Mask of Fire

by Michel Prince

  “Tarin,” Barton growled under his breath.

  “What?” Fire asked as she approached him.

  “The cleric, his name is Tarin.”

  “How would you know that? He didn’t even show his face?” Her face showed doubt, but he wasn’t sure what she was doubting at that moment. It didn’t matter though. There were people he had to protect, even if he’d never seen them in person.

  Not to mention, there was Firestone’s safety to consider now…

  “I need to go.” Barton took off for the stairs with Fire hot on his trail.

  “Go… go where? You leave and we’re dead. Tarin or who ever that was won’t let us out without taking everyone down here with him. These people won’t survive.”

  “I don’t care. I have to get to my…” Barton caught himself. They wanted the whole Royal family—that included him. Right now the only thing saving his life was the mask he’d been wearing his whole life. “My King and Queen.”

  “Since when are you a traditionalist?”

  “They crossed a line.”

  “Who did? You know their leader. Why is it that a cleric chose our room, Barton?”

  “How would I know?” he growled. “Did I not just go through hours of patch up surgery with you? We didn’t lose a single person.”

  “Why are they doing this? That stuff you said before about it’s not great in the North—”

  “I didn’t say it was bad in the North. It’s fine, but you must realize we’re men.”

  Barton’s heart raced and every inch of him was calling for him to protect his family. He’d do whatever it took to get out and save them. Even if there were sleepers on the island they’d still need to convene reinforcements. He scanned the security feeds. In the main entryway where the women should be mingling to choose their next lover, bodies lay on the floor bleeding. Maybe the Ascendency was getting exactly what they wanted. Survivors showed what he wished Fire would do; women were clinging to men. Men were creating protective lines for the women. Only a few of the women took an offensive stance. Most were searching for salvation from their male counterparts. Their unarmed male counterparts.

  Walking through the center were what he could only assume were men with WF60s, the latest in laser blasting technology from the Wolter planet. A cleric walked down the staircase with his hood off to talk to one of the captors. He tapped the screen to zoom in. Tarin.

  “The women, did they have fevers before they got here?” Barton asked passively as he continued to mess with the security cameras to look for a hole.

  “No, not from their history.”

  “And the men?”

  “One said he felt a little unwell, but not enough to miss the Gala.”

  “Right.” Barton pushed past Fire and headed back toward Dr. Roth. “The Ascendency was in Yuric prior to the Gala. I bet your interns are shitting their pants right now.”

  “And the patients are probably dead by now. These patients are crashing.”

  “They have to have a cure for whatever they gave them,” Barton surmised. “I’m going up to negotiate.”

  “How are you going to do that without jeopardizing security?” Dr. Roth asked. “Right now the doors are secure.”

  “They’re not secure, the Ascendency doesn’t care about us.” Barton returned to the security feed and pulled up the camera outside the door to the infirmary.

  Not a single captor stood by the door. No one was attempting to break it down. He turned and scanned the room, taking special notice of the clerics. Aside from the royal family, genocide was not the ultimate goal of the Ascendency. There’d be no men and women to live together and rebuild society if they were all dead.

  There was a sleeper agent amongst them.

  Tarin had flipped up his coat to hide something… Barton racked his memory. Flashing back to the interaction, he attempted to remember. Flashes of him turning and a mark… he had a mark on the back of his neck. Lextran’s kept their bodies pure. No markings even after being chosen.

  Five clerics in the room, all still in robes, but only one who hadn’t loosened theirs to help mitigate the heat—Cleric Gonnerth.

  “Cleric Gonnerth,” Barton called, and she turned from the patient she was giving comfort to.

  “Yes, Barton, is it not?”

  “Yes, could you come here for a moment.”

  The cleric crossed the room, taking care to not step on those on the floor.

  “How may I assist you?”

  “Turn around,” Barton ordered. “Please.”

  “I don’t understand.” The cleric obliged, and Barton swiftly pulled her robe down just enough to see a black mark. A circle was in the center and three tendrils came off and returned in a spiral pattern. Cleric Gonnerth smacked her hand over her neck, but it was too late.

  “Defacing one’s body is a crime against the Gods,” Barton growled in her ear and clutched her arms. “Yet you, and I’m assuming quite a few of your fellow clerics, probably have defaced more than your body.”

  “What do you want?” she trembled.

  “Who has the cure?”

  “There is no cure, the society has been poisoned by years of oppression.”

  “For the fevers.”

  “I don’t know.” Barton tightened his hold. “I don’t, I was told to keep them comfortable. Nothing else. They said no one would die.”

  “They lied.” Barton shoved the cleric away from him. “Do you have the body count yet?”

  Gonnerth bowed her head in shame and hugged herself.

  “How many others are there?”

  “I’m not sure… I don’t even know who’s in charge.”

  “You blindly follow a leader without regard for the repercussions.”

  “We blindly follow years of traditions written by those long deceased.”

  “You didn’t age out.” Barton realized Gonnerth was younger than most clerics. “Why did you take the vows?”

