Seated around the smooth table of black granite, the twenty-five Mutants of the first rank fell silent. The azure crystal transmitter on their chest contrasted with their white silk robes. The hues of their skin and hair varied from orange to turquoise to green. Silk scarves and ribbons tied their long straight hair at the nape.
Judging by the grumpy look on most of their faces, they resented being summoned to a late-night council. Tora didn't care. She wanted to know whether or not her daughter was alive. She looked up to her beloved king for support... Dragomir.
He acknowledged her worries with a tender caress on her cheek, then the regular planes of his copper face hardened as he rose from his white molded plastek chair and faced the Council. His dark brow furrowed in warning. “That Human boat has to be somewhere.”
“They couldn't just vanish.” On days like these, Tora felt her age despite her Mutant constitution.
Dragomir's black hair veiled his face as he bent to brush a few symbols imbedded in the table in front of him.
Floating in the space above the council table, the grave face of King Terek of Yalta, swarthy with streaks of gray in his long auburn hair, materialized in a 3D hologram. He looked sterner and older than Tora remembered. The gold and russet of his garb contrasted with the white Mutant robes around the table, and the large crystal on his chest gleamed crimson... the legendary Blood Tear of Yalta... a formidable artifact, lethal to any other blood.
“Red Leopard, welcome.” Dragomir nodded.
King Terek smiled briefly at the mention of his warrior name, a mark of honor from his High King. “I appreciate the invitation, My Liege.”
King Red Leopard motioned to someone Tora couldn't see, and the hologram zoomed out to encompass Queen Galya. Fair of skin with glacier blue eyes, she sat, graceful as always, at her king's side. Creases of worry accentuated the lines of her lovely face.
Tora's heart went to her. “I wish we could meet in better circumstances.”
“Thank you.” Lady Galya bowed her head, displaying long white hair braided in a crown around her face, and flowing freely down her back to the waist.
Dragomir sat down and motioned to Brother Kohl, a black Mutant with golden hair and eyes, the oldest Prince on the Council, second in the line of succession.
“Since we are all here...” Brother Kohl stood and cleared his throat. “We lost all communication with the Mutants aboard the Galleon, as soon as they neared the typhoon.”
A 3D scan of the area appeared beside the sovereigns of Yalta and started revolving above the table as Brother Kohl went on. “As you can see, there is no sign of the Galleon or any boat. Not even floating debris. We picked up indication of plant and wild life further on the continent, but no Human or Mutant life signs in the area swept by the typhoon.”
Tora's chest clenched at the sight of the evidence. If the satellites couldn't pick up their life signs, then... She refused to contemplate the obvious.
Queen Galya of Yalta looked even paler than usual in her light blue robes. “I have two precious sons on that boat.” Her voice cracked. “Does that mean none of them survived?”
“Not necessarily, My Lady.” Brother Kohl bowed politely. “It is still dark there. And the volcanic ranges by the coast seem to emit a strong magnetism that interferes with our instruments.”
Tora drummed six fingers on the black granite of the council table. “They could be alive... if they did manage to reach the shore.”
Brother Kohl grimaced. “But we have no indication they reached the shore... Their last transmission placed them two days away from it.”
A Mutant with a turquoise face and white hair sighed. “Most likely they all perished in the cold depths.”
Lady Naya, a Sister with aquamarine eyes and hair, glowered in reproach. “Don't say such a thing.”
Brother Kohl shrugged. “He's right. The chances of a primitive Human boat surviving a typhoon of that magnitude are slim.”
Tora squinted at the black Mutant who dared speak of her daughter as if she'd already died. “But they could be out there, waiting for a rescue.”
Kohl's golden eyes rounded. “It's a very tenuous possibility, My Queen.”
Tora laid her hand on Dragomir's, finding the contact reassuring. “Other than our daughter Esperana, there are fifty Grays, a hundred and twenty-five Humans, and a hundred precious animals on that ship. We cannot abandon them if there is the slightest chance some of them are alive.”
Queen Galya's holographic shape turned to Dragomir as well. The black jewel on her chest caught the light. “Please, High King, in the name of our friendship, save Yalta's children.”
