Savant & Feral (Digital Boxed Set): Books 1 and 2 of the Epic Luminether Fantasy Series

by Richard Denoncourt

  In the end, it was his father’s voice that helped him decide.

  Communicate with them. Try to be reasonable.

  Oscar closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steel his trembling knees. Another voice, this one distinctly his own, told him he was crazy. He ignored it—crazy meant little to him in a world where nothing made sense and such savagery was possible. He released the breath he’d been holding, opened his eyes, and turned the corner into the bonfire’s light.

  Something had changed.

  There had been four Orglots around the fire a moment ago. Now, he saw five.

  The most recent addition was a full head taller than the other males and much older, with a receding mane of gray hair that fell around his shoulders in braids and a beard of the same color and style. A brutal mix of scars covered his bare arms and chest, which had remained taut and muscular despite his age. His tattoos looked ancient and faded, like cave drawings.

  A single, narrowed eye stood out on his forehead, misty with age.

  Oscar crept back behind the wall and reassessed the situation. Had this elder Orglot come to put a stop to their dinner? He threw a glance around the hut, saw the elder lick his lips at the prisoners, and decided that wasn’t the case.

  When the elder began to speak, Oscar shuddered. His voice was deeper and raspier than the younger males. It was also strangely foreign in comparison; the clicks and grunts seemed to tumble out of his mouth like boulders, reminding Oscar of a friend of his father’s back in Cartagena, a German store owner whose harsh accent made his Spanish sound rougher around the edges.

  The fat Orglot had finished building the spit and stood slapping his hands together. The elder pointed at Bil and uttered a single command. With a nod, the bushy-haired Orglot raised his cutting tool and bent over the prisoners as he had done before.

  They were going to roast Bil first, and the others would soon follow. Oscar saw only three paths ahead of him—he could stay and watch his friends get eaten until a better idea occurred to him, he could escape back the way he’d come and leave his friends to their fates, or he could reveal himself and hopefully create a diversion while tossing Larry the dagger.

  Yes, that was it! The dagger would cut through those chains with no problem. Then the veterans would be in a better position to save Sara. Oscar might even leave at that point, having done his part in helping them.

  He was about to face the bonfire again when his mind filled with a distinctly alien notion that held him back.

  Human flesh. So good. So hungry.

  Oscar smacked his lips. His mouth watered at the thought of being filled with dripping chunks of roasted meat. The hunger was immediately followed by a clenching, nauseating sensation in his gut, as he abruptly realized that he’d been craving human flesh. But was it really Oscar craving it? Or had he simply borrowed the feeling somehow?

  Gross either way!

  Again, the foreign voice rose in his mind. This time it sounded alarmed.

  What was that?

  Oscar continued this strange new conversation, gradually becoming aware that he might be making a huge mistake.

  Don’t eat them. They’re my friends.

  Who are you? Present yourself.

  Oscar stretched himself around the corner to get another look. The elder Orglot was standing with one arm outstretched to halt the others. His eye blinked in Oscar’s direction, trying to see beyond the glow of the flames.

  Oscar tried another tactic.

  If you hurt them, I will hurt you. I have the power to destroy this entire village.

  The elder’s eye sprung open. He reached into the back of his loincloth and brought out a curved, black knife. Oscar swallowed, but his mouth had gone dry.

  No one threatens Ruk, son of Wak Ret. Show yourself, warrior.

  Oscar tightened his grip on the Tiberian Steel dagger.

  I’ll make a deal with you, he told the elder. Send away the others and I will show myself.

  The elder stroked his chin with the blade of his knife as he considered this. By now, the other Orglots were peering into the darkness to see what their leader was staring at.

  A tense moment passed. Then another.

  Finally, the elder waved the others away with a clucking sound. They went without hesitation, except for the one with the bushy hair, who dropped the chain with a frown and threw his hands up in a questioning gesture.

  The elder clucked at him again. The bushy-haired Orglot got the message and disappeared behind one of the huts with an angry growl. This one had no plans to go far. Oscar would have to deal with him at some point, and the idea of doing so unnerved him.

