by Smith, S. E.
3
“How long does Walkyr have?” Vox demanded, pacing back and forth inside the rebel command tent.
Pallu glanced down at the screen in his hands. “Eighteen hours. He’ll make it,” he said.
“He’d better. Keep me posted,” Vox ordered.
Pallu nodded and his older brother pulled open the flap to the tent and stepped outside. Pallu inhaled deeply and released it slowly. It was going to be a long eighteen hours.
“What’s wrong?” Arrow asked, looking up from the console where he was working.
Pallu walked over and sat down on a crate next to the computer system Arrow was setting up. He glumly stared down at the screen in his hand before he held it out to Arrow. The Curizan frowned and took the tablet.
“There’s nothing there. What am I supposed to be looking for?” Arrow asked, looking up at him.
Pallu took the tablet back and waved it at the other man. “Exactly! There is nothing there, but there should be something there. A whole line of somethings and a moving dot! Walkyr is wearing one of the sensors we created. He left with a bag of markers that should be lighting up the screen. Instead, there is nothing! No markers, no moving sensor, no way to track and find him if he doesn’t make it back in time,” he growled, tossing the tablet onto the crate beside him.
Arrow shook his head. “That’s impossible. We tested it. There must be something wrong with your tablet,” he insisted.
Pallu looked at Arrow with a raised eyebrow. “There’s not, but you’re welcome to try yours. The tracker’s identification signal was showing up before I gave it Walkyr. Even if it malfunctioned, the markers should still register on the map. You try to explain how a thousand of them can all go bad at once,” he retorted.
Pallu folded his arms across his chest and watched Arrow run the program through his own tablet—again and again. Arrow’s initial disbelief quickly changed to a growl of aggravation, and he glared at Pallu.
Pallu raised his hands. “I’m just as frustrated as you are. We tested the device extensively, and it didn’t fail a single trial,” he reminded Arrow.
“We need to test it again. There has to be some reason for why it’s not showing up,” Arrow grumbled.
Pallu thought for a moment. He looked up at the doorway and the dense mist beyond, swirling around outside of the encampment.
The shields had been restored once the camp was overtaken. Unfortunately, the few men who hadn’t fought to the death took poison just like the two he and Walkyr had encountered earlier. Fortunately for Vox, Pallu had been prepared and managed to give one of the traitors an antidote before the poison had a chance to kill the man. Of course, the man was still in critical condition and had to be transported back to the city for additional healing before he could be interrogated.
“Do you think the mist is causing the interference?” Pallu mused.
Arrow thought for a moment before he shrugged. “It is possible. After all, none of the scanners have been able to penetrate it. We were working on the assumption that the markers would eliminate all interference by placing a line-of-sight tracking system. Since there were no disruption devices or magnetic fields detected, we assumed that the markers placed at regular intervals would overcome the issue,” Arrow responded.
“We should test the theory. If it is an issue, we have less than eighteen hours to figure out how to correct it, otherwise, Walkyr could be in serious trouble,” Pallu stated, grabbing the tablet next to him and rising to his feet.
Arrow nodded and looked out across the thick mist. “If he isn’t already,” Arrow muttered.
* * *
Walkyr jumped over a fallen tree, keeping a steady pace as he followed the glowing orb. His mind drifted as he ran. He replayed the information he knew over and over in his mind in an effort to connect any pieces of the puzzle that he might have missed.
He broke down the data into three separate categories to make it easier to distinguish the facts from the myths. First, he focused on his own personal experience. He sorted through everything he knew about the Great War, including who and what had been behind the start of the conflict.
Centuries ago, a secret group of men and women led by Valdier, Curizan, and Sarafin nobles and their followers united to form a secular faction. The group had used their positions to undermine the royal families that ruled over the three worlds.
The group called themselves The Enlightenment. Their members were made up of rebels from a variety of different species. What concerned Walkyr was that they had recruited members of each royal family as well. Later, it was discovered that trusted warriors of the family had infiltrated and betrayed the people they were sworn to protect.
The group had used the members’ positions to begin a battle that had led to the Great War—a conflict between the three worlds that had lasted for centuries. It was not until a chance battle between Creon Reykill of the Valdier, Ha’ven Ha’darra of the Curizan, and Walkyr’s older brother, Vox, that the treachery had been uncovered. By then, thousands of warriors from each world had perished.
Personally, Walkyr questioned the current belief that the Valdier royal, Lord Raffvin, had been the leader of the entire operation. He had also been skeptical about the notion that only a few members of The Enlightenment still existed. The information he had discovered since his arrival confirmed his suspicion that the men from the encampment were in just one of several such groups searching for historical and/or mythical items of great importance and power.
He agreed that the deaths of Raffvin, a Valdier Royal, and Ben’qumain, a member of the Curizan royal family, had been a blow to the faction’s regime. However, the recent attack on his brother, Viper, proved that the group had not abandoned their ambitions.
Walkyr also didn’t believe that the only Sarafin members of the group were Vox’s two ex-lovers. Each of the females had died—Pursia by suicide and Eldora by poison—before she could tell them much. The other traitor, Bragnar, had been a low-level warrior who had died during the attack on Viper.
