by Bevan Greer
She hadn’t meant to let that slip, but now that it had she wouldn’t take it back. She had long thought on her role in Fenturi’s future and knew she could do more good for her people here than in hiding out in the Fen forest.
Besides, from what she’d seen of Zebram, she knew him to be an honest and reasonable man. If what Cyka and Myla claimed were true, he’d actually been considering planetary unification before she’d met him.
And, she finally admitted to herself, she didn’t think she’d have a problem with him in the royal bedroom. She blushed and was glad to be ahead of the men in the forest, though she could hear them catching up to her quickly.
Just thinking of the way Zebram’s gaze tended to linger on her, with a sensual hunger, set her blood raging.
Constantly pressed into every fiber of her being was the phrase, “Fenturi mate with Fenturi.” Though she knew a few of the male Fenturi survivors had asked Mikhel for his permission to court her, she had refused to go with any of them. Zebram, on the other hand, made her feel things only a Fenturi should have. Perhaps Myla had the right of it. Thela should not judge a people as a whole, but rather as individuals on their own merits.
She could only pray Mikhel wouldn’t do anything stupid, like try to kill the king before peace could be reached.
Zebram and Castor soon joined her, and the three moved under her direction toward the deep glens of Fen. She noticed the rebels before either of her companions and warned in a low voice, “They are here.”
The trio stopped and waited as the woods suddenly came alive. A small but imposing group surrounded them but made no move to further approach. They parted as a tall, fit Fenturi strode through the mass toward Thela.
Zebram quickly moved in front of her, protecting her before himself, and the large Fenturi slowed and frowned at the protective action.
Thela placed her hand on Zebram’s shoulder and, ignoring the heat at the contact, whispered in his ear, “It’s all right. That’s my brother. He won’t hurt us.” I hope.
Zebram slowly moved aside, and she stared without flinching at the anger and confusion lining her brother’s face. “Ho, Mikhel. I’ve brought someone to meet you.”
Mikhel advanced, his hands curled into claws as he stared at the three of them. He apparently didn’t recognize Castor, but he studied Zebram with an unwavering intensity. Thela watched helplessly as her brother’s nose flared and his eyes blazed a brilliant blue.
She stepped in front of Zebram and blocked her brother with a hand to his chest to stop the charge she knew would most likely bring about a war they could ill afford.
“Mikhel, I’d like you to meet my future husband. This is Zebram, King of Bylar.”
At her words a low murmur around them rose to a dull roar and filled the woods until Mikhel bellowed at them to cease.
Castor seemed bored with the proceedings. “We don’t have time for a rebellion right now. Can’t you guys wait until the Horde has been dealt with before you try to take out the king?”
Mikhel turned his eyes to study Castor, and Thela knew her brother had no idea what to make of all this.
“Please, Mikhel, we need to speak with you. Can we gain some privacy in which to talk?” she asked softly.
“And if you still wish to kill me, you can do so after our conversation, hmm?” Zebram suggested.
Thela shot him a dark look but waited protectively in front of him until Mikhel made his decision. Castor subtly inched closer to Zebram as well. Though as large as Mikhel, Castor had a wider chest and larger muscles. He wouldn’t be able to match her brother’s amazing speed, but his strength would do him justice.
Finally, in a low voice, Mikhel growled, “Fine. You three follow me.”
Thela sighed with relief and followed her brother through the woods and into a small dwelling. Neither Castor nor Zebram sat as they waited for Mikhel to say something.
Thela shook her head and looked around. “You really should do something about this mess.” She found herself the object of several stares. “What? War or not, one can always find room for organization and neatness.”
Zebram grinned at her, his eyes sparkling as he watched her with warmth.
Oh yes. I am definitely making you my future husband. And when a Fenturi is on the hunt for a mate, look out. She smiled back.
Despite not liking the way Zebram watched his sister, Mikhel couldn’t help wanting to hear out the king. He studied his visitors carefully and found his gaze drawn again to the dangerous looking man standing just to Zebram’s right.
