The Maven Knight (The Maven Knight Trilogy Book 1)

by Matthew Romeo

  His response is raising a dark eyebrow in perturbed interest. His hazel eyes gaze into mine, and we both see hints that we’re masquerading.

  “Ey, checking us all out are you?” Devin suddenly boasts, turning his attention to me and giving a flirtatious wink. “I’m flattered, m’lady. But I can tell you, I’m more of a catch than the rest of these people, so why bother with them?”

  “Please, Devin. We both know that I’m much more good looking,” Vyck adds slyly, cocking an eyebrow. “She’d do better to observe my good looks over yours. We’d bone and make prettier babies.”

  “How about I observe the right to kick your teeth in?” I rebuke with a bit of venom, leaning forward threateningly.

  While I’m only eighteen, I know enough about men to tell which ones need lessons in respect.

  Devin is not fazed by my attitude, and instead raises his eyebrows and adds, “You’re a feisty little one aren’t you? Don’t worry; I’ll go easy on you for your first time.”

  “Leave her alone. Don’t you two have anything better to do than harass a girl?” the dark-skinned woman hisses, giving Devin a scathing glance.

  The others freeze for a moment. This is the first time she’s apparently uttered anything audible to anyone other than her male companion. I find it perplexing, but I give her a nod of appreciation regardless. Devin and Vyck shrug and continue cajoling the man up front.

  Ignoring them, I look at her squarely and give her a half-smile. “Thanks for that,” I say with gratitude. “I’m at a loss as to why you’d help me, not that I’m complaining.”

  “It’s the least I can do,” she shrugs with her shoulders. “After what you’ve been through, I don’t mind lending support, Sarina. You had a rough time the other night.”

  Taken aback momentarily, I adopt a look of wide-eyed astonishment. So something did happen. The night before last. A sense of familiarity clings to my mind. When did I meet her?

  “Have we met before?” I ask, leaning back with unease. I mustn’t betray my curiosity.

  She seems genuinely astounded. “You mean; you don’t remember that night?” she asks with raised eyebrows. “You were one of the brewers. Remus and I both ordered drinks from you at the bar.”

  Remus, I say to myself as I attempt to remember where I’d met them.

  “I’m having some… memory issues,” I reply with a quizzical look. “What was your name again?”

  “Aida,” she voices. “We were present when the riots kicked off. You were caught in the middle of it.”

  Even as she says it, my mind is still groggy and struggling to remember the details of the event. I blink and see fists and blood. Fire. My hand pressing a man’s face away. I inhale with dismay. What happened? If she was there, she can tell me what happened. But that feeling of mistrust grows stronger in me. Like vines growing to obscure a tree.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t remember anything,” I say, shaking my head as if to clear it.

  “I can explain more to you when we’re in a more civil environment, if you wish.” Aida glances at Devin and Vyck. “I don’t want the wrong ears listening in.”

  The vines of distrust are snaking all around the tree. Explain more alone? Wrong ears listening? I’m not ready to trust. Not so suddenly. For all I know, she might be the one responsible. She might not. One thing is certain. This is no coincidence.

  “Thanks for the offer,” I respond rather coldly. “But, I think I should figure that on my own.”

  Before Aida can respond to my statement, Devin and Vyck pipe up again with renewed vigor. They glance at the rest of us.

  “Well, now that we’re getting all cozy, why don’t we try and get the fragging Hells out of here?” Devin snorts loudly, eyeing the exit ramp to the compartment. “I don’t plan on working in a salvage Pit for the rest of my life.”

  I’m being shipped off to a Pit? I wonder frantically. What could have possibly happened that night to cause this?

  Vyck glances over at the man chained at the front of the cabin. “Well, maybe he’ll kindly represent all of us,” Vyck adopts a smirk on his boyish face. “Don’t think we forgot about you, good sir.”

  The hooded man looks up at us with cold apathy. The look in his eye is both haughty and dangerous. Instantly there is a feeling of icy terror emanating from everyone in the room.

  Although his expression is hard to read, his intentions become clear. He straightens his back as if he’s about to stand up.

