by Andrew Gates
“Sara!” Damien cried out.
She instantly turned to face him. Damien was flat on the ground, immobile. That can’t be good.
“Yes, I’m coming!” She ran his way, wasting no time.
When she found him, his legs were badly mutilated. Thick gashes tore into his flesh. Blood covered everything. Insects had already found their way into the meat of his legs.
“Oh, Damien!”
“I’m in bad shape,” he replied. He looked up at her. His face was flushed, as white as it had been back in the station.
“Can you stand?”
“No,” he answered. “But you… you safe?”
“I am,” Sara replied. “Thanks.”
“You saved me,” Damien said. “I should be the one thanking you.”
“You’ll have time to thank me later,” Sara said, doing anything she could to maintain a positive attitude. “You’ll make it through this. I know it!”
“How… how are we doing? More ruors?” Damien asked.
Sara quickly turned around. Only a few more ruors remained. The dark-shelled creature had finished most of them off. Crowds of humans encircled the remaining ruors and prodded them with spear tips.
“No, no more ruors,” Sara said, turning back around. “We’ve done it! Your strategy was good, bringing everyone around the ship like that.”
“Good,” Damien said. “Good to hear.”
“I need to stop the circulation or you’ll die of blood loss,” Sara said as she examined his legs again.
“I understand.”
Sara removed her ratted and torn tank top and pants. There was no need for them anyway. She could not believe she had held onto these clothes for as long as she had. Now completely nude, Sara tied the clothes around Damien’s legs, making sure it was tight.
“Does that feel secure?” she asked.
“Seems… good… to me,” Damien answered through long, deep breaths. He closed his eyes. He was running out of blood, fast.
“Stay with me, Damien,” she said.
Damien’s head dropped down to the ground. He wiggled his head back and forth, slowly, as if he were doing anything he could to stay awake.
“Come on, don’t you fucking die on me, Damien! Don’t you do that!”
A grin slowly formed on Damien’s face.
“I… I knew…” he said.
“What is it?” she asked, leaning over him. She could feel tears running down her cheeks. “Come on, Damien, what is it?”
“I knew I could get you to curse,” he joked.
The smile suddenly disappeared from his face. His head fell still. His whole body was motionless.
No.
“Damien?” She trembled. She placed her hands on his hairy cheeks. “No! No!” Sara fell down on top of him. His body was still warm. Sara’s tears engulfed her face and spilled onto Damien’s body.
After everything they had been through, everything they had fought, Sara could not believe it would all end like this. He was a leader now, a beacon of hope for these people. He couldn’t die, he just couldn’t.
She felt the air blow against the top of her head. The gust was focused and small. In some ways, she found it strangely comforting in this dark time.
Then the gust continued again. Then again. It was steady, recurring.
Sara lifted her head and looked down at Damien’s body. No, it can’t be, she thought. She held her hand below his nose as a familiar feeling touched her skin.
Breathing. He’s breathing!
IT WAS QUIET.
Damien Saljov walked through the white halls of the Atlantic Station. Artificial lights hummed from above. The metal floor clanked with each step. This world, once his home, now seemed so foreign to him. Everything was tiny and crammed, so unlike the vast beaches of the surface. He could not believe this was once normal.
Damien seemed to be alone in this world. Apart from his own footsteps, there was not a single sound to be heard.
"Hello?" he said as he explored the endless hallways.
Damien did not remember how he had gotten here, nor how long he had been aimlessly exploring these halls. It was as if he had always been here since the beginning.
"Damien," a familiar voice answered.
Damien spun around, surprised to hear anyone at all.
His brother stood before him, garbed in his old Navy uniform. His clothes looked dusty and ratted, as if they had not been touched in ages. His face was pale, as if he were sick.
"Tracey!" Damien ran up to him and gave him a hug. Tracey's body was cold as ice.
"Damien," he repeated, breaking the embrace.
"Are you okay? You look sick!" Damien said.
Tracey nodded.
"It's withdrawal. I'm recovering, but it's not easy."
"Drugs?"
Tracey nodded again.
"They say another overdose would have killed me. That was the sign for me. That was when I knew I had to change."
"I'm glad you're putting that shit behind you now," Damien said.
"I did it because of you," he said back.
Damien looked at him with a confused expression.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"You inspired me, Damien. I saw you. Death had you in its grip. You could've given up. You could've let death take you. But you fought on. You persisted."
"You saw all that?"
"I did." Tracey pointed to him. "The Cassidy, the spaceship, the pod, the monsters. You inspired me. Your story... it saved me."
Damien smiled and felt his eyes begin to water. He did not know what to say.
"He's not the only one," another voice said.
Damien spun around again as another familiar face walked through the hall.
Xandrie, beautiful Xandrie. She looked more amazing than Damien had ever seen. She was clean, her hair was neatly curled and her face had been touched up with a subtle layer of makeup here and there. She wore a long white dress that matched the pristine white walls around her. She looked like a goddess in the artificial light from above.
"Xandrie, you're alive!" Damien said. His jaw fell wide.
"Most importantly, I have something to live for," she replied.
