THE REVENANT
©2021 WALT ROBILLARD
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ALSO IN THE HUNTER’S MOON SERIES
THE MONGREL
THE REVENANT
THE SENTINEL
Contents
THE REVENANT
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Thank you for reading The Revenant
ALSO IN THE HUNTER’S MOON SERIES
More In Sci-Fi
In a galaxy of brutality and blasters...
Balance the scales under a Hunter's Moon.
THE REVENANT
Beyond the Outer Boundary of the Core Worlds lies the Frontier. Colonies do what they can to survive far removed from civilized space. In the absence of law there are the Marshals. Acting as agents of the Athalon Temple, they use the mystic fire of the Crucible to serve as judge, jury, and executioner.
During a failed coup on the frontier world of Tythian, a senior marshal is killed in the fighting. Uncovering a plot by criminal factions, her deputy, the mongrel, Orin Lashra, cuts a bloody path for revenge across the planet.
In the ensuing chaos, Orin escapes in the company of three refugees, the deposed cartel leader, Kel Durado, the renegade cyborg, Katarina, and the freed robot panther, Fluffang Doom-Snuggle. As the marshals dispatch their lancer military force, to hunt for the crew in their search for answers, another faction enters the fray.
Prologue
PLANET ELYSIUM – SAN VARONE MONASTERY
Revered Elder Mason swept his broom across the stairs to the Hall of Memory, stopping briefly to watch the leaves fall in a pile around his feet. He collected them to the side, taking note of the knot forming in his back when he straightened his posture. A quick rub set the offending muscles at ease.
“You don't mind the lean, do you?” he asked the stone lion statue hovering above him.
Approaching footsteps echoed in the stone courtyard. “You know, sir, we have bots for that.”
“I have it on good authority that you clean your own ship by hand, Force Commander, even though your Marshals Templar would provide a bot for it. Pot, have you met the kettle?” Mason retorted.
Both men shared a chuckle and a hug, hearty pats on the back following the embrace. Elder Mason winced.
The marshal withdrew from his friend's grip. “You should have that looked at, my friend.”
“Tyberian Hylaeus, if I had every ache examined, the doctors wouldn't have time for the rest of you.”
“Isn't that the truth,” the Force Commander agreed. The Marshals Templar grabbed a handful of his friend's robes to help him to the steps. He stopped just shy of them, a flash of concern crossing his face. “Colbert, why didn't you tell anyone?”
The monk let his head bob slightly, an airy quick laugh sneaking by his lips. “There is nothing to be done, Ty. The virus has already spread too far. It's only a matter of time.”
Hylaeus couldn't bring himself to straighten his expression. “Cole...”
“Oh, don't treat me like some broken thing in need of mending.” Mason said with fire in his voice. “I was the Grand Master of the monastery at San Varone. The Crucible has seen fit to let me find the Way when lives were on the line. To have seen what I've seen. To have traveled among the stars, beyond mankind's wildest dreams. I'm a blessed man. This illness won't take the fire from me. Nor will I trouble a horde of doctors to strive after a cure that may never come.”
“And yet your idea of beating the Gorgon Virus is to sweep the steps?” Tyberian asked.
Cole pushed him against his shoulder, off balancing the armored commander. “Oh, shut that rotting hole under your nose. Sit for a drink, before those tired legs of yours give out.”
Both men shook their heads, sitting to take the weight off of their weary feet. The Force Commander had traveled extensively in the previous weeks. Any time where his backside took over from his heels was a welcome respite. As the senior most marshal in the sector, he was spending a great deal of time on the move to coordinate the forces of the Athalon temple, the home of his order. On opposite sides of the planet, the Athalon and the temple at San Verone were two faces of the same coin, the Crucible. Both men believed in a malleable power that could be tapped to shape the universe. Both had their ideas on what that meant for the people of the frontier who subscribed to their belief. Regardless of religious differences, the two had remained friends since the end of the Exodus Wars.
“How long have they given you, Cole?”
“Ty, enough about the Gorgon. Why are you here?”
Tyberian raised his hands innocently, “I can't stop by to see a friend?”
Cole jumped on the comment like an arrow cat chasing a mouse. “You only stop here for two reasons. To annoy the Revered Sister Naema, and to occasionally get drunk with me. Both are never social calls. You always have an agenda or scheme you're working out while trying to fish out any slip of the tongue to fuel your mission.”
“That transparent, eh?”
