Earthborn Alliance

by Matthew DeVore

  It was Malikane, the first High Councilman. This was his war.

  One of the Guard raised his hand toward the boy, a ball of blue-white energy spiraling into existence at his palm.

  The boy didn’t slink back, standing his ground.

  “Wait,” Malikane ordered in a low, commanding voice.

  The Guard released the magic, allowing it to dissipate harmlessly.

  “Come here, boy.”

  “I will kill you here and now,” the boy yelled, running at the High Councilman.

  Malikane held out his hand, stopping the Guard from interfering. The boy grabbed a piece of scrap metal off the table, which remolded into a gleaming sword in his hand.

  Just before the blade impaled Malikane, the boy was thrown back ten feet, crashing into one of the sleek workstations.

  Clamoring to his feet, the boy screamed and charged again. Malikane burst out in laughter. “Wonderful.”

  That time the boy ran headfirst into an energy shield the High Councilman conjured without moving a finger.

  The boy landed on his butt, the sword falling from his grip.

  “Such spunk,” Malikane said, releasing the barrier. “What is your name?”

  “My name is Alinar,” the boy spat, rising to his feet, “and it’s the last name you’ll ever hear.” The kid charged Malikane and held out his hand. The nearest Guard’s side arm was ripped from its holster and flew into the boy’s palm.

  The boy fired rapidly at Malikane, but the blasts all veered off in random directions. Traven was certain that was the result of Malikane’s magic. Finally, the boy stopped firing.

  Malikane walked forward and took the weapon from the kid’s hand. “I like you,” the High Councilman said. “Come with me. You have much to learn.”

  The boy looked at each of the Council Guard one by one and then into Malikane’s eyes. “I don’t suppose I have a choice.”

  “You always have a choice. You can come with me, or you can lie here with your people.” Malikane motioned to one of the dead Earthborn warriors strewn out on the floor, then held out his hand to the teenager.

  Reluctantly the boy placed his hand in the High Councilman’s.

  Malikane smiled. “Don’t fret. You’ll grow to like me. Everyone does.”

  Traven rolled his head side to side, his neck stiff and sore. He was lying on his back, his legs dangling off the side of the bed. The large clock on the wall read 5:30 a.m. Have I been out all night?

  He’d finally embraced the visions his magic released since the incident in the mountains with the Earthborn named Aleena. It sucked when the visions overrode his sleep though, as they were anything but relaxing.

  Sitting up, he stretched his legs, then remembered his shoulder. He pressed on it with a bare hand. No pain. There wasn’t even a scar. Kalma had certainly outdone himself.

  Traven’s mind flitted back to Councilwoman Denetaa’s throne room the day she killed Malik—one of their own. Kalma had been standing side by side with them. He could’ve stopped it.

  He shook his head. What would’ve happened to them had Kalma intervened? He’d never know. But Relana would have her husband back, and her kids would have their father.

  If that wasn’t enough, there was the matter of how he’d gotten injured in the first place. The fake Council Guard. Kalma was the only one who seemed undisturbed by the strange attack.

  Guilt crept into his gut. Kalma had just gone out of his way to heal him. Maybe he should give him the benefit of the doubt. And yet the guy had hidden his power from them and pretended to be a green recruit, which was clearly not the case. Green recruits didn’t fight like Kalma. The man had seen battle.

  Last there was her. The blonde-haired Earthborn. Not a night had gone by where she didn’t show up in his dreams—or visions, for that matter. When this whole thing started, she was the enemy. But now….

  Traven pushed the dangerous thought from his head, knowing the rest of the team would be gathering for breakfast at that moment. Kalma followed Wren’s lead when it came to morning meetings. “Start the day off with a plan,” Wren would say.

  Traven changed clothes, donning the Council Guard’s standard-issued leisure apparel of a black T-shirt and matching black pants. On the shirt’s left sleeve, the High Councilman’s crest was patterned in gold smack in the middle of the words “Council Guard” above and below the emblem.

