Earthborn Alliance

by Matthew DeVore

  Just before the front porch, several patrolmen held a family at gunpoint. The father was pleading with one of the officers, to no avail.

  The front door swung open and another officer dragged a little boy and girl out of the house kicking and screaming. She pulled the children to the circle and tossed them on the ground in front of their mother. Two horrified teenagers quivered as bludgeoning rods were pressed between their shoulder blades.

  Ethan pulled his head back from the corner. “We’ve got trouble.”

  Aleena tugged him away and peered around the edge.

  “What’s going on?” Allison whispered, taking her weapon out.

  “Looks like they’re rounding people up,” Aleena said. “I’ve seen this before, and it doesn’t end well.”

  “Are they going to kill them?” Ethan asked.

  “Probably. It’s how the genocide started last time.”

  “We’ve got to help them,” Allison said.

  Valaan shifted his stance. “The kids will slow us down,” he replied.

  Aleena slowly began to back away from the corner, clearly following Valaan’s implied command.

  Ethan glared at Aleena, who shrugged in response. “We have to do something. We can’t just leave them,” he protested.

  Appearing resigned, Aleena turned to Valaan. “We can leave them somewhere safe, then keep going without them.”

  “Child, there is nowhere safe.”

  “Anywhere is safer than where the Urlowens are going to take them.”

  “Fine, but we must move quickly. More Guard will likely be on our trail by now.”

  “There’s more than one team in town?” Aleena seemed shocked.

  “I believe there were two. That’s why Allison and I were spotted this morning. I saw the first team and relaxed when we evaded them, as they usually operate independently. One per city. I made a mistake. We must’ve been spotted by a second team.”

  Concern flooded Aleena’s face. “It’s happening again.”

  Valaan placed both hands on her shoulders and looked into her pained eyes. “We can discuss this later. We must keep moving, child.”

  Aleena gripped Valaan’s wrists, regaining her composure.

  Ethan felt a deep sense of unease coil around his stomach. “If we’re going to do this, and we should do this, then it’s now or never.”

  Valaan sighed. “What are we up against?”

  “There are nine of them,” Aleena whispered.

  Valaan nodded. “Very well. Everyone, go to the other side of the house. I’ll distract them from here. Aleena, once I have their attention, you attack from behind. Ethan, Allison, get the family and take them behind the house for safety.”

  With that, Ethan and the girls ran to the far side of the house. Just as they arrived, they heard the unmistakable roar of gunfire. Aleena ran into the front yard, with Ethan and Allison directly behind.

  Valaan stood at the edge of the porch, a purple transparent shield standing between him and the plasma fire. Abruptly, the patrolmen were thrown to the ground, freeing the family. Ethan assumed it was Valaan’s doing.

  “Come with us,” Ethan yelled, running toward the confused family.

  Allison fired her pistol at the men by the skimmers.

  Blue-white tendrils swirled around Aleena’s arms as she threw energy spheres at the stunned patrolmen lying around the family.

  The little boy was the first to make it to Ethan. Grabbing the kid by the hand, he waited for the rest of the family to join him. Thankfully they were all now running toward him, the mother carrying the smallest.

  One of the officers hiding behind a skimmer leveled his side arm at the woman and loosed a bolt.

  “Ethan, the mother,” Allison yelled.

  “No!” Without thinking, Ethan dropped the boy’s hand, took one step forward, and reached out to the woman. To his surprise, he felt a cool wave of power rush through his arm, and a translucent shimmer appeared in the air inches from the mother’s arm. The plasma bolt smashed into the shield and dissipated harmlessly.

  Ethan stared blankly at the woman, even as she reached his side.

  “Ethan, get behind the house,” Allison called out, snapping him back into the moment. The father and teenagers were already by her side, running toward the house.

  “Come with me,” he told the mother. Picking the little boy up, he sprinted toward safety.

  Moments later, they were safely behind the house.

  “Is everyone all right?” Allison asked.

