Eleri finally broke the silence. “I am happy to see you,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “I heard what happened in the mountains. It must have been terrible. Those men could have killed you.”
He nodded, unsure how to respond. “Yeah.”
She looked up, and Davin saw a tear trickling down her face. “I still can't believe … Sarja's gone.”
“I know.” Davin stepped even closer. “I mean, I didn't know her for very long, but she was nice to me. Me. A guy from the Above.” He let out a mirthless chuckle.
A sad smile curled the corners of Eleri's mouth. “I feel so bad for Nyla. I want to reach out to her, to comfort her, but …” She sighed. “I don't know what to say. I've never lost someone that close to me before.”
Davin thought about all the people he'd lost to the Jegg. Friends. Classmates.
Dad.
He shook himself from his mini-stupor. “There's nothing you can say, really. Just let her know that you're there for her if she needs you. Offer her your shoulder if she needs to cry.”
She sniffed. “You think that will be enough?”
“It might,” he said with a shrug. “But even if it isn't, she'll still know you're trying. We're going to get Kelia back, but until then, it would be nice if Nyla knew she had people her own age who care about her. I didn't have that when the Jegg invaded. I spent the last five years with people way older than me. Being here,” he gestured at the Plateau, “has been great, if only because I've found girls … uh, I mean people my own age to talk to.”
Her smile turned coy. “So … you've never been with a girl before?”
His eyes widened, and every drop of blood in his body went straight to his face. “Um … no,” he quaked, suddenly very aware of how close they were standing.
“Don't feel bad,” she said. “I've never been with a girl either.”
He had to laugh at this, and the tension slipped from his shoulders. “Never?”
“No. For a long time, I was … infatuated with Nyla's cousin Talya. She's one of the tribe's gatherers. But she's six years older than me, and I was a child.”
“You're not a child anymore,” he said, his eyebrows raising slightly.
She smiled again. God, he loved her smile. “Perhaps not, but since she's already chosen another companion …” She trailed off.
“I see.”
“Would you like to join me for morning meal?” She gestured at the ramp leading up to the entrance.
“I'd love to,” he said, but then his face fell. “But I'd better not. I promised my mom that I'd stay near the ship. She didn't say anything, but I get the sense that we're gonna go rescue Kelia today. Rain check?”
She tilted her head to the side, frowning. Then she looked at the sky. “I don't think it's going to rain.”
A deep guffaw tried to force its way through his throat, but he held it back. “Sorry. 'Rain check' is an Earth term. It means that I'll take you up on your offer later.”
“I understand,” she said. Concern washed over her lovely round face. He waited for her to say something else. Instead, she stepped forward and hugged him. Hard.
His heart thumping wildly in his chest, he gingerly placed his hands on her back. For years, he'd wondered what it would be like to hold a pretty girl, and now it was happening. But this was not a simple hug between friends. She was truly worried for him. Scared for him. Fearful that they would never see each other again.
“I'll be all right,” he whispered into her ear. “I promise.”
They separated, locking eyes for a few brief seconds before she turned and walked away. He wondered if she would turn around and, just as she reached the entrance, she did. She smiled again, waved lightly, and then disappeared into the village.
He sniffed, trying to commit the feel of her touch to memory, the earthy yet floral scent of her hair, as he scooped up his pad and made his way to the bridge of the Talon. He flumped into the copilot's chair, staring through the cockpit's viewport to see if maybe, just maybe, Eleri might come back for a second goodbye.
For five long minutes he watched, but Eleri did not reappear. With a heavy sigh, he tore his eyes away, his gaze falling on the main console in front of him. His brows knitted as three words flashed on the central screen. “MESSAGE – PLEASE PLAY,” it read in big, bold letters.
What the …?