  He got to the Guard’s mess hall just after six. Wren and Zavier were already sitting. Traven took the seat next to Zavier and grabbed an apple from a large fruit bowl in the middle of the circular table.

  The room was large with fifteen other identical tables spread out in neat rows. A few of them were occupied by members of other Guard teams.

  “You hear what happened this morning?” Zavier asked Traven.

  He finished his bite of delicious red apple before shaking his head in reply.

  “One of the transports heading back home had a blowout.”

  Traven swallowed. “A blowout?”

  “Yeah, came from the crew quarters. Some kind of explosion. Blew a hole out the side of the ship big enough to stop them cold in their tracks. Stranded just outside the solar system.”

  “What happened?” Traven asked.

  “They’re calling it a freak power flux in the electrical,” Wren explained.

  “That doesn’t even make sense.” Traven reached for an orange. “Those systems could never do that. That’s ridiculous.”

  “We agree,” Wren said.

  “What is going on around here?” Zavier whispered, leaning in toward the center of the table. “First the ambush, now this. Something’s off.”

  Traven laid the orange peel on the table.

  A uniformed waitress sauntered over to the men. “Can I get you something started in the kitchen?” the woman asked Traven.

  “Nothing for me, thanks.”

  “Suit yourself.” The redheaded woman continued on to a table at the other side of the room.

  “Either of you see Kalma?” He popped a slice of the orange into his mouth.

  Zavier leaned back in his chair. “Nope.”

  “It’s not like him to be late,” Traven said after finishing his bite.

  As if summoned by Traven’s comment, Kalma burst into the room in full gear. The pale, black-haired commander beelined to their table.

  “Let’s go. Meet me at pad 5 in fifteen minutes—full combat gear.” Kalma didn’t wait for questions, heading out of the mess hall as fast as he entered.

  Zavier set his glass of juice down. “Well he seems to be in a pleasant mood.”

  Wren got up and pushed his chair in, waving to the waitress to clear the table.

  Traven grabbed the rest of his orange to go and a second from the bowl.

  Together, the three men left, gathered their gear, and exited the palace in full armor. They made their way down the walking path on the northwest side leading up to the hangar and landing pads.

  Kalma was waiting outside a sleek black ship when they arrived. A faint blue glow from the three engines mounted at the rear bathed the area in sapphire light, and the hum of the ship made it difficult to hear.

  The men stopped in front of their commander.

  “What are you waiting for?” Kalma yelled. “Load up.”

  Wren led the way up the ramp into the leather-clad interior, followed by Traven and Zavier. Kalma boarded last and sealed the cabin door behind him.

  Traven took his usual seat just in front of the wing.

  The ship jostled as it lifted off the ground, and Traven squeezed the armrest, looking away from the window. Still hate flying. Looking to distract himself, he glanced back at Zavier, who’d spread out across a lounging couch at the rear of the craft

  “Tired?” he asked Zavier.

  “No. Bored,” Zavier replied.

  Kalma cleared his throat, bringing Traven’s attention back to the front.

  “We have a direct order from the High Councilman himself,” Kalma said.
“We’re to make an example out of a small town on the outskirts of Levanbeck. The High Councilman wants to remind the Humans of his power.”

  Traven’s stomach lurched. He knew where this was going. It was old school.

  Straight-faced, Kalma looked at each of them. “No survivors.”

  “Children?” Traven asked.

  Kalma set his jaw. “Did I stutter?”

  “No, sir.” He felt sick to his stomach. “Are these people in league with the Alliance or Resistance?”

  Kalma glared at him. “Does it matter?”

  Traven bit back his initial response in lieu of the expected one. “No, sir.”

  “Excellent.”

  Traven reclined his seat, trying not to think of what was approaching, but instead found his mind returning to Malik, Relana, and their kids.

  This job had worn him down. He’d killed many times before. They all would’ve claimed to be innocent, but innocence was sometimes simply a matter of perception. Freedom fighters or rebels. Allies or enemies.

