by Lexi Ander
He stilled when Star Eater stuck his tongue into the jagged hole in Zeus’s palm. His expression turned to one of unadulterated rage. “You struck him to kill.”
At the pronouncement, the soldiers’ agitation reached a fevered pitch. One word from Azaes and they would begin dismantling the Qrxzl’s homeworld. He met Azaes’ heated gaze with one of his own as the Qrxzl scrambled to explain that if Zeus was truly a Fal’Amoric blender then he would survive what they had injected into him.
Star Eater struck down their explanation. “Not true. He may have survived, possibly, if you only attacked with dead crystals. But these are full of power—power enough to allow the Feteine to make quantum leaps. He is organic, Qrxzl; he cannot survive that type of energy. It will consume him, just as I consume stars.”
Mestor balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to leap over the soldiers to attack the two azure Qrxzls acting as spokespeople. He only needed Azaes’ command. Unexpectedly, Madux mewled as if he was being torn from the inside out. Mestor moved just in time to catch the massive Chi-Lin as he toppled. Madux clutched the arm Alpha sat on to his chest. Mestor’s legs wobbled as he strained to keep from being crushed under Madux’s muscular dead weight.
“Here,” Sohm’lan said before he put a shoulder under one of Madux’s arms. Together, they gently laid him down. Madux did not stop the agonized cries and Mestor had no idea what caused the Chi-Lin’s pain or how to give him relief.
Rolling onto his side, Madux curled into a ball and started weeping uncontrollably. This only further agitated the Mar’Sani looking on.
“Prince Azaes.” There was something in Sohm’lan’s voice that caused Mestor to glance up. Sohm’lan held onto Azaes’ arm, his other hand flashing through the language of the hands so quickly he could barely follow.
::Keep your head. Focus on our goal. Retribution can come later::
When Azaes only glared, Mestor touched his twin’s leg to get his attention. Sohm’lan was right. How many farseeing pathways turned bloody when he or Azaes lost all sense and simply reacted?
::He gives wise council, brother. Remember what I—::
He broke off when Zeus’s hand started to glow. Star Eater was not putting his mouth on Zeus, but he was healing Zeus’s hand like Sohm’lan had healed him. The luminosity was familiar, calling to something within Mestor.
Looking back up at Sohm’lan, he saw his own questions mirrored there. How was this possible? What did it mean? Were Mar’Sani descendants of the Ancients?
“Poseidon’s balls,” Azaes murmured, his gaze riveted on their youngest brother.
When Star Eater moved to comfort Madux, Mestor hurried to Zeus’s side. He and Azaes crouched, helping him to sit up. Intense relief washed through him to see Zeus’s eyes were open and blinking rapidly. Danger rolled off the milling Monticore as they moved closer to see Zeus for themselves. Zeus moaned, his hand going to his throat. That was the only warning they got before Zeus heaved. Sand, no, crystals came up. Zeus made piteous noises, and Azaes mimicked Zeus. Mestor lifted his lip, disgusted, but he was not letting his little brother go, even if Zeus vomited in his lap. Azaes made another noise, his hand going to his mouth. He had always been keenly sympathetic when it came to Zeus being sick, going so far as to throw up with Zeus. Mestor was relieved to see Azaes trying to control the compulsion.
Madux rose to unsteady feet with Axis’s help. He placed his hand on the back of Zeus’s neck, allowing Alpha to move onto Zeus. Star Eater knelt next to Dargon and again the wave of energy coming from him hit Mestor like a solid wall. He promised himself that someone would answer his questions when this was over.
“We sincerely apologize, Alpha-Zetamite. We only wished to free you of the human.”
Immediately, Mestor was furious. Incensed. They still called Zeus human even though it was proved he was not. He practically spit when he gave a hissing growl. “From here on out, I will skewer any who calls Zeus a human or Terren again! I will not tolerate the disrespect anymore. Maybe if I leave a trail of bodies, tongues will be more cautious when speaking to us.”
“I love you, too.” Zeus’s chuckle sounded more like a wheeze; his throat raw from purging the small mound of crystals.
While Star Eater continued to heal Dargon, Mestor and Azaes helped Zeus to his feet. Zeus gained that faraway look he got when he was having a conversation with Alpha. Sohm’lan took advantage of the momentary silence to pull Mestor and Azaes aside. With Zeus’s awakening, the cohort were settling but were still on high alert.
