The Vulpirans' Honor: The Soul-Linked Saga

by Laura Jo Phillips

  After that everyone relaxed and mingled, talking, drinking, eating. Then the head Narrasti turned and beckoned into the crowd, and a new being came forward. The Narrasti introduced this new being to the Dracons as a friend from a distant world come to visit.”

  Hope swallowed hard and gripped her Rami’s hands even more tightly. “The new being was a Xanti,” she said.

  “Are you certain?” Trey asked.

  “Yes, positive,” Hope replied. “If the Narrasti hadn’t introduced him as a Xanti, the way it looked would have told me.”

  “What did it look like?” Jackson asked.

  “It looked a lot like the Narrasti,” Hope said. “Shorter, greener, it’s skin rougher and more heavily scaled than the Narrasti but obviously reptilian. The big tip-off was that its skin glittered in the light. I remember Saige saying that the Xanti glittered.”

  “So, seven thousand years ago we were at peace with the Narrasti,” Garen said. “Then the Arkandu delivered this oraculum to the Xanti just before they were wiped out. And at the same time, the Xanti showed up as visitors to the Narrasti.”

  “Then the Narrasti and the Ugaztun went to war,” Eldar Hamat said, his voice weak and tired. “Our history of friendship was lost. Somehow, we came to believe that we had always been at war, from the beginning.”

  “The Xanti,” Hope said. Everyone looked at her again. She shrugged. “They infiltrated the Narrasti. Why not the Jasani, too?”

  Garen didn’t like it, but she was right and he knew it.

  “So, our history is not as we once thought,” Maxim Katre said. “Fine. I can accept that. But it does not change the events of the past three years. The Narrasti have done enough in recent time to earn our enmity. I do not think that we should forgive all that they have done because we were at peace seven thousand years ago. They must be destroyed.”

  “Genocide is in direct violation of our treaties with the rest of the Thousand Worlds,” Lariah said, her low, husky voice capturing the attention of everyone in the room. “I do not disagree that there are Narrasti that must be destroyed. But I do disagree with the idea that every Narrasti should be destroyed.”

  “I agree with Princess Lariah,” Summer said, placing an apologetic hand on her Rami’s shoulder. “Since when do we make war on the innocent, Maxim?” she asked gently. “We must go to Onddo, and we must fight those who have taken up arms against us, and those who work with the Xanti. But we must also find those Narrasti who wish to be left in peace, or who would fight against the Xanti. Those Narrasti we should allow to join us as brothers, if they wish.”

  “What if there are no Narrasti who want to join us against the Xanti?” Maxim asked.

  “There will be,” Aisling said. “That is the meaning of the oraculum. We must give them the chance.”

  “So the problem is not whether to send the task force to Onddo,” Trey said. “It is merely what the task force will do once they get there.”

  “I, for one, am relieved,” Garen said. “We have heard many good arguments both for, and against dispatching this task force over recent weeks, and were frankly uncertain as to the best way to proceed. This feels right to me.”

  A few minutes later, after only a little discussion, it was agreed to send the task force to Onddo with modified orders. Then Hope held up one hand.

  “Just one more thing, please,” she said. “Is what we’ve learned here today, with this chalice, to be shared with all Clan Jasani, or is it to be kept secret?”

  There was a long silence as everyone considered the question. Finally Garen turned to the eldest of them. “What do you think, Eldar Hamat?”

  “I think that there are very rare circumstances under which truth should be hidden,” he said. “This is not one of them. Our people must know and understand what really happened, to the best of our knowledge. The Xanti have interfered for far longer than we ever imagined, and that should be made known as well.”

  “Agreed,” Prince Garen said, seconded by Prince Trey, and Prince Val. “I’m very pleased with the decisions made here today,” he added. “Especially since the Triad didn’t have to threaten us with the Prophecy.” Princess Lariah arched a brow at her Rami, and there was some light laughter around the room.

  “Prince Garen,” Aisling said, standing again. “I would like to speak again, if I may.”

