HeVan & Earth

by Lucy Kelly

  “She really doesn’t like waking in the morning,” Margan said as he smiled down at their mate.

  “I agree. Although in this case, it’s not exactly morning,” Trake said from the other side of the bed. The two of them had fond memories of a tiny red nightdress.

  “I would prefer we let her keep sleeping. She would likely sleep through the battle to come,” said Margan.

  “Yes, and she would never forgive us,” said Trake. They both knew he was right. Taking a deep breath, they also knew desperate measures were called for. The Mok-Tar rite was to take place in two hours. They both took a fistful of blankets and, with a nod, yanked the covers from the bed.

  Even with the covers gone, Jo didn’t wake right away. She wiggled around a bit, trying to find a warm spot. With her eyes closed, she flailed her arm, looking for the covers no longer there. Slowly, she started to wake. Shivering, she rubbed her hands over her face and, sitting up, looked blearily around the room.

  “Here, honey, you look like you need this,” said Trake, lifting her hand and wrapping it around a large cup of coffee.

  Breathing in the nectar of the gods, Jo took a sip of coffee. It tasted too good to be cop coffee, so she wasn’t on a stakeout. Looking down, she saw her naked legs. Experiencing another shiver, she expertly juggled the cup so she wouldn’t spill a drop of the life-giving beverage. With each sip, she grew more aware of her surroundings. Around the fourth sip, enough caffeine had made it into her system. She remembered the previous night; first, she frowned and then she smiled a smug smile.

  Gulping down the rest of the coffee, her system rebooted. She looked up and noticed Margan and Trake standing and watching her.

  “What’s with you guys?” she asked them.

  “Nothing, we’re just enjoying waking with you,” Margan said and Trake laughed.

  “Just because I like to wake slowly, doesn’t mean you should make fun,” she said. “Now, where are my clothes? I’m cold.”

  She noticed Margan and Trake were each wearing a smokin’ hot loincloth and nothing else.

  Even their feet look hot and yummy, Jo thought.

  “That’s one of the things we need to discuss with you. The Mok-Tar was fought in ancient times wearing no clothes. In later times, a loincloth was allowed to male combatants. In those few times when women fought, a band of cloth was also allowed,” explained Trake, as he held out what appeared to be a small pile of leather. It turned out to be a wide band of cloth and leather along with a leather bikini bottom.

  Oh, yeah, fight to the death. How could I have forgotten, even for a nano-second?

  Excellent sex, her body told her, as various aches made themselves known.

  “How long do we have? Do I have time for a shower?” she asked.

  “We have just less than two hours,” said Margan, glancing at the countdown timer in the corner of the room.

  “I’ll be quick. I’ll take a Navy shower,” she said, and made a dash for the door Trake was pointing to. True to her word, she was out and dressed in her battle bikini, as she called it, in minutes. She had to crack jokes; otherwise, she’d be freaking out.

  How do I get into these situations? Oh, yeah, hot men whom I already love.

  “When were you in the Navy?” Trake asked as they left to meet with Justyn and Grace.

  “I wasn’t. My father served. It’s one of the reasons my folks now live in San Diego,” she said. “I can’t wait for you to meet them. Aimeé is going to really tease me when she finds out about us.”

  The three of them arrived at the pre-battle preparation room. Inside, they found Justyn and Grace. They were examining all the weapons along the wall. Since the four additional fighters joining Armus had challenged, the choice of weapons went to the others fighting with Justyn.

  “You said you’ve trained with a bokken. Have you ever used a real sword? When did you learn to fight with a sword?” Grace asked Josephine as she tested out a fighting stick.

  “My dad is a former Green Beret. He didn’t think just because his children were girls, we shouldn’t know how to fight. I’ve been studying mixed martial arts since I was five. A real sword has a different feel than a bokken. So yes, I’m also proficient with a sword. I stopped for a few years, and then picked it up again a few years back,” Jo said.

  “Have you ever killed?” Grace asked in a low voice.

  “Only in Hogan’s Alley—you?” asked Jo, making reference to the famous tactical training facility.

