“Wait, Jerik, stop!” I shouted. We came to an abrupt halt.
“What is it?”
“I look a complete mess.”
“You look like you just won an important battle. Go with it.”
“You’re sure he won’t be revolted?”
“Now that’s more like my sister talking! Come on, Hally, let’s not keep him waiting!”
The open expanse of the landing site came into view behind the palace and seemed tiny compared to the giant oval, cylindrical ship. The booster jets were cooling down, steam still rising, ready for turn-off as we approached the edge.
A door opened and the ten-metre mechanical ladder protruded forward to provide a platform down to ground level.
I waited. My heart felt like it was pumping in my throat instead of in my chest. It occurred to me that I’d never been this nervous before in my life. Even with my father, or even in battle. Right at this moment, I was more afraid than I’d ever been.
A figure appeared in the doorway. A tall, black-skinned man walked down the platform with the biggest smile reaching from ear to ear. His enormous frame was covered in a brown cloak, his tunic and trousers made from the richest gold fabrics spun from threadworms indigenous to the Batavé planet. He appraised me with cool, amber-coloured eyes and settled his smile to a more relaxed grin.
“Sanátu Batavé, you are very welcome!” I cried and we acknowledged our royal birthright with a bow, as did Jerik.
“Halíka Dacomé! Did we just save your backside or what?” he said as he lifted me into the air, spinning me around. “I see we got here bang on time. We are going to send those good-for-nothing Primords back to where they came from.”
Jerik laughed aloud and caught me in my descent. Jerik and Sanátu had been good friends since Jerik’s boyhood, and I happily watched them tightly embrace one another like lost brothers.
Next to step onto the platform was my childhood girlfriend, Avíra Maloké, Sanátu’s wife. She walked serenely, her petite figure almost gliding. Her beautiful, pale skin and slightly slanted violet eyes held my envy every time I saw her. Thick black hair was pulled tightly back into a tail and her black fringe was cut straight and precise across her flawless arched eyebrows. Her pink floral wrap-over dress was traditional to her people. Whatever Avíra wore, she would always look more elegant than I ever could.
“Halíka Dacomé, have you been fighting again?” she chuckled, her hands on her hips. She motioned at my battle-worn clothes before drawing me into the tightest hug I’d had in years. “I’m glad we could help. It’s been too long, my old friend.”
She hugged Jerik after, who seemed a little in awe of her, pinched his cheek and told him to stop growing.
“He wants to see you inside,” Sanátu said quietly over my shoulder. “Since we landed, he’s been in the cryo chamber waking up the men.”
“And women!” cried Avíra as she slapped her husband playfully on the arm.
“And women. Sorry,” he said. “You see what I have to put up with when you’re not around?”
I beamed at them and drew in a breath, exhaling sharply. Clumsily, I treaded forward onto the platform, and self-consciously straightened my tunic and skirt, pulling them to order.
I ducked my head in through the doorway and stood on the metal grills of the subchamber floor. The dark antiroom was empty, but a thumping of steps overhead told me he was on his way down.
The shaft that housed the elevator stood empty, and the transparent security doors remained locked.
I waited for what seemed an eternity, rechecking my hands and nails, absently wiping off the crusty, dried blood.
Why hadn’t I stopped along the way to wash my hands or at least brush my hair? He would hate me for looking such a ragged mess, wouldn’t he?
At last the elevator glided downwards to its soft dock. I jumped when it omitted a hiss on landing, a small cloud of steam rising from underneath that coincided with the doors opening.
Then there he was, just an outline at first until he stepped out of the chamber and into the light. Clothed in fine, dark blue battledress, shirt tied at the side, and combatant trousers, his long, black hair shining like a halo, he looked as wondrously, masculinely beautiful as the last day I saw him.
“Nerído Xipilé,” I bowed, watching him return the royal formality.
He walked lightly forward and stopped to fold his arms across his chest. My gaze took in his blue eyes, the pale skin that stretched across his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw to his soft, red lips. His face was so striking, it was hard to break away my gaze.
