The World of Samar Box Set 3

by M. L. Hamilton

  A line of Delphi stood before the domes, the pale pearlescent sheen of their skin gleaming in the sunlight. They stood shoulder to shoulder, their hands relaxed at their side, but clearly blocking the entrance.

  Jarrett clenched his teeth and started toward them, trying to ignore the pain hammering behind his eyes or the congested feeling against the bones of his skull. He wasn’t sure what he intended to do, but if necessary, he would bodily force his way through them to get to Tyla.

  The pain increased, causing him to stumble.

  Pressing a hand against his temple, he squinted at them. Obviously, his purposeful approach wasn’t working. He had to try rushing them instead. He closed his eyes and used Tyla’s tactic. He summoned up the happiest memory he could find – the first night he and Tyla had spent together in Temeron more than ten years before. He tried to remember what she looked like, the way her hair cascaded down her back, the way they had melded together as if they could become one person. Then he remembered the previous night with her. Although ten years had passed, the passion was no less, the urgency they felt, the joy of finally joining together – a homecoming, a belonging – completion.

  Without opening his eyes, he rushed them. He cleared half the distance between the tree tunnel and the domes before they took him down. They never laid a hand on him, but the assault was as brutal as if they had. One moment he had the sense of running, then falling, then he found himself on his hands and knees, staring at the ground with his head hanging between his shoulders.

  He coughed and vomited blood into the dirt, his limbs shaking uncontrollably.

  Hands hooked under his arms, pulling backward and he tumbled onto his back, his vision swimming crazily. A second set of hands curled around his chest and yanked backward, dragging him across the ground. He didn’t have the strength to fight them, didn’t have the presence to corral his muscles to defend himself.

  When he became aware again, he was lying on his back beneath the tree tunnel, staring at the branches overhead. An anxious face moved into his line of sight and recognition slowly dawned. Zimran.

  He sat up quickly, then wished he hadn’t. His stomach rebelled and he rolled to his side, retching violently. A stream of bile mixed with blood projected from him. He closed his eyes and panted, trying to control the nausea. Zimran placed a cloth in his closed fist and he used it to wipe his mouth. Scooting backward, he crawled out of the sun and braced his back on the trunk of a tree. If he didn’t move suddenly, the nausea eased.

  Avendale hunkered down beside him and held out a dried orb. Jarrett tilted it and water sloshed over the side. Lifting it to his mouth, he took a mouthful and swished it around his teeth, then spat it onto the ground next to him. It was tinged with pink. He repeated the action a few more times until the water ran clear again. That eased some of his alarm. Whatever they had broken inside of him had obviously sealed itself because he didn’t seem to be bleeding any more.

  Bracing his head against the trunk, he studied the Wryn, trying to remember what happened when the Delphi took him down. Avendale and Zimran must have been the ones to pull him away. He tried to feel the Delphi’s psychic communication, but the humming had stopped. They must have decided he was no more threat to them.

  “Is there another way into the domes?” he asked the Wryn.

  Avendale cocked his head, but Zimran searched his face anxiously.

  “I have to get Ty-la. Is there another way in? A way they won’t be guarding?” Reaching out a hand, he picked up a twig and drew a quick sketch of the domes in the dirt, then drew a line where the entrance was. Finally, he drew an arrow pointed directly at the entrance and tapped it with his stick. “This is the way in. Is there another?” He drew a number of arrows around the domes, then held out his hand.

  Both Wryn studied the drawing. Avendale obviously had no idea what he meant, but Zimran kept studying it. Finally, he reached out and erased Jarrett’s sketch. “Jer-rid inveni alia enti.”

  Jarrett shook his head. He’d never heard these words before.

  “Jer-rid inveni alia enti.” He took the stick and drew a strange shape in the sand. It was long like a flattened orb with a line rising out of the middle of it. On top of the line, Zimran drew triangles. “Jer-rid inveni alia enti.”

  Jarrett shook his head. “I don’t know what that is.” He reached out and grabbed Zimran’s arm. “I need to get to Tyla. I have to find Tyla.”

