38-Jorrin was standing beside Kesh, looking down at him. Then, he blinked and the form was gone. Kesh looked around and realized that it was a projection. Of course, he wouldn't be in the first wave of attacks. Better stay close. Kesh spun and followed after the two Eridani soldiers, well out of range of their staves. As he passed one badly-mangled Rahl soldier, Kesh quickly picked up a broken haft of a dagger. Might need something and they took my weapons. This'll do for the moment.
Thirty-Two
Torvash moved with purpose down the corridor. He ignored the soldiers as they scurried to their own escape craft. He didn't have time to get to his state room to get his personal effects. It would be a burden to replace much of the equipment, but he had to get to his ship.
He was close to the flight deck when Kern appeared. Half of her blocky face was burned. Her right arm was taken off at the shoulder. She slumped towards him, grabbing him with her good arm. Her eyes blazed with a fury he had rarely seen. "You knew this would happen."
"I tried to stop you," Torvash said.
"You knew that they would—"
"I ordered you to stand down, Kern. You lost."
"The Empress, ever may she reign, will hear of this."
"No, she won't," Torvash said. He grabbed her by her thick neck. He squeezed hard, the blackened skin broke off, and the red raw flesh underneath oozed through his fingers. Kern sluggishly tried to bat his right hand away, which is what he wanted. He brought his left hand up, gave a mental flick and let the orichalcum blade take her in the temple.
"I love you," he whispered as her eyes grew unfocused. He lowered her gently to the floor and kissed her forehead. He let the blade slide out, and slid her eyes closed with his bloody right hand. "I shall speak the prayers, as is the right of a warrior of the Rahl," he said over her corpse. He hoped that her spirit heard him. The blade slide back into its hiding place, and he moved towards a hatch, pulled it open, grabbed the outside edge of the ladder, and let himself fall the three levels to his personal dock. He made contact with rungs and the wall with his feet as he shot down to control his descent. Even with that, he slammed hard into the deck plating. He knew from the pain flaring in his left ankle that it was broken. He gritted his teeth and hobbled to the Blade.
As he sat at the controls, letting the craft warm up, he converted the ship to its stealth mode. He realised something that had happened in the short exchange with the Rahl. He turned off Kay's voice modulator.
He didn't repeat the chant of "Ever may she reign."
The idea caused him to have a sad smile as he took off from the doomed ship.
Thirty-Three
Kesh looked around the broken and blood-stained control room. Many of the regular soldiers, not the Rahl, had surrendured. A few Rahl, two without a right or left arm, knelt before they were killed by 38-Jorrin's two guards.
The ship rocked for a moment, and the bright outline of a large round circle started to appear on the inner hull. First it was a soft red, then a brighter, angrier red. On the other side, Kesh knew it was the Eridani cutter slicing into the ship. The matter transporter wasn't the best for more than two soldiers, and he knew 38-Jorrin had a fear of them after his 17th clone died in one. Moments later, the circle made a small pop, and a form in Eridani armor, not with any weapons that Kesh could see, stepped forward. Two more guards followed 38-Jorrin inside.
"Did you think you could stay away forever?" The voice was firm and robust.
The moment Kesh heard it, he knew who it was. "Greetings, 38-Jorrin," he said with a small bow.
"I asked you a question, Kesh."
Kesh shrugged his shoulders. "I thought I could get away from you for a bit longer. Been ten years."
"You had to know this was coming," the voice moved from everywhere to the blackened entrance of the control room of the dreadnought. The blackened and still forms of the Rahl barely discernible amongst the black of the deck. 38-Jorin strode forward, Kesh waiting for him.
"Are you ready to go?"
Kesh looked around. "There is someone I'd like to get out of cold storage first and make sure she gets to my friends."
38-Jorrin cocked his head the to side. "Are you asking for a boon?"
"It would be a kindness."
"So be it."
"And allow the Ransom Runner to—"
"You stretch my patience."
"It is all I ask. I wish to say goodbye properly."
"Very well."
Within the hour, Lyra was out of cold storage, and the Runner was messaged and flagged down. Jonica stepped onto the broken control walkway shouting Kesh's name, but stopped when the Eridani blocked her way. 38-Jorrin allowed her and Meph to come forward. She, Meph, and Blue soon stood with Lyra and Kesh. Blue was beside Kesh as well, growling and rubbing his head against Kesh's shoulder.
"It is time," 38-Jorin said.
"You don't have to go," Jonica said.
"Yes, he does," 38-Jorrin said.
Jonica's hand twitched toward her rifle, Lyra's hands balled into fists.
"Both of you need to trust me. These are not creatures you want to fight."
Meph hissed. Rather go down swinging than to be taken.
"Really Meph? Is that how it is?" 38-Jorrin asked, and his image popped like a soap bubble.
"Really! Come now 38-Jorrin, even you—"
There was a strange chortling that came from the Eridani cutter entrance. "Do you really think that even a psi-cat can fight one of us?"
