by CM Raymond
Olaf looked at Mika, who smiled back at him. “I’m glad to hear it. Mika was right that the remnant you fought the other day weren’t from around here. But some of their armor was, which means they could be part of a much larger group.”
“I agree,” Mika jumped in. “Urai can defend itself, but not all the communities in this region are as strong. If a large enough force rolled through, it could mean trouble.”
Olaf nodded. “Then I’ll go. Mika, would you stay here as well? As much as I trust Ezekiel, it would be nice to know that someone without gray hair was guarding the place.”
“Watch who you’re calling old,” Ezekiel said. “You’ve got me beat by by several centuries.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t look a day older than fifty,” Mika said as she gave the large man a kiss. “And I will gladly stay behind. Someone needs to keep training the troops.”
Ezekiel shook his head. “I don’t envy the work you’re about to put them all through, Mika. And I don’t envy any remnant you stumble across in your journey, Olaf. Give them hell.”
He smiled. “I always do. I plan on leaving tonight, but don’t expect me to return before the end of the month. When I get back, I hope to see a true fighting force worthy of the name ‘New Romanov.’”
****
Parker, Hannah, and Laurel traveled in silence for over an hour. Now fully risen, the sun was heating the dense forest around them. Sweat dripped down Parker’s face, and he couldn’t believe he wished that the rains would come again. But when they found a gap in the canopy, the sky was so clear and blue that it looked like the rain had left forever.
Sal circled them once overhead and came in for a landing. The big oaf was getting better. No more than a month ago, he would’ve needed twice the space to bring down his enormous body. Thankfully for the crew of the Unlawful, the dragon seemed to have stopped growing—or at least perceptibly so.
Hannah approached her dragon and gave him the usual scratch under the chin. Sal blinked his eyes three or four times, then nodded his head in the direction they were traveling and stomped his foot on the ground.
“You two have your own language now, or what?” Parker asked with a grin.
Hannah placed her hand under his chin again and tilted Sal’s head toward her. “Not quite. We’re getting there. He’s trying to tell us there’s something ahead. Isn’t that right, Sal?”
Sal let out a little growl, bobbing his smooth head up and down.
“See?” Hannah said. “I have a way of understanding men.”
Laurel laughed. “That dragon is smarter than most of the men I’ve ever met. And he smells better, too.”
“Hey!” Parker scowled. “I resemble that comment.”
Hannah held in a laugh and turned in the direction of their travel. “All right, enough yucks. We need to push ahead. Stay close, and Sal, you take up the rear. You might be smart, but you’re still far from graceful.”
The dragon dipped his head and let out something between a growl and a purr.
“Yeah, sorry, buddy. Truth hurts.” She looked at Laurel and Parker. “Be ready. Remember that our target is the tech, not some group of strange cat-people. We need to get in, acquire the package, and get the hell out of here. Stick to the plan.”
Parker snickered. “I seem to remember you saying something similar back in the Jannas mines.”
The words “Screw you” played near her lips but she held them in, opting to turn and walk into the thick jungle undergrowth. A few yards in, Hannah heard the voices. One was high, lithe, and laced with desperation. The other was deep and filled with a growl that made Hannah’s hair stand up on the back of her neck. They froze in place, crouching in the thick cover provided by the jungle.
“Please, Amur. There’s no need for violence,” the cat with the higher voice said. “Leave us alone, and we will go our separate ways.”
Hannah pushed through the leaves, the last row revealing an open area. A line of spotted cat-men, strong and tall, stood facing a group of similar creatures, only these were smaller and trimmer. A man from the smaller-statured tribe stood in front of a group of cowering creatures who looked like him. He held his arms wide, as if he were trying to ward them from the giant cats in front of him.
“They broke the rules, Vitali” one of the large cats growled. “They were hunting on our land. You know what the consequence is.”
“Please,” the small one named Vitali said. “They’re just children.”
Amur smiled. “They will die all the same.”
