Tallas (The Tallas Series Book 1)

by Cathrina Constantine

  A slug sideswiped Doogan’s leg. He stumbled and fell and Fabal rolled from his arms.

  “Tibbles…Tibbles…” Fabal incoherently mumbled, lying in the dirt.

  Fabal’s whining moans touched Tibbles. He inexplicably jumped to life.

  Shocked, or more likely, terrified at the beast’s sudden resurrection, the Mediators held their fire. Storming for Doogan and Fabal, they were certain the beast would shred the doctor and his son to pieces before their eyes.

  “Kill that damn thing,” Pomfrey screeched, seeing Paniess jogging toward the creature. “Kill it, now!”

  Effortlessly, Tibbles slung Fabal over his shoulder and anchored a paw under Doogan’s arm. Paniess hooked Doogan’s other arm and, with the bear shoring up most of the weight they loped to the craft.

  “Watch out for my daughter,” Pomfrey squawked like a mad man. “Don’t hit Paniess.”

  As the trio shambled alongside their wooly savior, a sparse volley of bullets breezed by. Then they ceased fire altogether, leery of accidentally clipping the Head Elite’s daughter. Pomfrey wouldn’t let such an offense go unpunished.

  Ennis had the propellers oscillating, and minus further incident, Doogan, Fabal, and Tibbles reached the heliocraft and plunged inside the open doors.

  Paniess remained rooted outside as Doogan beckoned her to hop in.

  “No, I can’t leave,”—shaking her head—“I’d never survive in that wilderness. It’s not for me. Besides, I’m of better use here, in Tallas. Fulvio can explain it to you some day.” Fulvio wiped his bloodied face, giving her a curt nod.

  “What the hell are you staying for, Paniess?” Doogan yelled over the bumbling motor.

  “I—I was hoping you and Fabal would stay here, but now…”

  “Get in the damn craft,” he fumed.

  “We have to take off, they’re surrounding us,” Ennis threatened. “I’m leaving, with or without her.”

  “Come back, Doogan. Someday, you’ll come back,” she said, tears tripped over her eyelids. “We need you.”

  As soon as the heliocraft ascended, a blitz of bullets struck the craft’s metal plating. Paniess slumped to the ground, covering her head from the onslaught.

  Doogan crawled to his son, swaddled in Tibbles’ furry arms. Gently he pushed away the damp curls mantling his face and examined the wound. As typical with a head wound, the gash bled profusely. He reached to take his son from the bear, but his haunting growl stopped him short.

  “Doogan,” Fulvio said, scrutinizing them over his shoulder, “Tibbles is just expressing his sympathies.”

  After an uncertain nod, he peeled off his shirt and applied pressure to his son’s head.

  ***

  Observing the helio gaining altitude, Keeyla’s thoughts centered on her son. In her heart, she knew he wasn’t dead. Doogan was with him, and soon they’d be together.

  She watched Paniess lying on the ground, covering her head. Pomfrey darted to her, flagrantly waving his arms to halt the gunfire, and stooped on bended knee.

  The sun was on the rise, showering the landscape with a golden glow when Keeyla and Smelt tugged on the reins. But prior to meshing into the woods, she glanced toward the village. Did citizens hear the deadly encounter? Hoards of people were concealed around the periphery of the Infirmary and Headquarters.

  “I didn’t see Mortmiller with them.” She voiced her misgivings as they proceeded in a southwest direction. “Where could he be? Do you think he’s—he’s…”

  “Dunno,” Smelt broke in, with a forlorn slouch to his shoulders.

  “What’s going to happen now?”

  “Whatcha mean?”

  “Where do we meet up with them?” she said, frazzled. “And how long do you think we have before the Mediators come after us?”

  “Don’t know. Rarely seen any Mediators on the backside of the mountain.” He chuckled. “Yeah, they’s all afraid of the thick woods. Ya never know what’s lurking in there.”

  “Is that where Fulvio’s taking us?” she asked, not knowing if she liked the sound of their new destination.

  “More ’an likely. It’d be ideal.” Smelt hacked up a phlegm ball, spitting it to the ground.

  Yuck. She scrunched her face in disgust.

  ***

  “There.” Fulvio pointed to the three massive boulders that made up Three Rocks. “Set this contraption down on the plain.”