  “Because I do not want to be pleasured by dozens. I want but one. One that is for me and me alone. But the rules do not allow for that. You walk into a station there is only one outcome.”

  “You’re female. You can do what ever you want in the station. Sex is but one option.”

  “Have you ever not had sex in a station?”

  ****

  “So because you chose not to have a conversation with a male, all of these people had to die.” Barton ran his fingers through his dark hair. Abby hadn’t grasped what Barton was getting at until the Cleric responded.

  “What?” Cleric Gonnerth asked.

  Gonnerth had taken the same classes Abby had. The Prefects talked of controlling the room. Do not allow the man to take charge. Keep him silent as long as you can. Conversation was the last thing you wanted because what could a man have to say?

  That part had always confused Abby. Once married you would be with this man every day until your death. Similar interests, thoughts on the world… all of these would show up at some point in the marriage.

  “Orgasm isn’t the only way to find your soul mate. And it won’t sustain a marriage.”

  “Then you agree with us.”

  “Not your methods. There are better ways.”

  “Like what? We’ve pleaded to the King—”

  “We’ve as in you? Or were you just told the leaders you don’t even know did?”

  “I… well… It’s just.”

  “Because you feared the touch of a man before knowing his soul didn’t give you the right to kill hundreds, possibly thousands of Lextrans.”

  Barton covered his eyes with his hand and appeared to rub in vain years of frustration. Abby approached him and placed her hand on his neck.

  “I don’t have a mark,” he said, changing his position.

  “I… I… I… didn’t… think…”

  “Yes, you did. I have to leave. I need to try to save my King and Queen.”

  “Barton, there are royal guards and soldiers—”

  “Would those be the
ones that let them be taken?”

  “Why is it your job?”

  “I’m a soldier. I’ve pledged myself to protect the planet.”

  “A soldier. One man. Unarmed!”

  Barton turned to look at her and his gold eyes glistened. “Sometimes one is all that is needed. Especially when I’ve found one worth protecting.”

  She stroked his cheek and moved in to capture his lips. The smell of him entered her body once again, but it was different than before. More invasive. Harder, with a musk that was thick and commanding. Her tongue dove into his mouth only to be met by his in a kiss that claimed more than his lips; no matter the outcome he’d claimed her heart. For now and ever. No longer would she come to a Gala in search of the love of her life. She’d found it as his large strong hands cradled her head as if she were a fine piece of glass. Precious, rare, and delicate.

  “You can’t go,” she said as their kiss broke. “I won’t let you.”

  “Fire, I hate to break it to you, but you have no say.”

  “I claim you. I claim you as mine,” she stated plainly.

  Barton’s lip quirked up into a small grin.

  “Our planet is in the middle of civil war based on stupid traditions and you pull out the biggest one we have. Claim away. At this time I have a higher calling. Don’t expect a few words will stop me.”

  “I made my claim! We have one hour to be married and then we go into seclusion for a week. A week. That’s the rule. You can’t leave me for at least a week. Those are the rules.”

  Barton placed his fingers under Abby’s chin and pulled her close. Her lips trembled as she prayed for another kiss. She wanted what was hers. Barton, a bed, and no patients. The battle could be fought by others. He was hers and hers alone. She had full claim to him and that claim was all she needed.

  “Fuck the rules.”

  Chapter Five

  With all of Fire’s intelligence Barton had to question where in the world she thought she really was. Seriously? A claim. Like that would stop him from saving his parents. Traditions be damned. Until he truly had a mate his family would be first.

  “Come with me.” Barton saw the hurt in her eyes. “I may need a doctor.”

  “I… I have… I have patients here that need me.” Her fingers twined together. “I’ll stay here and try to discover the cure from Cleric Gonnerth. Besides, you don’t need anyone, do you, Barton?”

  Fire turned and drug Cleric Gonnerth into the isolation room. There was no point. She didn’t know anything. Worse yet, she doesn’t want to know anything.

  Barton turned to the security cams and noticed a tactical assault had begun on the western edge of the island. Skimmers had stealthily come ashore. The amphibious soldiers that rode in the small boats were among the best from the Central Cities. Even in war the army wouldn’t break from its tradition and send in the younger soldiers from the North and the South.

  With determination Barton devised his plan. He pulled his hair into a warrior’s braid, then tucked the hair inside the back of his shirt. On the lawn a few soldiers had been gunned down. By a set of bushes was a man about his size. It was time to gear up.

  Looking over his shoulder he saw Fire had given up on Gonnerth and begun patient care again. She examined the cauterization Dr. Roth must have done on an amputee. As if she could feel his eyes on her she turned to look at him and stared into her cool blue eyes. Her hair, black as midnight, fell out of the small bun she’d tried to use to control her hair. The dark tresses framed her face, a face he could have in his bed each morning. He felt a tightening in his chest. This wasn’t his training on maintaining the traditions of his planet. This was love.

