The First Covenant (Dark Universe Series Book 2)

by Alex Sheppard

  “Vines,” Ross said, pointing at the nearest window. Thick and vicious, they crawled over the windows, wrapping the carrier in a deadly embrace. Temihula was going to crush them to death. Ahool gave out a whimper and doubled over in his chair.

  A wave of guilt swept through Ramya. This was all her fault. She should’ve stayed quiet. Now she had gotten everyone into his mess. No, it wasn’t just a mess. She had earned everyone in the carrier a death sentence.

  Ramya closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. She had to fix this. Somehow. “I’m going to go out,” she declared.

  Both Ross and Chief Dal snapped toward her. Ross spoke first.

  “And do what?”

  “He will destroy you,” the chief said. “You will only anger him more.”

  Ramya ran a nervous hand through her hair. “Maybe. But I started this. You shouldn’t be held responsible for what I did.”

  “But you can’t fix—” Chief Dal stopped abruptly and winced. The carrier rocked like a paper boat in a squall. Grabbing his throat, the chief slumped against a column and heaved pitifully, as if someone was strangling him. Ramya was too scared to touch him, barely scrunching up enough courage to ask him what was going on. Before she could speak, the chief wheezed a few words out. “He’ll kill us all now.”

  Not if she could help it. Even though the pit of her stomach sunk like a boulder Ramya managed a nod. “Open the hatch,” she yelled. “Open the hatch.”

  The carrier tilted sideways, shouts and screams filling the small cabin. Chief Dal, who seemed to have recovered from the agony of moments ago, grabbed a column as the vehicle careened back and forth like a boat in a vicious storm.

  “Let me out,” Ramya shouted.

  Chief Dal gestured at his men. One of them pressed a lever on a side panel, and with a blink and a screech, the hatch of the carrier started to open. Ramya gave a quick look around. Ross could have been carved from a stone, and the chief looked faded. Ahool had been groaning from time to time, and he now sagged to the floor like a rag doll.

  “You can’t go out alone,” Ross said. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No, don’t,” Ramya said. “Perhaps it’s only me he’s angry with. Maybe he’ll let you pass on and help the Endeavor.”

  “And that’s your big plan? Sacrificing yourself?” Ross said. “Are you crazy?”

  “I’m going to try to survive,” Ramya said.

  Chief Dal grabbed Ross by the arm. “Let her go. Let her try.”

  Ross threw a disbelieving look at the chief. “Try? You said it yourself. She’ll get killed. She doesn’t have a single weapon on her. At least give back her blaster.”

  The chief shook his head. “She cannot carry a weapon in the grove. The rules are clear on that.”

  Ross blinked a few times before scoffing. “You’re going to send her out there, unarmed . . . defenseless against that . . . thing?”

  “This is her choice. Maybe she’s right. Maybe Temihula only wants her. Maybe he’ll let us go if he gets her,” the chief said.

  Ross shook his head in disbelief. “So we’ll just throw her out to be killed just so we get to keep our hinds intact?” he snapped. “I’m sorry; I don’t do that sort of stuff.”

  “If you survive, you get to help your captain,” the chief shot back. “Does that interest you at all? Sometimes to win a war you have to lose a battle.” He looked at Ramya and gestured at the half-open hatch. “If you want to go, now is the time.”

  The carrier rattled again as if to remind Ramya to come outside. She turned toward the door, but before she could take another step, Ross grabbed her arm and growled, “You’re not going out alone. That’s an order.”

  Ramya barely got a chance to fathom his words let alone frame a reply. A thick vine shot through the half-parted door of the carrier and wrapped around her waist.

  “Rami!” Ross’s scream filled the chamber.

  In the next second, the vine pulled her out of the craft with a whoosh and deposited her on the forest floor. Thick darkness surrounded Ramya, and she braced herself for the unknown horrors that awaited.

  9

  THE HATCH of the Berkari carrier snapped shut behind Ramya, leaving her alone in the dark. It wasn’t exactly a sightless dark; a gray and insipid light filtered through the grove. Ramya could see the gnarly trunks of trees around her side of a small clearing. The ground under her feet was soft, covered with moss.