He instinctively reached for the “Play” icon, but hesitated. He retracted his hand as he realized what this was. A message. From his father.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes transfixed on the blinking message. In that instant, all the anger he'd been nursing since learning the whole truth about their situation came flooding back. How his father had lied to him, and to his mother, all his life. How the only reason he even existed was to be a player in this stupid, farked-up game between immortal races.
Torn by indecision, he rose to his feet, then sat down again. He shook his head vigorously, as if the right decision would shake itself loose. It didn't.
What do I do? What is he going to tell me? What could he say to me now that I don't already know? How can he possibly screw my life up any more than it is?
He can't.
Davin thought about Maeve, and how his father's message for her had nearly destroyed her, sending her in a blind panic straight into striking distance of a hugar. If it weren't for his quick thinking and the Ixtrayu's compassion, his mother would be dead. Because of him.
He should stand up and leave. Just walk out. Wait for his mom to return, and let her deal with his father's crap.
Richard's message to Maeve had occurred at the exact moment they were packing up the Talon and preparing to leave Elystra forever. If it weren't for that message, they would be light-years away now, coasting through space with no idea how they would get home. But it hadn't worked out that way. They'd found friends, allies, a cause worth fighting for, people worth protecting. Whether this whole mess was part of some big cosmic chess game didn't matter. All that mattered was that they stop Elzor from achieving whatever power grab he was planning, that they rescue Kelia from the hands of this lightning-Wielder who stole her away from her people.
This sucks. This sucks hard.
Steeling himself, he leaned forward and tapped PLAY. Sure enough, his father's face filled the screen. Stubble coated his cheeks and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. His glasses, as usual, dangled precariously from the end of his nose. A long, proud, Cromack nose, just like his.
“Hey, son,” Richard said.
Hey, Dad, Davin almost said aloud, then stopped himself.
“Thanks for playing this message. I know it wasn't an easy decision.” Richard paused, and for the first time, Davin could see how fatigued, how broken his father was. All his life, his dad had been his hero. When he wasn't busy on some new feat of science or engineering, he was pouring all his knowledge into Davin. As a result, Davin had shown a scholastic aptitude far above his age level. Had the Jegg not invaded, he would have entered university two years early.
But his father knew that would never happen. He knew the Jegg would come and take their world—all their worlds—away from them. All those lessons, all that father-son time they spent together, it was just a means to an end. To get him here, to this place, at this time.
“I'll just get right to it,” Richard's voice came through the speaker. “I know there's nothing I can say to make you not hate me, so I won't even try. But all those questions you're asking yourself right now? I can answer them. I offer this as an explanation, not an excuse, and you can choose to believe me or not.”
He sighed. “Yes, son. I love you. I always loved you. Just like I love your mother, and every single day we spent together. Our meeting, our relationship may have been preordained, but that didn't make me love her—or you—any less.
“I don't expect you to forgive me, son, but this is the last time you will ever hear my voice. This recording cannot be paused or rewound, and I've programmed the computer to delete it as soon as I'
m done. So, please … listen.
“Imagine, just for a minute, what it was like to be me. From the age of eight, I followed the path that Banikar set for me. Because of him, I became a brilliant engineer. I thought I was fulfilling my cosmic purpose. Falling in love with your mother, having you … I was the happiest person in the universe.”
His face fell. “By the time I learned about the existence of the Jegg, it was too late. What could I do? Really? If I went to our leaders and told them that a glowing, extra-dimensional alien had prophesied Armageddon for the Terran Confederation, would they have believed me?” He shook his head. “That's when the full weight of my destiny hit me like a ton of bricks. I would 'change the course of human history', he said. I thought it was my engineering skills that would make this happen, and while they certainly played a part, it isn't what he meant.”
He exhaled, staring deep into Davin's soul. “I changed the course of human history by having you, son.”
What?
What the fark is he talking about? How can I change the course of human history? I'm a fifteen-year-old kid! I'm—
I'm the son of a powerful Wielder.