  “Certainly, Arima Aisling,” he replied.

  Aisling activated her hand terminal while she spoke. “As some of you know, my father was a scientist. He spent his life studying the Xanti. He found refugees from the Xanti’s galaxy and compiled stories which he compared and cross-referenced. I’ve spent the past month reviewing his data, and have found two stories which I believe will be meaningful.

  “The first is a story told by every refugee he interviewed with only minor variations. It says that many thousands of years ago there was a race of beings known as the Garakai. They were the most advanced race in their galaxy, and often traveled to lesser worlds, sharing their knowledge and technology. Until the day a large contingent landed on a world known as Xantara. The Xanti took all that the Garakai offered, learning how to use their machines and operate their ships. Then they murdered the Garakai, and used their ships to leave Xantara. Pretending to be Garakai, a peaceful race, they invaded other worlds and stole more technology. It took many centuries, but eventually, the Xanti destroyed or enslaved every civilization and world in their galaxy.”

  “Here are the important points to this story,” Aisling said. “First, the Xanti are incapable of creating their own technology. If all technology were taken from the Xanti home world, they would never be able to leave it again. Even given the tools, materials and plans to build a ship they could not do it.

  “Second, the Xanti did not win control of their galaxy by military conquest. They did it by stealth. They infiltrated, lied, manipulated, and poisoned one race against another until peoples, civilizations, and entire worlds destroyed each other and themselves. Once they set things in motion, the Xanti had only to sit back and watch. When it was all over, they moved in, took what they wanted and left the ruins behind without another thought.”

  “And third, the Xanti are infinitely patient. They think nothing of planning hundreds or thousands of years ahead. They move slowly and carefully in all that they do.”

  Aisling paused for a few moments to let that knowledge sink in. She turned off her hand terminal and started to sit down, then changed her mind. She had just one more thing to say.

  “My father suspected, and I believe he was right, that the Xanti are doing the same thing here, in The Thousand Worlds, as they did where they came from. If we don’t stop them, we will end up just like all of the intelligent species of their own galaxy. Slaves to a bunch of oversized bugs.”

  ***

  Darck opened the door of the small cottage he shared with Thelba, surprised to see Marqex, the leader of the village, standing on the doorstep. He stepped back politely and waved her in. Marqex smiled and bowed her head before entering. Darck closed the door, listening to Thelba go through the ritual greeting, wondering why Marqex had decided to visit them.

  Though Darck had no idea of her true age, he knew from her wrinkled skin and ashy complexion that she was quite old. She rarely left her own cottage except for very special occasions or ceremonies. All he really knew about the Marqex was that she was deeply loved and respected by all of the females in the village, and by him as well.

  When she was seated, Thelba sat, then gestured for Darck to sit as well which he did a little nervously. He had assumed the Marqex had come to see Thelba. Since they wanted him to stay, it was clear she came to see him, or both of them.

  “Darck Winicke,” Marqex said, “Since you have come to our village you have shown yourself to be a good mate to Thelba, a good and generous male to the other females of the village, and an honorable being.”

  Darck shook his head. “I do not want to contradict you, Marqex,” he said. “But the truth is that I am neither good,
nor honorable.”

  “Ah, but that is in your past,” Marqex said, surprising him. She shrugged slightly and smiled. “I am old, yet still I see. I care not who you were before you came here, to us. I care only who you are now, at this moment. It is now, at this moment, that I would share with you secrets that must be held close to your heart. A day will come, very soon I think, when the secrets must no longer be secrets. It will be up to you, Darck Winicke, to make that judgment. In your hands will lie the fate of our future, and the future of your children. Will you accept this burden?”

  Darck hesitated. He didn’t know what she was talking about, nor did he doubt a single word she had said. Whatever she’d decided to trust him with was as important and as dire as she said it was. The question was, did he trust himself to carry such a burden?

  He looked at Thelba, saw the love and trust in her eyes, and nodded. For her, for their children, he would do anything.