The monk poured him a cup of coffee from a vacuum bottle. “Like freshly cleaned glass down on Partigan Street.”
Commander Hylaeus brought his hand to his chest in mock surprise. “Revered Elder Mason, wha
t know you of such houses of ill repute?”
“You have the whiskey or not?” Cole asked impatiently
The commander reached into his cloak, pulling out a battered flask emblazoned with the crucible star, the symbol of the Athalon. He topped off both cups.. They savored the drinks, watching purple tinged clouds cross the vibrant blue sky. After the liquid galloped down their throats, both men sucked in cool air through their teeth, as though it would stifle the bite from the liquor.
“That's got a kick.” Cole coughed as the rough liquor tumbled down his throat.
“It's the only way I can drink the coffee you make.” Commander Hylaeus put another sip past his tongue before depositing his cell-com on the stairs. Holograms floated between the two men, swirling even as they fought to keep their attention on anything other than the screens. The grounds outside of the Hall of Memory were beautiful. Stone walkways cut through pristine gardens. Magnificent statues overlooked serene ponds full of playful fish. It was a place of tranquility in a galaxy of too many teeth.
Tyberian hated breaking the reverie of his friend's holy place. “I told Chief Inspector Esteban Castillo I would share all the information we can gather with the monastery. He's been on assignment so I'm sharing it with you.”
Cole lazily studied the floating images that were being tight streamed to contact lenses being worn by both men. With so much subterfuge surrounding the events of late, Tyberian loaded them so that only they could see the images.
“So it's true,” Cole said finally. “The monastery has been infiltrated. Someone wanted to make it look like we swooped in after a failed negotiation to save the day.”
“Because the Faith Revere is so large, our investigation shared with Brother Castillo is taking some time. But yes, that is the way it looks.” Tyberian offered.
“To what end?” The monk asked.
Tyberian shook his head. “I'm not sure. After you stepped down as the Grand Master, things have been a bit tense, to say the least. The new faith wants more control over the masses, more teachings in return for protection from the government. Sister Naema has, at times, insisted that I submit to her Gauntlet within the Monastery. The Marshals Templar founded the colony here on Elysium. They allowed the government to rise, writing a strict charter for its purpose. The sister and her mentor, the newly minted Supreme Grand Master, are worming their way deeper into that government. There were supposed to be safeguards put in place to prevent this. It's not looking good, Cole.”
Cole reached across his friend, topping off his coffee with more of the potent liquor. “And why haven’t those safeguards been enacted?”
“More worming. House Liau, our Lions of Athalon, are charged with the protection of the temple itself, and by extension Elysium. They can take praetorian action should any section of government or faith overstep.” Tyberian sighed, taking in the sights of the resplendent monastery grounds all around them. The lions had become like this place, and by extension, his friend. Outwardly strong, but inwardly, they were weak from disease. “Even they've succumbed to pressures of Parliament. The lions have lost their roar behind blunted teeth.”
“So, what does this mean for the investigation?” Cole asked, taking another sip.
“After the Hydek tribe on Tythian attacked their cousins, the Surrando, the only surviving member of the delegation was Marshal Ferrand's apprentice, Deputy Lashra. In accordance with tribal law, he executed the entire Hydek tribe to garner attention for an investigation. The strange thing was, a Gauntlet from San Verone was dispatched prior to the attack.”
Cole looked perplexed. “They were dispatched ahead of the massacre?”
Tyberian nodded. “Someone wanted them in place when the shots went off. Four of the Vernai on the ground were legitimate. Along with a counterfeit squad of rangers, one of the monks was a known criminal who had never been part of the monastery, carrying false papers saying he was a Vernai Master in the Way.”
“And who was he?”
Tyberian flicked through the holos until he found the face he was looking for. “A known mercenary out in the frontier.”
“What did Castillo say about his appointment?” Cole asked, pointing to an image of the chief inspector.
“Nothing. Castillo was a last minute placement on the team. Berezin, the mercenary, was there to lead negotiations with a squad of rangers for security. Just as they were set to leave for Tythian, they received last minute orders to pick up the Inspector.” Tyberian pointed his cup at the merc, “With so many legitimate monks on the team, the impostors had no choice.”
Cole's expressions kept changing. He was trying to find threads of logic where there was none. “Did you see any of this coming in the Crucible, Ty? Did you forge orders for Castillo?”
