by Bevan Greer
So Jace had manipulated Mikhel’s thoughts enough to ensure the male’s unquestioned trust.
It still didn’t sit well that the Legion had captured them on Kre. Jace had struggled, but fatigued by the fight with the Olm pirates, he’d been no match for Castor and his captors. Having the upper hand in the forest had been a balm to his ego.
With feigned concern, he asked, “Still feeling tender from that blow to the head?”
Shea and Roc chuckled. Castor’s bruised left eye bore testament to the short scuffle upon his entry to the Fen Forest, before Jace had sorted everything out.
The tension in the hall grew as Castor’s men crowded behind him. Jace recognized the Eyshan6 pilot, but other than him, these men looked unfamiliar save for their menacing expressions and Legion attire.
Jace straightened, his eyes blazing with provocation as he stared at Ren’s Second. Frustrated at not being allowed to join Dare on the quest for the Thrax, he welcomed a brawl to take his mind from it. From the gleam in Castor’s eyes, he figured the warrior felt the same needs driving him.
Roc and Shea flanked him. Their three against eight Legionnaires. Great odds as usual, he thought with sarcasm.
Many of the warriors behind Castor gave Roc a wary glance even as they gave Shea an appreciative one.
Castor huffed. “I’ve been looking forward to a good fight. Pity you’re all I’ve got.”
“Not bad.” Jace moved closer until he and Castor stood no more than an arm’s length apart. “Though you seem a bit weak in the head, you obviously have some muscle. Maybe we’ll get a decent fight out of you yet, now that I’m not bound of course.”
“And not surrounded by Fenturi rebels,” Castor replied in a similar tone.
Unfortunately, before the first blow could land, King Zebram strode into the hall, Myla and Thela hard on his heels. An older fellow and a Rovi warrior followed them. Castor swore at sight of the frowning king, and loud grumbling from his warriors told Jace he wouldn’t be getting the fight he’d wanted.
“Damn. I was looking forward to a good rumble,” Roc complained, and Shea stomped her small foot. “Me too. I hate the Legion.”
Zebram scowled at the crowd in the center of the hall.
Castor bowed low, as did the men behind him. Jace stood with Roc and Shea and waited, curious. He didn’t know what to make of the old woman. He’d never before heard of anyone not Psi having mystical powers. She’d explained previously, when Dare had still been on the planet, that her visions had shown only the Bylaran warrior twins, Ren and Dare on Ocaia talking with Aranthe.
She’d also mentioned Jace fighting alongside Castor and the others when the Horde came. When and not if they came. She’d had the look of a seeress, and he could see the mark of truth upon her.
“So the Horde waits in space to destroy us while you would do so from within the castle walls?” King Zebram asked in a dry voice.
Castor flushed. “No, Sire. We were just…explaining things to the offworlders.”
Zebram turned his dark green gaze, full of concern and intelligence, on Jace. Jace could easily see the resemblance to Ren, but the feral quality present in Ren was absent in the king’s self-possessed mien.
“Jace, you’re Dare’s Second aren’t you? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your companions.” Zebram nodded toward Roc and Shea.
“King Zebram, I’m pleased to introduce the rest of the SpaceStalker crew, Roc and Shea. Oh, and Mra,” Jace added when the guidecat appeared out of nowhere and stared at the royal leader.
“Of course, Mra.” The king’s lips quirked, but he bowed his head respectfully. Mra, surprisingly, nodded to him before she vanished again. “So, you’re the resilient crew of the SpaceStalker. Myla tells me you’re needed here.” He turned to the women at his side and introduced them.
Castor and his men stood quietly while Zebram spoke. While Castor remained respectful, he wasn’t exactly fawning at his liege’s feet. Against Jace’s better judgment, he found himself liking Castor for it. Then the large warrior frowned at him, and he fought to contain his amusement…until Shea spoke.
“Why should we listen to Myla? Why should we want to do anything to help the Legion?” Shea asked with a snort. “It’s common knowledge you people run right over anyone who opposes your sense of what’s right and wrong.”