  But somehow, today was different. Something snapped inside him.

  Everyone he had ever killed was someone’s son or daughter. Many were fathers and mothers. He imagined Relana sitting at home in front of a fire—alone. And all because, in a moment of anger, Councilwoman Denetaa deemed Malik a failure and therefore the enemy. Now the High Councilman was ordering the slaughter of noncombatants without any association to the Alliance or the Resistance.

  Who do I work for?

  Traven opened his eyes and looked at the back of Kalma’s head at the front of the cabin. The man was an enigma. Did he just follow orders, or was there more?

  He thought he’d escaped from morality long ago, pushing it aside to preserve his life and his family’s back home. But then Malik was killed. He should’ve taken responsibility for the Earthborn girl’s escape. He should’ve been the one to die. But he let Malik do it instead.

  He took a deep breath, feeling sick, but was jolted forward as the ship lurched.

  “We’re coming in hot,” the pilot announced over the intercom. “Taking fire from the ground.”

  Traven’s fear of flying diminished with a rush of adrenaline. Out the window, he scanned the ground. A ground-to-air missile launched from a mobile unit on the ground. That’s ours.

  He activated his multiband to broadcast through the intercom. “GTA missile on the left.”

  “I’ve got it,” Kalma replied.

  The missile veered off course, then turned back on its launcher.

  “Wait,” Traven said, “that’s ours. It’s one of our mobile units.”

  “Even so,” Kalma responded, “they shouldn’t have fired on us.”

  The missile hit the launcher in a fabulous explosion.

  Plasma bolts flew past the widows of the ship. Suddenly a purple translucent shield appeared around the craft, protecting them from the blasts.

  “Kalma, is that you?” Wren asked, staring out his window.

  “Who else would it be?” Kalma answered.

  The pilot came across the intercom. “I’ll set down in the park just east of the town’s center.”

  Kalma stood and faced them. “Secure the town,” he ordered, “and remember—no survivors.”

  The ship settled between two large trees whose leaves were a splendid array of colors. Kalma opened the door, and Traven followed him down the ramp into the park. The weapon fire had stopped.

  CHAPTER 9

  Morning light flooded Ethan’s room, rousing him from sleep. Squinting, he attempted to open his eyes, but a broad ray lay directly across his face.

  “Argh.” He rolled to his side and faced Allison, in her pink bra, just beginning to stir. A single strand of her long brown hair swept gently across her face. He smiled. She was always beautiful, just like—

  Quickly he tried to push the thought out of his head. He wasn’t that kind of guy. But he couldn’t help it. Something deep inside was drawing him to her, and she was always there in the back of his mind. He was always comparing the two girls.

  A soft knock at the door mercifully redirected his thoughts, but only momentarily, as it was her soft voice that called him.

  “Ethan, are you ready?”

  “I’m up. I’ll meet you there.” His heart was torn. Leaning over, he gave Allison a soft, slow kiss.

  She opened her eyes and smiled. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” He brushed a hand through her hair, and she turned and kissed him again.

  “Don’t get hurt,” Allison whispered.

  “Aleena would never hurt me.” Ethan paused. “On purpose.”

  Allison squinted. “I need you in top shape for tonight.” She ran her hand from his shoulder down to his rock-hard abs and smiled. “Though there are some great benefits to all this training.”

  Ethan copied her movement, tracing her soft skin.

  “Go on. I’ll catch up to you later,” Allison said.

  Ethan got out of bed and walked across the room to a tall dresser. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and grabbed his jeans. “Sure beats those crappy hotels.”

  Allison nodded, sitting upright watching him.

  His jeans were worn and desperately needed replacement. Being on the run had taken its toll. Pulling them over his royal blue boxer-briefs, he wondered if Conner would be willing to share some clothes.

  “Wish me luck.”

  “You’ll get her this time,” Allison replied.