“So, how was your day? Do anything special?” he mocked me with a half grin.
I scoffed and went along with him. “Of course, sir. We fought a great battle and were within hours of victory. Your arrival just shortened our timeline,” I jested back.
He hadn’t moved. We still had strides of space between us. Despite our pleasantries, my heart pounded faster just being near him again. I could feel his emotions, troubled and concerned, because of the royal connection that bound us, but now I was unsure what direction this conversation would take. Was he revolted by me? Had he had a change of heart since last year? I couldn’t tell. He masked his feelings cleverly. Something I usually excelled at uncovering.
“Hal, I think you have bits of Primord in your hair,” he shuffled his fingers in gesture to my head.
I reached up automatically and grabbed at strands of my loose red locks in horror. “I do? Oh, that’s nasty!” I muttered, gulping quickly, humiliated as I pulled small pieces of fabric and other unmentionables from my knotted hair.
“And you look … bloody.” Still, he hadn’t moved. He thought me repulsive, I knew it.
I laughed. “Well, be thankful the blood isn’t mine.”
“You look a mess, Halíka,” he said with the sincerest, tenderest softness.
My chin quivered as he spoke the last words, forcing me to look away. Did this mean …? I couldn’t think anymore. Battle-weary and sore, I fought the urge to bite my lip, knowing it was covered with blood that wasn’t my own. A small tear crept into my eye as the exhaustion of the day finally hit home. So much for keeping a grip on my tough emotions. What was it about Nerí that brought out my insecurities? He’d worn me down with one solitary sentence.
I suddenly felt drained.
He sensed it, as I knew he would. He rushed forward to wrap me in his arms, crushing me closer into his chest and dipping his head down against mine. Like a protective barrier and the safest place I had ever been.
He kissed my head. “But you are still the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon.”
“I missed you, so much,” I croaked into his blue tunic.
“I missed you too, Halíka,” he answered and soothed my hair, sending happy chills down my neck.
“I didn’t think you’d come. When Jerik told me what he’d done, I didn’t think … but you saved us. You saved me.”
“Halíka, I will always be wherever you want me to be. You know that. I don’t want to receive another message like that from your brother. I want you to message me. If you need my help, I’ll get here.”
I swallowed and said gruffly, “Father would never have allowed me to ask for your help, you know that.”
“Then it’s a good that Jerik is not like his father, even with his ingenious cryptic code word. When your father cancelled Jerik’s pleas for our help, I had no idea how important that code word would become.”
“Don’t tell him that,” I laughed. “I think he’s already eyeing up my job as Overlord.”
Nerído stroked my shoulders, down my arms, and then gently pulled me away. “Would that be such a bad thing?”
Puzzled, I said, “What do you mean?”
He sighed. “Never mind. We should join the others. I’ve brought food, medicine, cots, tents, and manpower. They’re in the process of thawing out so they’ll be groggy from the ice for a short while. You go and join the others and I’ll meet you late
r.”
I nodded. “Okay. After you wake up your men, will you please tell me what you meant?”
“I will.” Nerído draped his fingers and gently stroked my cheek, then leaned down to kiss me. His lips were so light, like a feather stroke across my skin. He’d never given me a sweeter or lovelier kiss. “I will kiss you more when you’ve cleaned up. The oily taste of Primord blood is not one I want to remember you by.”
I withdrew from his arms and pulled myself tall again. “I’ll arrange for the townspeople to help with the unloading. They can make a start while your men de-ice.”
Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck one last time and whispered in his ear, “I’m so glad you’re here, Nerí.”
On the far side of the ship’s platform, I joined the others. They were busy telling Jerik stories about their descent into our atmosphere, about blowing the Primords away with the sonic waves and killing beams farther across the plains. Jerik was so engrossed in the chatter, he didn’t see my return until I was next to him.