The cat jerked his head up. Kesh realized everyone heard that. From the darkened hole came the floating chair of the Eridani—the real 38-Jorrin—and the emaciated form of the alien creature riding it. Then the smell of its musk hit Kesh, and his nose wrinkled. It wasn't unpleasant; it was very much like peppermint. On the other hand, the sense memory wasn't pleasant either.
"Greeting, 38-Jorrin," Kesh said again, stepping forward and bowing his body in half. "These people are not with me. I was keeping them safe from—"
"I know what you were doing," 38-Jorrin said. "You must have been in a very tight spot for the link to be established." The long, slender finger pointed to Kesh's right hand.
"The Rahl had me and my friends, I mean—"
"As I said, I know who they are. We have been following what has been going on with the Bloody Empress for some time."
"And you only now came to help?" Lyra shouted. "How dare you!"
The Eridani's elongated black eyes flicked towards Lyra for a moment, then back to Kesh. "She is feisty."
"More than that, you… you peppermint-scented freak," Lyra shouted. She balled up her fists and closed her eyes.
"Lyra, don't—"
Kesh's warning came too late. He felt the build-up like he had before, and then it was simply gone. He looked at Lyra, whose eyes popped open, staring dumbstruck at the Eridani.
38-Jorrin gave a small chortling laugh that caused a shiver to run down Kesh's spine.
"Do you think that a human psionic has any power over the Eridani? You are a mere child playing with a rudimentary force that you barely comprehend." His hand came up, and Lyra was knocked prone.
"38-Jorrin, please don't." Kesh said. He pushed himself in front of the Eridani. "Please."
The hand dropped, and the head cocked a little. "Please what? The time grows short."
"I am tired, Dreamer," Kesh said. "Let me say—"
"Maybe I should kill them so they don't distract you from..."
Kesh pulled at the makeshift blade and held it to his own throat. "Try it and you lose me."
"No need for such melodrama, Kesh," 38-Jorrin said with a sigh. The Eridani looked at Kesh, touching his fingers to the side of his elongated head.
"You look like my father when you do that," Kesh quipped.
38-Jorrin's tiny mouth quirked up at one edge. "Agreed, no harm will come to them."
"Swear to me by your line and your oath that you will not hurt them," Kesh said, staring at the Eridani.
The grey head lean
ed forward in the hovering seat. A small inscrutable smile on the Eridani's face. "I didn't hear a ‘please’."
"Please!"
The same chortling cough came from 38-Jorrin. "I swear on the Jorrin line of succession—"
"Record it," Kesh said. "Please."
The Eridani's small lips quivered. Kesh knew it was the closest they ever came to smiling. 38-Jorrin reached down to his chair and pushed a series of keys on the left armrest. A few lights flickered on. "I, 38-Jorrin, swear on the Line of Jorrin that your friends will be safe from me and the Eridani people. No Rite of Possession will be taken on them or their vessels. And by my oath as Dreamer, they will have safe passage. If you, Kesh Kyllon, return with me and continue under my tutelage."
"I accept."
Jonica reached out to Kesh. "You don't have to do this, Kesh. You can come—"
"I do, Jonica. Trust me," Kesh said. She pulled him forward suddenly, hugging him with her one good arm and kissing him.
"Why?"
"Goodbye kiss," she said, looking down suddenly, stroking at her white hair that dangled in her eyes.
He turned to Blue. "You have to stay with them, boy." Blue growled, looking at Meph, Jonica, and the unconscious Lyra and then back at Kesh. The scytheclaw let out a click click click.
"Meph, take care of Blue."
I shall… endeavor.
"Say goodbye to the kid for me," he said, looking at Jonica.
"I will."
"Be safe," he said to Jonica. Then, pulled her close for a kiss. It was longer than hers.
He then spun on his heels suddenly and walked with 38-Jorrin into the ship.
Blue cried out, Jonica bit her lip to stop herself from crying and placed an arm around the scytheclaw's neck. Meph looked up at Jonica, and then at Kesh. Blue and Meph let out a mournful cry as Kesh disappeared into the hole.
END OF PART ONE
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Excerpt from Wrath of the Empress
Rogget snapped on the half-cloak clasp around Jacob's neck. The emerald and sapphire pieces forming twin twining serpents. The near-human stepped back to let Jacob see himself in the mirror.
"Does it please you, sire?" Rogget asked, eyes downcast.
Jacob enjoyed the specimen he saw in the mirror. The broad face with chiselled features, with the proper dimpled chin. The black hair smoothed back with oil known only to Rogget. The one blue and one green eye, a hallmark of the Renard family. A well toned body that was the perfect combination of genetics and discipline. A white ermine trimmed half cloak of black hung at the proper angle atop a tunic of green and a thick padded doublet of blue, with a set of stout black trousers and high polished black drake skin boots. Yes, Rogget. It does please me.
Rogget bent in half, webbed hands touching the worked stone floor of the dressing room while Jacob's gloved hand reached out to touch the near-human's bald head. It wouldn't do to touch such a creature not of the Blood with bare hands. It was the same reason Jacob spoke to Rogget in the near-human's head. One of the Blood didn't use their voice to speak to one not of the Blood.