Oh my God …
“I'm not going to waste your time by explaining things to you that you already know,” Richard continued. “And most of what you don't know, you'll figure out for yourself. I don't think this; I know. Your mother might be a queen, but you, son … you are one of the two most important pieces in this game. I think you already know who the other one is.”
Davin gasped. Yes, he knew.
“Get the Stones. Go to Mount Calabur. Stand on the Nexus. Win this game.”
Thunderstruck, Davin could only nod at his father's image.
“I love you, Davin. Never forget that. Good luck, my son.”
Richard reached toward the screen, and his image vanished. The screen went dark, and two seconds later, the words “RECORDING DELETED” appeared. Then it went dark again.
Davin tried to stand, but all the vigor had gone from his body. He sat there, staring at the blank screen, trying to process everything he'd just heard.
He brought his hands in front of his face, puzzling over them as if they no longer belonged to him. He clenched them into fists, and a surge of strength pounded through his tired body.
I'm doing this, Dad, but not for you. I'm doing it for me. I'm doing it for Emma Donnelly, and Gaspar, and Sarja, and all the other friends I've lost. I'm doing this for Mom, and Earth, and Elystra, and Eleri.
The fate of humanity, of maybe the whole galaxy, rested on him, and one other.
Nyla.
He stood, straightened his shirt, and sprinted down the Talon's ramp.
END OF PART TWO
Author's Note
If you enjoyed Wielders of Arantha – Book Two: Queens, you would be doing me a tremendous service by leaving a review on the book’s pages on Amazon and/or Goodreads. Reviews are critical to independent authors like me, as it helps to elevate our books above the millions of others that make up the literary landscape. A review need not be long, just a few paragraphs or even a couple of sentences.
I would hope that, if you’ve just finished Queens, you’ve already taken the time to read Book One in the series, Pawns. (If not, it’s cool.) It hope to have Book 3, Endgame, out in early 2018, if not sooner.
In the meantime, if you love my writing so much that you just can’t get enough, feel free to download my Young Adult Contemporary trilogy, The James Madison Series. The three books, which include the multi-award winning Joshua’s Island, as well as Ethan’s Secret and Sophie’s Different, are wonderful reads for preteens, teens and adults.
About the Author
I currently live in Arizona with my wife, Vaneza. After years of writing for several different entertainment-related blogs, I have found new life and vitality by writing fictional stories about young teens and preteens that are entertaining for ALL ages.
I was bullied badly in middle school and high school, and I am of the opinion that not enough books are written on the subject, and those that are come off as preachy or heavy-handed. It was my goal to tell a story that a young person could read and enjoy, a story that would not only entertain them but given them a perspective on a touchy and relevant subject that they may not have had otherwise.
I make it a point to bring an empathic view to all my books, to give readers a view into what it's like for kids at that age when they just start to mature into young adults. For me, it's all about the characters. I love creating characters that jump off the page, that feel like real people no matter how old the reader is. Because without great characters, you really don't have a great story, do you?
If you have a question or comment, feel free to contact me on any of my social media sites!
https://twitter.com/Shrykespeare
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Keep reading for a preview of Endgame, Book Three of the Wielders of Arantha series!
Chapter One
On the farthest edges of the Milky Way Galaxy, a blue-green planet hung in space. It resembled Earth in so many ways, but it was the differences between them that made this world, Elystra, special. For countless millennia, Banikar had kept this world's existence a secret.
He'd watched with mournful eyes as Earth, and the human race, fell to the Jegg. Half of humanity, and most of the Terran Confederation, had been wiped out within months. How his rival had gloated, thinking the game was over. Banikar's key pieces had been destroyed. He'd demanded Banikar concede defeat. Banikar refused to do so.
Banikar's opponent in this game, a being as old as time itself, thought to win this game by brute strength and overwhelming numbers. The Dark Player, as one of Banikar's key pieces called his foe, closed his unseen fists around Earth, squeezing it. But just as Banikar hoped, two of the most important pieces in the game slipped through his fingers. To Elystra, where a victor would finally be decided.