“How are you feeling?” Though Sohm’lan’s gaze held Mestor’s, his question was for Azaes.
He stepped closer to Sohm’lan, wishing he could speak more privately and ensure that his initial assessment of Sohm’lan was correct.
“I am more clear-headed,” Azaes said in a voice low enough only Mestor and Sohm’lan heard. “Thank you for reminding me of my duty. Sometimes I am not levelheaded when it comes to Zeus.”
The corners of Sohm’lan’s lips kicked up in a barely there smile at Azaes’ understatement. “There are other ways to make the Qrxzl pay without the council dragging your father before them for our acts of aggression. This is still Zeus’s mission,” Sohm’lan reminded them. “I am convinced he has some kind of advantage we do not.”
Mestor watched as Alpha settled on Zeus’s neck. He was certain Sohm’lan was correct. He would assist in keeping Azaes from assuming control over the diplomatic party for as long as he could. It was not a question of if, but when. Azaes was predictable to those who knew him well.
Chapter Thirteen
Sohm’lan
* * *
Sohm’lan remained on alert for the rest of the afternoon, staying in the background, watching and waiting for the time they could finally leave the cursed planet. He was proud of Azaes’ and Mestor’s restraint. They stayed near Zeus but continued to allow him to lead.
After Dargon was taken to the relative safety of the shuttles with a Monticore guard, they were guided to a massive, sparkling turquoise-domed building. Inside, multicolored crystals jutted from the arched ceiling, each glowing with an inner light. The walls were comprised of flat, hexagonal crystals and, as he assessed them, they lit with a soft, warm radiance.
The Feteine followed Star Eater’s direction, leading their V’Saar charges across the room to the opposite side of a pool that took up the center of the structure. The floor sloped down to wide rings of low steps, leading to the depression containing a turquoise liquid. In the very center, several stories high and jutting toward the ceiling stood a red obelisk inscribed with glyphs of an unrecognizable language. Covertly, he recorded the images.
The three V’Saar settled in a position that Sohm’lan had identified as non-threatening, with their legs and scorpion tails tucked under their segmented bodies, only their multiple arms were free. Sohm’lan did not like how they stared at Zeus. He could not read the V’Saar; their hard exoskeletons negated facial expressions. Sohm’lan was sure there were other tells, but he was not familiar enough with V’Saar behavior to discern their thoughts. But he sensed that if they had been wild predators, they would be salivating. No, he did not like their unwavering gazes on Zeus at all.
The six Feteine separated from the V’Saar. They were humanoid but there were rumors that not all Feteine were designed as bipeds or fashioned with a human appearance. No two looked the same and the purpose they once served was evident in their design. Two stepped forward and he assumed they would be the spokespeople for their group. One appeared much older than the other with dirty, yellow paint that showed much wear. The body was segmented, allowing for more precise movements. Its face was flat and mostly featureless with only a long horizontal blue band with optical lenses and a circular speaker for a mouth.
The second Feteine looked newer with a glossy white body that was highly polished. The face was delicate and looked much like the renderings of human females with eyes, nose, and mouth. Thick silver wires and tubes ran from the head, connecting alo
ng the spine.
The Feteine stopped at the edge of the pool. Their stillness was uncanny and made Sohm’lan uneasy. It was just one way that they were different from other beings. No need to breathe, no restless fidgeting, no physical tells that gave away their emotions or internal thoughts. Though he was unsure Feteine expressed emotions. Any unease he felt, he pushed down. They had their vulnerabilities and they could be taken down like any other opponent.
With a half an earhole, he listened as Star Eater mediated the proceedings. Sohm’lan paced, ensuring the recording devices were operating and the view for the vids was unobstructed. The footage would allow Valdor to review the situation before the historians archived the incident. He could not help but grow more suspicious of the V’Saar as the proceeding went on. Atizen was angry and antagonistic. Sohm’lan sensed when Zeus was speaking to Alpha, but something strange also happened when Zeus responded. Sohm’lan could tell when Zeus was talking for himself and when Alpha used Zeus to speak aloud. Those incidents were accompanied by an odd echo that rang in Sohm’lan’s earholes. The only other person who seemed to be experiencing the same phenomenon was Mestor, who kept pressing his palm to the side of his head.