  Closing the door behind him, Ethan made his way to the gymnasium. Whoever built this place was a whole new level of rich. The floors were marble throughout, and long strips of red carpet ran down each hallway. He felt like a star going to his first film premier.

  The Royals, he thought. They must have built this safe-house. Apparently Royal didn’t just refer to their status as leaders.

  When he entered the gym, he was surprised to find Conner, Rayland, and Meghan all stretching.

  “Hey, nice of you to finally make it,” Rayland said.

  “What are you doing here?” Ethan asked.

  Conner stood up from stretching his calves. “Aleena agreed to let us train with you.”

  “We’ve been hoping to get into this fight for a long time,” Rayland added.

  Ethan looked over to Aleena, who was in full front splits with her head down to her knee. “Aleena.” She looked up at him, a warm smile crossing her lips and a light springing into her deep green eyes.

  “Yes?” she said sweetly.

  Silence.

  “Ethan, did you need something?

  Ethan shook his head, regaining his thoughts. How does she have this power over me? For a split second, he wondered if it was magic, then quickly brushed that thought away. Honestly, he didn’t even know if that was possible, but it didn’t matter. She would never do that to him.

  “Eeethan,” Aleena called playfully.

  “Yeah, sorry,” he finally responded. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Conner and Rayland exchange a look. Meghan giggled. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “We can’t win this war on our own,” Aleena answered. “We need all the help we can get.”

  “But won’t you guys get in trouble?” he asked, turning back to Conner and Rayland.

  “Nah, not if they don’t know,” Rayland replied.

  “Besides, our parents are too busy trying to figure out what’s next. I think they’re finally starting to realize that hiding forever isn’t going to work very well,” Conner said.

  Ethan bent low, reaching for his toes. He was sad but knew he shouldn’t be. Then it dawned on him—he was losing the only alone time he got with her. He looked up to find Aleena in side splits with her forehead touching the floor, her golden blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail running down her back.

  “Good morning, everyone.” Valaan’s calm, low voice surprised Ethan. Typically, Valaan didn’t attend their morning sparring session, preferring to teach them new skills in the afternoon, but Ethan knew
better than to question his attendance.

  Valaan joined Aleena in the center of the gym floor. The room was so large it could easily be used for basketball or indoor soccer.

  “Everyone, please join us and take a seat,” Valaan said.

  Ethan followed Conner and sat cross-legged next to him.

  Valaan looked them over slowly. “So young to be placed in such a deadly war.”

  The room was silent. Aleena sat in the circle next to Valaan, across from Ethan. She was staring directly at him.

  Valaan continued, “As I’m certain all of you know, magic, the harnessing and manipulation of the universe’s energy, is brought about through focus and determination. Buried deep within you is your supply of power. It is your access to the universe. The more power you possess, the greater manipulation you can exact upon the world around you.”

  Ethan had already learned that, but he figured the lesson was for the benefit of the others. It was also a nice refresher.

  “Some are blessed with an extraordinary gifting of power”—Ethan thought for sure he saw Valaan glance momentarily at Aleena—“while others find they can only access a small puddle of power.”

  That time he thought Valaan was looking at him. Aleena caught his eyes and appeared to shake her head almost imperceptibly. Warmth ran through his body; she believed in him, at least.

  “Still others find they have no power at all.” Valaan paused, letting his words sink in. “What you must remember is that your worth is not determined by your magical abilities. You are all worthy of love and respect. This is something Malikyne does not understand or agree with. He seeks and respects only power. And powerful he has certainly become.”

  It was definitely not the greatest pep talk Ethan had ever heard.

  Suddenly, Valaan stood and stared directly at Ethan.

  “It is also his greatest weakness.”

  I wish too much power was my weakness. Seems like a crappy weakness to me.

  “Besides Malikyne, there is another formidable foe.”

  Just one?

  Aleena’s head tilted up toward Valaan. “The Guard in the forest.”

  “Yes,” Valaan agreed. “There is more at play here than we understand. His power felt… familiar.”