The men back at the rebel camp had been waiting for someone of importance. They suspected the person was the mysterious High Lord—the man whose face they had yet to see—but what if they were mistaken? What concerned him the most was that even without the information from the scroll, whoever had ordered the men to set up camp appeared to be one step ahead of the Sarafin Royal brothers. That meant there had to be a leak somewhere—and the only person that came to mind was the Curizan named Arrow. As much as he hated the idea, he couldn’t help asking himself if it was possible that Ha’ven’s half-brother was a spy for The Enlightenment.
I think a detailed look into Arrow’s background and any close associates might be necessary, he ruminated.
He decided to push the idea of Arrow’s possible involvement to the back of his mind for the moment. Instead, he turned his focus on what he remembered of the legends that he had learned about as a child.
The legends talked about where the Sarafin had come from and how they were given the ability to shape-shift. The legend claimed that what had been freely given to his people could also be taken away.
It was difficult to believe in such a thing with all of the technology at their disposal, but the possibility that it was true was difficult to ignore. He had seen many strange things in his life, and it was certainly possible that the ‘Goddess’ belonged to a rare species who had far more advanced technology than their own.
He jumped up on a log and sprang onto a low branch. Working his way up higher into the canopy, he hopped from one branch to another as his mind processed the last bit of information that he knew existed. The discovery of a scroll hidden deep in the archives had pieced together gaps between the facts and the myths.
It was said that a survivor of the Great War wrote it. This scroll documented the events of the attack. It told of a Princess, heavily pregnant with her first child, who was brutally betrayed by the one she loved. In desperation, Princess Mia had sacrificed her life and the
life of her newborn child to keep her people safe. According to the scroll, Princess Mia used the powers of the Heart of the Cat and then vanished. The problem was—no one knew what happened to the Princess and the Heart of the Cat. The scroll only said that Princess Mia was helped—by a Goddess.
And now I am following a golden orb through a thick mist to a mythical kingdom that hasn’t been seen in centuries, he thought with a silent snort.
Better than running in circles and lost, his cat chuckled in response as it closed the distance between Walkyr and the orb.
4
Several hours later, the hair along Walkyr’s back bristled and his cat hissed as it sensed an unknown threat coming up from behind and below him. He perched on the thick branch of a tree he had climbed a few moments ago and held perfectly still. The tree shook. Whatever was coming, it was large.
His eyes narrowed when he finally saw what his cat had sensed—Pactors! How in the hell those beasts were on Sarafin he had no idea. They were mean, disagreeable creatures who ate just about anything—including people. The Antrox, a slender insectoid species known for their mercenary greed, were the only ones he knew that used them for their asteroid mining operations. Keeping them well fed and harnessed was a top priority in those operations, for the safety of everyone—but he did personally know two crazy people who cared about the beasts: Lady Ariel Reykill and the Twin Dragons’ mate, Melina.
He closely observed the leader of the herd. There was something—or he should say someone—else down there. Partially hidden by the trunk of the lead Pactor, Walkyr could see the end of a walking stick.
Walkyr crouched, turned, and followed the creatures. He silently jumped from branch to branch until the tree line ended near a wide river. The group of Pactors stepped onto the rocky embankment and down into the river. Only when every beast had waded into the river did Walkyr turn his attention to the lone figure carrying the walking stick.
Disappointment washed through him when he saw it was a young, hesitant Pactor with a slender branch held in his trunk. Walkyr watched as the largest Pactor turned and released a series of soft grunts. The young Pactor reluctantly walked toward the river and tentatively entered the water. Walkyr’s cat snickered when the juvenile Pactor batted the stick at the Pactor in charge before turning its back to it.
I’m glad you think they’re amusing. You do realize that they wouldn’t think twice about eating us, don’t you? Walkyr dryly mentioned.
His cat snorted, as if it were insulted. Walkyr was about to stress his point—but a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. The golden orb floated several yards away from where he was crouched. Walkyr released an exasperated groan when he felt his cat’s response.
The damn thing thought this was a game! Rising to his feet, he shook his head a little to dislodge a few markers before running along the branch. He tensed and leaped through the air, landing on a branch in the next tree. His back legs slipped a bit on the branch and he flicked his tail back and forth to adjust his balance. He dug his claws into the stiff bark.
Ahead of him, the orb continued to float just out of his reach. He had been following the thing for hours now. He jumped from one limb to another until he came to an area farther up river where he would have to leave the safety of the high ground so that he could cross to the opposite river bank.
At least no Pactor here, his cat reasoned.
Thank the Goddess for small favors, Walkyr growled.
He scanned the river bank before he hopped from branch to lower branch until he was close enough to safely jump the rest of the way to the ground. His massive paws sank into the moist, leaf-covered soil.
The orb paused as Walkyr hesitated to move out into the open. After making sure there was no immediate threat, Walkyr padded across the uneven rocky ground to the edge of the river, and waded in. It wasn’t long until the chilly water was deep enough that Walkyr needed to swim. With his back legs he pushed off the last bit of river bed he could reach and began paddling across the wide river.