  The father looked over his wife and kids. “I think so.” He was a medium-height man with graying hair, wrinkles under his eyes, and a kindly demeanor.

  Wiping tears from her eyes, the mother turned to Ethan. “Thank you. You saved our lives.”

  Ethan smiled. “You’re welcome. We’ll help get you somewhere safe.”

  “Did the royals send you? Have they changed their stance on interference?”

  “Needa, hush,” the father said nervously.

  The woman pleaded with him. “You saw what they did out there. How he saved me. He’s one of us.”

  Ethan glanced to Allison, who was clearly just as confused.

  “You don’t know that,” the father replied gently, tugging his wife away from Ethan’s side.

  The teenagers looked at Ethan, obviously star struck. Then he felt Aleena’s hand slide onto his shoulder from behind. Warmth ran from her gentle touch through his chest and into the depths of his being. Magic. It has to be magic. He looked at her hand, but it gave no indication of her power.

  That’s when he realized the family had become strikingly silent. Slack-jawed with unbridled astonishment, they were all staring at Aleena and Valaan, who’d just joined them. Allison, on the other hand, was staring at Aleena’s hand on Ethan’s shoulder.

  He broke the moment by sliding slowly away from Aleena’s touch, which left an enviable warm tingling sensation behind.

  “You’re Elves,” the father said slowly.

  “Indeed,” Valaan replied.

  “But purebloods are extinct,” the oldest boy added, running a hand through thick dirty-blond hair.

  “This is impossible,” the mother whispered. “Who are you?”

  Aleena stepped forward. “I’m Aleena of Avenfall. The last of the Earthborn. Who are you?”

  CHAPTER 2

  “You have your orders,” Kalma said.

  Traven stared at his new commander from his usual seat on the transport. Whoever this was, it wasn’t the Kalma he’d been growing fond of in Madison City. The naïve new recruit was gone, replaced by a two-faced, deranged killing machine. But no one saw it except for Wren, Xavier, and Traven. For some reason, Kalma had let them in. They were friends, if Kalma had such things.

  Traven looked across the transport to Wren. How he handled being displaced as team commander was impressive. His face was stoic, though Traven could only imagine what was going through his head right now. Even with their promotions, it must’ve been eating away at him.

  Kalma wasn’t just in charge of their team. After his display in the forest outside of Madison City, where he single-handedly saved a regiment from destruction by an Earthborn and the infamous Elven Councilor of Magic Valaan Trel, the Urlowen Council of Five gave him control of the entire Council Guard.

  Traven shook his head imperceptibly. They’d invented a position with powers previously reserved for the High Councilman himself. Why Malikyne had allowed it was a mystery to him.

  Something was off. He knew it. Wren knew it. Xavier knew it. And yet they also knew better than to say anything about it. Death had a way of finding those who asked too many questions. Especially recently, it seemed.

  Traven adjusted the thin front plate of his armor and detached the dark red bars in the center indicating his new rank. With Kalma’s promotion came his own. Kalma made the team his second-in-command, their orders second only to Kalma, the Council of Five, and High Councilman Malikyne.

  A shudder ran through his
body. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this new position made him more of a target than someone to be envied. Malikyne doesn’t give away power so easily.

  He tossed the bars on his seat behind him and looked back to Kalma standing by the open door. The man changed masks with dizzying speed. In private, he wore the guise of friendship; in combat, he was a fierce, unyielding force of destruction. Before the Council, he was a leader, as suave and alluring as the High Councilman himself. Today he’s the monster. His mouth was hard set, and there was danger in his eyes.

  Traven had seen that look often. It was the look on Councilwoman Denetaa’s face the day Malik was murdered.

  Denetaa. He clenched his fist at his side. If anyone needed to die, it was her. Striking down Malik in cold blood for the escape of the Earthborn girl. No one could’ve known what she was. It’d caught them all by surprise, even Kalma, though Traven was beginning to wonder if that was true.