  “I have, in the line of duty, once. Why did you stop and then start up again?” Grace asked.

  Jo hefted a few different swords to find one with the perfect weight and balance.

  “I stopped for five or six years. School and social life dominated my life for half of high school and the first couple of years of college. Then I saw Kill Bill and got back into it,” she said.

  “Wasn’t that a great movie?” Grace asked. The two of them talked movies; their version of whistling in the dark.

  Trake had chosen a long warrior’s staff with the curved blade on the end, similar to a halberd.

  Margan was deciding between a wicked curved sword and a heavier broadsword.

  The two women spread out and started testing their weapons, becoming familiar with them.

  “It’s too bad your sister’s not pregnant,” said Jo as she went through a complicated kata routine. “What I wouldn’t give for a genuine katana; my dad’s gendaito katana, as a preference,” she muttered under her breath; she didn’t like their chances.

  Thankfully, Grace didn’t hear her. She was too busy giggling. The idea of her sister getting pregnant again when she already had six infants was funny.

  “I heard that. What’s a gendaito? I know katana is a Japanese sword. Why would you want her to be pregnant again?” Grace asked. “The girls are only four months old.”

  Grace started stretching. She had decided to go with the staff. Unlike a normal staff, this weapon had a short handle at one end, like a police baton, but it was a little longer. She started working with it to get comfortable.

  “A gendaito is a Japanese sword made between 1876 and 1945, not as old as a Shinto and older than a Shinsakuto. My dad’s is very light and very strong. When this is over, I’ll fill you in on the history of Japanese sword making. The reason I wish she were pregnant is because if she were pregnant, there would be no weapons allowed during the battle. We’d all have to fight hand-to-hand. Personally, I would feel more comfortable. I could take down a guy fighting hand-to-hand. But I wouldn’t want to take on a guy wielding a weapon I’m unfamiliar with. On top of that, I’ve seen these Nephilim women as we walked through the palace. They’re taller and have a greater reach. That will be in their favor during a fight. They are also likely to be stronger and have more stamina,” Jo answered.

  “You think we’re going to lose,” Grace said indignantly.

  “No. I believe we’ll win. However, we have to fight with our brain as much as we fight with our muscles. We choose lighter, more flexible weapons. We use speed and agility to get the upper hand. Less stamina means we have to win fast before we tire out. We need to keep them off balance so they can’t predict our moves,” she explained. “I have no intentions of dying today or letting any one of us die. I’m going to do my best to kill my opponent, as quickly as possible, any way I can. No Marquis of Queensbury rules here,” she pointed out.

  Grace agreed with everything Jo was saying. She had only thought to stay alive and kill if she had to. Her strategy was for defense. Jo was right; they couldn’t allow themselves to be worn down. There was no advantage in dragging the fight out.

  “When one of us is successful, he can then turn to help the others,” Margan reminded from the other end of the room. The men were still unhappy the women would be fighting. They wanted the women to do their best to stay alive and leave the killing to them.

  It was good information to have, but both women didn’t change their strategy.

  Justyn, who sat mentally
preparing for the fight to come, was the only one not working with a weapon. He’d been training for weeks; now he wanted to conserve his energies.

  “Why do you say weapons would not be allowed if Addie were pregnant?” he asked Jo.

  “Jeez, this is your planet. Didn’t you even study up on the rules?”

  Jo stood and, as if she were reading from a teleprompter, spouted off the rules, translated into English, of course.

  “The Mok-Tar rite of justice must be witnessed by the Nam-Nin, as well as representatives from all the Houses. A Nam-Nin, known to be nurturing new life, shall not be exposed to a weapon-armed blood battle,” she quoted.

  “So basically, the combatants would not be allowed weapons because it’s considered really bad for a pregnant Nam-Nin to see violent, bloody battles. Outside of the rules, in one of the histories of the rite, a scholar explained that if HeVan’s Goddess of Fertility watched such violence, it wouldn’t be good for any child she carried or the future of her ability to grant fertility to others. It was some interesting reading.”

