Colony - Blood Kin (Colony Series Book 3)

by Gene Stiles

  “I thought I would find you here.” His soft voice seemed to echo in the silence of this holy place. He settled himself in the thick moss next to her, leaned back against the massive trunk and turned out the light. Morpheus said no more, knowing from experience that Haleah would speak in her own time. He simply luxuriated in the aroma of the thick ceiling of leaves above him, which blocked out the heat and light of a noonday sun. He sat just close enough to feel the warmth of her body without touching her, enjoying the simple scent of her. He stole a glance at her, a small smile tweaking the edge of his mouth. She sat cross-legged, hands in her lap, her long, blonde hair draping down from her bowed head and falling in a careless heap in her lap.

  Haleah took a deep inhale of the foliage-rich air and raised her head. Morpheus was startled by the deep lines furrowing her brow, the dark circles under her brilliant blue eyes, and the tracks of tears glistening along her cheeks. She looked at him for the briefest of moments then leaned to rest her weary head upon his broad chest. He said nothing, encircling her form with his arm and drawing her tightly to him.

  It worried him to see her like this. It was so unlike the laughing, vibrant woman he had known these past five years. She gazed at life with child-like wonder, taking indescribable delight in the simplest things, excited to learn, quick to grasp new ideas. Yet for all her innocence, this was not a woman to be underestimated. She was hard as a rock, lightning fast, with fighting skills to rival the fiercest warrior. More than one man had found she was not an easy mark for unwanted attention.

  The twin sides of this beautiful young lady enthralled Morpheus. From the moment she had joined the people, he had watched her from a distance. Never one to move quickly, he waited and watched. Listening to what interested her, watching what sparked her fiery temper. He stood awestruck at of her graceful movements, like that of a murcat, fluid, quick, powerful. How they had come to be together amazed him to this day.

  Never had he seen her like this. He had seen her giddy with wonder, laughing with joy, seething with anger, blushed with the heat of passion. Now she seemed sunken in on herself, all of her strength drained. It dawned on him that he had never seen her cry.

  Still he waited, saying nothing. They stayed as they were, unmoving, for the better part of an hour. Morpheus felt her breathing slow to a whisper and knew she had drifted off to sleep. He ran his fingers through her silky hair, gently tracing the line of her face. Oh, how he loved this woman! When she finally awoke, she stood with suddenness that almost threw him off balance.

  Haleah balled her fists upon her hips, flame dancing in her eyes. As Morpheus arose, she stated, “We must do something.”

  “About?” he asked, brushing the moss from his pants. He had no idea what was going on but he felt relieved to see her come back to herself.

  “My people. The Clan. I found out they are being treated like slaves, forced to do the work your people find too dangerous or disdainful.”

  Morpheus cocked his head to one side. “What is this ‘my people, your people’? You know I treat all the same.”

  A flicker of a smile touched Haleah’s lips. “This I know,” she said, reaching up and touching his cheek. “And that is one of the many reasons I love you. Forgive me. Still,” she continued, “something must be done.”

  Morpheus watched the tension build in her body. “Please sit. You are wound so tightly, I fear you will leap to the top of the One Tree,” he smiled, hoping calm her. “Start at the beginning,” he said. “Tell me everything.”

  “I cannot! There is no time! Plans must be made,” Haleah replied, her words filled with fire.

  “But you can,” Morpheus said softly. “You know a plan too quickly conceived is a plan doomed to failure. Trust me, beloved.”

  Haleah sucked in a deep breath of crisp air, wiped the tears from her eyes and acquiesced. “I was walking along the edge of the new city, up near the pass,” she started. “I came upon a group of the Clan clearing the tumble of rocks that blocked the route. I was so happy to see them that I did not, at first, notice their filth nor the fear in their eyes...”

  Haleah was thrilled to see the Clan. She had been so busy that she did not realize how much time had passed since she had joined them at a fire. Each day had brought a new wonder, a new chance to learn. Then came Morpheus. Seeing them filled her heart with joy and a yearning to share with them all she had found.