Roc stood silently, but Jace could almost feel the large Rovi sigh. Trust the hotheaded Lynaran not to keep a civil tongue in her head.
Zebram nodded. “Good point. But at least we’re the lesser of two evils.” A surprising admission from the new Bylaran monarchy. “I don’t think you’re going to like the Horde much better. Besides, the Legion has done a wonderful job keeping you in riches, eh Mistress Thief?”
Shea shut her mouth with a snap that had Roc grinning. Despite the danger the king posed, Jace respected anyone who could get Shea to shut up so nicely.
“Well spoken, your majesty,” Roc said. “But if you could tell us what exactly you want with us?”
Myla answered. “In three days time the Horde will arrive. They will attack Bylar first. The Deni moon was merely a warning. We must prepare, and we’ll need all of you to make this work.” She studied Shea for a moment longer before turning back to Zebram. “Sire, Castor and Jace must remain by your side at all times.”
Castor and Jace looked at each other with puzzlement.
Zebram nodded. “Come with me, you two. Shea, you and Thela will attend Myla.” When Roc moved to join them, Zebram raised his brow but said nothing.
“But why do you need me?” Jace asked. “I’m no Legionnaire.”
“That’s the truth,” Castor muttered, and his men chuckled.
“Just do as the king says.” Myla shook her head and physically pushed Jace toward Zebram. “Don’t question so much. Suffice it to say you two have a part to play in Bylaran history. Everything is connected. Everything,” she emphasized and looked into Jace’s eyes.
A vision of Dare hit him hard, and he nodded warily at the old woman before joining the king and Castor.
“The rest of you,” Zebram said to the remaining Stalkers, “will assist Koneru and Cyka to evacuate the village. We have little time to spare, so move.”
Koneru and Roc acknowledged each other, a quiet grunt from Rovi to Rovi.
If I only had their strength. Jace joined the king and Castor. Mental powers were all well and good when dealing with sentient beings. But against a foe like the Horde, he wondered how much being a Psi would help. They had but three days…
***
While the Vinopol kingdom seethed with desperate action, the small crew of the Eyshan6 battled the raging winds and waters that threatened to toss them into the churning blue-gray ocean below. Exposed against the elements as they sought shelter in Aranthe’s home, the twins moved ahead while Ren sheltered Dare as best he could against the storm.
They had parked the ship on a large rounded platform less than a hundred feet above the water. The platform connected to a sheltered abode by a long, narrow and uncovered walkway. The trip had been rough, but they now sat in the heart of Isus, Ocaia’s fiercest planetary water storm. Only two days out of every Ocaian year were completely calm, when the three isolated storms on the planet quieted for a short time.
Unfortunately, they had arrived in the heart of the large season, when Isus, Necre, and Shaor raged to torment their Ocaian natives.
The four of them hurried along the walkway and entered Aranthe’s shelter, greeted by a bellow of a welcome. Ren marveled that the Ocaian could live in the heart of such a tempest. The wind and rain blew ceaselessly, the waters around them too rough and choppy to enjoy.
From what he knew of the Ocaians, they lived their lives both above and below the water. Ren studied the warm shelter around him with curiosity. In Aranthe’s case, the shelter provided him with a warm, dry land dwelling while the four pool entrances in the corners of the main room granted him entrance to the Ocaian depths.
Conside
ring that Aranthe’s home sat far above the water, Ren could only assume large tubes provided a connection between the waters below them and the floor of Aranthe’s dwelling. The floor was surprisingly dry and soft, made of some foreign material Ren had never before seen.
A cooking area sat to the far left of the abode while a spacious but centered area of chairs and a table sat in the middle of the room. The four pools sitting in each corner of the main room each held a distinct color from the others.
Aranthe cleared his throat, and Ren glanced up, then looked at the others to see what they made of the Ocaian.
The group of them stared at Aranthe, curious to meet the man who could show them the Thrax. He stood a head shorter than Dare, his eyes completely black and lidless. His skin looked slightly blue in the flickering light waving over the walls of his home. The light from the crystals spaced throughout the home, reflected off of the corner pools, and gave the room a look of motion.