  With regret he turned and headed up the stairway. He padded softly down hallways and moved, he hoped without notice, to a side glass door which he slipped out of with ease. Controlling Lextrans on the island wouldn’t be hard, but he knew it would be different in Luster, the capital city, where his parents and possibly his brothers were being held hostage.

  The soldier he’d seen on the security cam lay lifeless. There was a part of him that hoped he would still have a pulse, but now was not the time to worry about those who’d passed. It was time to focus on those he could save.

  According to the dog tags he had Level Two Waldrup to thank for his new black armor. Poor bastard took one right between the eyes. A few shots were coming from the far side, but it seemed like posturing. Their soldiers tended to work on stealth and surgical strikes, not brute force.

  A whistle sounded on his left and Barton caught the glimmer of a reflector. A message of safety was signaled and although he didn’t want to waste more time than he already had, there was a chance this soldier had a communicator that could save him.

  “Who are you?” The Level One soldier asked as Barton approached.

  “Safe passage doesn’t usually involve a handgun pointed at my head.”

  “You stripped Waldrup.”

  “I needed a uniform. I was at the Gala.”

  “How did you get out?”

  “I’m but one man and, by the security feeds inside, they are focused in the main foyer.”

  The Level One didn’t lower his firearm, not that Barton blamed him.

  “I’m Major Isthem stationed in the North. I need to get off the island.”

  “Running like a coward while we die for an officer.”

  “No, I have information on a biologic agent the Ascendency is using. There are dozens sick in the castle and more in the North. Some have died.”

  The younger soldier’s eyes turned down.

  Barton tried a different approach. “Are you from the North?”

  “No, I live in Luster. I only attended two Gala’s before being chosen by my mate.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “We were able to conceive a child.”

  “But do you love her?”

  A familiar click let him know the young soldier had engaged his weapon. Barton raised his hands to calm down the young soldier. The soldier’s hands trembled under the weight of the gun.

  “I’m not with the Ascendency. If you give me your communicator I’ll give your leader all the information I gathered inside before I left.”

  “Maybe I’ll just take you to him.”

  Barton didn’t have time for this, and as much as he didn’t want to, he took the boy’s gun in one swift smooth motion. When he cleared the chamber he noticed the safety was still on.

  “Really? You trying to get home to see the fruit of your loins?” Barton growled. “In the grown up world soldiers don’t bother engaging the safety. Their goal is to go home at night.”

  Pulling the communicator from the soldier’s ear he placed it in his and called up the commanding officer. After relaying what he knew he advised them he needed safe passage off the island and was directed to a skimmer and given the automation codes.

  Entering the codes he attempted to toss away thoughts of Fire. She was the last thing he needed to be thinking about. The pull to protect her was overwhelming his need to save his family. Then again, if he didn’t save them, the world Fire desired would be gone forever. The castle lights dimmed, then went out. Calling up the commanding officer again in a panic, he demanded an explanation.

  “I told you there was wounded.”

  “And I heard you, Major, but we need to shut this cell down.”

  “Some are on life support and there is no backup! You’re killing Lextrans,” he bit.

  “A few for the good of the many.”

  “That’s not acceptable.”

  “If you were so worried you should be staying on the island, not searching for a way off.”

  “I’m not running.”

  “Right.” The communication was cut and Barton tossed the earpiece to the ground.

  Fire had not released him to leave the island. He could easily use the excuse to stay with her. She’d claimed him and they had yet to marry. Traditions. Rules. He knew rules. He knew orders, but no matter the perso
nal cost, the planet’s well being was to be placed above his own. That was why he became a soldier. To protect.

  He offered to take her and she refused. Her patients were more important than the man she claimed as a mate. Fuck these rules. The Ascendency had no idea how they’d pushed a crown prince. The next to truly ascend, and better yet, the first in the royal line to understand warfare and crave it.

  Determined he slid into the small two man boat and skipped across the water toward land. One last look had the moon casting a shadow on the form of a person.

  ****

  With tears muddying her eyes Abby watched the small boat leaving the island. She’d been too late. He was gone. Her heart clutched tight in her chest as she prayed for guidance. Of all people it was Cleric Gonnerth that told her to go. She’d heard Abby’s declaration.

  “Never have I heard a declaration filled with so much love. Unlike the other’s I’ve heard declare, you spoke from your heart.”

  She had. Why was saving the King and Queen so important to Barton? They had sons. Multiple. Sure, the oldest hadn’t been chosen—

  Abby turned toward the castle. That was why they stormed it. He was somewhere among the guests… Worse yet he could have contracted the illness. Sprinting back to the castle she threw caution aside for the betterment of all.

  “What are you doing back?” Gonnerth asked as she passed Abby a lantern.

  The infirmary didn’t even have the moonlight she’d used to sneak back through the castle. Only lanterns and a few candles lit the rooms. She’d expected panic; instead, the injured were handling the added darkness without fear. How long had she been gone? She was sure when the lights were first cut there would have been some sort of reaction. Instead she encountered calm.