  When Kalma left the ship to speak with the Guard commander in charge of the operation they were joining, a hard grip came down on Traven’s shoulder. “You all right?” Wren asked, Zavier standing beside him.

  “I’m fine. Just thinking about Malik.”

  “Ah,” Wren responded knowingly. “Denetaa will get what’s coming to her someday.”

  Traven cocked his head slightly. “Don’t say such things, Commander. You’ll get yourself killed.”

  Wren chuckled, giving him a mischievous grin. “We’re all hoping for it. And I’m not the commander anymore, remember?”

  “That won’t save you from comments like that.”

  “Yeah well, they can try to kill me.” Wren winked.

  Traven’s fist relaxed. “I suspect they can do better than try. Especially if they order Kalma to do it.”

  “You think he’d really kill one of us?”

  Traven raised an eyebrow.

  Zavier started laughing. “Friends, am I right? Can’t live without them, can’t live with them—because they’ll kill you.”

  “Not real friends,” Traven said.

  Zavier’s laughter stopped abruptly. “No, not true friends.”

  Traven noticed the deck of cards Zavier held in his hand. Zavier and Alex used to play on the transport before Alex died protecting him.

  “Sorry, Zav.”

  “It’s all right. Comes with the job.” Zavier slid the pack of cards into a pocket in his armor.

  “That it does,” Wren agreed, “but it doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “You’d think with the number of people we’ve killed, we’d be better at this emotional stuff.”

  “We’re usually the ones doing the killing, not being killed,” Traven said.

  “Right,” Zavier replied. “Losing is hard when you’re used to being so badass all the time. You think Kalma knows what that feels like?”

  “I don’t know what to think about him anymore.”

  “No kidding. You think you know a guy, right?”

  “There’s definitely more we don’t know than we do.”

  “Well, he’s developed an affinity for you.”

  “Maybe,” Traven said.

  Just then Kalma’s voice cut into their thoughts, being transmitted by their multibands. “We’ve got a bit of a situation. Would you ladies mind getting your butts off the transport and getting to work?”

  “He’s certainly a lot pushier now,” Zavier said with a dark chuckle.

  “On our way, sir,” Traven replied.

  “I wonder what kind of situation this is. It’s not like we’ve seen any action lately.”

  Wren smiled, walking toward the exit. “That’s the problem with getting too many promotions. Everyone else has all the fun.”

  Traven followed Wren and Zavier off the transport. They’d landed in the center of a small town square, the ship’s wingspan nearly covering the width of the grassy plaza. Just in front of the nose, Kalma stood inside a quaint white gazebo with a Guard commander who was visibly shaken.

  When Traven climbed the stairs into the pavilion, he could see why. Kalma’s pale complexion was in stark contrast to the blazing fire in his eyes.

  “Commander Riza here has been in charge of the sweep for this town,” Kalma said, gesturing toward the tall dark-haired man.

  If Traven hadn’t known better, he would’ve been worried for Kalma, speaking with such contempt to the chiseled commander. By looks, most people would’ve assumed Riza could squash Kalma like a bug. Seeing the big man quivering before Kalma’s fit but lanky form made the view almost comical.

  “Apparently everything was going according to plan until something very interesting happened,” Kalma continued. “Why don’t you tell my friends here what happened.”

  Commander Riza looked pleadingly at Traven.

  Why do they always look to me? Traven set his jaw. He understood why the man was terrified, but it was beneath the status of a Guard commander to show such fear. Even in the face of what was likely to follow.

  “There was a man and a girl,” Riza started. “My team spotted them in town near the grocery store just around that corner.” He pointed across the square to an intersection where a bank stood.

  “They must’ve noticed us, because they turned to leave pretty fast. The old man looked a lot like Valaan Trel from the videos of the Madison City forest battle.”

  Traven saw a flash of blonde and green rip through his mind. He still dreamed about that battle—about her.

  “Since we had two teams in town, and mine had been made, I ordered Commander Waylyn to follow the pair. I wanted to confirm their identities before contacting you.”

