The Lost Tayamu

by Ben Cass

  The Lost Tayamu

  Legends of Kiamada, Volume 1

  Ben Cass

  Published by Ben Cass, 2018.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE LOST TAYAMU

  First edition. July 12, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 Ben Cass.

  Written by Ben Cass.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  EPILOGUE

  Sign up for Ben Cass's Mailing List

  About the Author

  To my wife and son, thank you for putting up with me hiding away and writing for hours on end.

  To my awesome critique partners, thank you for giving me the courage to finally put myself out there and let others read my work.

  Finally, to Nan and Bug, my grandparents who fostered my love of reading and writing. I wish you could have lived to read this. Thank you for the constant advice of “Get your arse in gear and finish that book!”

  Chapter One

  A sense of foreboding tingled on the back of her neck as Jen Aston looked up at the clouds overhead and frowned. Black and ominous, they hung over the town like burnt marshmallows dangling from a twig, and the smell of oncoming rain hung in the air. Jen hoped she would make it to work on time; her car battery had decided that this morning would be the perfect day to stop working, and while she had her favorite brown overcoat covering her, an umbrella in her hands, and a change of clothes at work, she’d prefer not to need any of them.

  Her walk wasn’t a particularly long one; the television station sat alone at the end of Main Street, a few blocks past all the stores and restaurants. Jen’s house was located about a half a mile behind the stores, one of only a few homes in that area of town. The houses were all separated by acres of land; Jen herself lived on five or six acres. All told, she wouldn’t even have to walk a mile.

  While Groverton was not a big town by any stretch of the imagination, its residents were scattered. Most people lived on the outskirts of town. Even after being here for twelve years, Jen couldn’t decide whether she loved it and wanted to stay, or hated it and wanted to travel the world. Every single time she went shopping, she fought down the urge to burst into song. She strongly identified with the opening number to Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast”. Jen walked down the road, eyeing the buildings. Main Street. They couldn’t have picked a more unimaginative name if they tried.

  Still, perhaps she was being unfair because she was in a bad mood. The people here were friendly and helpful. The town only had a few thousand residents, and Jen knew most of them. Her stepsister, Ellie, had been born here, but had no desire to stay. With only two years of high school left—well, less than that, now—Ellie was making plans to leave Groverton behind. Jen had only been here for a little over a decade, and she was contemplating leaving when Ellie did.

  The smell of baking bread wafted through the air, snapping Jen out of her reverie. Joanna was, as usual, getting an early start in her bakery; the blue-and-white checkered tablecloths were already covering the metal tables out front, and there were a few people inside drinking coffee and eating pastries. Jen glanced at her watch; the bakery didn’t officially open for another fifteen minutes, but she’d never known Joanna to wait until the official time to open her doors to people. Jen spotted Joanna through the window and waved at her, continuing her walk.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance; judging by the sound, she might not have long before the storm broke. Jen walked faster, her heels clicking on the sidewalk, head down. She passed by the small post office, its windows still dark, and then by Grimes Furniture. Jen owned several pieces from Grimes; the hardwood furniture was all custom-made and sturdy. Each piece had its own unique flair, so no two things were the same. Most of the residents bought their bookcases and desks and things like that from Grimes, although they had to travel half an hour to Harris to buy mattresses, sofas, and other large purchases. A Walmart had opened recently, cutting down on the need for a lot of travel out of Groverton.

  She approached the diner, and sniffed appreciatively as the smell of sizzling bacon hit her nostrils. She should have left a little earlier and stopped for breakfast. Oh, well. Maybe tomorrow.

  “Morning, Jen!” came a voice from up ahead. Jen glanced up to see Harold Simmons, the diner’s owner, setting out the blackboard with today’s specials. Harold had owned the diner for close to forty years, taking over for his father, who’d opened it twenty years before that. Harold’s dark skin stood out in Groverton; there weren’t many minorities—a word Jen always disliked using on the news—in town. “Nasty day to walk, isn’t it?”

  She smiled at Harold, even though she didn’t feel much like smiling. “Got that right. My stupid car battery decided today was a wonderful day to go to that big junkyard in the sky. I called Christian, but he couldn’t get there for another hour or two, so he’s going to stop by tonight to replace it for me.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Harold said, studying his board. “Ah, dammit. I can never spell potatoes correctly.” He wiped the word off with his sleeve and took some chalk out of his pocket, fixing the sign. “You’ve been doing a great job, you know.”

  The non-sequitur threw her for a moment. “Aw, thanks, Harold.” She paused, then stage-whispered, “At what?”

  “Everything,” the older man said. “You were one hell of a reporter, and now you’re the best news anchor in the entire region, far as I’m concerned. And you’re raising a fantastic young woman in Ellie.” He reached out and squeezed her hand. “We’re all really proud of you. I just figured you needed to hear that. You look miserable, and nobody should be that unhappy.”