  Now show yourself, the elder said.

  Releasing a deep breath, Oscar stepped into the open and approached the fire.

  CHAPTER 42

  “P ayback?” Lance said. “What did he mean?”

  Calista pulled the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. A chill had entered the room, or so it seemed. She startled at the bang of an insect hitting the glass of the window. It made her think of the arrow she had sent into that little boy’s body. She had never even learned his name.

  “Those two men who were beating Artemis that night,” she said, “they weren’t really Keldran’s men at all. They were members of the Wolf Pack. Undercover. And Artemis and I killed them.”

  “I don’t understand,” Lance said.

  “Money,” Calista said. “The Wolf Pack was running low on funds, so they targeted the richest men in the region. The fear of war and losing their territory had corrupted them. Kristian Keldran and Artemis had one thing in common that made them especially good targets.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “They were paranoid. They bought gold and stashed it, like the gold in Artemis’s safe. The two men who attacked Artemis that night in the basement had been pretending to work for Keldran. That’s how they found out about Artemis’s treasure, because Keldran ordered them to find it.”

  “So the men were going to rob Keldran eventually,” Lance said, “and they decided to go after Artemis first.”

  “Exactly. Artemis didn’t have bodyguards. He was an easier target. They figured once they found Artemis’s gold, they could return it to Keldran, learn where he kept his stash—”

  “Which was probably much bigger…”

  She nodded. “All of this happened because of money. And I wanted that money, too. I was greedy and only thinking about myself.”

  “But you never meant to hurt anyone. There’s one thing I don’t get. Those men in the basement, the lion and the chimp that tried to kill you, were undercover agents of the Wolf Pack—but how did the Pack know about your role in their deaths? And why did it take them two years to do something about it?”

  Calista prepared for the answer with a deep breath. “When the wolves found out Artemis had killed those men, they knew he couldn’t have done it alone. They assumed he had a partner, someone with a lot of training who knew exactly when to arrive at the house—possibly a mole in their own pack, an old war buddy who was helping him. They focused on finding the mole, but the search turned up nothing.”

  “What led them to you?”

  “That’s the part Artemis and I had a tough time figuring out. They must have been spying on us. They must have heard us talking about that night, even though we tried to avoid bringing it up. My guess is, when they heard I would be in the pageant, they assumed Artemis would be there, too, to support me. So they planned an attack to kill us both. Payback for the two men Artemis and I killed.”

  “And you’re sure his gold had nothing to do with it?”

  Calista shook her head. “They already had it. They stole it the night of the pageant. When Artemis came back and saw that it was gone, he knew something was up. He went out looking for me, hoping I took the gold and got my family out of Peleros. Instead, he saw me up on stage. That’s when he figured someone had been spying on us. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead.”

  “You saved his l
ife,” Lance said, “and he saved yours in return.”

  Calista nodded. “We’re even.”

  “So what happened after the pageant?”

  Calista’s eyelids drooped. She yawned, minutes away from sleep. “I ran to the bakery and hid outside. When Artemis came back, he explained what had happened. Then we made each other a promise.”

  “What was it?”

  “He made me promise to go to Taradyn and stay with an old war buddy of his who ran an orphanage on his ranch.”

  “Ascher,” Lance said, awestruck. “What did Artemis promise in return?”

  “He said if anything ever happened to Ascher or his ranch, he would come back to Peleros and wait for me. Then, with his help, I could join the Forge.”

  “And become the soldier you were meant to be,” Lance said.

  Calista surrendered to the force tugging at her eyelids.

  “Something like that,” she murmured, then drifted into a sleep plagued by nightmares from which she awoke the next morning to the smell of bread, and home.

  CHAPTER 43

  Ruk’s response was not what Oscar had expected.

  As soon the elder saw him, he threw his head back and laughed. Oscar knew it had to do with his small stature and the relative tininess of the dagger in his hand, but he was too terrified to be humiliated.