  She always did her research thoroughly in any investigation. Also, she had a very good motive for learning all she could about this particular rite. As soon as she found out Margan and Trake might have to fight, it became an obsession to know every fact, rule, and possible loophole.

  Justyn checked the timer in the corner of the room. They had thirty minutes left to communicate with anyone outside of the Mok-Tar arena. After that, they would be in seclusion for the last half hour before the fight.

  In a twin room, on the opposite side of the wide hallway, were the other five fighters in their weapons room. They were in seclusion now. When Justyn and his followers left the weapons room, Armus and his followers would have their chance. Armus would choose a weapon, and his people would learn which weapons had been selected by their opponents.

  Before going into seclusion, Justyn would give their weapon choices to the warriors acting as guides. Their job was to escort the combatants to the battleground in the Arena of Justice and guard against cheating.

  Justyn got up and looked at each of the others in the room. He had called for the Mok-Tar rite. It was because of his anger that Grace was going to be risking her life. He also didn’t want to break his word. Thinking hard, he came to a decision.

  “When we go into seclusion, each of you will be able to record messages for your families. They will be sent out only if we do not prevail in our battle. We have only a few minutes. If there is anyone we want to speak to before we go into seclusion, now is the time,” he told them all.

  Justyn pulled out his com-link and moved over to the corner of the room. He was going to try something. He just needed to be careful in his wording to preserve his honor.

  He was pleased to see Arjun answering the com-link. “Arjun—how is the queen?” he asked.

  “She’s worried about all of you and trying to hide it. We were hoping she’d sleep a little longer but she’s already up. We know you will prevail. The Mok-Tar will show HeVan our mates are true Nephilim,” he said.

  “I have not doubted their status since we first found Addie in Queen Tamiel’s stasis chamber. Even today, I found our newest Nephilim knows more about the Mok-Tar rite than I do,” said Justyn quietly.

  Arjun heard the tone in his voice, saw the look in his eyes, and he listened carefully. Justyn was leading him somewhere important.

  “Oh? What was it she taught you?” he asked.

  “She quoted one of the rules to me. I was aware of the rule, but I hadn’t interpreted it correctly. I suppose it took a woman to see the true meaning. The Nam-Nin must witness the battle, we all knew that. What we didn’t understand is if she were pregnant, the battle must be fought without weapons. That’s the meaning of it, anyway. The language is a little more obscure,” he said.

  He could say no more, or he could be accused of manipulation. He would risk a great deal to ensure Grace’s safety.

  “That’s very interesting,” Arjun said, thinking hard. “I will let Addie know. She will be pleased one of her Earth sisters is so knowledgeable.”

  There was very little time left, he would have to act quickly. The two men disconnected. Justyn went back to his meditation, and Arjun went to speak to his mate, the queen.

  Back in the weapons room, Grace ended a link call and walked over to sit in Justyn’s lap for a minute.

  “I’m really pissed these assholes have kept us from our babies. Let’s kick their asses fast so we can spend the rest of the day in the nursery,” she said in his ear.

  She’d just gotten off the com-link with Jalen and Jett, who would be leaving the palace soon. As family and Ankida to the fighters, they would be allowed to witness the battle. She hated seeing her babies on the screen and not holding them in her arms. She missed her family, and was looking forward to the end of this ordeal.

  She’d killed once in the line of duty, but this would be the first time she had started her day intending to kill one or more people. She was concerned about the toll it would take on her soul.

  The door to the room opened, their escorts had arrived to take them into seclusion. The battle would commence in thirty minutes when dawn broke.

  The half hour before the battle went very slowly and very quickly, at the same time. Jo had been surprised to see various natural dyes available for them. The ancient Nephilim painted their bodies. It appeared ancient Nephilim had much in common with ancient warriors from Earth. After giving it some thought, she decided she would use some. She was testing the different colors, when Grace walked over to see what she was doing.

  “I’m trying to decide between going for a Brave Heart look, a Māori warrior look, or camo,” explained Jo.