This diplomatic contact had been rife with revelations. For Sohm’lan, the biggest was that Atizen and the queen of the V’Saar, Isolt, were as old as Alpha—or more specifically—the Alpha-Zetamites. When Alpha confronted the V’Saar accompanying the pirates, he revealed he was old enough to have fought in the Arthro War. There had not been time to sit with Alpha and discuss how that was possible. The war was several millennia in the past. The truce was followed by the creation of the protective grid that trapped the V’Saar in the small Arthro Galaxy and the formation of the Valespian Pact. It was hard to believe the Alpha-Zetamites were that long-lived and harder yet to imagine the grid that protected them from this enemy was just as ancient.
But the question of Alpha’s life span was set aside as Sohm’lan listened to the reason why the V’Saar were seeking an audience with the Triumphant. The bugs were studying Zeus with what Sohm’lan imagined were covetousness gazes, and the longer Atizen talked the more sure he was of his assessment.
He ground his teeth together, wishing he could command his soldiers to attack. Now that Atizen was moving about as he spoke, sometimes taunting Alpha, his agitation telegraphed that he was contemplating battle. Signing discreetly, Sohm’lan ordered the prince’s elite guard to carefully close in and be alert. Then he signaled Warlord Aspasia to have the Chimera ready to subdue the other two V’Saar. Sohm’lan wanted to be next to Mestor, who stood on the tier behind Zeus. He had the strong desire to move him out of harm’s way, but that was not his duty, and he had to ruthlessly push down his protective instincts.
The V’Saar’s sibilance grated on Sohm’lan’s inner ear. Ideally, he would rather kill them and be done with the situation, but something more was going on, if anything Atizen said was true. A power struggle between Queen Isolt and her daughter had overflowed into parts of the Milky Way and possibly the Andromeda Galaxy as well. The Feteine claimed they patrolled along the grid watching the weak points. The number of those weak points seemed to be increasing in the last five Galactic Standard years. The V’Saar ruled by the daughter, Queen Orla, had been slipping through the grid and making allies with at least one of the human companies. Was the V’Saar in their custody one of Orla’s scouts or Isolt’s? He would put that question to the V’Saar when they returned to The Gorgon, especially since it had been looking for the Bespoken and knew Zeus’s scent.
Unease slithered through Sohm’lan the more he realized this meeting would end in violence. The way the V’Saar stared… the faint roll of thunder caught his attention and he moved to the doorway. The soldiers there were keeping half an eye on the sky where thunderheads were building at a startling rate in the distance. The cloud bank headed in their direction. Sohm’lan smiled grimly. He was surprised they were not already in the middle of a storm.
The obelisk in the center of the pool flared, catching Sohm’lan’s attention. The turquoise liquid rippled and rose from the basin to completely engulf Atizen in a gelatinous bubble. Hurrying, he crossed to Warlord Aspasia.
A deep voice came from the obelisk, “Queen Isolt covets the space beyond the grid’s barrier, but knows if her daughter acquires a foothold here, then Orla will use the grid against Queen Isolt. She will lose the opportunity to acquire these galaxies herself.”
Sohm’lan frowned, glad he had setup the vid recorders. There were beings in the Council of Neighn who would scoff if Valdor came to them with this information without proof. The grid had never failed, and the People of the Pact had lived in relative safety for several millennia. Sohm’lan was sure that there would be those who had forgotten that their safety was ensured in part by the grid which was maintained by the Triumphant. If the Bespoken was truly lost, and the Triumphant’s hold on the grid failed, then the V’Saar were prepared to swarm into the Milky Way and Andromedan Galaxies. But if the Bespoken was in hiding and caught—
“Is a storm coming?” Warlord Aspasia asked, tearing him from his dark thoughts.
He glanced to where Zeus stood, back ramrod straight next to Azaes, his expression was just this side of a snarl with his lip curled to show his teeth in a threat display. As if sensing Zeus’s rage, Mestor paced, his thrashing tail giving away his agitation. In the blink of an eye, Zeus’s countenance went blank, all emotion hidden.
“One is building. Will it break over us is the question,” Sohm’lan replied.