  He looked over the faces of Larry, Jason, and the other veterans. Larry was grimacing at Oscar, a look that seemed to say, You idiot. You should have run when you had the chance.

  Ruk wiped a single tear as his laughter boiled down to chuckles. Then he bared a wall of brown teeth at Oscar, a smile straight out of a child’s nightmare.

  Puny little beast, Ruk said in that weird, telepathic way only Oscar could understand. I thought you would be a spirit of a fallen enemy seeking vengeance.

  How do you know I’m not?

  Ruk chuckled, clearly not intimidated. Oscar flexed his fingers around the dagger’s hilt. With his other hand, he wiped sweat off his forehead. How long could he keep the monster talking? And if they ran out of small talk, what then?

  Larry and his friends watched in befuddlement at what must have looked like a very strange staring contest.

  I admire your courage, little beast. For that, and for the amusement you have given me this hour, I grant you the freedom to leave my lair. Go, spread the word. Let your human-beast-kin know what fate befalls trespassers in the Caves of Krilkan Haut.

  Let my friends go, Oscar said. We’ll spread the word together.

  And I go without my supper? That is not fair, little beast.

  Anger had edged into Ruk’s mind-voice. Oscar glanced at Larry.

  “You can phase and get out,” he muttered to the man.

  Larry shook his head. “Not without Sara.”

  Quiet, Ruk said, glancing heatedly at the prisoners and then at Oscar. I did not give you permission to speak to your beast-kin, little beast.

  The elder’s tone when he said beast suggested that it was a dirty word among his people. Oscar wanted to throw it back at the elder, condemn him for his own savage behavior, but he held back. His father would have kept calm in this situation. Oscar had to be like his dad for once.

  We’re not beasts, Oscar said. We’re like you, only smaller. If you eat us, then you’re the beast.

  Ruk’s eye almost disappeared, so deep was his frown.

  “RWAAOORR!”

  He beat his chest and stomped his foot, casting sparks from the bonfire.

  How dare you call me by that name!

  Oscar staggered back toward the shadows. The prisoners crouched in fear, except for Larry. He was staring at Oscar with a look of pure fascination.

  “You can communicate with them?” he said.

  Oscar was on the verge of panic.

  “He’ll kill us! Get out of here!”

  Ruk approached the prisoners, licking his lips.

  “I recognize that steel in your hand,” Larry said. “Tiberian, right? Let me fight the elder alone. His men can gamble on the outcome. Tell him.”

  Ruk was close enough now to grab Bil. He opened his massive hand and bent to retrieve his prize. The prisoners cowered at his approach.

  WAIT! (“Click, CLICK.”)

  Ruk froze at the strange new sound.

  Oscar had shouted the command using his mental voice—the silent one capable of connecting with Ruk’s mind—but his real mouth had spoken as well, in a language not at all human.

  Ruk stared at Oscar in disbelief.

  Get away from them, Oscar said. Now!

  His throat went, “Click bark bark, tsk tsk grunt!”

  Larry and the others were so stunned by Oscar’s sudden fluency in the Orglot language that they stood gaping at him as if Ruk had ceased to exist.

  “Incredible,” Jason said, stunned.

  Ruk looked as though he’d been slapped in the face. His fascination quickly wore off, replaced by his anger from before.

  I gave you a chance to escape, Speaker. But you chose instead to insult me and make demands. No one governs Ruk, son of Wak Ret. Not even he who possesses the Voice Behind the Eye.

  The Voice Behind the Eye? Did he mean their telepathic connection?

  At least “Speaker” was a better nickname than “little beast.”

  Then I use my Voice to place a wager with you, respected Orglot and leader of this clan.

  Oscar clicked, hummed, and grunted. His mind projected.

  A wager? Now I am interested. What are the terms?

  I give this knife—Oscar held up the Tiberian dagger—to the prisoner with the burned face. He will use it to fight you.

  A knife is no match against our flesh.

  He’s a fighter of great skill.

  Ruk pulled back his lips in a sneering smile. Then, by our custom, he will test that skill with my best warrior.