  Jen leaned down and kissed his cheek. Harold was several inches shorter than she was. “Harold, you are a godsend. You made my morning so much better.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “You’re heading to work, I assume?”

  “Of course. The news doesn’t sleep.”

  “Neither does my bladder,” he replied. Jen rolled her eyes and laughed.

  “I’ll see you later, Harold,” she said, waving at him.

  The rain began to drum on the storefront awnings, streaming through the occasional small gaps between the silver-and-black canopies. The blue-and-white paving stones were already getting wet; Jen slipped here and there, managing to regain her balance each time. She sighed and opened her umbrella up. Her feet would be soaked, but at least the rest of her could still be dry. She continued walking, looking down at the ground in front of her, not paying attention to what lay ahead of her.
She was mentally preparing herself for the morning news show. While Groverton’s only television station broadcast to a limited area, they made sure to cover news that mattered to the entire region. Jen had become the main news anchor shortly after her step-parents had died, which had allowed her a more favorable work schedule. She did the shows at eight, noon, and five, and then went home for the night.

  Jen had gone through three awnings with no trouble, but the gap on the fourth one had created a huge puddle on the sidewalk. She tried to step around it, but her heel got caught in a paving stone, and before she knew what was happening, she found herself falling. Jen flailed her arms, her umbrella lunging forward and hitting something she couldn’t see.

  As she started to go down, a pair of damp arms reached out and caught her. The hands were a little closer to her chest than she would have liked, but they shifted to her armpits and helped stand her up, gently pulling her forward under the next awning.

  “Thank you so much,” Jen said, bending down to pick her umbrella up. “I’m so sorry for running into you like...” Her voice trailed off as she looked up at the person who’d caught her. An uncanny sense of déjà vu swept over her, knocking all other thoughts out of her head. She had never seen the man in front of her before, but she felt like she’d known him forever.

  “No problem, ma’am,” he said with a quick smile. “Glad I could catch you in time.” He glanced down at her feet. “Not the best choice for walking on wet concrete, huh?”

  “My car battery died this morning, so I had to walk to work,” Jen said, vaguely aware of how lame that sounded. Why was she experiencing this sensation of knowing him? Jen knew most of Groverton’s small town on sight, and this man would have stood out in any crowd, yet she was certain she’d never seen him here.

  Tall and fit, towering over her, dark hair topped his hazel eyes. His skin tone was far more tan than her own pale complexion. Native Hawaiian or Samoan, perhaps? Certainly not a common skin color here in Groverton, even rarer than Harold’s. His smile was friendly, but Jen’s gaze was drawn to the long, jagged scar that ran down his face, starting beneath his right eye and cutting down his cheek, ending under his jaw. The reporter in her wanted to know the story behind the scar.

  The man must have seen her staring, because he reached up and gently touched the scar. “Your umbrella sure packs a wallop,” he said sadly. “I might be disfigured for life.”

  Jen gaped. “I did that?”

  Her brain reasoned it out just as the man smiled widely and shook his head. “Of course not,” he said, “although you did give me a pretty good jab. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a swordsman.” He bowed suddenly. “My apologies; swordswoman.”

  “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. “I...” He held a hand up, shaking his head.

  “No worries. Really, I’m fine. I’m just glad I was able to catch you. I hope your day gets better soon.” He gave her a friendly nod. “Have a good one!” Glancing up at the falling rain, he started jogging down the sidewalk, going the direction Jen had just come from.

  Jen had an urge to follow after him, but shook her head. “No, Jen,” she said aloud. “This is not a romantic comedy.” She raised her umbrella again and resumed her trek to work, only looking back a couple of times, still puzzling over why he was so familiar.

  After another minute or so of walking, Jen passed the end of the buildings on Main Street, looking ahead to the station. She could see the large antenna dishes on the roof, broadcasting the signal out to the surrounding towns.

  She couldn’t wait to get inside and get out of her soaking wet shoes. One of these days, she’d listen to her sister and stop wearing high heels. It wasn’t like anybody would see her feet on the screen anyway.

  Jen was still lost in thought about the stranger she’d just met. Why couldn’t she get his face out of her mind? There was something so familiar about him, but she couldn’t put a finger on it.

  She didn’t see the man beside the building until it was too late. A strong hand suddenly wrapped around her mouth, and an arm grabbed her waist, pulling her into the small alley beside the building. Jen kicked and fought, but a second man appeared and grabbed her legs, helping carry her back behind the building.

  Panic gripped her, wrapping itself around her like a python. She struggled desperately to get free, her nostrils assaulted by the stench of cheap cigarettes that poured off the man behind her.

  The rain had turned into a torrential downpour, making it hard to see or hear anything. Jen fought as hard as she could, but the two men were much stronger. A third man came into sight, dressed like the one holding her legs: a red shirt and red pants; on the left breast of his shirt, she could just make out the sigil of a black hand gripping a star. He looked like a karate sensei to her.