Damien gingerly rubbed his fingers against her cheeks. Her skin was soft and warm.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"When you found me, I was trapped in a cell so bright that I could not see. I thought I would never see again, and if I did, I never thought I would see another person. I'd all but given up. I was ready to die. But then you opened that door and everything changed." She stepped closer to him. "You saved me from that cell. You gave me hope. You gave me something to live for."
"Xandrie," Damien said, staring into her beautiful eyes.
"I love you, Damien."
"I love you too. I am glad to have helped you, both of you," he said.
"But your work is not done yet," added another.
Damien turned again.
Sara stood on a sandy shore as the white halls of the Atlantic Station slowly faded away. She was garbed in her Navy uniform. It looked just as clean as the moment they entered the Cassidy for the first time.
"Sara," he said. He walked toward her.
"Damien, I'm glad to see you," she said.
"Yes, me too."
"For the longest time, I thought you were dead. I thought you had drowned."
"No, no, I'm here," he said.
"When I found you, you were quick to take me in your community. I could not have imagined the family of survivors you had gathered. You've helped so many. You've inspired us, saved us," she explained, "but your journey is not yet over. There are more trials ahead. We need you now more than ever."
"What do you need me to do?" he asked.
Sara stared at him sternly.
"You need to wake up."
Damien suddenly opened his eyes and let out in deep gasp for air. He sat up and held his hand to his lungs. His heart pounded. His vision was blurry, but it slo
wly came back to him. He made out a crowd of people surrounding him.
"Where... where am I?" he asked through deep breaths.
He looked around as his vision recovered. He could now tell that he was inside the parked Kholvari ship. It was still on the beach. The backdoor was open wide.
Several human figures gathered around him. Smiles covered their faces. Some even clapped for joy. Sara sat in the middle of the group. She quickly stood up as Damien came to.
"You're safe, don't worry," Sara said to him. She leaned down before him and pressed her hand to his shoulder.
"The ruors?"
"Gone for now. It's like I said, you're safe."
"Casualties?"
"Only one, but many are badly injured," Sara answered.
"One casualty... it's Xandrie Kovak, isn't it?"
Sara slowly lowered her head.
"I didn't know her name, but I could tell she was close to you." She paused for a moment, then looked him in the eyes. "I'm sorry."
So she really is dead. The white dress, the beautiful smile, it was all a dream. Damien lowered his head for a few seconds, trying to cope with the news.
"But there is good news. We have not been attacked in days."
"Days?" Damien repeated. He looked up again.
"You've been asleep for two days. You were badly injured. Your legs... you lost a lot of blood," she explained.
Damien looked down to his legs. They were bright pink from all the scar tissue.
"Damn."
"I wouldn't advise walking for a few days," Sara said.
"That's probably best," he agreed. He tried wiggling his legs and felt nothing but pain. "What about Kal Likus and Kho Zozak?"
"They're both injured, but alive. We still don't have any way to communicate to them without you, but we've managed to develop a few hand signals to convey key things."
"Where are they now?" Damien wondered. He could not see them anywhere.
"Out hunting. Don't worry about them. They're fine," Sara said, reassuringly. "How about you? How do you feel?"
"Like a goddamn ruor tried to bite my legs off," Damien joked back. "But honestly, a bit short of breath. Otherwise fine."
"Good. I'm glad you're still with us." She patted him on the shoulder.
"Is there anyway I can help?" he asked, shifting his position.
"Not unless you can think of a way to keep us safe from another surprise ruor attack," she replied.
Damien stopped to think about that for a few moments. He stared out at the trees in the distance. They stood tall in the sand, like giant beams. After almost a minute, Damien looked Sara in the eye. He had an idea.
"We're settlers, aren't we?" he asked.
"Uh... yeah, I guess you could call us that," she replied, clearly not sure where he was going.
"So why not build a settlement?"
Sara stared back at him with a look of confusion.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, let's use the trees, the stones. We can build walls to keep the ruors at bay. Likus and Zozak can help us with that. We can create a place just for us within the walls. We can construct buildings to sleep in or fences to house animals. We can section off parts of the ocean for fishing or dig trenches to carry in fresh drinking water from inland."
"You're talking about building a city," Sara said, finally catching on.
"That's right." Damien leaned forward. "Just like our ancestors." He felt himself smile.
"I like it." Sara smiled. "What should we call this city?"
Damien knew the answer right away.
"We name it something bold, something catchy, something that evokes the feeling of adventure," he explained. "We would call it Cassidy.”
SARA TOSSED AND TURNED IN the night, flipping this way and that like a fish out of water. Wind blew across her naked body, sending shivers up and down her spine. She dug her legs deep into the sand, trying to stay warm. Small crabs crawled on top of her. She casually brushed them off with her hands.
Sara may have had trouble falling asleep, but her mind was at peace. She and Damien had begun the construction of a new settlement; the first settlement on the Earth's surface since the Descent. Their community was safe, for now, and would only become safer as the construction progressed.
There was nothing to worry about.
Or so she thought.
That was the last thing Sara remembered before dozing off. Her shivering stopped. Crabs wandered freely across her body. In that moment, Sara was gone as a new consciousness took hold.
