Shattered Destiny

by West, Shay

  “No!” Robert cried out.

  Shel Nal’ Vi's right hand slipped free. He tried to reach up to grab Robert's hand again, but each movement caused his left hand to lose its grip a little more.

  “Stop moving!” Robert begged the man. He wondered absently if his shoulders were being forced from their sockets. He focused his mind on keeping his grip, but he could still feel the man slipping.

  Suddenly, a shifting in the ground caused the ledge to begin sinking. Robert's breath caught when he felt his body slipping slowly into the chasm. A primal part of his mind told him to let the Nomad fall and to save his own skin. And yet the Protector in him couldn't just let the man fall.

  The Nomad made the decision for him.

  Shel Nal’ Vi closed his eyes and used his free hand to push Robert's fingers off. No! Help will be here soon! Robert tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. The Nomad removed the last of Robert's fingers and plunged into the blackness without a sound.

  Robert felt himself hauled backward as if by a giant. He rolled to his back, his upper body muscles twitching and trembling at the sudden loss of weight. Saemus’ face appeared above his own, asking what had happened and if he was all right.

  “Why didn't you come sooner? You could have saved him!” Anger filled Robert. He rolled to his knees and stared at the fissure. He swore he could still feel the man hanging from his arm, and he could hear a ghostly voice begging him not to let go.

  * * *

  Feeror could hear the screams and shouting of his comrades but forced his mind to the task. He wanted to turn and see if Gwen was safe, and his mind gibbered that she was all right, that she was somehow out of harm's way.

  There!

  There was a small difference in the readouts between the large Mekan and the four smaller droids. Feeror had wrongly assumed that all of the Mekans would have the same pattern. He quickly made the correct changes to the frequency of the sound and punched the activation button.

  The Mekan stopped moving. Its legs quivered.

  The group stood silently, smoke rising from their plasma rifles, hearts pounding. The Astrans slowly lowered the sound barrier. The silence was deafening.

  A scrambling noise made them turn around. The two camels were running across the hard-packed ground, heading for the mountains.

  Feeror smiled in relief when he saw Gwen standing next to Keera. She was bruised and dirty but still alive. He took a quick survey and was felt a guilty relief in the fact that the only one missing was the Nomad. All the Chosen and the two Guardians were safe.

  “Look!” Gwen shouted.

  The large Mekan slowly fell to the side. Its sheer size made it look as though it were falling in slow motion. Instinctively, Jon hurriedly erected a barrier of air in a wide arc in front of the group.

  “Jon, what are you doing -” Saemus never had a chance to finish.

  As the Mekan hit the ground, it sent up huge gouts of dirt and rocks that obscured it from view. The shrieking, grinding sound of metal and the thunderous roar of the machine hitting the earth reached their ears. The ground shook so forcefully the group was once again thrown off their feet.

  They could see the enormous shock wave coming for them. All but Jon backed away, looking for any shelter in the empty vastness of the desert. Robert stood quickly, the Nomad momentarily forgotten as this new danger approached.

  The rocks and dirt hit the barrier Jon had erected and shot upward but did not pass any further.

  Amidst the sound of the dust settling, the enormity of what just occurred hit the Chosen. They let out a bestial roar of victory. Those that still had weapons held them aloft as they cried out. They whooped and shouted, taking turns wheeling each other around in an uncoordinated dance around the sound weapon.

  The three Kromins stood off to one side, watching the celebration and yet not partaking.

  “Come join us!” Gwen beckoned, laughing joyously.

  --We are not sure what you are doing. We must watch and see if we can discern a pattern.

  “Pattern schmattern.” Gwen waddled over to the three and took their hands, forcing them to walk with her. The others grabbed their hands and led their silent comrades in the dance of victory.

  “Look out!” Keera screamed, pointing to the sky.

  Something hurled toward them, moving so fast they could hear the scream of the object as it approached.

  The Chosen and Guardians started scattering in all directions, trying to put as much space between themselves and the giant object falling at incredible speed.