The large warrior that had yet to take his eyes off Mikhel might be a problem. Obviously Bylaran, the man had muscles on top of muscles and a keen intelligence that flared in his dark brown eyes. He kept his face expressionless though, and Mikhel gave him credit for at least looking the part of a seasoned warrior.
Thela looked no worse for wear, thank the Goddess. Myla had not lied when she’d reported that his sister remained secure and well cared for in the palace. The gold in her light brown hair glowed in the sunlight, her sparkling blue eyes soft as she stared at the king.
Then he turned his attention to the dark-haired man standing with regal bearing, waiting for Mikhel to speak. King Zebram, the newly appointed Vinopol heir to the Bylaran throne, puzzled him. Mikhel had seen Zedrax in action, and though a resemblance existed between the two kings, Zebram did not appear to have the same cruelty and malice that Zedrax had worn.
In fact, the new king looked actually interested in the Fenturi surrounding him. Zebram looked from Thela to himself as if comparing them as siblings, but not one ounce of disdain or rage appeared on his face.
“Speak, Bylaran,” Mikhel ordered, trying to make some sense of this new adversary. He had initially thought to kill the king as a testament to his people’s willingness to fight, to wipe out the royal Bylaran line as they had killed the Fenturi chieftains so long ago. The Bylaran were too many in number to ever win against in a war, but using stealth and cunning, the Fenturi could do irreparable damage.
Yet, seeing the way his sister looked at their enemy, made him stop and think.
“So gracious,” Castor muttered before sitting at Mikhel’s table.
Zebram rolled his eyes, a very non king-like thing to do. “I’m here for an important reason,” he said in a soothing voice, his eyes sincere. “There is far more at stake right now than who rules Bylar.”
“Oh?”
“The Ragil Horde has destroyed Deni, one of Ocaia’s moons. It is only a matter of time before they move in to systematically destroy the entire System.”
Mikhel frowned in disbelief. “You really believe this nonsense that the Horde will return? If they ever existed in the first place.” He snorted.
Thela stared at her brother. “You remember our teachings, surely? The Horde almost wiped out the System a thousand years ago, and they are back again. A coalition from the System ordered a large crew to determine the truth about the rumors surrounding the Horde. They have returned.”
“Back then,” Zebram said, “a Fenturi powered a special weapon that helped to destroyed them.”
“Ah, yes, now I remember. The Mari.” Mikhel recalled Myla’s tales. “So you need one of us to work your weapon, eh?”
“Yes, but we have the Mari. What we need from you, Mikhel, is your strength. Even if the Mari succeeds in stopping the Horde, they may still send soldiers to our planet. And then every available warrior will be needed to fight this threat. Bylarans will be the least of your worries.”
Mikhel had heard Myla speak of the Horde’s return but hadn’t given it much thought, so focused on the Bylaran threat ever-present. Now the Bylaran king sat before him with no more guard than a warrior and Mikhel’s own sister. It would be so easy to kill him, yet the king did not look like a stupid man. Perhaps this Horde rumor posed some threat in truth.
“How do I know this is not just a trick to gain our cooperation before you attempt to slaughter us?”
The king’s warrior sigh
ed. Thela stared at Mikhel, as if urging him to agree to anything the king said. Zebram earnestly faced Mikhel’s distrust.
“How do you know? Because I am not Zedrax. That, and I wish to marry your sister. Once this threat of invasion has passed, together Thela and I can work to overcome the many years of hatred between our people.”
“Your hatred, you mean,” Mikhel snarled. “My people have been butchered and driven to ground while yours have taken over our world.”
“No, Mikhel. If you remember what Myla told us, we have as much to blame in all of this as the Bylaran.” Thela shook her head. “Too much pride, too much arrogance was our downfall. Instead of meeting them halfway, we laughed at their weaknesses as we stole and seduced their women and made sport of their men.”
“That is just Myla’s foolish talk.” Mikhel waved her words away.
“It is not,” Zebram said as he withdrew a slim volume from under his tunic.