Though his father had made him start to speak to his slut of a step-mother, Anna with his voice. And the girl spawn Ophelia. It sickened him to use his voice with them. They weren't of the Blood. Half-breed trash that had charmed his father's grieving heart and warming his bed. Jacob wanted for them to leave the palace, to leave the planet. His desire tempered by law. Until he was of age and held the ducal seat himself before the harlot could take it for herself. He could bide his time.
"Thank you, majesty," Rogget said with a mewling purr that pulled Jacob from his thoughts and curled his lip.
The lip curl was followed by a heavy sigh. He knew Rogget was close to worthless, as he was. The near-human had taken his daily dosage of Elixir from Jacob's own blood an hour ago. The near-human servant began to convulse from the bliss given by the gift Jacob had bestowed.
At least he finished dressing me, Jacob thought looking at the twisting convulsing form. He'll be useless for hours. He then looked at the thick door of the dressing room exit, firmly closed. With a savage kick, Jacob booted Rogget towards the door. There was a wet and gut wrenching splat when Rogget's head struck the rare mahogany door. Reaching out with the Talent to touch Rogget, even that sickened him. Jacob was sure Rogget was dead. Good. Gritting his teeth, seething with anger, Jacob reached out for the Void to open he door. Instead, he ripped it from its hinges with his power.
Storming out of the room, he saw the other nineteen near-human servants bowing low. Wrapped in the power of the Blood, he sensed their fear, smelling the prickly heated panic that swept up and down the double row. The smell made him grin. Good, let them fear the Blood. Father coddles them too much.
Continuing down the hallway and making a right, he entered the dining hall, where the other three members of his family awaited. His father, Winston Renard sat at the center of the table, his salt and pepper beard, more salt than pepper bristled with Jacob entering. Anna and Ophelia sat to Winston's right, eating quietly their half-breed food. It smelled like porridge and small beer today.
Half breed bitch and her spawn, Jacob thought while looking at them.
"Jacob, I've asked you before to not use those words for Anna and Ophelia." Winston said, through strained teeth. How dare you, boy! She is my wife and ward.
Jacob stared at his father. And still a half-breed bitch. "I apologize, father." He turned to look at Anna and Ophelia. "How are you two lovely ladies, this fine morning?" He even included a small bow to both. It galled him to have to speak to the two of them.
"We are well, Jacob. Will you join us for breaking the fast?" Anna asked, giving no indication she knew what transpired between Jacob and his father.
Father, must I break bread with these, creatures?
A strong pulse of the Talent made his step-mother move to block Ophelia in a moment of maternal instinct, until she saw the target. Jacob was shoved to the ground, on his hands and knees. His father's voice, free of any strain from using the power with such speed and ferocity commanded, "Yes, please join us, Jacob."
Jacob looked up at his father's hard face. Sorry father, I—
Apologize to them.
But, I—
The pressure grew and Jacob struggled to keep from being flattened onto his belly. He took a deep breath, exhaled and said, "I am sorry, My Lady Renard and ward Ophelia Renard. I was rude to both of you, not using my voice and using it to shame both of you. Please forgive me."
He looked up, his head buzzing from the pressure of power wielded by his father to humble him. Anna and Ophelia's faces were agape with shock. After a moment of recovery and to mull over what was said, Anna spoke up. "Apology accepted, from both of us, dearest Jacob."
Released from the power, Jacob stood and took his place at his father's left. The snifter of crimson fluid awaited him when he sat. He gave his father a sidelong glance and took the snifter up and took a long pull of the exquisite Source. He licked his lips, letting his tongue touch the enhanced canines of the Blood. The momentary blessing of the Source invigorated him and he knew that he had been careless. Only a fool would step close to another of the Blood without shielding his thoughts. He glared at his father, the broad shoulders drooped from the effort, his hands palsied a moment.
Jacob felt a small smile spread. He halted it from being seen, though inside he was beaming. He watched as his father staggered for a moment to get back to the table. He grabbed onto the chair he had risen from a little to hard. Ophelia's mother let out a gasp, half rising. Wilson waved her back. "Please," his father said, glaring at Jacob, "Come and join us for breakfast. Properly."
Winston looked at Jacob, who flicked his eyes down to not be caught. As I thought. He is weak. Soon, old man you too shall suffer my wrath.
About the Author
Lon Varnadore is an emerging author of science fiction and fantasy. This is the first of his Empress Trilogy.
www.lonvar
nadoreauthro.com
[email protected]
Also by Lon Varnadore
If you like science fiction, might I sugest Mostly Human, sci-fi with a noir twist.
If you like sci-fi with a more military twist, might I suggest I.S.S. Starkiller Chronicle Bundle.
If you also like urban fantasy with a noir twist, might I suggest Janus City Part One.
Blood for the Empress: Part One of the Empress Trilogy Page 16