Dragomir took a deep breath. “I want to. Unfortunately, it's not entirely up to me.” His hazel stare seemed to dare the Princes of Kassouk to oppose him. “I propose to send a rescue mission to the Eastern Continent to search for survivors of the typhoon.”
“But My Liege...” Brother Kohl's interruption made Tora flinch. “The expense against the probabilities of finding them alive...”
“These are royal heirs and Mutants out there.” Tora couldn't help the brusque retort. “My precious daughter, two valorous princes of Yalta... They are our future. How could you think of sacrificing them?”
Brother Kohl pursed his lips and sighed. “Very well... Let's put it to a vote.”
“All right.” Dragomir rose and straightened his white sash. He still looked as noble and breathtaking as when she'd first met him, well over a century ago. “Who is in favor of a search and rescue?”
Around the elliptic granite table, the Mutants stole furtive glances at each other.
Tora raised her hand. So did Lady Naya, and two other female Mutants. Most Brothers lowered their gaze to the black gleam of the table.
“I see...” Dragomir linked his hands behind his back and paced around the table. “Brother Kohl would be glad to be rid of Esperana, since she might claim my succession someday. But I can assure you she is not interested in politics. As for the rulers of Yalta, they have other sons... But this is a rotten way to think.”
Tora admired her beloved husband. He never played games.
Dragomir stopped pacing and stared at Brother Kohl. “I know you covet my throne. But intelligence and logic alone do not a good king make. Compassion is the element that earns the love and respect of the people.”
Brother Kohl smirked. Tora almost hoped he would speak against his king in Council. Severe laws protected the King of Kassouk, and such an insult would warrant immediate expulsion.
Dragomir stood behind Tora and laid a hand on her shoulder while addressing the Council. “I predict that the lack of Human feelings you Princes of Kassouk are so proud to profess, will eventually lead to the downfall of our race. Some days I am ashamed to be one of you.”
“So am I.” Never mind that Tora was only half Mutant.
Dragomir turned to the holographic King and Queen of Yalta. “I will dedicate my personal flyer to the search. Once we detect the presence of survivors, the Council will have no other choice but to approve an official rescue.”
Brother Kohl hooded his yellow stare. “Remember, My Liege, this personal mission, like the expedition to the Eastern Continent, was never sanctioned by the Council.”
“If it had been...” Dragomir's voice rose a few decibels. “They would have flown to the Eastern Continent, and none of this tragedy would have happened.” He drilled his stare into the offending black Mutant. “I hold you and this Council personally responsible for the consequences of your short-sightedness. Our laws hold Mutant life sacred, and if Brothers or Sisters die because you refuse to rescue them, you will answer for it.”
Thick silence filled the Council Chamber. All knew Dragomir didn't make empty threats, and the penalty for refusing to assist a Mutant in distress was death.
Dragomir stood very straight. “I give you all a chance to change your vote right now.”
“There is no evidence of Mutant in distress,” Kohl mumbled. “We are in our right
not to yield to irrational emotional demands.”
The Brothers who had voted against Dragomir hung their heads, but none retracted their vote.
Tora's hand tightened on her sword hilt. She wished she were on a battlefield. At least, there, she could make a difference. But the fragile balance of power and the intricacies of the Council of Princes often tried her patience.
She gazed upon the hologram of Lady Galya. “Don't worry. If they are alive, we'll find them.”
Chapter Two
Kahuel blinked in the pink dawn at the glare of the twin suns rising from an ocean of golden ripples. He bit dry, salty lips and swallowed sand on a parched throat. The rhythmic sound of rolling waves breaking on the shore reminded him of Yalta Lake, but the unfamiliar seabirds screaming and circling overhead looked strange. He smelled seaweed.
Sitting up, he shaded his eyes to scan the white sandy beach, strewn with open chests and broken barrels, planks, inert people and animals. Unattended felines roamed in search of their masters. Horses whinnied to their absent riders. Kahuel's empty stomach growled, screaming for food. A day and night had passed since he'd lost his breakfast... the storm had come and gone.