The large cat swiped a powerful claw forward to take Vitali’s head off, but the young cat-man was fast.
Before Amur’s hand came close to contact, he dropped and spun out of the way. Raising his chin to the sky he let out a lethal hiss, warning all those that might stand against him that his position was worth dying for—and it would only be taken with their own blood.
Parker dropped a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “The plan,” he whispered. “This is none of our business. Let them do their thing.”
She shot a glance at him and gave the slightest of nods.
Shit, Parker thought.
“Remember Lilith,” he said. “This is not our job.”
She looked at him, her eyes glowing red. “This is exactly our job.”
The sounds of steel clashing and shrieks filled the morning air as Hannah ran into action.
****
With their attention on Vitali, the large cat-men didn’t see Hannah approach. It was a mistake they didn’t live long enough to regret.
She hurled a fireball into their midst, blasting two off their feet and sending the rest scrambling. Before they could recover, her knife was in action.
Laurel stayed by her side, and Sal ran to protect the children. The druid might not have been able to tap her full power here, but her rope blade was doing damage enough. The cat-men were fast, but not fast enough to escape her attacks.
Out of the corner of her eye, Laurel saw Parker going toe to toe with a cat-person the size of a house. The brute carried a short sword in one hand, and flexed the claws on the other.
She reached out, trying to compel the roots surrounding them to snare the giant, but they wouldn’t respond. She moved toward the fight, but two of the creatures jumped into her path. Her blade cut one down easily, but the other carried a large tree branch. Every time she attacked, he managed to block her knife.
“Ah, I see you can learn,” she taunted as she leaned back. She swung her blade in a close arc, waiting for her chance.
The thing growled at her. “Allow me to teach you a lesson.” He heaved the branch at her, and she barely ducked in time. When she stood back up the cat leapt on top of her, swiping his claws furiously.
She weaved and dodged and scrambled out of the way, but he was relentless. She tried to counterattack, but she struggled with using her rope blade up close.
Trying to gain some distance, she stepped backward and her foot slipped on a wet root. Regaining her balance slowed her down long enough for the cat to grab her. He pinned her against a tree, his massive paws like iron bars.
Laurel could smell his breath as he leaned in close. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he hissed.
“I doubt it,” she said as she plunged her blade into his thigh.
He howled in pain and loosened his grip enough for her to break free. She pushed off his chest and jumped into the branch above them.
“You can’t hide from me up there, freak.”
“Not hiding,” she said with a smile. “Just getting out of the way.”
Before he could work out her words, blue light crashed into him. He slammed into the tree with a sickening thud, then sank to the ground.
“I could have taken him,” Laurel said as she dropped from the branch.
“No big deal,” Parker said. “I was already finished with my guy, and I figured using some of Gregory’s technology would make you miss him less.”
“How considerate.” She rolled her eyes. “Y
ou’re bleeding. Did you know that?”
He looked down at the long thin gash on his arm. “Oh, this? No big deal. It’s just—”
Before he could finish, his face went pale and he flopped to the ground.
“Hannah!” Laurel screamed.
****.
“Parker! Parker, what’s wrong,” Hannah shouted, but he didn’t respond. Laurel was busy searching for a major wound, but she hadn’t found anything yet.
“He’s been bitten by the poison of Muur,” a voice purred at Hannah. She kept her hands on Parker’s chest.
Her heart was beating out of control, but her mind was steady. Parker’s body lay motionless on the soft damp floor of the jungle.
She turned to look at the one called Vitali. There was a sadness in his face that she could read even under the fur. Eyes blazing red, she yelled, “I can fix him!”
“If you can,” the cat-man sighed gently, “you’re better than any magician we’ve ever seen in these lands. The Muur have been lacing their weapons with a deadly poison for generations, and none have ever survived. The severe mercy of it all is that he will be gone quickly. As far as we know, his passage will be swift and painless.”