  “Your orders were to contact me immediately if you encountered the Elves,” Kalma barked.

  “I… yes, sir. But I didn’t want to bother you unless we knew for sure it was them.”

  “And where are Commander Waylyn and his team now?”

  “They’re dead, sir.”

  “And the rest of your team?”

  “They’re looking after the town’s residents. We rounded them up with the containment crews. They’re in the gym at the local high school.”

  Containment crews. Traven shifted uneasily. What are containment crews doing here? He looked from Riza back to Kalma. What are you doing?

  “Did you identify the man and the girl?” Kalma asked.

  “Yes, sir. Commander Waylyn followed them back to a hotel. He and his men surrounded them and were engaged. I received a message confirming their identities, but nothing else. After five minutes of communication silence, I sent a patrol to check on the commander. They found him and his team dead at the hotel.

  “The patrol is attempting to find the Elves again. We lost contact with one of our containment crews in Birch Heights, a neighborhood on the outskirts of town. They’re on their way now.”

  “Fine. We’ll deal with the Elves later. Take us to the gym,” Kalma ordered.

  Traven did his best to hide his confusion. Why aren’t we going after them? The Council had made it clear the Elves were their top priority. They wanted to know everything about the new combatants.

  He eyed Kalma closely. There was more to this. Not that he wanted to track them down. If they did and Kalma wasn’t with them, it’d probably be the last thing he’d ever do.

  That’s when it hit him—the promotion. Kalma was posturing. The promotion came because Kalma was perhaps the only Guard powerful enough to fight them. That’s why the Council needed him, and maybe that’s why he seemed a bit too reluctant to eliminate the threat.

  Traven let out a silent sigh. Regardless, it looked like Commander Riza would make it out of this after all. We’re supposed to be on the same team. He couldn’t tell by their expressions, but he suspected Wren and Zavier were just as relieved.

  “Yes, sir,” Riza said, standing taller.

  Traven could tell even Riza was regaining his composure. The old Traven would’ve been disgusted with such a show of weakness, but things had changed since Malik and Alex.

  He
looked at his friends one by one. First Wren, then Zavier, and finally Kalma, though he wasn’t convinced he could still call Kalma a friend. Everyone was changing; whether it was for good or ill, he hadn’t decided.

  Without warning, he was yanked from his thoughts by the sound of a plasma bolt ripping through Commander Riza’s chest. Instinctively he dropped to the wood floor of the gazebo, pulling Zavier with him.

  “Where the hell did that come from?” Wren asked.

  They rarely spoke verbally in battle. Thought conversations through the multiband ensured secrecy.

  “Top left window,” Kalma said, nodding to a diner across the street with a second-story apartment.

  They crawled out of the gazebo and leaned against the solid wood frame out of sight.

  “Resistance?” Zavier asked.

  That’d explain why containment crews were here and two Guard teams, Traven thought.

  “Not likely,” Wren replied. “Commander Riza’s and Waylyn’s teams would’ve disposed of any Resistance before bringing in containment crews.”

  Wren was right. So much for that theory. Traven pulled his rifle from its slot in the back of his armor.

  “A day’s rations say you’re wrong,” Zavier replied.

  “Alex wouldn’t have even taken that bet,” Traven said. “Wren’s rarely wrong.”

  “Does it matter who they are?” Kalma asked. “They’re shooting at us.”

  “Technically they shot at Riza,” Zavier said, grinning.

  “Or they meant it for you but have really bad aim,” Traven added.

  “So it is Resistance, then. Even the Alliance shoots better than that.” Zavier responded.

  “Maybe you should go find out who it is and let them know how we feel about getting shot at. Then, of course, come tell us that I’m right,” Wren said.

  Kalma stood as a translucent purple shield enveloped him. “Traven, take care of it. Meet us at the school when you’re done.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Plasma bolts began splashing harmlessly against Kalma’s shield. “We’ll keep him distracted. Wren, Zavier, let’s go.”