The current was swift, pulling and pushing him downstream. He pumped his powerful front and back legs like pistons, cutting a path through the current. He kept his gaze on the floating orb that hovered above the far bank.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a group of boulders rising out of the water. His cat hissed, knowing that he was in danger of colliding with them. Walkyr swam faster.
A curse exploded through his mind when he realized that he wouldn’t make it to an area shallow enough to brace his feet. A hole in the riverbed caused the water to swirl fiercely, and Walkyr was caught in the whirlpool. The strong current spun his cat in a dizzying whirl of wet fur and extended claws. He went under, and the churning of the water pushed his cat down to the riverbed.
His cat pushed off the rocky bottom and struggled toward the surface. Walkyr hissed out a warning when he saw that they were going to collide with the group of boulders. His cat twisted so that he was facing the danger and managed to impact with all four paws against the rocks. Unfortunately, one of his back feet slipped on the algae covered rocky surface and became caught between two boulders. Pain shot through his leg when the current tried to pull him around.
His cat struggled to lift his head above the water and barely broke the surface. Opening his mouth, he dropped the small bag of markers he was carrying. The cat made a desperate grab for it with his nearest front paw, but it was too late. The small black sack bobbed along the surface before disappearing from sight.
Stuck, his cat snarled, struggling to break free.
His front paws slid off the rocks and his head dipped under the water again. Walkyr scrambled for a hold, but the algae made it impossible to get a good grip while in this form. In desperation, he ordered his cat to shift back into his two-legged form.
With dexterous hands, Walkyr braced against the two rocks that formed the crevice where his foot was caught. It was a much more painful fit than when he was a cat. Holding on, he tilted his head back to draw in a deep breath of air before he sank back down beneath the surface.
He placed his other booted foot against the rock and pushed. The sole of his boot slipped on the rock again and again, which caused his caught foot to become more solidly wedged. His lungs burned with the need for oxygen. Frustration poured through him as he fruitlessly struggled to pull his foot free. He clawed at the rocks, trying to pull them apart, but between the angle and the constant tugging of the current, he couldn’t get a good grip.
He began to convulse, his lungs demanding oxygen. His arms trembled as he fought to tilt his head back far enough to break the surface again, but unfortunately, he had slipped lower during his struggles.
Dark spots began to dance before his eyes and then he suddenly felt something soft wrap around his waist. The extra support against his back held him steady against the strong current. The boulders parted, and he yanked his leg free.
Walkyr’s head cleared the surface and he took deep, gasping breaths of air. Then he was suddenly lifted clear of the water. He lowered his hands and touched the soft hide covered flesh wrapped around his waist. Turning his head, his choked gasps froze in his chest, when he saw who—or should he say what—had come to his rescue.
He dangled like a child’s doll from the trunk of a large Pactor as it carried him to the shore. He glanced over at the other Pactors who were rolling the boulders as if they were marbles instead of massive rocks. A squeal drew his attention to the shore, and his mouth dropped open when he saw the baby Pactor coming toward him with its trunk up, gaily waving the walking stick like an excited drum major.
It think you is dinner, his cat hissed. It scratched at him to break free.
With a sense of growing apprehension, Walkyr watched the juvenile’s mouth open to show large flat teeth made for grinding. Up close he could see the jagged points on the inside that were made for cutting and shredding.
He gripped the gray trunk around his waist and fought to loosen the creature’s hold
on him. He opened his mouth to snarl in warning but immediately clamped his mouth shut when he was licked from chin to forehead.
Walkyr closed his eyes when he felt a glob of sticky slobber coat his face. He snapped his head back when the juvenile tried to give him the slender branch held in its trunk. Lifting a hand, Walkyr cleared the slime from his eyes before he reached out and grabbed the end of the stick.
He blinked in confusion when the Pactor scrambled back several steps and looked at him with an expectant expression. Unsure of what the beast wanted, he tossed the stick away. The juvenile immediately went after the branch, picked it up, and brought it back to him.
“I think I’ve seen everything now,” he muttered in disbelief when the juvenile backed up once again.
It want to play, his cat chuckled.
“Obviously,” Walkyr responded with a shake of his head.
He took the branch and tossed it again. The Pactor holding him must have been happy with what he was doing because instead of tearing him apart and eating him, the beast set him down on the sandy, rock-covered bank. He took several steps back and faced the group of Pactors that had come to his rescue.
He studied the outcropping of boulders where he had nearly died. The two boulders that had trapped his foot were now several feet apart. There was no denying that the creatures were strong. So, why hadn’t they ripped him apart?
He turned his gaze back to the juvenile Pactor. His eyes widened when he saw that it had a new distraction—the golden orb. The smaller Pactor was squeaking and reaching out its short trunk to the orb that danced slightly out of reach.
The orb floated in a semi-circle, pausing briefly by each Pactor before it floated purposefully toward the trees. The Pactors parted. Walkyr slowly walked by each of them.