  “Oh you won’t be forgetting this anytime soon, dear ones,” he says in a portentous voice. It resonates throughout the cabin.

  Silence elapses for a moment as we sit in unease. Despite the chains binding him to the floor, his dark omnipresence is not contained. In some strange sense, it is almost charismatic.

  But that ominous foreboding in his words tells me that something is about to happen to him. About to happen to us.

  “By the Sage God, he speaks,” Vivían comments in genuine astonishment, her eyes are wide with curiosity and trepidation. “Although, I figured your voice would be deeper.”

  “What in all the Hells are you talking about, man?” Devin addresses the man, his face conceited. “Forgetting what?”

  The prisoner cracks his neck with a minor grunt. “Let’s just say that this trip here is going to be cut a bit short.” His words ooze with chilling aloofness.

  In eerie conjunction with his words, there is a flash of ruby light and the cuffs binding him shatter. The remains of metal clank unto the floor. I stare at him incredulously. How? Is he a fragging magician? He stands up, stretches, cracks his back, and lowers his hood. His full mess of black hair drapes to his shoulders—and his aloof demeanor shifts to one of purpose.

  He starts to walk through the center aisle with stern intent, clearly heading towards the exit ramp at the back of the convoy. His shoes tap against the metal floor. Movements are almost regal, arrogant in a sense. Like he’s about to attend an opera.

  As he passes us, Devin shows slight fear on his face and asks, “Who in all the Hells are you?”

  The man pauses for a brief moment and looks over at Devin, clearly vexed in posture but there is a small hint of eccentricity emanating from him. Perhaps it’s genuine or perhaps it’s stirred by his own haughtiness that he considered and paused for Devin’s question.

  I can’t see the look on his face, but I’m sure it is one of shrewd confidence as he says, “You can call me Septem. Not that it matters now.”

  I tilt my head in utter bewilderment at the sound of his name as some others also trade looks of perturbation and slight trepidation. His name is from an older dialect, one that hasn’t been used for at least ten Cycles. It is more number than name.

  As Septem walks back towards the exit ramp, I remark in a sharp voice, “What in the fragging Hells kind of name is that?”

  Septem says nothing as he reaches for the activation switches at the back of the cabin.

  “It’s not my name,” he finally says in a baleful voice, glancing over his shoulder at me. “It’s my title.”

  He then turns his head away and glances coldly at Remus, who in turn gives him a grim look; the likes of which sends shivers down my spine. The standoff happens for only a few seconds before Septem turns his gaze back towards the opening ramp.

  The ramp begins to slide open. Over the metallic clicks and scrapes is a screeching sound as the ramp begins to open and reveal the outside world to us.

  We’re flying nearly ten meters above golden sand dunes that weave across a vast expanse of land while occasional rock formations dot the terrain. The rock formations seem large enough to support caves or underground crevasses while the dunes vary in height and depth. Golden sunlight reflects off the sand with an almost etheric glow of heat as the gust of the engines kicks up clouds of sand dust.

  Septem turns to give us a mocking salute before leaping off the ramp. I’m instantly dumbfounded. Is he manic? But a more dreadful fact takes my attention. As the convoy continues to move though, th
e dunes fail to yield any variation of terrain, which leads me to one stressful conclusion.

  We’re in the middle of the Pyrack, I think to myself. Shit.

  The convoy suddenly lurches to its starboard side. An explosion rattles through the air. My head snaps back in whiplash. Seconds later, I feel the ship swiftly descend towards the ground at an incredible speed. Klaxons ring through the chamber as muffled shouting emanates from the cockpit. I feel the ship spiraling downward. Sparks fly from the ceiling lights as they short out, and loose materials start to cascade unto the floor.

  Around me, everyone is attempting to brace for impact. Sheer terror is on most of their faces. Except for Vivían. Her eyes gleam madly with excitement and she laughs.

  “Ey guys, in case it’s unclear,” Devin yells over the commotion, clearly bracing himself. “Hang the fragging Hells on to something!”

  “No shit!” I call back, attempting to cling to my cuffs as a security measure.