  Zimran patted his hand, then pointed at the drawing. “Jer-rid inveni alia enti.”

  Jarrett dropped his hold. “Forget it. I’ll figure it out myself. There has to be a second entrance into the domes.”

  Avendale tilted his head, studying Zimran’s drawing. “Jer-rid inveni alia partici.”

  Zimran’s glittering black gaze whipped up to him. He nodded, the white plume on his head dancing. “Jer-rid inveni alia partici.” Then he pointed to the mountains rising to Jarrett’s left. “Partici socios.”

  Jarrett focused on them, his gaze narrowing on Zimran’s arm, then he glanced down at the drawing. Reaching out, he carefully traced the lines. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered, then followed Zimran’s pointing finger again. “I’ll be damned. Kalas is on the beach.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Kalas sat on the camp chair in his private tent, staring into the flame of the candle on the table before him. Dolan sat across from him, while Parish paced the confined interior. Ellette had curled up on the cot, her arms hugged around her knees. None of the scouting parties had returned, night had fallen, and they knew less about this island than they had this morning when they landed.

  “Come morning, I say we follow the trails up the mountains. At least that will give us elevation to take in more of the landscape,” said Kalas, running his finger through the melted wax on the candle.

  Parish turned. “That wasn’t a trail. It was a deer track, if that.”

  Kalas glanced up at him. “It’s all we’ve got.”

  “I say we wait for the scouting parties to return first,” offered Dolan.

  “And I say you return to the ship, but that isn’t going to happen, is it?” groused Parish.

  Kalas didn’t bother to answer him. He glanced over his shoulder at Ellette, but she was staring at the ground fixedly.

  Commotion outside the tent brought him to his feet and he started for the opening, but Allistar ducked his head inside, halting him.

  “Did you find the aliens?” Kalas demanded.

  Allistar gave him a smile. “I found something better.” Pushing open the flap wider, he stepped back to allow another man to enter.

  Jarrett ducked beneath the flap and rose to his full, impressive height. Kalas blinked in astonishment and behind him, Ellette rose to her feet.

  “Nazar,” she whispered, lowering her head in obeisance.

  Before Kalas could recover, two more people pushed inside. At their appearance, Parish took an involuntary step back.

  The two creatures surveyed the scene with wide, blinking eyes. Their skin glowed a faint green in the candle light and they had a band of white feathery down running across the tops of their skulls to the collars of their utilitarian green tunics. Their features were pleasant, humanoid, and their overly large eyes gave them a vulnerable appearance.

  Kalas realized he was staring and turned to Jarrett for explanation. The Nazar was disheveled. The lines around his eyes were more pronounced, he’d obviously lost weight, and although he wore the same green clothes as the two aliens, his were filthy and torn in numerous places.

  “Where’s my sister?”

  Jarrett released his held breath in a weary sigh. “She’s being held in the Delphi capital.”

  “Held? What does that mean?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “You look like hell,” said Parish.

  Jarrett nodded. “It hasn’t been my best day.” He turned to the two aliens. “Your Majesty, I’d like to present my companions to you. This is Zimran and Avendale.” He pointed at each of the
creatures in turn.

  They clasped their hands together and gave Kalas a short bow. Kalas nodded at them.

  Parish went to the flap and called for more chairs. They were brought immediately. Kalas suspected the entire camp was hovering outside his tent right now.

  “Sit down before you fall down,” said Parish, positioning a chair behind the Nazar.

  Jarrett sank into it gratefully, motioning the two creatures to do the same. Kalas forced himself to take a seat as well. “Dolan, would you have someone bring the Nazar and his companions food and some of the spirits Parish so thoughtfully stored?”

  Dolan rose to do his bidding.

  Jarrett followed him with his eyes. “Something hard and crunchy, please.”

  Dolan stopped and gave him a questioning look.

  “All we’ve eaten since we’ve been here has been this jelly-like substance.” He gave a shudder. “Tyla calls it snot.”