“Welcome, welcome,” Aranthe said in a surprisingly deep tone at odds with his slight frame. His voice seemed almost garbled, as if they heard him speaking under water. As one, they stared at him in fascination while he stared back.
Aranthe looked first at the twins, nodding to himself. Then he turned his black eyes on Dare and smiled. She smiled back, and the Ocaian beamed brighter. When he turned his head to see Ren, the male’s limp white hair parted to show the slits in his neck. Gills for breathing underwater.
Aranthe cackled. “You’re all Fenturi. Hate the water, eh?”
Ren didn’t know what to say when Aranthe suddenly pounced on him with the speed of a stalker cat.
Unable to do react in time, Ren found himself caught in the Ocaian’s steely grip as Aranthe plunged them both into a dark blue pool of water to Ren’s immediate left.
Ren heard the startled voices of the twins and Dare above him, but then the water rushed over him, through him. He tried to hold his breath, but his struggles with Aranthe only furthered his need for breathable air. Soon his resistance ceased, and he found himself staring helplessly at Aranthe as the man dragged him through the water with preternatural speed.
Then Aranthe changed in front of his eyes.
By the Dark World, I am in so much trouble…
-15-
“What is this place?” Ren asked. His words flew through the water, sounding strangely garbled but easily understood. The lack of air didn’t bother him, and Ren didn’t understand how he could still be alive without air for so long.
After the odd man had nearly drowned him, Ren floated in suspension and stared in fascination as the peculiar Ocaian who’d changed into something even stranger.
The man now had long black hair that floated about his head like waterweed. His skin had turned a dark blue and seemed almost scaly. Gills flared at his neck, absorbing the air Ren should have needed, but somehow didn’t.
“You’re alive and well, Marithynos.” Aranthe grinned, exposing sharp white teeth. “As are the others.”
“Marithynos?” Ren remembered what Myla had said. “You think I can tell you where the Thrax is? Look, Aranthe, Myla and Methan both said you were the only one who knew where it was. And damn it, why aren’t my words bubbling? How am I breathing?” This unnatural state of was a source of distraction, for sure.
Even worse, Ren felt Dare’s worry for him. Yet her fears for his safety made him feel better, as did Aranthe’s amusement. The black-eyed stare of the Ocaian reminded him of Jace’s eyes, and Ren felt less concerned about his welfare.
“Relax, Marithynos. Naught can harm you here.” Aranthe swam further down, motioning Ren to follow him.
Not understanding how he could see in the black waters around him, let alone understand Aranthe, Ren swam after him awkwardly, seeking answers.
They swam several more feet until they rounded a bend, and the water became a large pool once more. Ren broke through the surface to breathe in cool air, but Aranthe continued on, gliding through the water. Gracefully undulating, Aranthe moved with real swiftness.
Though he still possessed a human-like form, his hands and feet now appeared webbed, easing his movements. Ren struggled to keep up and felt himself straining until he finally reached Aranthe’s side.
“Here we are.” Aranthe pointed to the mouth of a cave large enough to accommodate Ren but not so large as to house anything larger than a full-grown Fenturi.
“You are supposed to be here. The water welcomes you.” Aranthe nodded. “Because you are meant to find it, you are not bothered by the conditions around you. Your friends, I fear, would not fare too well down here. I’m sorry I jumped you when I did, but I feared you would not have believed me otherwise. Fenturi hate the water,” Aranthe whispered, as if he didn’t want the water to hear.
“The water accepts me? You speak as if it’s alive.” He still had trouble believing he was this Marithynos person. Now he knew how Dare felt about being the Mari.
Aranthe chuckled. “The water is not alive; the Thrax is. It’s the Thrax that wants you to find it. I don’t know why or how it works, but only the Marithynos has the ability to withstand anything in his quest to find the weapon.”
“And I’m the Marithynos.” Ren still didn’t fully comprehend this new twist.
“Apparently, yes. I was told eight hundred fifty years ago, exactly to this day, to guard the Thrax. I would not be allowed to show its location to anyone save the being accompanied by the mirror men and the blue woman.”
“Mirror men? Blue woman? What are you talking about?”