Behind him, a green, tropical forest of ferns and palm fronds, alive with loud animal calls, spread up the gentle slopes all the way to a black cliff and a mountain range that peaked on the horizon. Toward the sea, ominous rock formations with strong jagged spines, advanced far into the water on both sides of the cove, like black fingers of death.
Something didn't sit right in his stomach. They had sailed southeast, yet the twin suns rose in the water. He knew for a fact that the suns always rose in the east. The beaches of the Eastern Continent should face west. It didn't make any sense. Where were they?
At the far point of the left rocky ridge, half a mile into the sea, lay the broken carcass of the Galleon. Half submerged at low tide, the starboard deck projected above the waterline. The vessel had splintered on the rocks. The shattered masts and torn rigging spilled around it like the entrails of a gutted whale.
His brother would be devastated by the destruction of his favorite boat. “Basilk!”
No one answered. A few people now stood up with some difficulty and looked around, haggard. Where was his brother? Kahuel pressed the sides of his crimson crystal and visualized his older sibling. “Basilk, answer me!”
No response
The red crystal remained dull. It didn't seem to work. Technology could be so unreliable.
A few feet away lay one of Kahuel's warriors. Alive? “Wake up, man, it's suns up. Are you all right?”
The man stirred and chased a fly from his face but didn't get up. Passed out from exhaustion...
Diablo's brief roar made Kahuel turn around. The black jaguar butted heads with him. The feline's loud, happy purr covered all other noises for a moment. Laughing, Kahuel stared into Diablo's emerald eyes and scratched the cat under the chin. “I love you, too, my friend.”
But these people lying on the beach needed help. Weak from lack of food, Kahuel rose to his feet, shed his boots, unbuckled his baldric and pulled off his soaked woolen jacket and tunic.
Leaving his clothes in a pile with his sword, he ventured barefoot on the sand, wearing only his trousers. He approached the fallen man and knelt at his side. The warrior breathed evenly and had no visible injuries. Kahuel hoped they all slumbered from weariness as well. He decided to let the man sleep and checked on the others.
With Diablo in tow, he staggered from warrior to warrior. A female from the feline company had drowned, her white, bloated corpse rolled by the waves onto the sand. Her cheetah mewed and licked the dead woman's face. Biting back his anger, Kahuel closed her lifeless, gritty eyes.
A few feet further down the beach, Kahuel found a dead sailor. Great Engineer, in your infinite kindness, please, make sure my brother Basilk is all right.
As he dragged the corpses away from the living, downwind, to the far end of the cove, Kahuel closed his mind to the fact that he knew these people and had met their families. He could only hope the dead would be few. But there could be many more among the bodies spread over more than a mile of coastline.
“Water.” The voice came from a sailor. By the looks of his torn trousers, his legs must be mangled, although the sea had washed away all traces of blood.
Kahuel rushed to his side. “I don't have fresh water, but I'll try to find some. Can you sit?”
The sailor shook his head. “My body won't move.”
“Hang on. I'll get you some help.” Kahuel whistled, and the jaguar who had been wandering, returned and nuzzled him. “Diablo, we need fresh water.”
The cat grunted and led the way toward the green jungle bordering the beach. Spotting a wooden bucket amidst the debris, Kahuel picked it up and followed the jaguar. Under the thick canopy, the cacophony of animals, birds and insects grew deafening.
Soon, Diablo waded into a fresh water stream cascading down the green slopes with a refreshing gurgle. The sound reminded Kahuel that he, too, was thirsty. But when he knelt at the water's edge, something made him stop and listen. His nape itched, as if someone was watching him, a sensation every warrior knew well.
He scanned his surroundings for any sign of danger. Nothing out of the ordinary moved in the lively jungle. Diablo also stopped drinking to listen, but the cat didn't react or signal any danger. The sounds of the jungle had not stopped as they usually do when predators prowl. Probably some harmless wild life.
Seeing nothing amiss, Kahuel drank, rinsed the brine from the wooden bucket and filled it with fresh water. Then he hurried back to the beach.