  Gwen ran as fast as her legs could go and yet the others outdistanced her quickly. Feeror was thirty feet ahead before he noticed her lagging behind.

  Her legs buckled, and she hit the ground hard, knocking the breath from her lungs. She rolled to her side, trying to wipe the dust from her mouth.

  Time slowed.

  She saw Feeror's mouth open in a shout, and yet she could hear nothing except the sound of the object coming right for where she lay in the dirt. Gwen turned her head toward the sky.

  She had only seconds to act.

  Feeror sprinted toward where she lay on the ground, her legs spasming so badly she couldn't stand. If she didn't act, the falling object would kill him too.

  “I will never forget you, my love.” Gwen drank in his face, his hair flowing in the wind, his muscles as they bunched and flexed, trying desperately to reach her.

  She sent her magic flowing toward her beloved and smiled when she saw him fly backward and out of harm's way.

  Gwen had just enough time to thank the good Spirits for sending her a man who loved her for who she was before the falling Mekan crushed the life out of her.

  VOLGON

  THE SUNLIGHT GLINTED off the metal skins of the Mekans as they lay on the ground, making it look as though they were on fire. No Volgons were on the surface at this early hour to see the sight. The rebuilding of the cities was going to take time, and until they had sufficient shelter built, they had to stay in their quarters in the underground colonies.

  Suddenly, the machines began to twitch, the screeching and grinding of metal carrying in the early morning air.

  THE END

  Keep reading for an excerpt from

  Book 3 of The Portals of Destiny:

  Resigned Fate

  PREVIEW OF

  RESIGNED FATE

  BOOK 3 OF THE PORTALS OF DESTINY

  ASTRA

  SOMETHING HURLED TOWARD THEM, moving so fast they could hear the scream of the object as it fell from the sky. Everyone scattered in all directions, trying to put as much space as possible between themselves and the giant object falling at incredible speed.

  Keera Flint heard a shout and turned so quickly she nearly tripped over her feet.

  Time slowed.

  Gwen Heath lay in the dirt, arm held out, as if reaching for some invisible hand. Feeror had stopped and was moving back to Gwen. Keera could hear nothing except the whining crescendo of the Mekan as it hurtled toward where Gwen lay helpless.

  Keera opened her mouth to scream at someone to help Gwen, her mind a whirl of terror. Her brain seemed incapable of thinking coherently as she saw the gap closing between Gwen and the Mekan much too quickly. A quick glance showed her that no one else had even noticed their fallen comrade. It was clear that Feeror, who was much closer than she, would never make it to Gwen in time to save her from the falling enemy. Tears of frustration and fear trickled down her cheeks.

  Use your power, you moron!

  The voice in her head sounded strangely like that of her older brother, Thadeus. As she raised her arm, her chest constricted when she realized that each and every magic phrase completely eluded her. Come on, THINK! Keera took a few involuntary steps forward, hoping the movement would bring the words that would save her friend.

  Hurry, Feeror!

  Keera urged the big warrior on though it was obvious he wouldn't take more than a couple of steps before the Mekan crushed the life out of her dear fr
iend.

  “Someone help her!” Keera screamed, but the noise from the Mekan drowned out her voice.

  Suddenly, Feeror flew backward, coming to a rough landing flat on his back. The look on his face as he struggled to sit up was like an arrow piercing her heart. Keera wanted to look away, didn't want to watch.

  Her arm was still out-stretched, hoping against hope that she would be able to move Gwen out of the path of the falling Mekan. Keera sank to her knees as she watched Gwen reach out her arm toward Feeror, a look of utter and complete adoration on her face.

  * * *

  Keera screamed so loudly her throat would be raw and sore for days. She rocked back and forth, trying to come to grips with what she had just witnessed. After the painful noise of the falling Mekan, the silence was welcome. She could vaguely hear the shouts and wails of the others as they finally realized what had taken place in only a few heartbeats.

  Feeror had managed to regain his feet and was running for the Mekan, crying Gwen's name. It was strange to see the man lose control. Normally he was as stoic as a boulder. His reaction frightened Keera. It meant that what had happened to Gwen was real and not a terrible nightmare from which she would awake at any moment.