  “Col! Malek!” she waved, rushing toward them. When they turned to face her, she pulled up short, stunned by the hatred filling their eyes. Many would not glance at her at all, continuing at their labors with frightened glances up toward the rocks. Haleah followed their furtive gaze to see the group loosely ringed by silver-clad Ancestors who followed their every movement. Cradled in their arms were the deadly pulse rifles she had seen drop a mammoth in its tracks.

  At her approach, the Clansman closest to her stood and brushed the dirt from his hands. The nearest guard – as she now saw them to be – moved to intercept her. “Go back,” he said flatly. “You cannot be here.”

  “I go where I will,” she stated defiantly. “What is going on here?”

  He stared down at her as if she were an insect. “A simple work party. Do not interrupt them.”

  Haleah harrumphed at his attitude and moved to step around him. The guard gripped down on her arm. “I said…”

  The words had barely left his mouth by the time Haleah spun, smashing her fist into the side of his head. He staggered backward and dropped his weapon. Haleah gave him no time to recover, but kicked up between his legs with all of her considerable strength. The man let out a groan and hit the ground puking. She ignored him and stepped forward. Beams of red light sliced into the ground before her, melting the rock into steaming puddles.

  “Step no further,” another guard commanded. She looked up to find four of the People aiming their weapons in her direction. The Clan ceased their labors and stared in her direction.

  “What would you do?” Haleah demanded. “Would you kill me on the spot?”

  “That would not be necessary,” the guard responded coolly. “I could simply slice off your foot. Now go.”

  Infused with fury, Haleah turned to go. “Cronus shall hear of this,” she threw over her shoulder only to hear open laughter behind her.

  Haleah made her way to the bridge spanning the chasm between the new city of the Ancestors and the One Tree. Her long legs ate up the distance, fueled by the seething anger in her soul. Once across the bridge, she stepped upon one of the floating disks of the People. A few were always left here for those that cared to visit this ancient tree. Riding them, she had mastered in moments. All one needed to do was stand upon the disk and it would respond immediately, rising a few inches off the ground. By leaning slightly in any direction and you were quickly on your way.

  In a quarter of the time it would take to walk the distance, Haleah found herself on the other side of the small, steam-ringed island. She had been on the island of the One Tree many times in the last year. She came to bask in the peace and comfort of this silent place. She always walked there and but not been to this side of the island since meeting the Ancestors.

  The first thing she noticed was that there was no bridge. The only way to cross the gap between the island and the valley beyond was by disk or the larger sleds. Near where the crevasse touched the mountain wall, an enclosure, stark and undecorated, rose up from the ground. The buildings were long, made of sliced flats of stone; squares cut out for ventilation and wood-covered doors. All around the buildings, children of the Clan played and frolicked while women cooked at smoking fires. Clan elders and the infirm rested in the shade of large, leaf-covered trees. It should have been a happy, idyllic scene.

  It was the next thing she saw, however, that darkened her brow and brought bitter bile into her throat. Spaced evenly around the large enclosure stood crystal-topped perimeter wards. Haleah had seen that invisible barrier burn the life out of large animals that had tried to cross that border. There
were no armed guards to be seen, but then, as long as those crystals glowed blue, none were needed. She knew the village for what it was and it made her sick to the depths of her soul.

  She rode her disk over the divide and came to rest off to one side of the encampment where a group of women toiled in a large vegetable garden. Haleah walked as close to the invisible wall as she dared and called out. The women of the Clan stopped where they were, glaring at her with such burning hatred that, were their looks the weapons of the People, they would have disintegrated her on the spot. With utter distain, touched with fear, they pointedly turned their eyes away.

  Pain cut deeply into her soul and she fell to her knees on the moist earth. Haleah tasted the salt of her tears as they fell to the ground. She buried her face in her hands and wept. “Why?” was all she could whisper. “Oh, why?”

  “Why?” Haleah heard above her. She could not see for the blurriness of her vision. “What?” she murmured, not understanding the word.

  “Why are you here?” came the vaguely familiar voice.

  Haleah looked up at the dark face that stared at her. For a moment, she could not place the sound, so long had it been since she spoke the Clan tongue. Then her vision cleared and she jumped to her feet with a smile. “Sheel!”