When he stepped out of the forest onto the sand, he saw the contingent of Grays at a distance, standing among Kahuel's awaking warriors. Princess Esperana, recognizable by her taller stature and white robes, turned toward him.
Diablo growled.
“You don't like her either... Can't blame you there.” He scratched Diablo's chin.
The blasted Mutants didn't even look disheveled from the ordeal, neat as usual in their gray body armor, and closely shaved heads. He wagered they smelled like cherry blossoms, with not one grain of sand in their long ponytails. They observed calmly, neutral, as if helping those in need would somehow tarnish their precious bloodline.
A female warrior rushed toward Kahuel, holding a broken piece of coconut shell in one hand. She bowed slightly then smiled at Diablo before taking the heavy bucket from Kahuel's hand. “I've got a ladle. Let me do this, Black Jaguar.”
Kahuel nodded his thanks and went straight to Princess Esperana. Seeing him approach, she glanced toward him but did not move. Then she stared toward the sea, as if she didn't dare face him.
Kahuel had seen no Grays among the injured or the dead. “Did your group suffer any losses?”
“No losses on our side.” Princess Esperana gazed down at him. Taller than the Grays, she towered a whole foot above Kahuel's six-foot frame. “Our phasic shields floated us safely on the water, in individual bubbles, but as soon as we came close to land, the shields died.”
“Sorry you had to wet your feet.” Kahuel couldn't help the sarcasm. Leave it to the Mutants to look after themselves. “You could have helped others make it to shore with these shields.”
“In hindsight, we could have.” Esperana's face showed no regret.
“But you didn't.” Kahuel hated this typical, selfish Mutant attitude. “By the way, we may not be on the Eastern Continent at all.”
“Oh?” Princess Esperana stared at him with renewed interest.
“Not unless the twin suns now rise in the West.”
A spark of understanding lit the Mutant's handsome face. She glanced at the suns over the ocean. “You are right, Black Jaguar. And I don't remember the coast being this rugged from the satellite maps I've seen. The coast of the Eastern Continent is rather flat with straight, uninterrupted sand beaches…”
“One more mystery to unravel.” Kahuel wanted to get back to his warriors.
As he turned to leave, the princess laid a hand on his arm. Diablo grunted and she glanced at the feline who sat at Kahuel's feet.
She sighed. “Black Jaguar, I have very sad news.”
“What could be sadder than this?” Suddenly reminded of Basilk, Kahuel scanned the beach. “Have you seen my brother?”
Princess Esperana's hazel eyes hooded. “I'm sorry, Black Jaguar. We brought you his body. We found him in the adjacent cove.”
She turned toward the Grays ten feet away and motioned to their captain. The Grays parted to reveal the big prostrate shape of Basilk on the sand. Somehow, he still looked proud and defiant, even in death.
Kahuel's heart stopped for a moment. His chest gaped, empty. He couldn't fathom the loss of his older brother. As he stumbled toward the body, memories of naked races with his brothers on the beach of Yalta Lake flashed through his mind. Basilk always let him win in those childhood days. He remembered swimming contests, wrestling matches, beer festivals...
Overcome by the shock of the immeasurable loss, Kahuel fell on his knees beside his dead brother. He gazed into the empty blue stare and closed Basilk's eyes, blinking on the tears coming to his eyes. Gently, he took the thick cold hand in his, but it did not squeeze back. “I will miss you, brother.”
“I'm so sorry.” For a fleeting moment, Princess Esperana sounded as if she really cared.
Kahuel bent over to retrieve his brother's crimson crystal transmitter from inside his open tunic. This could not be allowed to fall into profane hands. With great respect, he slid the leather tie over his brother's head then slipped the red jewel in a pocket of his trousers.
Princess Esperana cleared her throat. “I wish you had more time to grieve, Black Jaguar... but with your brother gone, you are now in charge of the Human contingent on this expedition.”
The realization struck Kahuel like a slung stone. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he surveyed the chaos and the destruction around him. He'd come on this voyage to prove to his family that he'd become a man of responsibility and courage. Now he stood alone to lead these people in a desperate situation. He also must honor Basilk's solemn vow to help the Mutant princess. Blast!
Black Jaquar Page 2