  “Yes, Marqex, I shall accept any burden you lay upon me,” he said solemnly.

  “Several years past, the one known as Magoa rose to power,” Marqex began without preamble. “He chose who should live, and who should die, according to his own whims. Any born with what he termed defects were ordered to the killing fields. Any with abilities that he decreed wrong, were ordered to the killing fields. No one noticed that mixed in with his orders that none with two many legs or not enough claws should be allowed to live, there were also orders that none who displayed powers that might, in time, rise up against him, were also destroyed. Almost no one. I noticed. Magoa was careful to destroy anyone who had the slightest hint of sugea in them. He wanted no competition. There is no counting the numbers of our people who have gone to the killing fields since Magoa’s reign began.”

  Marqex paused for a moment and sighed, her eyes so sad that Darck’s heart ached in sympathy. He could not imagine what it would be like to watch so many people slaughtered, nor did he want to.

  “Where Slater came from, I do not know,” she continued. “Perhaps Magoa really fathered him and, since he is weak in mind, decided to keep him. We will never know the truth, I suspect. What I do know is that Magoa decided to spare Slater as soon as he decided to accept the Xanti’s assistance. That is when Magoa realized that he would eventually need an army of sugea. Slater became the first.

  “Over the past several seasons, Magoa has tried, and failed, to breed more sugea, something he becomes increasingly angry and frustrated about. What Magoa does not know is that it is not the male that carries the gene needed to birth a sugea. It is the female. He can never father a sugea without a female who carries the correct gene. Even then, it will not be his genes that create the sugea. It will be hers, and hers alone.” Marqex paused to accept a glass of cool water from Thelba, giving Darck time to think. He had never been a quick thinker, or so he’d been told all of his life. So he was very careful, and took his time.

  “If Magoa had enough sugea, he could force the Xanti to leave Onddo,” he said. Marqex nodded slowly, then waited. “He would then take his army and conquer other worlds, using the Xanti’s ships,” Darck finished.

  “Yes,” Marqex said. “He will begin with Jasan. He will say that the Jasani are to blame for our plight, but he neither believes that, nor cares if it is true.”

  “What is it that he wants, then?” Darck asked.

  “Jasan’s wealth,” Marqex replied. “When the Xanti came with their ships, and their houses, their tools and their machines, offering the Narrasti a chance to join the rest of the Thousand Worlds, Magoa considered it for many days. He disliked the Xanti, but wanted the extra power they offered to him. The Xanti said they wanted to aid the Narrasti to seek revenge upon the Jasani, but Magoa saw through their lies. Whatever their true reason, Magoa did not care. Why should he? It has been thousands of years since the destruction of our world, and our genetic memories tell us that we played an equal part in that. We have no issue with Jasan. Magoa decided to send them away. Then he learned of the wealth of Jasan, of the many mines of metals and precious stones, and he changed his mind. He will war with the Jasani, for the wealth of Jasan. But he cannot do it with Xanti ships. If it could be done that way, the Xanti surely would have done it long ago, for their hatred of the Jasani is huge. Therefore, Magoa’s only chance is to use sugea. He must have sugea. And he must have many of them.”

  “But you, and all of the females with the correct gene, are now here, in this village,” Darck guessed.

  “That is most correct,” Marqex replied with a satisfied smile. “Magoa has noticed that there are fewer females, but he cares not. What difference does the loss of a few females make to him? His ignorance does more to keep us safe than our rock walls.”

  “Since he doesn’t believe that females have anything to do with it, he looked elsewhere for his answers,” Darck said. “That’s why he helped the Brethren, brought us to Onddo.”

  “Yes, Darck,” Marqex replied. “That is why. The Xanti told him that the bodies of the Brethren held direct sugea DNA, and they were correct.”

  “What does that mean?” Darck asked.

  “It means that, even without a female with the correct gene, they have found a way to use the Brethren to create sugea.”

  “How?”