  “Thank God the other craft has mechanical problems, but this is too close to Tallas,” Ennis said, noticing the village was still visible. “Why would you want to stop here? We should keep going as far as this tank of gas will get us.”

  “You see, my helpful Mediator.” Fulvio’s puffy face stung when he attempted a grin. “We have extra passengers that’ll need a lift.”

  “There’s no room to spare.” He gave a fleeting glance to the rear. “This piece of junk isn’t powerful enough to haul more weight.”

  “Tibbles will forfeit his space. He knows where I want him to go.” Fulvio clapped the man’s shoulder in an affable gesture.

  “I must be out of my mind,” Ennis uttered, more to himself than to those present, lowering the craft. “But then I had nothing to keep me in Tallas.”

  “My boy,” Fulvio said, “you’d be surprised what you’ll find in these mountains.”

  Tibbles relinquished the boy into Doogan’s arms. The bear, along with Fulvio trotted off to collect their accomplices from Three Rocks.

  Fabal’s eyes fluttered. He blinked and winked trying to focus, and a line creased his brow. “Wha’ happened?” His words slurred as though he’d been drugged. “Tibbles is dead. Basta killed him.” His eyes puddled.

  “No, Tibbles is alive,” Doogan said.

  “He’s okay? But—but—I saw him fall to the ground.”

  “I think he was playing dead.” Doogan smiled, swiping at a tear that dripped to Fabal’s chin. “Because as soon as you were hit, he jumped up and carried you to the craft. If it wasn’t for him, I don’t know if we’d be here.”

  “Co—o—l,” Fabal said slowly, his mouth growing wide. “I taught him that. Tibbles was convincing, wasn’t he, Dad?”

  “Yup, real convincing.”

  Ennis cut the engine and alighted to investigate the grassland surrounding them. “I wonder when they’re going to come after us.”

  Doogan stared at the Mediator, still stupefied at his switch of allegiance. He wasn’t sure he trusted the man yet, but felt indebted to him nonetheless. “Why’d you do it, Ennis?”

  Ennis shrugged.

  “My head’s starting to kill me, Dad,” Fabal complained, interrupting the conversation. He fingered the bloody groove left by the bullet.

  “Don’t touch,” Doogan reproached. “Fulvio has something that will stop the ache and ointment for infection.”

  A clamor echoed over the plain. Tibbles came into view, strapped to a cart, and behind him, a woman, a little girl, a dwarf, and Knox. Fulvio limped and gimped bringing up the rear, a severe scowl scoring his forehead.

  “Great,” Ennis said, relieved. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Where’s Mom?” Fabal said, wiggling from his arms.

  Doogan was thoroughly taken aback. Had the bullet caused damage, like memory loss? “Fabal, your mom’s…” His sentence wadded in his throat like globs of honey. Before he could say another word, Fabal took off toward the bear. Seeing Tibbles made him forget the ache.

  Fabal petted the beast, talking nonstop. Most amusing was the beast’s bobbling head as though he understood what the boy was saying.

  “Keeyla’s not here,” Fuvlio said, sounding annoyed, and hobbled in a rotating posture like he was searching for someone.

  Disheartened by the apathetic remark, Doogan studied Fulvio’s expression. He appeared vaguely disturbed, his mouth thinned in a grim line, yet, not sorrowful in the least.

  “I know—” He wanted details allowing him grieve and mourn. Guzzling in a tattered breath, he said, “How’d it happen?”
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  “They took off for Tallas.” Fulvio roughly massaged the nape of his skull. “I don’t know why they’d take such a chance. They could’ve been caught.”

  What kind of explanation is that?

  “Fulvio,” he said, a trifle miffed. “I’d like to know how it happened.”

  “Keeyla’s with Smelt.”

  “Someone named Smelt died, too?” He felt like he’d stepped into a twilight zone. What the hell is going on?

  “My dear son,” Fulvio said, peering at him. “Keeyla is very much…” His remark died on his tongue at the sound of imminent horse hooves.

  Zennith and Gingersnap cantered over the mountainous ridge onto the plain.

  Bathed in a halo of sunshine, Keeyla’s windswept hair danced over her head and shoulders, her face aglow, brilliantly smiling.