Banikar's focus fractured as he sensed his opponent's thoughts, heard his voice.
You have played a good game, it said. But victory will soon be mine.
Yes, Banikar agreed, it will soon be over. And when it is, you will depart this region of space forevermore.
Banikar felt a flash of anger pass through his foe.
You created a star, comprised of a material inimical to Jegg technology. I did not think you had such guile in you, Banikar. Or shall I call you “Arantha”?
Banikar allowed his pride to show through. We have played many games, you and I, and despite my numerous victories, your strategy remains unchanged. You still cling to the belief that brute force is all you need to win. I have proven you wrong countless times, and I will do so again.
I destroyed your star, The Dark Player said.
As I knew you would. Just as I knew you would give it no further attention after its destruction. The remnants of my star found their way into the hands of my champions … guided by me, of course.
Not all of them, The Dark Player haughtily replied.
Banikar did not respond.
The Dark Player continued, The world you have tried so hard to keep secret, the one place in the galaxy where the Jegg cannot go. As I said, I did not think you had such guile in you. But you have miscalculated. Elystra may be immune to Jegg interference, but not from mine. I have broken through your sphere of obfuscation, and the pawns you thought would bring you victory are now playing for me.
I am aware of what you have done, Banikar retorted. However, as per the rules, this is where our influence ends. The endgame approaches. Either my players will achieve victory, or yours will. We can do naught but watch, and listen.
Watch, then, The Dark Player said. Watch as your minions fall. Watch as I claim what is mine. Watch as I plunge this galaxy into eternal chaos.
And with that, The Dark Player's presence faded, dwindling away until it vanished completely.
Chapter Two
Elzaria's breaths came in unhealthy, labored rasps as she
clutched her Stone to her chest. Elzor sat at her side, staring at her sleeping form with a mixture of brotherly concern, impatience, and disappointment. His eyes then turned from the Stone in her hand to the one in his, the one she had brought him only a day ago.
He scowled. The attack on the Ixtrayu had been a success, albeit at a heavy cost: nearly a third of his loyal soldiers, the Elzorath, perished in the attack. Not only that, the squadron of men he'd sent to retrieve the third Stone had failed, as evidenced by the aliens' bird-shaped craft that bore down on Elzaria mere moments after her victory. Forced to retreat, she'd brought with her the unconscious, beaten body of the Ixtrayu's leader, the elemental Wielder, as a bargaining chip.
Hearing heavy footsteps approaching, Elzor hastily wrapped his newly acquired Stone in the folds of one his cloaks while draping another cloak over Elzaria's body. She shifted, but did not wake.
Elzor stepped from the tent to be met by General Langon and Captain Brynak. The sun reflected off Langon's bald head as he tugged at the clasp of his cloak, which had become entangled with his long, grizzled beard. “My liege,” he said with a bow that Brynak echoed.
“Anything to report, Langon?” Elzor asked, hiding his amusement at his old friend's mild discomfort.
“Blag, it's good to be out of that ridiculous Agrusian getup,” he grumbled, finally freeing his beard from the clasp's grip. “Next time, find me clothes that fit.”
“Langon.”
“Sorry, my liege. All injuries have been treated. The Elzorath are ready to move out at your command.”
Many of the survivors who accompanied Elzaria to the Vandan border were injured, either by his enemy's arrows or burned by the Ixtrayu leader's fire. Elzaria had won the battle by using the same tactic that secured their victory over the Agrusian army: a deadly blanket of lightning that either killed or incapacitated every Ixtrayu who opposed them. But doing so had weakened her severely, and the two-day ride that ensued nearly killed her. It wasn't long ago that he would have been confident the Stone would heal her exhausted body, replenish her ability to Wield. Now, he wasn't so sure.
Queens (The Wielders of Arantha Book 2) Page 43