“No. It can’t be,” Hannah shouted, looking down at Parker’s motionless body. “I can fix this.”
She closed her eyes and focused inward. She could feel the power surging through her. Parker’s face regained some of its color, but he remained unconscious.
Vitali dropped to the ground next to her. “I’ve never seen anything like that,” he said.
“Is he going to be OK?” Laurel asked.
The cat felt Parker’s face, then put an ear close to listen to his breathing.
“The poison is still in him. You seem to have slowed its effect, but I’m afraid it’s still killing him. Perhaps…”
“What,” Hannah yelled. “What is it?”
Vitali jumped to his feet. “Help me get him up. You need to come with me to meet our glavne.”
“Glavne?” Hannah asked, her teary eyes pleading for hope.
“Our elder. The leader of my tribe. We are the Lynqi. He is far wiser than I, and he is close by.”
“Lead me to him,” Hannah growled.
The cat-man stared at her for a second, weighing her need versus the danger of bringing an outsider into the community.
“OK,” he finally said. “Right grants right. You saved us, so I will take you to the elder. No matter the consequences. Follow me.”
Hannah, with the help of Laurel, hoisted Parker’s limp body onto Sal’s back. He had sunk as low as he could to help them. Laurel slashed some vines and used them to fasten him to the dragon. Then her eyes cut back to the Lynqi. “Let’s move. And fast.”
Vitali’s furry cheeks curled into a feline smile. “Sister, you don’t know fast. Try to keep up.”
And with that, he turned and dashed into the undergrowth.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Karl chose a chair near the head of the table, where King Aardash sat. They had cast aside all talk of gods and crystals and the Oracle for the time being, and conversation revolved around life in the Heights compared to in Heema. The king had been shocked to learn that Hadley and the mystics made their home among the crags. Anyone who looked like him in this region stayed in the lowlands.
Hadley grinned. “Well, our mountain isn’t quite as harsh as yours, Aardash. It is, through most of the year, really quite tranquil. That’s why the mystics made it their home so many generations ago.”
His face twisting in confusion, Aardash proclaimed, “Well, if it’s tranquility one seeks, they sure as hell wouldn’t come here. I mean, we certainly have a beautiful landscape, but the wind will chafe your face and the work will chap your ass. That is the truth.”
Hadley laughed and nodded. “I see your point. But why live here? I mean, we moved to the temple in the Heights originally because our magical craft requires a clear mind and a meditative lifestyle. Also, our forebears were tired of the death and destruction through wave after wave of Dark Ages, not to mention the Madness.” He motioned to Karl. “The rearick sought riches in the belly of the peaks. Why are you here?”
Aardash sat back, pulling on the long pillar of beard that swept over his stomach and down toward the floor beneath him. “That is a fine question. We, unlike your people, were not originally driven here by any kind of madness. We did come to dig—the same as the rearick. It was before my time, and our story, like all tales, has likely evolved over hundreds of years. As far as we know, our ancestors dug those mines and harvested the crystals until the day the God and Goddess descended. Now we are their caretakers. We protect the house of the gods, and at the same time we pay homage to them.”
Listening intently, Hadley quickly dipped in and out of the king’s mind. The man told the truth, or the truth as far as he knew it. The mystic couldn’t help but marvel at the stories mankind told itself—and the lies they would so willingly believe.
There were interesting similarities between the Heemites and Olaf’s people in New Romanov. Hadley knew now that the Oracle wasn’t some sort of god—and that the Matriarch and Patriarch weren’t really gods either. But everywhere he went, people found it easier to put their faith in these ancient heroes. It was a testament to their influence on Irth.
And these people had devoted their lives to defending them, although Hadley was pretty sure that Bethany Anne and Michael weren’t hiding in a cave somewhere.
Perhaps it was another hero from the old world—a force like Lilith.
He kept listening to the things the king was saying—and the things he left unsaid—but they didn’t answer many more questions.