  Doogan’s gaze locked onto her. He started forward, then stopped, afraid any sudden move might dispel the vision. He stood utterly transfixed, and then his legs moved on their own accord, sprinting. “Keeyla—”

  Dropping the reins, she slid off Gingersnap and launched herself into his arms. He twirled her around in spite of the gnawing pain in his shoulder and leg. She molded against him, fusing their mouths. He thought he’d never see or touch her again, at least not in this lifetime. He pulled her away to gaze upon her captivating beauty.

  Fabal joined them, and the family huddled together not wanting to let go.

  “Ain’t this cute,” Smelt said in a withering voice. “C’mon, we gotta go.” A grimace carved his face as he dismounted Zennith and strode to Fulvio. “I dunno what’s goin’ on in Tallas, but not one soul has made an attempt to come after us. It kinda freaks me out.”

  “It almost seemed too easy,” Fulvio said as the group convened to confer about the next leg of their journey.

  “Easy?” Smelt coughed. “You’re lucky not to be dead.”

  “That’s what I mean,” Fulvio said. “It was like they let us go.” Stroking his beard in concentration, he surveyed the fibers of Doogan’s shirt turning liquidly red. And then his eyes drifted to the injured Fabal and Tibbles.

  “Apparently.” His mustached lip twitched. “We haven’t escaped without a hitch. We all need tending to.”

  “In my opinion,” Ennis said, adding his two cents worth, “most Mediators don’t like to indiscriminately kill, unless impelled. But we shouldn’t take chances, let’s get this baby off the ground and find a place to settle.” He looked at Fulvio. “Where to?”

  “We need to recoup, and the best place is at my cavern. I have supplies and it’s phenomenal coverage, at least for a while.” He scanned the group. “We’ll need to make two trips. We take those who warrant medical attention, and return for the rest.”

  Doogan concurred, feeling the burn in his shoulder inch up his neck, though the pain didn’t stop him from keeping Keeyla barnacled to his side.

  “What about the horses and the wagon?” Fabal asked. “They can’t ride in the heliocraft.”

  “I’ll take the horses and wagon,” Smelt said. “I’m not flying in that thingamajig if I can help it.”

  “We’ll go with Smelt and Horatio,” Tanya spoke, seemingly contented to squeeze the shoulders of her children, Swan and Knox. She lifted her chin toward the craft. “I’d rather not ride in that, either.”

  “Before we depart,” Fulvio said, his voice grave, “there’s one solemn undertaking.” He lumbered onto the plain. Striding through the tall brown grass, they happened upon the lifeless body of Mortmiller.

  Heartbroken and angry, Fulvio strived to master his emotions. A faithful friend, Mortmiller had assisted him during the trips into Tallas. It seemed like only yesterday when he ran across the stringy man, and they’d instantly connected. Mortmiller was a few years older than Doogan, and Fulvio felt that, in some ways, he was like another son.

  “My dear friend.” Fulvio blinked back the tears. “Let’s get him into the craft so we can have a proper farewell.”

  Quiet and somber, Tibbles hefted Mortmiller’s body.

  In the bereaved silence was a strange crackling. They stopped and listened, each frightened the Mediators had found them.

  Persistent static beeping brought their attention to the ground. Hurriedly parting the tall weeds, it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. It was Fulvio who unearthed the cellular. “I dropped it before the Mediators overtook me.” He inspected the blackened screen. “We have a voice mail.”

  “Wait,” Doogan said as a precaution. “It’ll pinpoint where we are.”

  “It’s been on this whole time,” Fulvio said. “I’ll listen to it then turn it off. They’ll probably think the battery just died.”

  He keyed in the code, upped the volume, and held the device for all to hear. A feminine voice crackled through the speaker. “It’s like a revolution here. After what’s happened, citizens are uprising against Management, and the Mediators have their hands full. My line is open at the usual times. Keep in touch for further details.”

  “Was that Paniess?” Doogan asked, mystified.

  “My informer is a calculating accomplice,” Fulvio admitted, twisting his mustache. “I helped the poor thing through a nasty ordeal, and we’ve been conspiring ever since.” He peered into Doogan’s eyes. “I felt it was in your best interest and well-being not to get you involved.”

  Doogan acknowledged his confession with a tip of his head. “We’d best be moving on.”