  He clucked out a command. The bushy-haired Orglot stepped into view from behind one of the huts. He looked different from before, and Oscar wondered how he had managed to change so quickly.

  His bushy hair had been gathered into a ponytail, and his body was draped in crude leather armor clearly put together by oversized Orglot hands. He pointed a wooden club at Oscar and rotated it to show the jagged, rusty nails protruding from its thick end.

  This is Ukril, Ruk said. My eldest blood. He has never lost a match except against me, Ruk, son of Wak Ret. I would have killed him, as is our custom.

  But you spared him, Oscar said. Why?

  To make use of his rage in the upcoming battle against the clan of Theus.

  Oscar blinked at the elder in disbelief. Had he understood correctly? If so, it meant the Orglots planned to attack Theus—a fortified metropolis guarded by the most magically and technologically advanced military in the realm. And with what? Spiked clubs and handmade daggers? Oscar filed this information away for later—if there even was a later for him.

  If my fighter wins, Oscar said, you release us all, including the female human.

  And if your fighter loses?

  He and I stay for supper. The others leave.

  No. All will stay for supper. My warriors captured your beastkin with honor.

  Oscar’s tried another approach. Use reason and compassion, his father would have advised.

  But there is honor in mercy, Oscar said. By giving your prisoners a fighting chance, you show your clan that you are confident in the outcome, and that you are not a beast.

  Ruk scratched his beard as he considered this.

  You make truth, little beast. I will permit this wager so that blood may be spilled in my honor.

  Oscar breathed a sigh of relief. This would be their only chance; he had to make it count for something. He pictured his father flashing him a worried smile from the shadows.

  He let Ukril collar and chain him like the other prisoners. When the Orglot went for the Tiberian dagger in his hand, Oscar hid it behind his back and gave the warrior a fierce look.

  I’ll carry it, he clucked at Ukr
il in the Orglot language.

  This angered the brute. He swiped at Oscar with the back of his hand, sending him tumbling across the floor, chains rustling. This time, when the Orglot motioned for the blade, Oscar handed it to him without protest. Ukril passed the weapon, as tiny as a thorn in his massive fingers, to Ruk.

  Remember, Oscar told the elder. We have a deal.

  Ruk frowned at him. An Orglot is only as strong as his word. Or do you dare suggest otherwise?

  Oscar shook his head in submission.

  Ruk dropped the dagger into a pocket of his loincloth and motioned to his son. With a nod, Ukril yanked on Oscar’s chain to get him and the others moving.

  Other Orglots joined them as they walked along, including the female from before. She held a very frightened Sara against her shoulder and stroked the woman’s hair as she followed the procession.

  Oscar gave Sara a reassuring nod. The woman bit her lip and nodded back. Seeing this, the female Orglot frowned at Oscar and hurried to the front of the group, away from him.

  “Hey, Oscar,” Jason whispered when they were close enough to communicate. “Where’d you get the blade?”

  Oscar looked away. This wasn’t the time for conversation. Larry whispered fiercely at his brother.

  “Pay attention. I’ll go for the female. When she drops Sara, get her and fly her out.” He looked at Oscar. “I’ll cut you free, then I’ll distract the others. Don’t look back.”

  Oscar nodded without looking at Larry. Was he choosing to stay behind? He’d be a dead man if he did that.

  Oscar occupied his mind by covertly running his fingers along the collar. It was a simple band of metal that could be tightened by squeezing one serrated end into a fastener securing its teeth.

  Even if Oscar could get his hands on the tool the Orglots had used before, his tiny hands could never manipulate it. He had to rely on Larry’s fighting skill and his promise to cut Oscar loose using the dagger. Once Sara was freed, the others could simply phase out of their collars.

  The walk took several minutes. Along the way, Oscar realized just how enormous the cavern was. Dark spots along the back wall indicated tunnels leading to what might have been bathrooms or storage areas or more living chambers. He gave in to a fantasy in which he was leading professors from Theus Academy through these caverns, describing along the way how he had managed to evade certain death and break free.