“So, girlie, we need to take you and Jerik to get cleaned up.” Avíra Maloké pointed at my soiled clothes and then at a satchel on the floor. “I’ve bought clothes for you both. I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to return to your houses.”
“Come,” Sanátu said, casually putting an arm around Jerik’s shoulders. “We’ll head to the bathrooms and see you both into better gear. Then, we celebrate!”
Avíra pushed an arm around my waist as we walked. It was such a joy to have my best friends back. The last time we’d been together was three years ago, the truce before last, at their wedding. Even then, their refreshing cheeriness lifted my spirits, just as they did now.
I sent a silent message to the captains. They would gather as many townspeople as they could muster near the ship to help set up the hospital tents while the soldiers who were capable would help unload provisions. This night, we would eat proper food and sleep soundly in the open air.
The one worry that kept me mindful was Arfron Uhnok. No doubt, he would’ve heard the ship approach. Whether he knew the fate of his hordes was unknown.
My last command was to Captain Orelían. “Secure the innermost circle of the palace. Make sure every door is secured from the outside. That includes the Throne Room, the War Room, and my father’s chambers. No one goes inside or out. The last thing we want is for those Primords to escape. They still have my father hostage.”
Her response was instant. “Our minds think alike, Halíka Dacomé. I’ve already closed down most of the palace. Arfron Uhnok is still inside and your father is unharmed, so don’t fret. I’ve arranged all-night sentry duty instead of using the Arcan men. We don’t know which side they’ll choose yet. I’ll have the remainder of the palace closed as far as Dome. Good fight, Halíka Dacomé. I’m proud to serve under you.”
Chapter 6 - The Healing
The tri-moons glimmered behind an unusually cloudy night, bringing a fresh wind across Arcanon Major. A wind that was favoured by all. The reek of bloodshed was far from gone from the battle areas but somehow, the smell no longer lingered so heavily in the air. No one wanted to go anywhere near the edge of the Arc, where the fighting had been most ferocious. The carnage was still too much for any of us to bear.
The furnaces to the other side of the palace were lit and spewing smoke. Every now and again, I was reminded of the battleground when a sickly waft crossed my nose, though its smell was one I had grown accustomed to.
This night, however, was not a night I had envisaged, with the sight and sounds of merriment that surrounded me. I was seated at a long, benched table on the landing platform behind the main palace building—the only area far enough from any killing zone—just in front of Nerí’s vessel, with a half-empty plate of proper food before me, a tankard of wine in my hand.
Long tables were laid up for the townspeople. The last two thousand of my soldiers, all freshly clothed, were full from good food, thanks to Nerí and the cooks he’d brought on his journey.
As soon as I saw him, I stood and raised my arm to salute Camir Halvenían, sergeant of the Dacomé Old Elite. I bowed my head to give him the honour he and his men deserved after this heavy day of fighting.
Halvenían led the clean-up squadron—older soldiers who no longer possessed the speed or agility to fight. He had soft, old eyes and a good sense of humour. His men were already queuing to pile their plates with food, having completed their work for the night. I held a special place in my heart for the older soldiers who volunteered for the duty of the Old Elite. Most soldiers would retire and go back to city life once their fighting days were done; no one looked on them any less for retiring their swords and armour to begin a more restful way of living, but a fair few joined the comradeship of the Old Elite, believing it was their duty to their brothers in arms to lay them to rest with dignity.
The Old Elite squadron house, a prestigious building with large gardens, was situated near the palace walls. I always enjoyed visiting and listening to their stories. They liked it that the flowers and trees always bloomed brighter when I came. The valour of the Old Elite was to be admired and venerated.
On this day, they had suffered the aftermath of a brutal and bloody battle, more than we who had fought. It brought joy to see the Old Elite men soon welcomed and encouraged to sit with other soldiers and their families.
Halvenían acknowledged me and returned the gesture with a nod and a kind smile.