  Trees, tall and dark, stared down at her from all sides. They were huge, powerful, and quietly fierce. Vines hung from their sturdy branches like strands of jewelry. A chill drifted past, tingling Ramya’s spine. It left her shaking and feeling utterly, hopelessly small.

  The grove was quiet, terribly quiet . . . holding its breath. The Berkari chief’s carrier stood behind her like a rock encased in vines, the only known entity in this alien world. Ramya’s body shook, her fingers were icy and stiff, and an endless void filled her insides. Her feet were stuck to the ground. Her mind went blank like an empty canvas that she desperately wanted to fill in but failed no matter how hard she tried.

  Then something moved. Ramya held her breath and tried to understand what it was. She couldn’t tell. It could’ve been the rustle of a branch or a leaf falling to the ground. There was no way to tell for sure. Ramya stood, bracing herself for she did not know what. She stood for what felt like eternity . . . until she had grown utterly tired of waiting.

  Every minute spent fearing was a minute wasted. And they had already wasted enough time. It was time to get it over with, once and for all. Ramya took one step, and then another, away from the carrier and across the clearing. She walked further into the darkness.

  Another rustle? Maybe. She had to keep walking. Temihula was somewhere out there and she had to find him and somehow convince him to release the carrier and the Endeavor.

  A sharp sensation in her mind, almost like a pinprick, made Ramya stop. A ripple, strong and endless, surged through her mind, and she swayed unstably. She planted her feet firmly on the ground to stop from falling.

  A thought, cold and menacing, took shape in Ramya’s mind and slithered through her head. It dug up pain, grief, and fear. It kept pulling, tugging at the edges of her brain, digging for her emotions. Every sad memory—lonely evenings as shadows darkened in the cavernous rooms at Somenvaar, countless instances of her father’s frosty dismissals, her mother’s stony indifference—flashed across Ramya’s mind, leaving her tired, cold, and vulnerable.

  “Stop,” Ramya shouted, pushing away the prying sensation in her head. Frustration and anger rose swiftly in her gut, making her fists curl. What a waste of time this was. “Stop prodding my brain. Let my friends go.”

  Leaves crackled all around, mocking her. It was not about to let anyone go. “Come on,” she shouted again, desperate. “Let those people go.”

  Her head hurt. A wave of nausea flooded upward from the pit of her stomach.

  “What sort of a god are you?” she blurted. “You are supposed to take care of your own and you’re—”

  The pain in her head grew brighter than a million stars. Heat flooded her insides. Ramya grabbed her temples and screamed.

  The entire grove rustled again. Branches swayed giddily, as if every tree was laughing at her. A wind grew from the ground, cold and intense, swirling around her like a raging storm. Ramya wanted to run, but she forced herself to stand her ground.

  Thoughts hissed in her head. Something pushed her at the knees and they buckled. Ice rushed up her legs, numbing them until Ramya barely sensed them anymore. The wind came again. It hit her like a hammer in the back and Ramya crumpled to the ground like a puppet on a string.

  The presence in her head seemed to leap with joy. It had made her fall to the ground. It had won. It swirled inside her head, gleeful.

  “This isn’t a fair fight,” Ramya hissed through gritted teeth, knowing well that she was but a toy in the hands of an entity whose strength she could not even fathom.

  Suddenly, her thoughts
stilled. Whatever entity was riffling through her mind stopped. Perhaps it was surprised. Or angry. Something snapped. Ramya heard the swish of something being flung. A hiss of air. She looked up right in time to catch a glimpse of the tree branch swinging toward her. Ramya fell to one side and raised her arm to stop the branch aimed at her head, barely managing to grab it. She twisted it with all her might. Her palms stung, her arms ached, but Ramya didn’t let go. She wasn’t allowed to bring a weapon to the fight, but she could make one. She was going to make one. If Temihula expected her to go down like a gentle lamb, he was in for a surprise.

  A sharp crack and the branch came loose. Her palms burned. Ramya was sure they were bleeding, but she smiled regardless. Now she had something—however puny—to fight back. Hope warmed her heart, and Ramya sat up straighter. But only for a second. A gust of wind slapped against Ramya’s shoulder making her stumble forward. Ramya steadied herself on her hands and knees, she pressed the stick into the ground and pushed herself to a sit upright. The wind pushed again.