  “I confess, the science is above me,” Marqex said. “Before I tell you what I must, I would have you know that I learned this only last night. If we could have warned the Brethren sooner, we would have.”

  Darck nodded, understanding that he was going to learn something bad. He took a deep breath and braced himself.

  “They have been putting specially treated hormones from female Narrasti into the food distributed to the Brethren. It is that which made your brothers ill, and caused their deaths.”

  “We suspected, my father and I, that our food or water was being tampered with,” Darck said, not as surprised as Marqex had expected. “There was nothing we could do about it. Without those rations, we would have died anyway on this new world that we knew nothing about.”

  Marqex nodded. “I am sorry, Darck, for you and your people. Please know that we would not have allowed such a thing to continue had we known of it. We would have brought untainted food, or taken all of you away from that place.”

  “Thank you, Marqex,” Darck said. “I know that you would have helped, and I thank you for that.” Darck turned his thoughts away from his father, and the end of his own race, and back to the problem at hand. “Why female hormones?” he asked.

  “I do not really know,” Marqex replied. “This I do know; there are now one thousand eggs hidden in deep chambers beneath the ground. They have been injected with a mix of DNA taken from the Brethren, and Magoa. In a few weeks the eggs will begin to hatch. There is reason to believe that they will all be sugea.”

  “A thousand sugea?” Darck gasped.

  “It is worse,” Marqex said. “Even now new chambers are being prepared, and every female in Magoa’s town are ordered to breed. Their eggs are being gathered and injected as fast as the females can lay them. At this rate, there will be thousands of sugea within a year. They will overrun Onddo completely.”

  “We have to find a way to stop it,” Darck said. “Destroy the eggs before they hatch, something.”

  “Yes, we must find a way,” Marqex said. “It makes me sad to think of killing so many younglings, but Magoa is evil, and he will make them evil.”

  “Marqex, may I ask you a question?” Darck asked.

  “Of course,” Marqex replied.

  “How is it that you know so much about Magoa and all that he’s done?”

  Marqex tilted her graying head slightly as she studied Darck for a long moment. “I had thought you would have guessed by now,” she said. “I am Magoa’s mother.”

  ***

  Berta sat on a bench in the garden behind Arima House, watching Nica play with butterflies. At first she thought she was imagining things, but the longer she watched, the more convinced she became that the orange and blue butterflies were
really playing a game with the child. Nica would chase a small group of five or six around the garden path, then she would turn around, and they would chase her back. They did this half a dozen times, until finally Nica threw herself down on a patch of neatly clipped blue grass nearby. She laid down on her back, panting and laughing as the butterflies settled on her and around her.

  Berta was so engrossed in the sight that it took her a moment to realize they were both being watched. She looked up, startled by the sight of three men who looked remarkably like the Dracons. She stood up and took a few steps toward Nica when she noticed that the men were staring unblinkingly at the little girl.

  Nica stopped laughing and sat up when she noticed the men, but she didn’t smile and greet them as she usually did with newcomers. Berta wondered if the change was due to the men themselves, or the child’s recent ordeal. She moved again until she was standing just behind Nica.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen, may I help you?” she asked, coolly polite.

  The men blinked, then looked at her and bowed.

  “Please excuse us,” the one in the middle said. “We are the Dracon-Bats, cousins to the royal Princes. I am Quenton and these are my brothers, Samson and Karlson We came to visit, unannounced, and discovered that our cousins are not at home.”

  “No, they’re attending a meeting in the Hidden City,” Berta said.

  “Yes, so we’ve been informed,” Quenton replied. “Since we are here, we thought we’d visit the new Arima House that we’ve heard so much about. Do you know where we can find Arima Berta Falcoran?”

  “I’m Arima Berta,” Berta replied.

  “Pardon us for our intrusion, Arima Berta,” Quenton said. “May I ask, who is this beautiful child that the butterflies claim as their princess?”

  Berta looked down and nearly gasped to see a living crown of orange and blue butterflies on Nica’s head.