Mikhel stared down at the ancient diary, recognizing the seal of Shantuk immediately. Shantuk, a great leader who led the first battle against the Bylaran, remained a respected figure in Fenturi history.
“Where did you get this?”
“Myla gave it to me,” Zebram answered. “She said it was her husband’s.”
Mikhel met Thela’s gaze in amazement before he stared back at Zebram. “Then Myla is actually Melylna, the wife and seeress of Fentra. But that would make her—”
“Over three hundred years old. Only she’s claims it’s more like a thousand. Yeah, she told us that earlier.” Castor shrugged impatiently. “I realize you have a lot of anger toward Bylar. Damn if I don’t agree with you about Zedrax. He was a dick. But Zebram is not his father. The truth is, if you start a war now, there’s a slim chance you could win Bylar back. But you’ll lose it to the Horde soon after.”
Mikhel considered all he’d heard. “I need time to think on this. You three will stay here.” He left the dwelling and gave orders to his men to stand guard.
If what they said were true, then the future hung in the balance by a thin thread. He recalled Myla’s words about the Mari’s importance to the System. That he could believe. But to find out that the Fenturi had a part to blame in the Bylaran civil unrest would cause all he had fought for and lost these many years to be in question.
Knowing he had little time to decide but needing a moment, Mikhel sat down away from the others and began to read the ancient script Myla had taught him to understand. After a while he closed the book and sat in silence, debating what to do. Then he moved to an obscure section of the rebel forest and engaged in an interesting discussion.
Two hours later he spoke quietly to another of his men before turning back toward his shelter. Though the Bylaran people still had much to answer for, Mikhel could not deny the greater truth. He composed his unruly thoughts and rejoined the three waiting in his modest dwelling.
He entered to find Zebram and Castor speaking quietly, Thela’s gaze centered in puzzlement over the king. If Zebram did mean to make Thela his wife, things would certainly be different in the future. Thela was by no means a female to trifle with, and if she agreed to the marriage she would have to feel more than passing feelings for the king.
He stared at his sister, then at Zebram. Thela had a strong passion for life and for the Fenturi. He knew she would never do anything to hurt her people. If she said she trusted this man, he could do no less than to agree to her terms.
“We have much to discuss.” Mikhel broke the sudden stillness his arrival had caused. “But I will have your word that the Fenturi will not be ill-used in this endeavor.”
Zebram stood and placed his hand over his heart. “On my honor, and my life, do I give you my pledge.”
Mikhel stared at Zebram for a moment before he turned to Castor. “I will escort Zebram and my sister back to the palace. You will come with us as well—under his guidance.” Mikhel gestured to the figure now joining them in the small room.
Dark black eyes caught and held the attention of all those in the room. They seethed with anger as they settled on Castor, and Mikhel heard the large warrior swear under his breath, saw him stiffen defensively as Mikhel’s blond ally neared.
“By the five hells of Dark World.” Castor grimaced. “I had hoped you were dead, Jace.”
***
Myla found Garen and Dare walking hand in hand out of the forest. She noted the relaxed posture, the possessive glow on Ren’s face and smiled. You old demon, Zedrax, she said to the Beyond. You could bind him, but you couldn’t break him.
For years she had been forced to watch Zedrax whip the Fenturi out of Garen. She had been helpless to prevent the mad king from nearly exterminating her people and chipping at his eldest son’s very soul.
But her visions had shown her that Zebram needed her efforts far more than Garen did. Only with Zebram’s help could the Fenturi ever hope to prosper again.
She’d stroked and groomed Zebram carefully, though it had been no hardship. The boy had loved freely, almost Fenturi in his concept of play and laughter. His accepting nature would prove him a great and steady king, she had thought as she watched him mature.
Now the time had come. Zebram would do well with Thela by his side. And Garen, well, he still had further to go, but the Mari had already done more for him than Myla would have thought possible in so short a time.
Myla knew Garen didn’t trust her visions and perhaps never would. But already the Mari had him under her spell. Hatred and distrust couldn’t grow under the love blossoming around the pair.