  As they walked, Swan grabbed Fabal’s hand and coyly said, “You’re so brave.”

  “Thanks.” Fabal’s chest swelled with pride, and swiped at a dribble of blood.

  “Betcha can’t catch me,” Knox snickered, and broke through their knotted hands.

  Fabal and Swan laughed, racing after him.

  Doogan and Keeyla strolled to the heliocraft. And like a flower revolving toward the sun, she turned to gaze up at him.

  He stared into her eyes shimmering with love.

  Skimming his palms on either side of her rosy cheeks, he inhaled her fresh scent. He brushed his lips along the bridge of her nose. Their breath mingled for a mere second before Doogan captured Keeyla’s mouth.

  THE END

  Enjoy a sneak peek at the TALLAS sequel

  SNOW ON CINDERS

  Chapter 1

  It wasn’t unusual for your neighbor to vanish in the middle of the night. Night terrors, pleading, and the sporadic gunshot had become common. Citizens stayed behind closed doors, or, suffered the consequences.

  Tonight, a coal black sky greeted Paniess as she crawled out of her bedroom window. Slinking through the dewy grass she listened for patrolling Mediators. No sounds of booted footfalls. Stealthily, she stole to the mansion’s side gable where sedan’s lined the crumbling pavement; exclusive cars for privileged Elites and Executives. The cars acted as screens as she threaded in and around and slipped into the wilting hydrangea bush.

  The fenced barriers had been completed weeks ago and the front gate was guarded day and night. Detouring to the far section of their property, she climbed the chain links with great difficultly. Paniess wangled her legs over the top, and in the process gouged her thigh on the barbed wire right through her pants. Suppressing a gasp, she dangled by her fingers before dropping to the ground. Relieved to make it this far, she put pressure on her bleeding leg and gimped forward keeping her eyes peeled for Mediators.

  The mansion was located approximately a mile from the village, and Paniess strayed to the outskirts. Running and hiding behind tree trunks until she reached the vegetable fields. A plot of extensive treeless land lay before her; she’d made a mistake.

  Up ahead and nestled in the basin was the village of Tallas. A broad dirt road lined on either side with duplexes, housed citizens, survivors of the final days. And citizens that liked to remain aloof had built small cottages that dotted the periphery.

  Hearing voices, she flopped to the ground and covered her mouth to quell her rapid breathing. A light beam lanced over the fields. Hasti
ly rooting her face in the soil, she inhaled the loamy scent and waited.

  Cautious, she raised her head and watched the Mediators walking toward Headquarters. She was on time for the shift change. Getting to her feet she flew over the fields without looking back. Her auburn hair tied in a ponytail swished from shoulder to shoulder as she neared the first duplex, feeling home free. Her foot squished on a patch of berries, skidding gracelessly, she tumbled in a mesh of arms and legs.

  Lying on her back, she peered into the inky heavens while taking inventory of her bruised body. Achy, yet, nothing seemed to be broken, she scrabbled upright.

  She performed a clumsy jog through a meadow past the first, second, and third housing complexes looking for a tumbledown cottage. Her thigh was starting to smart as she neared Goshen Quigley’s. Over the twilit land, she noted the buckling slant of the roofline and a lopsided front stoop.

  Hidden in a row of bushes, Paniess looked into his grubby windows, it appeared lifeless and dark. Hearing muffled whispers she stopped dead in her tracks and sank into the overgrowth. Since the ineffective revolt, Pomfrey Addler had implemented a nightly curfew. The voices were coming from Mediators or someone was breaking the law, much like herself.

  Not wasting time, Paniess jimmied up the window and hoisted herself over the frame. She landed in a stark room with a mattress abutting the wall with mussed blankets. She tiptoed to a closed door. It squeaked as she pushed it open and smelled smoke from a recent gutted candle.

  Scritch—

  Temporarily blinded by a flaming match, Paniess squinted.

  “What the hell you doing here, girl? We could hear you in the brush,” whispered a crotchety old man. He brought the flame to a blackened wick to relight the candle.

  “Goshen.” She gazed at an older than sin man who hated her father—just the person she’d been looking for. The shadows bled into worry lines on his forehead making them more pronounced. Several windows in the cottage had been covered by material to impede nosy Mediators.