  Sheel backed up, raising her hands as if in defense. “Wait!” Haleah nearly shouted. “Do not go! What is this? Why do you treat me like an enemy?”

  Sheel stopped where she was, glancing up at the glow of the crystals. As if assured that Haleah could not get much closer, she moved nearer. “Because you are the enemy,” she spit. “You and all your kind!”

  “No!” Haleah did shout this time, her tone as heated as the glow that infused her cheeks. “I am of the Izon! I am the Keeper! We have walked the breath of this world together for generations! How could you think of me as anything else?”

  “If you still considered yourself of the Clan,” Sheel spat back, “Where have you been and why have you allowed this to happen to us?”

  Haleah dropped her head in shame. “I am so very sorry I have not visited. For this I have no excuse.” Her blue eyes sparkled like chipped ice as they locked with Sheel's dark brown ones. “But I swear to you, my friend, I had no knowledge of,” she waved her hand, her lips creased by repugnance, “this. Tell me. What has happened?”

  Warily, Sheel pondered for a few moments. She saw the frigidness of Haleah’s stance, the wide-planted feet, the trembling of fury-filled muscles. She saw the Keeper of the Izon, friend for all of her life and though she had nearly hated Haleah for these many years, part of her yearned for that past. The other women had stopped working and gathered behind her, waiting for her response. Since the Keeper had left the Clan, the others had unspokenly deferred to her as wife of Guel.

  “Alright,” she said finally. “Sit with us, Haleah.”

  Haleah noted the lack of title, but eased herself to the ground, waiting while the women seated themselves in a loose semi-circle behind Sheel on the other side of the barrier. None spoke. “Right after you left us,” Sheel began, “the Ancestors began building this camp. We thought it a wonderful thing. Their tools of light cut the boulders into flat pieces that they put together to create these homes. Their wands made these massive rocks float through the air like magic! To be in what they called ‘buildings’, safe from the rain and wind and cold was incredible to us all. We were very happy.”

  “They brought us food, fresh kills cleaned and dressed,” she continued. “For a time, the men did nothing but get fat and lazy. They sat around the campfires talking of past adventures and friends lost along the way.”

  “The Ancestors never spoke to us, just made their stops and left. That is all but one or two. One called himself Marcus. He sat with us and learned our language. We even called him ‘friend’.” She bit the word off like a foul root. “After many moons, the men wished to go out and hunt, roam the countryside. Marcus told the men they could go, but that they had to stay on this side of the One Tree and within the confines of the Valley.”

  Sheel sighed. “You know Guel. Though he had no desire to leave the Valley, he did not take well to being told where he could or could not go.”

  Haleah gave a wan smile. “This would not go well with him, for sure.”

  “It did not,” Sheel continued, “but he went along with it.”

  “During that hunt, we lost two of the Clan to a giant bear. Sad, but not unusual, as you know. That is when things started to get worse.”

  “Marcus did not take the news well.” Sheel looked as if she had swallowed something sour. “He looked as if he were instructing children. He said there was no need for us to hunt. All would be provided. No one needs die in such foolish games.”

  Haleah hissed in the warm air.

  Sheel shook her head sadly. “Of course Guel caught the look. He stood chest to chest with Marcus – though he had to tilt his head up. ‘You will not tell me or my people that we cannot live as we always have,’ he said. ‘You will not tell us we are not free to go where we will, hunt as we will or live where we will.’”

  “Marcus just smiled and said no more. I thought he would pat Guel on the head.”

  “That would have been bloody,” Haleah said.

  “Very.” Sheel’s visage darkened and women behind her echoed her silent sentiment. “When we woke the next morning, these,” she took in the wards with a wave of her hand, “were in place.”

  “Marcus stood inside with two armed Ancestors. When we came out, he demonstrated what would happen if we tried to move between these poles. He told us they were for our protection,” she spat. “Guel then did the unthinkable. He struck Marcus and dropped him to the ground.”

  “Creator!” Haleah cursed.

  “Just so,” Sheel nodded. “The other Ancestors reacted immediately. They converged on Guel and beat him bloody with the butts of their weapons. A few of the Clan went to Guel’s aid. The ancestors cut them to pieces with their light wands.”