  Goading Temihula into a fight was a bad idea. An extremely bad idea. But as bad as it was, it was too late to walk away from the fight now. She had no choice but to take her chances. Ramya got to her feet, trembling slightly, her fingers curling over the rough surface of the tree branch like it was a lifesaver.

  Weapon or not, how the hell was she going to defend herself if she didn’t know how Temihula could attack? This is as foolish as foolish gets. Cursing herself, Ramya planted her feet as firmly as she could and tried to sense the air around her.

  Everything stayed quiet for a few seconds. Then something slithered behind her. A vine, as thick as a man’s arm, struck like a snake at her leg. Ramya jumped back, swinging her stick at the clawing creeper, but she couldn’t avoid it altogether. Before her stick could land on its tip, the vine hit the side of her leg. Ramya toppled over and fell backward, her back slamming into the ground. Pain from the Pterostrich attack of not so long ago, came surging back. Ramya gritted her teeth and scrambled to her feet. The vine had withdrawn momentarily, but now it rushed at her, the tip raised like a spear intent on impaling her.

  Ramya fell back a few steps and swung her makeshift sword at the vine. She caught it right at the top. The vine shrunk backward and fell to the ground like a coil of rope.

  A shuffling sound rose behind her. More vines, thicker than the last, rose in a line. In half the blink of an eye, one of them struck. Ramya jumped backward. The wall advanced on her, and Ramya helplessly swiped with her stick. They hit back with vicious strikes and she grunted and cried out as they lashed at her limbs, tearing her clothes and drawing blood. I can’t die here, she thought. She swung her stick furiously, swirling it nonstop as she jumped backward, making room between her and the advancing wall.

  Something pushed her from the back. The ground, dark and uneven, rushed up to her face. Ramya tried to prop herself up on her arms, but before she could it struck her side and sent her trundling across the damp ground. A branch slapped her across the face and Ramya yelped in pain. The side of her face burned and blood trickled down her cheek. Ramya ran her arm over the gash and braced herself. Then she sprung up, dashing to the side opposite to where the vines were located, where she could sense the clearing where the carrier was parked.

  There was a blur of movement behind her. Vines snapped at her heels. Her mouth tasted like blood as she bit her lip in determination. She wasn’t going to go down without a fight. “Come at me!” she shouted wildly, and she made a run for it, her lungs burning as she ran as fast as she could. Vines slashed at her, but she didn’t stumble.

  When she reached the spot free of trees and vegetation, Ramya sunk to the ground and heaved. Tears burned her eyes. She had escaped the vines. The carrier was a few paces away and still in one piece. They were all alive . . . for now. And before that could change, for better or for worse, she allowed herself a moment to give in to her exhaustion, her fear, her pain, and she sobbed right there on the forest floor, the trees above her swaying gently in the breeze.

  10

  UNDER HER FEET, the ground shook, and Ramya was pulled out of the momentary quiet. Her tired eyes spotted a crack in the ground, and it spread like lightning across the clearing, splitting the ground open. Something—it was clearly sizable—was rising from the pit. Terror made her numb, and her thoughts stilled. Ramya held her breath and raised the puny stick to defend herself. A dark shape shot out of the ground.

  A round pod-like head atop a long, stout stem emerged from the ground, and in place of leaves, tentacles, far thicker than the vines that had attacked her earlier, flew out toward Ramya.

  One grabbed her leg and flung her across the clearing. Ramya screamed at the impact. She tried to push her stick into the ground to keep her from being dragged, but she couldn’t hold on. She beat at the tentacles. When one withdrew, three others tossed her into the shrubs. In the next second they yanked her out again and threw her against the tree trunks. She was covered in moss and dirt, bruises and scratches, shaken to the core. Every bone ached. She dug her fingers into the ground and desperately started crawling back toward the trees. A tentacle slithered up her back and around her neck and squeezed.

  Ramya gasped for air. She clawed at the damp tentacle, the skin on her fingers tearing on its jagged surface. The world turned darker. And darker still. Her lungs were on fire.