We’d lost too many during the fighting, a loss that felt heavy on the inside considering the circumstances of my father’s confinement. Another five hundred lay in the hospital tents that had been erected in the northern grasses on the other side of the landing platform. They were the ones I hadn’t been able to reach in my last healing. I couldn’t remain too long here. I still had duties to complete.
To my side was Nerído Xipilé with Avíra and Sanátu beside him. Jerik sat opposite, already a little drunk. He blushed every time Avíra talked or looked his way. I would have to keep a closer eye on my brother—I knew he had a little crush on my friend, but she played absently with her marriage crystal between her fingers and pretended, with good manners, not to notice.
The cream quartz crystal sparkled in the soft moonlight. Avíra and Sanátu had married in secret here at Arcanon Major, and Nerído had provided their marriage crystals as a wedding gift. The crystals were too rare to find on their own planets, so it had been a joy to see them finally wed in the proper manner. They had been childhood sweethearts, even more so than Nerído and me, who had only remained friends. Their union had been aberrantly accepted by their families but not openly announced. I once feared that their royal parents were not altogether happy about the joining of their Houses. After three years of their union, no repercussions had occurred because of it. Some things were just meant to be, and I was glad for their sake.
Beside me to my left was my dearest cousin, Carinder Dacomé—whom I lived with in the city. Long ago I’d made the decision that my home was not in the palace; I preferred normal, everyday life when I wasn’t fighting or practising drill stances. Carinder helped keep my feet on the ground, but also looked after me like a mother hen.
The treasure that was dearer to me than anything sat between my feet, my beloved scant, Zaquinto.
Carinder said that he’d pined for me every day and scratched her door almost to splinters. I reached under the table and tickled between his ears. My reward was a lick to my knee.
The captains all sat at the table next to ours. For the present, they were on their best behaviour. Someone had promised music and dancing later, and this would, guaranteed, bring out higher spirits in all of us.
Members of the Arcan—the arbitrary council made up of city dwellers who dealt with day-to-day issues concerning Arcanon Major—had ventured out of hiding to join us. Their mortification at the events of earlier today, along with the demise of the Skeptics and the alliance my father had promised with the Primords, was evident. Theirs was a council that t
he people here relied upon to right any wrongdoing in our city. I had no doubt they would congregate soon after our meal tonight to discuss the correct way forward. But I did doubt their weight behind any decision of my impending alliance with the Primords.
Even now, the thought of the Treaty stuck in my throat. And my father’s life was still under grave threat. He would thwart any decision for the sake of his remaining kingdom, regardless of the council’s decision. He was still the king.
It would be so simple to march into the palace with my soldiers, arrest Arfron Uhnok and release my father. But I also knew my father. Without the skeptics at his side Capíok Dacomé would have no choice but to face the very people he feared. For now he was safer inside the palace. I would face the consequences tomorrow.
At this feast, I was the head of state. The task was a daunting one, and not one I was comfortable with. My actions were seen in the arena of war, not sitting at banquets. More than anything, I wished for some privacy with the man who sat beside me. But for the time being, I was on ceremony. Which isn’t to say that I wasn’t enjoying myself. I really was. This night was one for freeing our spirits, sentiments, and most importantly, celebrating our glorious dead.
Avíra, Sanátu, and Nerído were welcomed openly by city folk. They regaled with tales at hearing the immense ship as it fired its beams into the Primord multitude. Nerído whispered to me later that his hand was aching because of the constant saluting. On any normal state visit, my friends wouldn’t have been granted the opportunity to meet with anyone from the city. This was one of those rare moments where it didn’t matter who you were or what your background was, we were all in the same situation together.
Carinder tapped me on the arm and whispered in my ear as she ogled Nerído. “If you come back to our house tonight, please don’t come alone.” She winked and started chewing on some rice corn. “You know what I mean?”
“What are you insinuating, dear cousin?” I gasped quietly, catching her full meaning.
The Battle for Arcanon Major (The Lost Dacomé Files) Page 5