“Garen, Dare. I trust your walk proved fruitful?”
Dare flushed, a becoming shade of pink on her golden skin. Her eyes glowed with promise, and she continued to hold onto Garen as she nodded a greeting to Myla.
Garen’s laughing eyes faded into a distrustful lake green, but he held onto Dare as well, and Myla couldn’t contain her grin of satisfaction.
“I don’t wish to erase the peace I sense between you. But Dare, we have to talk about your past if we are to see to the future.”
She could see the Mari did not want to venture down that path, but the strength Myla had hoped for stood the woman proud.
“I suppose we have to,” Dare said. She moved to pull away from Ren, but he stood firm.
“Lead on, Myla,” he ordered with arrogance.
Myla couldn’t help mentally comparing Ren to her long-dead husband. Shantuk had been strong and hardy, his manner superior and unafraid. Yet Shantuk had not been able to bend. Garen had been conditioned to bend throughout his harsh childhood. He would not break, and for that perhaps he had Zedrax to thank.
Coming back to the present, she knew she needed to regress Dare back, to reaffirm the link to Shalyl, Dare’s mother. Before Shalyl had died, she would have passed on to her young daughter the secrets of the Thrax in a burst of Starfire. And they desperately needed that information now.
They moved into Myla’s cottage, and she immediately cleared a place at her table for them. Dare sat down across from Myla while Garen stood solidly behind her, protectively.
Myla nodded at him before focusing her attention on Dare. The girl’s arresting features and blazing blue eyes looked so much like her mother’s that for a moment Myla was taken aback.
“You have Shalyl’s features,” she said fondly. “Yes, I knew your mother well.”
Dare touched her temple, as if in pain, and Myla reached inside of herself for the courage to get this done.
“Ren,” she said, using his nickname instead of the more formal Garen. “Dare will need your help. Please, sit down. I want you to take her hand and hold tight. No matter what images flash before you, do not let go of her.”
He seemed skeptical but did as she asked. She grabbed hold of his hand and Dare’s, creating a link that would not be broken until she released them. Then she released her power, entwining with the Mari.
Images flashed like lightning.
A dark haired man lying in a pool of blood, reaching out
to a small dark haired girl. Legion troops streaming through the woods everywhere like fat drops of rain, seeping through the forest, allowing nothing to go untouched.
Myla grabbed the girl and thrust her toward a Fenturi woman battling the Legion. The child moved slowly until a large guidecat lifted her in its strong mouth and carried her toward the woman.
Blue Starfire quickly struck the Legionnaires threatening the female, yet the child did not flinch at the sight but ran to her mother for safety.
Cradling the girl to her breast, the woman flew through the forest on speedy legs. The girl encased in a blue aura, she didn’t feel the wounds shot into her mother, couldn’t know the sheer grit and determination the woman used to get her daughter to safety before collapsing to the ground.
“Mama?” Dare said, too young and innocent to be surrounded by such grief and destruction. The dark of the Fentra woods occasionally lit with red laser sparks, courtesy of the Legion. But in the dim patch of Mari moonlight, the small girl stared down at her mother, watching as blood pooled under her.
Shalyl reached out to stroke Dare’s forehead. As she did, a blue energy flowed from mother to child, and Shalyl spoke Fenturi words quickly, softly.
Then Dare shrieked in fear as the guidecat did his mistress’s last bidding and picked her up, dragging her away. The girl left Bylar in a small escape pod, never seeing her mother’s last breath as Shalyl watched her daughter disappear into the stars.
Myla opened her eyes and released her hands from Garen and Dare. Garen opened blinked his eyes open in shock.
Dare had finally revisited her past, and the girl would now know why she had always blocked it. Her eyes swam with tears. She stumbled to her feet, murmured a short excuse and escaped the small cottage.
“No.” Myla stopped Ren from following her. “She needs to settle down on her own. She’ll be back.”
Ren studied, as if in debate with himself. “So that was true? All that really happened?”
