly she dropped down on a stack of crates, as if her legs couldn’t support her. The handle of the long naginata strapped to her back clinked on the stone pavement.
Zania sat next to her friend. "It means that if this is the Zania who loved you in the Andromeda Sector, she passed into a better world. When I saw her, she looked fine, and she obviously cares about you. She said to tell you she missed you, and she’d be waiting for you."
"So, she died?" Morrigan sobbed softly.
"I’m so sorry..." Zania took Morrigan’s hand.
Morrigan collapsed on Zania’s shoulder, shaking and crying.
"I’m sorry." Zania caressed the short red hair. "So you see, I’m not her. I’m just another Zania."
"I think I believe you now..." Morrigan said between sobs. She detached herself from Zania and wiped her tears. "But I can’t help seeing her in you. You look the same, you walk the same, you even smell the same."
"I know... It’s confusing... But I’m not her. That’s why I can only give you my friendship." Zania squeezed Morrigan’s shoulder. "Although today I would have every reason to hate men."
Morrigan offered a sad smile. "Under your tough demeanor, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic."
Zania chuckled. "You know me better than I know myself." She stood up, and against her better judgment scanned the crowd, looking for Svend but couldn’t see him. Shaking away the thought, Zania offered Morrigan a hand to get up. "Come. There is work to do before this day is over."
Chapter Fifteen
Just before dawn, Zania climbed toward the temple for a better view of her charges below. When another tremor shook the esplanade, she barely caught her balance. Citizens waiting in line, ready to leave, struggled to remain standing as the ground kept shaking.
Unsteady on her legs, a woman on Zania’s left cried out as she tripped. Zania couldn’t catch her in time. With her sandals hastily wrapped in leather to create makeshift boots, the woman rolled down the steps in her long gray robe. On the esplanade below, an older man dropped his wide brim hat. Families hung on to each other not to topple over.
Like rolling thunder, the volcano rumbled deep underground. Terror lurked in the citizens’ eyes, with the realization that the mountain might erupt before they could escape. A child in Zania’s group screamed in panic.
Within minutes, the rumble and tremors subsided. It seemed the quakes lasted a little longer each time. After much reassuring and coaxing from the parents, the child finally calmed down but remained fearful.
Zania joined Morrigan at the top of the temple stairs. "There are so few youngsters. Dagora’s computers must have strictly regulated the number of lab babies."
Morrigan motioned toward a young woman down below who looked pregnant. "If sex is not allowed, then this one must have committed the unthinkable."
The others seemed to turn their backs on the expecting mother, but Zania took her condition as a good sign. "In time, these people will learn to survive and propagate naturally."
Morrigan frowned. "If they escape the wrath of the volcano."
From the top of the steps, Zania watched the long procession of ill-prepared refugees lumber away from the esplanade. The head of the long caravan of five thousand, flanked by two hundred warriors, had started to move like an accordion toward the western edge of the city. Svend and Dakini led the exodus. Although Svend seemed only focused on the evacuation, Dakini hung onto his arm, leaning to whisper in his ear.
It twisted Zania’s gut to see them together, even from that distance, and she cursed herself for watching, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from the couple. Svend’s knowledge of the Amazon queen’s attempt on Zania’s life made his betrayal hurt even more. Once again, Zania had fallen for the wrong man. How could she let that happen? Would she ever learn?
Dakini strutted at his side like a queen. Of course, she was the queen of the Amazons. And with her new freedom, she seemed determined to enforce her royal status. As an early escapee, Zania now belonged to the Freedom tribe and felt lucky for it. She didn’t fall under Dakini’s rule.
Still surveying the far end of the esplanade, Zania addressed Morrigan. "What’s the story about Dakini’s royal announcement last night?"
"She wants to reign according to the old tribal laws." Morrigan followed Zania’s gaze. "Whatever that means."
Zania shrugged. "Old laws often get in the way. A society must change in order to evolve and survive."
Morrigan pulled Zania’s arm. "Don’t even look at them. He doesn’t deserve you."
Zania sighed and considered her friend. "Thanks for suggesting to the leaders that you and I close the march." This suited Zania just fine. At least one click would separate her from Svend. "I don’t think I will ever trust another man."
"Nor should you." Morrigan offered a half smile. "All males are opportunists when it comes to sex."
"Just my luck!" When Zania thought she’d found a rare specimen, strong, kind, and honorable, he’d turned on her. Maybe there was no such thing as a good man. No wonder her clone had turned to women for comfort.
"Look!" Morrigan pointed to the truncated pyramid where a small silvery craft sat on the landing pad. "They’ve started the evacuation of the elderly to the coast."
Zania watched the slick shuttle rise slowly and fly west. The small vehicles could only carry a few passengers at a time. It would take several trips of the few shuttles to transport, those too weak or too old to walk the great distance. Zania wondered how t
hese invalids would fare, alone in a ruined ancient seaport overgrown by the jungle and stalked by predators. She hoped Svend had provided protection for them. It would take several weeks for the foot caravan to reach them.
But movement attracted her attention at the accordion motion reached the last group, their group.
"We are moving out!" she told Morrigan.
Zania and Morrigan ran down the steps to close the march. The first rays of the rising sun lit the eastern sky behind the temple when their group, the very last, finally filed out of the esplanade.
The citizens advanced quietly through the streets in an eerie procession. As they beheld their city for the very last time, their faces expressed the sorrow that clutched their hearts. Soon the last of them exited Dagora through the western gate. Unused for centuries, the portal opened on a crumbling road covered with high grass now trampled by the caravan.
Once outside the white wall, Zania noticed that the shimmering shields had expanded to include the two-click no man’s land of short grass surrounding the city. She glanced up at the mountain. The shields also encompassed the truncated summit of the volcano, like a wavering mirage. Grayson had been busy since they'd returned from the Collectors’ ship.
When Zania led her charges through the ethereal shield, she expected some kind of sensation but felt none. Her group crossed after her, and she waited as they entered the tree line, following the well trodden path opened by the thousands of citizens who marched in front of them.
The very last out with Morrigan, Zania picked up a rock, turned around, and threw it at the shield. The rock sizzled and bounced off, then disintegrated before touching the ground, confirming her theory. "Now that everyone is out, the shield polarity needs to be reversed."
"Who is supposed to do it?"
"Grayson."
Morrigan frowned. "Does that mean he his still in the city?"
Caught up in her own problems, Zania had not considered this. Now she realized with a start that Grayson must have remained in Dagora. "After he reverses the shields, he won’t be able to get out." He would perish in the lethal trap set for the volcano. "Such quiet heroism. He sacrificed his life in order to give his people a chance to escape."
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