  I’m not sure what I’m going to accomplish by holding on to my chains, but in a state of panic, it is all I can think to do. And after another moment, the convoy hits the ground.

  Chapter 6: Sarina

  Left for Dead

  EVEN AS I ATTEMPT to brace myself, I feel the ship collide with the ground before it flings all of us towards the front cabin. We all land in various places due to the placement of our chains: the walls, floor, or the opposite bench. I’m thrown to the floor as the back of my head strikes the oxidized iron, driving the breath from me and causing my eyes to lose focus for a moment. While disoriented, I glimpse Devin landing in a similar fashion a few feet next to me; his face contorts as his back hits the flooring.

  After hitting the ground, I can feel the vibrations of the convoy skidding through the sandy terrain and crashing into various rock formations. The ship starts to capsize; causing everything to fall towards the starboard side as the convoy turns on itself.

  There is chaos. Fear grips my chest and I close my eyes as if to hide from the pandemonium. I can’t. My teeth chatter as the ship shakes and turns.

  Upon capsizing, all of the crates and packages within the cubbies and shelves cascade from their resting spots and tumble to the now-capsized ceiling. Sparks flash through the air and clouds of sand are kicked up from the impact and pouring into the compartment from the opening. A loose object hurls itself towards me and strikes the left side of my face, driving the breath from me and sending pain into my cheek.

  The ship comes to a sudden halt as I reorient myself from the shock of being hit in the face.

  All of the loose crates and packages are scattered across the capsized ceiling as piles of golden sand cake the corners and edges of the ground. Floor panels are loose, electrical wires have been strewn about, and sparks frequently flicker from the broken florescent lights. Fluids of various sorts leak from cracks in the hull, and the stench of fried circuitry and burning oil wafts through the air.

  The rest of us are all dangling five meters in the air from the capsized benches, our chains still securely bolted to the seats. Part of me laughs at the ridiculous sight. Seven people all hanging down like puppets.

  I take a quick look around to see if my fellow prisoners have sustained any injuries. To my disappointment, both Vyck and Devin remain unharmed and are attempting to free themselves from their cuffs. Part of me wishes they had been injured, mainly for the sake of initializing a bit of humility on their parts. Remus has been knocked unconscious by something and a small trickle of blood seeps from under his hairline. Aida is doing her best to get free and tend to him despite her injuries. I admire her priorities.

  Vivían is gingerly working to get free since her cuffs managed to cut into her wrists, drawing a fair amount of blood in the process. She pauses to regard me with a pained, yet concerned gaze.

  “Hanging in there?” she comments. “Not meaning to spout shitty puns already.”

  “I was thinking something similar, but I didn’t want to steal your thunder,” I grunt with a smirk as Vivían reorients her attention.

  Turning my head, I notice the young salvager dangling a meter away from me. Unconscious and bleeding from a gash on his forehead. He’s barely breathing. I can hear something outside of the ship. Movement. A strange sense of urgency builds within me. I need to get him down. I need to get down.

  Looking up, I notice the chains holding me are bolted to the floor by only one, rusted screw. It’s been loosened by the crash. In my dangling state, I realize that I might break the screw if I put my full weight in momentum down on the chains. A long shot, but it is the best idea I can think of.

  Using my legs, I start to swing back and forth before using the downward momentum to yank on the chain. I fail at the first attempt and the screw let out a mere creak as I begin to swing back and forth helplessly. It takes several tries, but eventually I’m able to pull the chain at the right instant that causes the rusted screw to snap with a click. I fall to the ground.

  While I land with less grace than I intended, I stumble for a moment as a sharp pain curls up within both of my legs. I shake it off. Immediately, I scour for something to pick the locks on my restraints, eventually coming across some flayed metal wires. Familiar with picking locks, I proceed with relative ease and unlock the cuffs after a moment of tinkering with the locking mechanisms. My chains fall to the ground with several loud clanks. I glance around.