  Kalas nodded at Dolan to continue, then he leaned forward on the table. Ellette had moved behind him, resting her hand on his shoulder, but her eyes were riveted on the Nazar and his companions. “What do you mean my sister’s being held?”

  “Before I can explain that, I have to go back to the beginning.”

  “Is my sister all right?”

  “She’s better.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Jarrett rubbed his hands against his thighs. “She was infected with the plague, Kalas. She didn’t tell either of us, but that was why she was so desperate to come to the island by herself.”

  Kalas clenched his jaw. He’d suspected as much. “And now?”

  Jarrett motioned to the creature closest to him. “Zimran saved her life. Tyla was right. They had the cure and Zimran gave it to her. She’s recovering, but she nearly died.”

  Kalas rubbed a hand across his forehead. He was getting a headache. “You’re right. You better go back to the beginning.”

  So Jarrett did. He told them of their search for Brodie Daegan, their journey to the island, the climb up the mountain and Tyla’s coughing attack that gave Brodie the means to slip away from them and leave them stranded. He described the appearance of the Delphi in the night and the journey to the domed city, where they met the gentle Wryn. He described the domes so vividly, Kalas felt he could almost see them. Then he told them about Tyla’s illness and his attempts to find a cure, only to realize that Zimran had provided it almost from the moment of their arrival.

  He wove a tale of Avendale’s injuries, Tyla’s healing, and his own efforts to aid the Wryn in protecting their crops. Finally, he finished with the attack in the grove, his battle, and the return to the domed city to find the Delphi would not allow him back inside.

  Everyone in the tent was transfixed, Kalas no less than the others. The strange wonders Jarrett described floored the King and through it all, the two Wryn studied them with quiet, peaceful expressions of wonder. But still, Kalas felt Jarrett was leaving something out.

  Just as he described their journey to the beach, Dolan arrived with plates of food. Jarrett stopped speaking and sat, staring at the crust of dense nut bread, the tubers swimming in butter, and the thin slices of meat in a rich gravy.

  Reaching out, he lifted the bread almost reverently and just sat, holding it, then he lifted it to his mouth, but rather than take a bite, he drew the scent in and savored it. Finally, he tore off a piece with his teeth and chewed enthusiastically, closing his eyes in pleasure.

  The moment he began eating, the Wryn made tentative ventures toward eating themselves. At the crunch of the bread, they suddenly burst into frantic exclamations in a language Kalas didn’t recognize, but the meaning was clear.

  Kalas found himself smiling at their childish delight in the simple fare, then his attention returned to Jarrett. “Why are the Delphi so interested in my sister?”

  Jarrett reached for his drink and tossed back a swallow, panting as the whiskey blazed down his throat. Opening his eyes again, he slowly lowered the glass. “Sorry. You don’t know how wonderful this all tastes.”

  “I’m getting a pretty good idea,” Kalas answered, watching the Wryn frantically trying to stuff as much food in their mouths as they could, all the while chattering to each other about it.

  “I’m not sure if it’s your sister they’re interested in or the emerald, but one of them wanted her to give him the emerald.”

  Kalas considered that. “She’ll never relinquish it.”

  “No.”

  Leaning back in the chair, he folded a hand around his chin. “Tomorrow we’ll go to the domed city and demand her release.”

  Jarrett finished sopping up the gravy with a piece of bread, placed it in his mouth, then pushed the plate away. He looked up at Kalas as he finished chewing and swallowed. “There’s something you need to know.”

  And here it was, the part of the story Kalas sensed he’d withheld.

  “The Delphi are telepathic. They don’t speak. All communication is done psychically.”

  Kalas nodded for him to continue.

  “And they speak all at once. Tyla believes they are speaking a different language, but whatever it is, you can’t understand them. Not even she can understand them.”

  “All right?”

  “This is how they communicate to the Wryn, tell the Wryn what they want done.”

  “Get to the point, Nazar,” said Kalas impatiently.

  The two Wryn stopped chattering and looked up at him.