"Sara," she muttered aloud. "Oh, Sara, you thought you'd seen the last of me, didn't you? You thought I'd given up and died the day we left that platform."
She suddenly opened her eyes and sat up, but this was not Sara. Someone else had taken hold of her body.
"Have your fun, Sara. Build your little city. It will do you no good. In time, you will come to know that you cannot escape me. You and I exist together now; two minds in one corpse."
She turned to face the ocean and grinned.
"This city may keep you safe from the monsters, but it will not keep you safe from me."
Allora let out an ominous laugh as she stared out into the darkness.
The following chapter preview is a rough draft of a chapter from Veznek, the third book in The Color of Water and Sky series. This chapter, taken from early in the novel, follows the titular Under Chieftain Kho Veznek, shortly after the events in Kholvaria. Enjoy!
THE TOWERING SKYSCRAPERS SHOT UP like silver spears aiming to pierce the clouds. Flying crafts zigzagged in between the massive structures as if they were chasing one another. Veznek watched as Kholvari citizens pushed by each other as they navigated through the congested streets.
This was T’Dakho, the third largest terrestrial city in the Kholvari Chiefdom. The air was hazy here and the scent of muck forever loomed in his nostrils. With so many people in such small vicinity, it was no wonder this city reeked of pollution and filth.
But that was the Kholvari way. Unlike their Sorrevahni counterparts, who sprawled out across the continent (save for a few isolated islands or mountains here and there), the Kholvari kept as much of their land pure and untouched as possible. The Kholvari packed into cities like T’Dakho like bees to a hive.
Their largest city, Vigilant Behemoth, was no terrestrial city at all. It hovered above his head. Veznek glanced up at it, taking in its magnificence. The orbiting world was a testament to the Chiefdom’s military might and power. No ship was larger, not even in the Empire.
As a hierarch of the Chiefdom, Veznek spent most of his days in the Behemoth. He preferred its wide halls and open space to the crammed alleys and crowded rooms of T’Dakho. But he supposed a change of scenery was good for him once in a while.
The Under Chieftain looked back down to the streets from the 105th floor balcony of the tallest building in the city, Regal Tower. He tried to put the spaceship out of his mind and hoped he would not have to stay here for much longer.
The decision to come to T’Dakho was not his. At the request of the Supreme Chieftess’s personal bodyguard, Kho Kozakh, the hierarchs and Kreeds were relocated to the planet’s surface. Kozakh feared an attack following events on the Behemoth. Begrudgingly, Veznek agreed to follow the guard’s directive, though Kozakh had no real authority to command him to do anything.
Veznek sighed as he reflected on the events that prompted their relocation. The official story was that two evolved-one sympathizers, Kho Kytali and Kho Opkelah, sprung a Sorrevahni prisoner out of his cell in an effort to return him to the Empire. One of the traitors attempted to flee with the prisoner in a commissioned ship. The other activated a distress beacon. Both were stopped by Kreeds, the most elite fighting forces in the Chiefdom.
That was just the official story, of course. The real story was much more complex. But none knew what really happened, including the Supreme Chieftess. Veznek took pride in having his secrets. After all, without secrets, he was nothing.
> “Your Majesty,” a voice said, calling his attention back. Veznek turned to face the speaker.
Kozakh arrived on the other side of the balcony. He bowed as he carried his spear by his side. As always, his ornate headpiece made him seem taller than he was.
Veznek picked up his scepter, which he had leaned against the balcony’s railing. He felt the weight of this important icon in his grip. Its bright red jewel glowed in the natural light of the day. Whoever wielded this sacred object was granted a powerful authority, answerable only to the Supreme Chieftess herself.
With this object in his grasp, Veznek practically was the Chiefdom.
“You may rise, Kho Kozakh,” the Under Chieftain proclaimed.
The guard rose and took a step forward.
“I worry for your safety. These are dangerous times. I urge you to stay indoors, safe from the world,” the guard explained. There was a serious tone to his voice.
“I know you worry for my safety, Kho Kozakh. The events on the Behemoth are concerning, yes, but I do not share the same worry as you. T’Dakho does not know we are here. Who would come to this city to attack us?”
“What if you are spotted on the balcony?”
“Then someone has rather exceptional vision, Kho Kozakh,” the Under Chieftain replied. He turned to look down at the city again. From this viewpoint, his fellow Kholvari looked like insects.
“Very well,” the guard reluctantly replied. Veznek could hear him backing up. “Be wary, your meeting with the Kreeds is soon.”
“I shall be there,” Veznek said.
The Under Cheiftain sighed as he heard the door close. The Kreeds, he thought. He was not looking forward to this meeting.
The gathering had been called at the last minute to discuss the the events on the Behemoth. Veznek did not know what the Supreme Chieftess would have to say on the matter, though he was more concerned about the squad leaders.
Kho Ikharus, the Kreed squad leader responsible for recapturing Soh Saratti, was now seen as a hero across the Chiefdom. The military looked up to him as if he were part of the hierarchy. Even the Supreme Chieftess practically bowed before him. Veznek was disgusted by the way his Chiefdom worshiped this supposed hero. Ikharus was simply a soldier, nothing more.