  Somewhere in the distance, there was a clang and a shout. A spot of brightness flickered in her dimming vision. The hatch of the Berkari carrier had opened. Someone jumped out. He bounded over the floor of vines—dodging, ducking, skirting—until he reached Ramya. Ross? A boot landed on the tentacle holding her. Then again. A fist, a boot. They pounded on the monstrous appendage.

  The choking hold around Ramya loosened slightly. Then suddenly it fell off her and flew at Ross. It struck at his face. He yelped. It caught him by the leg and flicked him backward. Ross flew through the air, landing on the ground with a thud and a groan. He careened backward and hit the trunk of a tree. The pod jumped toward him, its tentacles hovering over Ross as if to make sure if he didn’t have the strength to get back on his feet.

  Ramya reached for her stick. Gripping the pole as tightly as she could, she stood up on shaky legs. The monstrous pod sensed her immediately and turned toward her again.

  A tentacle shot out at her face. Ramya ducked. Another swung at her body. Ramya fell back and swiped with her stick. They swung away with ease.

  “Damn it!” Ramya cursed under her breath. Her brain whirred in frenzy, trying to think of a solution. She couldn’t break the monstrosity—it was far too strong and her stick was nearly useless—but she had to stop it somehow.

  But how? All she had was the spiteful forest around her. Maybe she could use the forest. A fledgling plan raised its head—one with the trees and the branches—but it was going to be risky. A few paces from her, the tentacles regrouped around the pod. They flared like the hood of a many-headed snake and swayed. It was preparing to strike. Ramya’s fists curled. It was now or never.

  With a loud yowl, Ramya dashed toward the trees. She threw her stick to the right and hurled herself over a branch to the left. The tentacles followed. One jumped after the stick; another two stung at her legs. Ramya swung through the branches, gritting her teeth as rough bark and thorns cut into her already-bruised palms. The tentacles followed her.

  Up, down, around, and over the branches she went.

  They were nipping at her heels.

  Ramya’s legs ached and burned. She kept on swinging, scrambling, weaving back and forth through the branches and vines.

  The tentacles mirrored her movements.

  Her lungs screamed for air. Ramya didn’t have time to breathe.

  Up. Above. Under.

  They kept coming.

  On her fifth dash through the trees, Ramya sensed the tentacles slowing down. She stopped for a moment to gauge the situation and her heart leaped with joy immediately. Her plan had worked. The tentacles were entangled,
just how she’d hoped they would. The pod was trying to pull its many arms out of the mesh but without much luck. It tugged, the branches groaned, but nothing budged.

  Ramya picked up her stick and gripped it tight. The inside of her head was burning like wildfire, and Ramya knew that wasn’t her own anger she was feeling. It was Temihula’s rage at being trapped. Along with the fire came a smoky darkness that threatened to suffocate and blur her senses.

  Now! Gritting her teeth, Ramya charged at the pod, hitting it at the center of its head just as the fire exploded like a grenade within her. The monster clutched at her hair, and Ramya fell to the ground, screaming in agony. This was the end, she knew. She had no regrets. She had done what she could. Now it was all over. Ramya collapsed in a heap at the feet of the monstrous pod as darkness poured over her.

  For a never-ending minute or two, there was dead stillness everywhere—around Ramya and inside her. The quiet was calming yet terrifying. She didn’t have the strength left in her to move a finger if she wanted, so she did the only thing she could: She closed her eyes and waited for death to come.

  An unexpected light shone through instead, the dimness in her mind ebbing suddenly. There was no pain or death, but a breezy calmness sweeping across. Strength surged back into Ramya’s limbs, hope made her heart flutter.

  Temihula . . . had he relented? But he couldn’t have. He had lost after all. Where was the anger? As Ramya caught her breath, the grove unfurled. Treetops straightened and light, dim as it was, streamed in and bathed Ramya. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the change.

  She saw Ross, propped up against a tree trunk, breathing heavily. Other than a few gashes on his face, he didn’t seem hurt. The chief’s carrier still stood like a rock, but the vines around it were slowly sliding off.

  The monstrous pod lay in front of her, beaten and entangled. An unexpected sense of compassion flooded Ramya’s mind as she watched the pod’s miserable form. She had to untangle it. But what if it attacked again? It wouldn’t, she was pretty sure. This battle was over.