  Jarrett shot a glance at them, then fingered the lip of his cup. “The first time I encountered the Delphi, they gave me a severe headache. The second time, they made my nose bleed. This last time, they made me vomit blood. Their psychic communication can be turned into a devastating weapon.”

  Tension snaked through the tent.

  He motioned to Zimran. “If Zimran and Avendale hadn’t been there, they might have killed me.”

  “How does Tyla stand it?” asked Parish.

  “She’s able to block them or filter them or something. She tried to show me how to do it, but I couldn’t.”

  Kalas nodded. “It makes sense. When Tyla was a child, she was bombarded with people’s thoughts, all people, all the time. She had to learn to filter it or go mad.”

  Jarrett wearily rubbed the back of his neck. “Either way, anyone in your company with Stravad blood is likely to be affected too.”

  “You think Humans are immune?”

  “I don’t know, but I know Stravad are not.”

  Kalas leaned forward. “I’m half-Human.”

  Jarrett gave him a grim look. “You’re an Eldralin, Kalas. The half of you that’s Stravad trumps the rest of us that are pure Stravad.”

  “He’s right,” muttered Dolan.

  Kalas’ focus shifted to the Wryn. They were both running their fingers across their plates and licking the residual away. “Parish, do we have any apples in our stores?”

  “Barrels of them.”

  “Can you get me two?”

  “Three,” said Jarrett breathlessly. Then he gave Parish a beseeching look. “Please.”

  Parish chuckled. “On it,” he said and left the tent.

  Kalas continued to study the Wryn.

  “What are you thinking?” asked Jarrett.

  “That we might have to go through them…” He nodded at his guests. “…to get to my sister. They’ll be caught in the middle.”

  Jarrett looked at them as well. “There has to be a way around that. We owe them our lives, Kalas. I can’t stand the thought of them getting hurt.”

  “I know.” He rubbed a hand across his chin again. “But the fact is we may have to use violence to get the Delphi to release her. Any exposure to violence is going to change their society, alter it in ways that are irreparable.”

  Parish returned and passed the apples around. The Wryn exclaimed in delight and turned the red orbs over in their hands. Jarrett motioned to them and then showed them how to take a bite. They followed his example, then their eyes we
nt wide in wonder and they began devouring the fruit with obvious enthusiasm.

  Kalas smiled. There was something so artless, so pure about the Wryn, something beautiful and genuine. He hated the thought that they might destroy that in order to free his sister. “I need to think,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. He glanced back at Ellette. “Come walk with me.”

  She followed him out into the night. Starlight shown down on the surf, silvering the waves as they surged against the shore. A slight breeze had picked up, smelling of ocean and salt, but the temperature was mild. Kalas walked down to the surf and watched the ship bobbing in the distance, rising with the swells, then falling again.

  “I’m going to ask something of you and I don’t want you to say no.”

  “No,” she answered emphatically.

  He glanced over at her. “I didn’t even get to say it.”

  “You are going to ask me to return to the ship and I will not go.”

  Kalas sighed. “If you stay here, you put me at risk. You heard what the Nazar said. The Delphi cripple Stravad with their psychic communication. If I am worried about you, I’ll be distracted from what I should be doing.”

  She gave him an arch look. “If you return to the ship as your people desire, I will go with you. Otherwise, I will be at your side. There is no need to discuss this further.” She didn’t even give him time to respond before she walked away.

  In bewilderment, Kalas turned to watch her, but found Jarrett standing a few paces behind him. Once Ellette passed, Jarrett moved to his side and stood looking out over the surf.

  “That is the most stubborn woman in the world,” Kalas grumbled.

  “Not by half,” said Jarrett wryly.

  Kalas had to agree. “You’re right. My sister holds that crown.” He moved back out of the water line and took a seat in the sand.

  Jarrett followed him and sat down at his side.

  Kalas tented his knees and rested his forearms across the top. “I’m becoming more and more like my father, spending hours staring at the ocean, trying to figure things out.”