  The third man pulled a knife from his waist. Jen’s eyes widened and she thrashed desperately, moving her head from side to side. She managed to get the tiniest bit of space by her mouth and threw her head back, getting enough room to bite down hard on the hand covering it. The man cursed and his grip loosened enough for Jen to draw breath and scream, “Somebody help me! Help! Please!”

  The hand slammed back over her mouth, cutting off her pleas. Jen kicked as hard as she could, twisting her upper body in an attempt to throw the two men off. The third man continued to move towards her, shifting the knife from hand to hand, a sinister smile spreading across his face. Jen, fighting with all her strength, managed to kick free, and then stomped on the foot of the man behind her.

  Without warning, a fist connected with her face, sending bolts of lightning through her head. She felt herself get thrown into the hard brick wall, slamming into it hard enough to knock her to the ground.

  “Enough.” The voice cut through the haze in Jen’s head. It was calm but furious. “Walk away now and I won’t send you all to the hospital.”

  Jen looked up, blinking through the fat raindrops falling on her face. It was the stranger she’d literally run into a few minutes ago. He stood facing the three men, all of whom now held knives. They were ignoring Jen for the moment, and she used the break to pull herself further away from them; she was too dizzy to stand, and had to settle for dragging herself along the ground. A light of hope tried to bloom in her, but she couldn’t see how one man could overpower three armed men.

  The stranger studied the men. Finally, he spoke, his tone questioning. “You wear the sigil, but you’re not Chiami. Who hired you?”

  The man on the left lunged forward with his knife, but the stranger quickly moved aside, blocking the slash with his forearm. A quick thrust to the throat dropped the attacker, who was now desperately trying to catch his breath, grabbing at his neck. The stranger delivered a swift kick to the downed man’s face, and then calmly faced the other two men.

  “Who hired you?” he asked again. The two men looked at each other, and then rushed him as one. It didn’t help them.

  Jen watched in shock, her head pounding, as the stranger easily blocked their attack. Grabbing an arm, he spun around and yanked, pulling the shoulder out of its socket and kicking the other attacker squarely in the chest. Screams of agony tore through the air from the owner of the arm, but silenced when the mugger’s face met a knee with a bone-shattering impact. The attacker dropped, limp, leaving only one man to face this mysterious stranger.

  “Who hired you?” The stranger repeated his question, while the lone remaining mugger stood there motionless, staring at the taller man. After a few seconds, Jen saw the stranger’s face harden in anger, and he struck quicker than Jen could follow with her eyes. Her brain replayed it for her: two quick punches to the chest, a foot to the knee, which made an unnatural cracking sound, followed by a thunderous punch to the face, sending blood flying. The stranger caught the knife in his hand as the last man fell. He tossed it to the ground as he knelt beside Jen.

  “Are you all right?” he asked her, his voice tender and worried. She tried to answer, but her emotions choked her up, and all she could do was cr
y as her fear and terror came rushing out.

  The man fell to his knees beside her and gathered her up in his arms. “Shh,” he said soothingly. “Nobody’s going to hurt you, I promise. You’re safe now.”

  She clung to him like a drowning woman to a life raft, holding him tightly. He sat down on the ground and pulled her closer, letting her cry. The rational part of her mind wondered why she would trust this stranger so implicitly, but at the moment, that was the least of her concerns. She looked around her, at the three bodies down on the ground, and the knives scattered around. Who was this man?

  “Hey!” The yell came from the sidewalk, and the flash of a gun being drawn caught Jen’s eye. In one smooth motion, the strange man reached out, grabbed the knife he’d dropped, spun and flung it through the rain. There was a thudding sound when the knife’s handle struck the gun, knocking it to the ground. He was on his feet a second later, moving towards this newcomer, who was hard to see at first through the heavy rain.

  “Police! Freeze!” the other man yelled, and the stranger stopped instantly. He turned around and came back to Jen, completely ignoring the police officer. Jen managed to get herself under control long enough to say something to the officer, whom she now recognized.

  “Jeff, it’s okay! He was protecting me!”

  “Jen?” the officer asked, looking at the three men lying unconscious on the ground. “God almighty, what happened?” Jeff pulled his radio off his belt and made a call, then hooked it back on. He looked over at the stranger and gestured at the men. “You did this? By yourself? How in the hell did you do that?”

  The other man shrugged. “Got lucky, I guess.” Jeff turned his attention back to Jen.

  “Ambulance is on the way, Jen.”

  “I think I’m okay,” she said, trying to shove her emotions aside. “Can you get Ellie from school, please?” Jen asked as he helped her up.

  “I’ll call the school immediately and have somebody go pick her up,” Jeff promised. “I’m also going to need a statement from you, sir,” he said, turning to face the stranger. He paused for a moment and looked around. “Where in the hell did he go?”