  Tears filled Sheel’s eyes. “They left the bodies where they had fallen and left without another word.”

  “Oh, Sheel!” Haleah cried. “I am so very sorry. What happened with Guel? He is not dead, is he?”

  “No,” she said. “But over the next few months, he did all that he could to break free of this place. Each time we were…punished. Sometimes the men were shocked with lightning sticks. Other times, no food arrived for days. A few were killed.”

  Hatred filled her eyes. “Guel is broken. Not in body, but in spirit. He sits alone beneath the trees and speaks to no one. Not even me.”

  The women murmured angrily.

  “Now, Haleah, the men are forced to move rocks or trees or whatever the Ancestors wish. Our children and we women stay here to insure they will do as they are told. There have been threats.”

  Haleah could not believe what she was hearing. Her heart boiled over with rage and pain for her Clan. “I swear,” she said, standing. “I swear I will do all in my power to end this outrage. You have the word of the Keeper. The Keeper of the Izon!” She looked down on the huddled women. “And you know I have never broken my vow.”

  Haleah sat cross-legged on the soft ground, having finally calmed enough to sit. She looked up at Morpheus. “I went to Cronus,” she said and told him of the meeting. “It was to no avail. I do not know what to do next, but do something, I will!” Her hardened knuckles slammed into the soft earth, sinking up to her wrist.

  Morpheus felt consumed by volcanic fire. His eyes nearly glowed lava red. “It is unforgivable for the Clan to be treated this way. They are human beings, direct descendants of the People.”

  “But there is only you and I and Cronus that know that,” she said. “And I told you what he said he would do if that fact became known.”

  “Yes,” Morpheus responded, “but he has no right to keep that from the others. I shall find a few I can trust to keep quiet and we shall put together a plan to help.”

  A touch of fear passed across Haleah�
��s face. “Do not tell them the truth, Morpheus. Please, I beg of you,” she whispered.

  He brushed the side of her cheek. “You need never beg me for anything, my love,” he whispered. “I will not tell them. I promise.”

  Morpheus stood still and serene before the fifty or so men and women sitting cross-legged on the thick moss beneath the One Tree, waiting for the murmuring and grumbling to abate. His black, wavy hair trailed down to the middle of his back, swirling around him like a cloud in the warm evening breeze. His tall, muscular frame leaned back against the rough bark, giving every appearance of calm relaxation. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

  He was pleased, though, that there were so many in attendance. His naïve expectations were badly battered by the initial responses he had received from the People. He realized he did not truly know them at all. He had searched among all of those he had called his friends. He told them of the plight of the Clan. He asked for their help, expecting an immediate outcry for change. This is not what he got. Most looked at him as if he were speaking of freeing pets. “What does it matter?” they asked. “Those poor creatures are being well cared for.”

  He was shocked at the casual retorts. He did not realize the ego of the People. They thought they were the masters of all they surveyed and that anything else was inferior to them. It was then that he began to notice many of that group were beginning to use Clan members as servants. The Izon in the homes stood as stiff as statues, clothed in grayish outfits, their unruly hair, clipped to their shoulders and brushed. It sickened Morpheus. Out of the fifty or so he had spoken with back then, only three had joined him at first, Anaxus, Nuvan and Navis. Yet, he persevered, slowly adding numbers to his group. Most of his recruits came not from the population at large, but from his fellow Aam.

  The Aam gathered around him had cause for concern. There was a strange disquiet coursing beneath the surface of the Aam contingents. Whispered rumors abounded of unnecessary violence against citizens as if the abuse of the Izon was no longer enough for those of such ilk. There were stories of Aam being trained in secret, given access to powerful weaponry. There were even charges - quickly retracted - that some Aam were forcing themselves upon women and taking what they would from shopkeepers without recompense. None of these things was proven, but they did serve to draw more people to Morpheus. Many commanders saw their questions to superior officers regarding these stories and concerns simply brushed aside. They saw men in their units whom they reprimanded for excesses of behavior transferred to other squads and never spoken of again. Fights were breaking out among the Aam and between the Aam and the citizenry for no apparent reason. It made them wonder what else may be happening.