  Vyck and Devin have also managed to free themselves and are scouring the dispersed equipment for anything of use. Aida has also succeeded in freeing herself and is attempting to figure out how to free the cataleptic Remus from his chains. Vivían has obtained some of the flayed cables above her and is endeavoring to pick the locks in her manacles. Her high competency causes me to focus on helping the unconscious young salvager.

  Still unconscious and bleeding from his forehead, the man hangs from the shackle like a marionette in mid show. I start to fear for him. His breathing stops.

  I note that one of the links in his chain is worn and thin, close to snapping in half due to the rust. I realize that a strong tug with enough weight could potentially break it, a much easier way than breaking the screw bolting it to the ceiling.

  However, even if I managed to break the chain, his wilted body would crash to the floor and likely cause him more impairment. Part of me wonders why I even care so much for his wellbeing. But I can’t just let him die.

  ​The movement outside is growing louder. The others begin to sense it as well. Outlanders? Dune whargs? I’ve heard stories about shipwrecks being immediately swarmed by those creatures, survivors are ripped to shreds. A howl emanates from beyond the ship.

  ​Panic rushing through my chest, I yank the salvager from his chain and do my best to ease his fall. It’s less graceful than I’d hoped. His body tumbles atop mine, and I’m forced to roll him off. Seconds later, I start trying to resuscitate him.

  ​I hear Devin whistle. “Ey, now that’s some fierce foreplay if I ever saw. Get him girl!”

  ​“Time to get boned,” Vyck adds. I see them staring at the scene out of the corner of my eye.

  ​I do my best to ignore their piggish jeering and continue pressing the salvager’s chest. Twenty-nine. Thirty. I breathe twice into his mouth, pinching his nose. Nothing.

  ​C’mon, c’mon! I say to myself, starting the count over again. I get to thirty again and breathe into his mouth.

  ​He spurts up. Coughing and trying to suck in air. His eyes are still closed, but his breathing stabilizes. Adrenaline still fuels me. I hear Devin and Vyck clapping condescendingly.

  ​“Two minutes and he’s done?” Devin snorts. “Shit, must’ve been his first time. Needs to work on lasting longer for our lady here.”

  With disgust and anger fueling me, I whirl on him and throw my clenched right fist into his jaw. While I don’t use all of my strength to hit him, he’s still taken aback by the attack and grunts in shock. He takes a step back while Vyck jumps to his defense.

  “Go frag yoursel
f,” I hiss, entering a defensive stance in the event of a counter attack. “Maybe you’d be more useful if you actually helped instead of standing and scratching your balls.”

  Devin straightens his posture and stretches his neck, almost like my punch barely fazed him. Something emanates from him though. His broad chest puffs up and his eyebrows raise.

  He says nothing in response to my attack, but his eyes reflect a hint of eager surprise. He gives a mischievous smile and starts to say something when Aida shouts, “Knock it off! Something’s heading this way!”

  Another howl punctuates her sentence, and Devin and I both adopt looks of dread. Our squabble has ended. But now, we need to prepare for whatever is out there. Everyone else has managed to escape their chains and shackles and Remus has regained consciousness.

  ​There is a sickened look of pain on his face, but there is also fear. Howls emits from the desert beyond the hull, barely fifty meters away it seems. We all start to rush to patch wounds and find weapons of any sort. Remus sits with his back against the hull, still in a state of shock.

  ​Devin and Vyck gather their chains, seemingly with the intent to use them as weapons. Crude and impractical, it is better than nothing. I grab a length of metal pipe for protection.

  Movement is right outside the hull, making its way towards the open ramp. Something is growling. Definitely a dune wharg. Before I can consider it further, Devin and Vyck dart past me and head towards the opening of the ship. Instantly I think they’re trying to flee, but then I see them take cover behind the parapets flanking the opening. Alarm strikes their faces, and sweat glistens on their pale foreheads.

  “It’s right outside,” Devin warns in a quiet voice, tinged with urgency. “Take cover and remain quiet. I smell wharg fur.”

  A surge of adrenaline rushes through me, and I dart up to the entrance and take cover next to Vyck. Why did I do this? I’m not much of a fighter. Especially against a beast. But it was all I could think to do. Survive or die.