  Keera didn't respond as Kaelin tried to help her stand. Moving at all was much too difficult. Sitting on the hot sand didn't seem like such a bad idea.

  “Keera, you can't just sit here.”

  “Who says? You're not the boss.” Keera knew she sounded like a petulant child, but she didn't care. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the hulking, crumpled form of the Mekan that had killed her best friend.

  The sound of Feeror's cry of anguish forced Keera to deal with reality. It was hard to believe that the one man who had been the most disgusted by Gwen had ended up falling deeply in love with her. They were from two different planets and conflicting cultures. Gwen would never have been accepted in Feeror's world, and Feeror would never have been happy living on the peaceful planet of Astra.

  Keera had been thrilled for her friend. Truth be told, she had worried that Gwen would spend the rest of her life pining for Jon Stone even when it was clear he would never return her feelings. Seeing the tough warrior and the tiny dwarf girl stealing kisses when they thought no one was watching had brought a smile to her face.

  As Keera stood on wooden legs, Feeror began making a sound never meant to be uttered by anything living. The big warrior hit his knees, tearing at his face with hands contorted into claws. Keera stopped short, skin prickling and crawling at the utter and complete loss in Feeror's feral cry. No one else seemed to know what to do or say; they simply watched the Volgon warrior mourn the loss of his love.

  Feeror slumped, breath hitching in his chest. All he could manage was a few hoarse grunts and moans. Keera frowned as she forced her feet to move forward. Kneeling on the scorching sand, Feeror caressed something that Keera couldn't see.

  Keera gasped in horror and turned away from the grisly scene, but the image of Gwen's tiny hand sticking out from under the shiny metal would be burned into her brain forever. I don't want to remember her this way!

  Feeror turned abruptly as Keera approached.

  “Do something! Get this damn thing off of her!” Feeror grabbed Keera by the hand, dragging her ungracefully to the ground.

  “Feeror, I…” Keera tried to move away from Gwen's hand, bile rising to her throat.

  “Use your power to lift it!”

  Keera looked around for someone to rescue her from the situation. She wasn't sure she could move the Mekan, even if she wanted to.

  And she didn't want to.

  The contents of her stomach rose despite her best efforts to hold it down. She turned and vomited until her stomach ached, and she feared she'd never get the taste of bile out of her mouth. Keera wiped her mouth and turned to Feeror, but he was up and moving toward Jon Stone.

  “You do it! Move. This. Machine.” Feeror gripped Jon by the front of his shirt.

  Jon looked down at the ground and gulped audibly as he caught site of Gwen's hand sticking out from under the Mekan. He shoved Feeror off, using a bit of the power to push the big man back a few steps.

  Feeror growled low in his throat. “What's wrong with you? Do you wish to leave her lying beneath the enemy?”

  “No, but I don't want to see what's left of her either!” Jon shot back.

  “I knew your race was nothing but cowards!” Feeror grabbed Jon once more and shoved him against the metal skin of the Mekan, slamming the young man so hard his teeth knocked together.

  “Stop this. What's wrong with you?” Saemus Barlow pushed between the two, forcing Feeror to let go of Jon.

  Jon quickly moved out of the way, careful to avoid the area where Gwen's tiny hand lay in the dirt.

  “I need you and your magic to move this blasted machine!”

  “Don't you wish to remember her as she was? Once you see what's left under this thing -” Saemus pointed behind him “- you'll never be able to get that out of your head. Ever.”

  Feeror turned and gazed at the rest of his fellow Chosen who had slowly come to gather near the Mekan. Anger rose quick and hot as he gazed on the down-turned faces. The only two that met his eyes were Voilor and Moylir. They do not shirk from death.

  “Besides, we can't stay here. The water's gone. We've got to get back over the Hills,” Saemus said.

  Feeror's jaw tightened. The boy spoke sense, but the thought of leaving his mate buried beneath the hulking metal body of the enemy was almost too much to bear. You are a warrior from the planet Volgon, not some weakling! Take your remembrance and get on with the mission.