“Look up.” Aranthe murmured under his breath, and Ren suddenly saw his three companions looking down at him through a hole of water in the rock ceiling above. How this could be so considering the distance and turns they’d traveled, Ren didn’t know. Nesh and Ned looked exactly alike, so “mirror men” fit.
“Dare?” She stared down at the water in concern, her body encased in a blue glow he’d never noticed before.
“That is how I see you,” Aranthe said, a flash of a glimmer in his otherwise flat black eyes. “I’m Wyrn, one of the Ocaian water folk.” He waved at the image above them, and it disappeared.
“Long ago, in the time before the Horde, a Nexian, an Ocaian and a Fentran met to design something that would shape our destinies. The Motherworld at that time was small, just three planets. There were few Nearworlds, no System and no Legion patrolling anything.
“Well, the three creators for some odd reason designed the Thrax. A Nexian gave the machine its structure. The Ocaian gave it water’s breath, and the Fenturi gave it life. The Thrax, when all is said and done, is alive,” Aranthe whispered with reverence.
“Alive?”
“Yes. I’ve thought about it throughout the years, and I suppose it was always meant to be. But it came from our hearts. Methan actually designed it. He’s a genius, but the design of the Thrax, once completed, baffled him. In the time since, he’s never been able to recreate it.
“My grandfather Nerine bathed the Thrax in the eye of Necre, and so the Thrax got a taste for water’s breath. I’ve heard the Thrax moves through space like it glides through water, gracefully and with ease.
“It’s funny, but as grandfather bathed the ship in the storm’s waters, he said it felt as if the Motherworlds had given birth. Perhaps not so odd once the Fentran had her way with it. The little Fenturi that powered the great machine looked on it with awe. I swear on the hold of Isus that her heart filled the energy hold and powered the great beast.”
Aranthe’s words painted a vivid picture in Ren’s mind, and as he thought about the Thrax, a sudden humming filled his ears with song.
He looked into the cave and saw the Thrax with startling clarity. He turned to his companion. “Do you see that?”
Aranthe shook his head. “It is not for me to see, but I feel it in there. You have found it, but you need the Mari to power it. This is the hard part, Garen.” Aranthe shrugged his apology, then explained what needed to be done.
***
&nb
sp; Nesh cursed in Fenturi and Bylaran.
“What can we do?” Ned frowned. They both turned to Dare, as if she had the answers.
She looked around her but felt lost to do anything. As if Aranthe and Ren had never been in the room, the corner pool didn’t so much as ripple. She leaned over the dark blue water and looked down but could see nothing, not even with her keen eyesight.
Then she heard something.
“Listen,” she ordered and motioned them closer. “I can’t see anything, but I hear noise.”
“It sounds garbled.” Nesh leaned closer.
Ned hesitantly put his hand in the water. Like Dare, he didn’t seem to like the feel of water on his skin. The Fenturi disdained water. Limber and strong on land, when it came to water they could barely manage to float.
“It sounds like Ren,” Dare said in amazement. Her startled blue eyes met Nesham’s as they all stilled and listened.
“He’s been down there a long time. Are we sure—” Nesh began.
“—he’s still alive?” Ned finished.
Dare nodded. “I can feel it. Besides, I don’t think Aranthe would let anything happen to him. Remember, Methan and Myla both sent us here to him.”
Just then Ren’s head broke the surface, followed by a very different Aranthe. Ren laughed and shook his hair out of his eyes. Water flew everywhere, and the twins cursed. Dare frowned, yet she loved hearing him laugh. From what she could see he appeared uninjured, but that laugh eased her tension away.
“Dare.” Ren paused and glanced at Aranthe.
“The Marithynos has found the Thrax,” Aranthe said. “But only you can power it.”
Dare looked back at them blankly, not understanding.
Ren blew out a breath. “Dare, I need to take you down with me to power it up.”
“Okay, I think.” Dare looked down at the dark blue water. It reminded her of the inky blackness of the Dark World voids, and she shivered as she stared into it. “So who’s the Marithynos?” she asked, still trying to figure out a way to avoid traveling through the water without appearing deathly afraid of drowning.