  “Hmm, I don’t think I want to,” said Grace.

  “I figure it’s a good distraction. At least put a dark swipe on your cheekbones. Light can reflect off your cheekbones into your eyes, and distract you at the wrong moment,” she said.

  “So that’s why football players do that,” Grace said. “We should bring football to HeVan. The warriors would be great at it.”

  She was whistling in the dark again, but Jo didn’t seem to mind. Jo had braided her hair tightly and pinned it up so it couldn’t be used against her. She just hoped the cloth over her boobs held up. She wasn’t in the same league as Dolly Parton, but she wasn’t flat-chested, either.

  She was as ready as she would ever be. Jo walked over to where Margan and Trake were waiting. Somehow, they understood she needed to psych herself up in her own way. They had given her the space she needed.

  “You boys ready to kick some ass?” Jo asked.

  “We are prepared. If you do not wish to have the death of your opponent on your hands, simply keep her occupied. We will come to your aid as soon as we defeat our own opponents,” Margan told her.

  They spent the next few minutes giving her whatever information they had on the two female challengers. They knew a little about each of the women’s skills. Jo’s choice of weapon pleased them. Neither of the female opponents was known for her sword work. Jo would have an advantage.

  When the time came, they calmly walked out into the corridor. Coming down the opposite hallway were their opponents. Justyn and Armus were leading their two teams. Grace, Margan, Jo, and Trake came next. Armus was followed by Larna, of the House Assama; Farkan of Nirvana; Morna of Purgat and finally, Wolfen of Seraph.

  “I will enjoy killing you alien scum,” Larna said to Grace.

  “Is that your version of trash talk? You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that. Of course, you’re not going to get a chance to improve. You’ll be as dead as a duck,” Grace said calmly.

  “You are puny and no match for my strength!” Larna shouted.

  Grace was pleased the woman had a hair-trigger temper. Grace could rile her up into doing something stupid.

  “There’s a famous axiom where I come from. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. You’re big and you’ll fall hard. Are you sure y
ou’re a girl? You look more like a linebacker,” Grace said, cocking an eyebrow and smirking.

  She was right too. The woman was over six feet tall, with no bosom to speak of, and shoulders at least three feet wide. Grace mentally chose her attack points. She also noticed her opponent seemed heavy on her feet and would probably rely on brute strength. Jo’s advice of ending the fight quickly would work, if she played it right. She wanted to end this fight as fast as she could.

  They reached the end of the corridor, where it split right and left. Justyn turned to the left, the back way she and Jo had walked the night before. Grace knew the torch-lit path would follow the curve of the Arena of Justice until they reached the opening to the battleground.

  Last night, it had been very dark in the arena; she and Jo weren’t able to see above the wall. As they approached the arched opening, she could see two tiers of seats at the opposite end. She couldn’t see more, because the warriors on either side of the archway had lowered their staffs, creating a crossed barrier, and preventing them from entering.

  “Why do you prevent our entrance?” Justyn asked them.

  They didn’t answer. The fighters had to stand and wait. It was not the most ideal situation for the nerves.

  After about fifteen minutes, the warriors raised their staffs and allowed them to walk through and on to the battleground. Grace could now see there were twelve sections with two tiers of seats on one side, six at either end. The middle section was where Addie was sitting with her Ankida and Grace’s Ankida, Jett and Jalen. Grace saw Addie’s smile, and wondered at it. She didn’t have to wonder for long.

  “The battle has been delayed past the required start time and must be forfeited,” shouted Armus Hend in a gleeful voice. “I call for summary execution of Justyn Rephaim and all his followers!”

  Grace shot Jo a look. She would know if this were accurate. Jo gave her head a slight shake. She really did know a lot. She obviously knew more than Armus Hend. Grace let out the breath she was holding.

  Each of the groups of fighters had lined up facing each other in a slight arc at either end of the battleground. Grace looked around some more and realized what she wasn’t seeing. The weapons weren’t there. Eyes wide, her head shot up to look at Addie. She saw her sister grin briefly, before sobering again.