  He knelt down and gently touched Gwen's hand. He closed his eyes as he tried to force her last moments from his mind. For the first time in his life, he had faced a situation he couldn't simply fight his way out of. All his strength, prowess, and stamina had been for naught.

  Feeror, through a blinding stream of tears, cut a long strip of Gwen's sleeve, ignoring the shocked gasps and exclamations coming from behind him.

  “It is customary to take a remembrance from a fallen mate,” Moylir explained to the others.

  “I don't care what's customary on your bloody world! Here it's considered a defilement!” Keera fumed.

  “He's not hurting her. See? Merely taking a piece of cloth,” Moylir said.

  Feeror stood slowly and held out the piece of cloth to Voilor. Without a word, the big warrior nodded and tied the cloth around Feeror's bicep.

  “Now she will be with you, always. Mourn, but never forget.” The three Volgon warriors recited the ritualistic chant in unison.

  -- We will retrieve our ship and the weapons and meet you at the portal. Number One conveyed telepathically.

  “Why don't we all take the ship back to the portal instead of climbing back over the mountains?” Kaelin asked.

  -- The ship cannot carry all of us and the weapons. If you wish to leave the weapons behind—

  “No. We will need them. We can walk out of here,” Saemus said as he watched the three Kromins stride gracefully across the hot sand, their pale gray skin and long limbs looking quite out of place.

  Wordlessly, the remaining Chosen walked away from the fallen Mekan and made for the Mishrae Hills. The heat of the day was stifling. None of them would make it if they didn't get water. Both camels had run during the fighting, leaving them at the mercy of the elements.

  Saemus took the lead, the unwilling leader. Though Gerok and Forka were Guardians and held higher status, neither knew Astra as well as her natural inhabitants. If Master Brok were alive, he'd know what to do. Saemus focused on the task of getting everyone over the Hills as quickly as possible. After that, well, he would figure it out when they made camp.

  * * *

  Keera awoke with a start, gasping for breath as she fought to control her galloping heart. She reached up to wipe away fresh tears from her cheeks. She shivered as a cool breeze caressed her skin. The fire had burned to embers. Frowning, Keera look
ed to see who was supposed to be keeping watch.

  Jon sat facing the fire, his knees pulled to his chin, arms wrapped around them. His eyes were lifeless. Though they stared directly at the dying fire, it was obvious to Keera that he was not seeing it.

  She had to fight a surge of anger at him. If Jon had been paying attention, he could have saved Gwen with the forbidden magic. Keera knew that wasn't fair; there was no guarantee he could have done anything to stop the tragedy.

  Tears flowed again. Just when she thought she would have five minutes free of grief, it would crash into her, leaving her breathless and aching for the sound of Gwen's laughter. How am I going to get through all this without Gwen?

  Keera tried to ignore the cold seeping into her bones, but the shivering kept her from falling back to sleep. She sighed and rolled slowly to her feet, padding across the ground to add more wood to the fire. It wasn't long before the heat drove her back a few steps.

  She glanced at Jon, who hadn't moved an inch while she'd tended to the fire. Part of her wanted to yell at him that it had been his job to keep the fire going, that if he had, she wouldn't have frozen nearly to death. Keera turned back to the fire. She knew it wasn't Jon's fault that the camels had run away with all their gear, and yet her anger was directed at him all the same.

  The sun peeked over the horizon, bathing the campsite in gentle light. As her comrades warmed, they began to stir, blinking slowly, most hoping the events of yesterday had been nothing but a bad dream. Keera could see it in their eyes as they glanced around the camp. Cold, hard reality set in as they noted the absence of their tiny friend.

  “What's our plan?” Forka asked as the rest of the group huddled near the fire.

  “We have to tell Gwen's parents she's dead,” Jon stated.

  “I say we go to Gentra and tell the Masters we have succeeded in destroying the threat,” Gerok suggested.

  “The Kromins can tell the Masters what they need to know,” Jon said. “But we need to tell Gwen's parents in person.”