Warlord Aspasia glanced at the crystal dome and the dubious protection it provided. “If the V’Saar continues to prod Prince Zeus, the resulting storm could keep us from leaving the surface.”
The Monticore and the warlords knew the unspoken truth of popup storms and their connection to Zeus. Unfortunately, it was not something the Crown could hide completely. The storms were linked to Zeus’s moods, especially when he felt threatened. His waterson was oblivious, but those who watched him, who suspected there was something ‘more’ to Zeus, had made the connection long ago and were sworn to secrecy. The Monticore silently revered Zeus for this ability. Many of them truly believed Zeus could do anything.
When Atizen said the word Fal’Amoric, Sohm’lan narrowed his eyes.
“Our intelligence reported the Fal’Amoric resided on Valespia. With well-placed warnings and rumors, they were tricked to run and leave the safety of their homeworld. Orla used the Terrens like hounds to track down the species and place them into confinement. Yet, the key still eludes them. But you would not know anything about the key, the Bespoken, now would you, Zeus Vondorian? About the Fal’Amoric hidden among the Atlaintician lizards?”
The bug had just confirmed one of his suspicions. Both V’Saar queendoms were hunting the Bespoken, and they knew Zeus’s scent. The princeling had only recently discovered he had been altered to be a decoy. Evidence of this tampering came from the solitary V’Saar travelling with the mercenaries that had been tracking the Oethra 7. The V’Saar had taken one whiff of Zeus and identified him as the Bespoken.
Sohm’lan was standing behind the princes, farther away than he wanted to be at the at moment. He snarled orders at Warlord Aspasia. Mestor and the remaining Monticore moved with Sohm’lan to the lowest platform, coming to rest behind Zeus and Azaes. Star Eater’s power washed over Sohm’lan, as if he too prepared for aggression.
“How do the V’Saar know of the Bespoken?” Star Eater prowled back and forth, hands curled as if he had claws to rend and tear. “It seems to me, if this is the first time you have been on this side of the grid, you would not know how the grid works. The humans should not know, either.” When Star Eater glanced at Zeus, Sohm’lan could see the questions he wanted to ask.
Atizen brushed off the accusation with a flippant answer about Orla, and when the pool did not react, Sohm’lan took it for truth though his unease did not dissipate. This close to Zeus, he could sense the energy surrounding him, an indication that h
e was growing more upset with each question and answer. The feel was so similar to Star Eater’s that Sohm’lan wondered again at Zeus’s parentage. He was Fal’Amoric. Blood tests proved that much as well as providing proof that he was related to Princess Athena and the Bespoken, all three sharing the same mother. But it was assumed he shared the same fathers as Princess Athena. Sohm’lan seriously doubted that assertion simply since Zeus could do things no Fal’Amoric could do, and, like now, the energy coming from Zeus, no Fal’Amoric on the Oethra 7 had this feel about them. Sohm’lan’s instincts told him he was correct, which was why he had told Dr. Solon to take another look at those tests. Did all Ancients have power like Star Eater’s? If so, was is possible Zeus had an Ancient as one of his three parents? Perhaps Star Eater would consent to a couple of tests?
Sohm’lan frowned. The energies from both Zeus and Star Eater were also similar to the energy he and Mestor produced for healings. It had to mean something. Atizen’s body language changed and Sohm’lan stiffened, wishing for a sidearm.
Zeus’s voice took on that odd echo quality that said Alpha was the one speaking when he asked, “Has Orla crossed the grid?”
The question was smart. If other V’Saar had slipped through the barrier, why not the upstart queen herself?
Again, Atizen’s reply was dismissive. “We believe her to be quarantined to a planet near the Milky Way breach.”
If Sohm’lan was able to get coordinates, would the Galactic Emperors be able to close that rift near Orla’s hideout? By how he worded his answer, Atizen seemed unsure or perhaps he was answering carefully to keep his lies hidden from the pool?
As if reading the incredulous expression of every Mar’Sani present, Atizen elaborated. “The planet is close enough that if the grid dropped, she would attempt to escape to this side of the boundary. Of course, we would pursue, but if the grid reactivated after we crossed, then we would be trapped. Separated from our queen. Orla would pick up those stranded to reinforce her numbers before she found a place to build her hive.”