“No, sir. It wasn't me. But someone knew enough about what was going on to send an inquisitor along with a flock of negotiators.”
Cole's expression kept shifting from disbelief to annoyance. He used his cup to hint that he needed more whiskey. Tyberian raised an eyebrow.
“Want more coffee to go with that?” the force commander asked.
“Oh, we're past that, now.” Both men shared a pull on the flask. Cole continued. “While I spend my days attending to the Hall, my voice still holds some weight with the High Council. I could push an inquiry.”
The commander nodded. “We think someone on the council is responsible. Everything is in the file. Let me know what you think. ”
Cole took the cell-com, sticking it into a fold of his robes. He closed his eyes, reaching through the Crucible to the find the Way. The power of the cosmos flowed through him, restoring a measure of strength to his tired frame. He reached his mind toward the planet Tythian. He could see Lashra, roaring into the face of an enemy. He could see a darkness, casting shadows over Kabran City, the largest colony on the planet. Then there was thunder, lighting, and an explosion of fangs. Terrible ferocity ripped itself from dark hiding places around the planet.
Cole's eyes came open. He reached across his friend to pluck out the flask. “I'm going to need this and the cell-com.”
“That's fair. In your vision, did you see what Lasher found there?”
A good natured smile crossed the monk's face. “I saw it. Even though it would be tempting to go to the planet to ask for the miracle that place can provide, I've been around the galaxy once already. I found and was rejected by the Vex. I tracked down rumors that the Lion Guard might still be alive. That his 'Lost Missions' were not really lost or that he found something out there. I approached the witches of the Hasko Derium. Even the Rhusk wanted nothing to do with me. The rumored miracle of Tythian is just that. A story. I've lived a long life my friend. I will continue living it until I can't, instead of chasing more superstition.”
“What if I've seen it firsthand? What if it's not a myth?” Tyberian's voice was soft.
“Then use it to help someone who isn't so tired. The faces of the ones we couldn't save haunt me.” Cole said.
Tyberian patted his old friend on the shoulder. “Let me know if you see anything we might have missed in those,” he gestured with his empty coffee cup.
“I will. Be safe, my friend. May the stars light your way.”
Force Commander Tyberian Hylaeus stood, rendering the marshal's salute to his friend. “And guide you home.”
One
Planet Tythian – Karvasthi Mountains
The rabbit saw nothing until the teeth were around its neck. There was a burst of snow and mayhem when the fangs snapped shut, turning the valgur scout into a tasty snack. Cries of panic went up around the nest, sending the valgur rabbits scurrying in all directions, seeking any avenue of escape into the deeper forest to wait for the call to regroup.
A tremendous Kard wolf rose from the snow, directly into the path of the fleeing bunnies. It was easily over a meter tall at the shoulder, covered in mottled fur stained in old blood from an earlier kill. The bunnies screeched, a call for the nest to change direction along their esca
pe. Zig zagging became the order of the minute as the fleeing fur balls darted over snowy terrain, branches, and overhangs to escape the pack of wolves demanding their flesh.
A serbagan, a type of Tyth owl, floated into the kill zone to snatch one of the tender morsels intent on evasion. It glided through the trees with near silent speed, like an arrow ignores the rest of the battle to sail into its target. It managed to snatch one of the valgur by the goat-shaped horns just beside its ears. The serbagan’s wings swallowed a blast of air to propel it high above the rest of the hunt. Its screaming passenger wriggled slightly in the raptor’s grip, only to feel an impact shudder through the talon holding it. A third wolf from the pack had launched itself into the air from a tree, savaging the flying thief. The escapee dropped into the snow, disappearing from the surface in a mass of snapping jaws hoping for blood in empty powder.
The majority of the nest fled into the deep tree line due to the sacrifice of several members. Brays and chirps drifted between the branches, sounding like a haunted funeral was being conducted somewhere out of sight. The wolves sniffed the tangle, trying to suss out any members of the nest who might be stuck, easy pickings for the pack. Others tested the bramble to find a way through for themselves.
The other predators halted the hunt, bowing their heads at the sight of the mottled wolf. It sniffed the same spot, as if to certify the rabbit’s escape from a hunter of lesser skill. It swung its head from side to side, sniffing the air as it occasionally stuck out its tongue through wicked canine teeth. Then it too, begrudgingly, growled its way into genuflection, making way for a massive red wolf.
The Revenant: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Hunter's Moon Book 2) Page 1