“Up here the job of the guardians is a relatively simple one. We only see outsiders every few moons, and by the time they make it to us they’re half dead.” He eyed Karl and Hadley, and for the first time Hadley felt a flash of suspicion in Aardash’s mind. “Not looking virile, as you gents did when you came upon Hendrix and Broderick.”
Karl diverted the conversation. “Then why do ye still train fer fightin’ if it’s so damned safe up here?”
“Oh, fighting is not only for war, rearick.” His face brightened as he became excited. “It is part of the life of our community. We have great warriors among us, but their pugilistic tendencies are reserved for fights of honor at the festivals, not to shed the blood of a foe.”
“Festivals?” Karl asked.
“Indeed.” Aardash pushed his plate away and dropped his napkin on the table. “But that will lead to a conversation I wish to reserve for after the dinner hour.” He snapped his fingers, and a servant came to his side. “We will have one more drink, and then dessert. The kitchen makes a perfect cake.”
The servant turned to fetch more drink and the final course, but for the first time Karl wanted nothing more than to get to the meat of the conversation.
****
Karl and Gregory stood at the end of the hall, keeping out of the way while the table was cleared by the king’s servants. They watched as Aysa played some unfamiliar game by the open hearth with a group of children.
Although they looked almost identical, Karl realized that this community was somehow profoundly different than his own in the Heights. The people, though worn tough by the trying climate, were more content—joyful even. Their simple, peaceful life on the mountain, and their belief in the mission to honor their gods, made them this way. Fear of intrusion never crossed their minds, and purpose drove their days.
“It’s nice here,” Karl said in a low voice.
Gregory smiled at his friend and his rosy cheeks—a sure sign that Karl was enjoying the smooth buzz of the sweet mountain mead.
“Looks like he’s having a nice time, too,” Aysa said, as she approached them from the other side of the room. She pointed at Hadley, who was surrounded by a half-dozen of the Heemite womenfolk.
Karl snorted. “Scheisse, Long Arms. I was just beginnin’ ta enjoy meself. Why do they all go fer the mystic?”
Aysa shrugged. “Tall, handsome, blue eyes, winning personality, always knows what a woman wants, what she’s thinking, capable with his big strong—”
“Enough!” Karl said, raising a hand. He looked back at Hadley and the court he was holding. One of the ladies, the one who had been swooning when they had arrived, looked at Karl, and they locked eyes. Then she turned back toward Hadley and said something, and they all laughed. “Damned mystic is bustin’ me balls to ‘em right now. That son-of-a-whore’s ballsack!”
“Um,” Aysa remarked, “you’re making no sense again.”
Karl continued cursing until Hadley left the woman and cut across the room to join his friends. “So, I was just mixing with the locals, and—”
“No shite, ye have been,” Karl blurted.
Hadley turned to Gregory. “What’s gotten into Mr. Shittypants?” He looked back and gave Karl a wink. “Anyway, it seems like they understand this gods thing just as much as we do. All they could tell me is that a king instituted a festival here years ago. It’s a pretty big deal, and the highlight is a fighting tournament.”
“Must have been what Aardash referred to,” Gregory chimed in.
“Yeah, seems so. The winner of the tournament is crowned as champion. They say he—”
“Or she,” Aysa said.
“Or she,” Hadley continued, “is equipped and chosen by the gods, which means he—or she—wins the fight. Only then does the champion descend into the mines to be with the gods.”
“Like…as a sacrifice?” Gregory asked, his eyes wide.
Hadley shook his head. “Not a sacrifice. It’s like they are going to paradise on the other side to live with them, be like them. All their friends and families say goodbye. They descend, never to be seen again.”
“Scheisse!”
“You can say that again,” Hadley said. “Those are the only people in all of Heema allowed to go into those mines. I guess this isn’t going to be as easy as we thought.”
Karl patted his hammer at his side. “No problem! Looks like I’m gonna have ta win a festival. Always wanted ta be a god.”
