by Chad R. Odom
Oryan slowed to a brisk walk and the nausea took over. He thought he heard Celeste behind him, but he could not be sure. Each face blurred into the next. Oryan kept moving and searching until he finally found his target. The man was anxiously looking around even as he pretended to pick up a piece of fruit or a loaf of bread. Sweat rolled down his forehead on this cool, breezy day.
Oryan shook off the dizziness, though he could not get control of his vision. He began to sprint forward again, trying to gently push people from his path as he closed in. The man saw him coming and ran the opposite direction. Oryan and Celeste followed.
The man threw containers of food and other commodities to the ground and tried shoving people into Oryan’s way. The small crowd parted, not knowing how to process what was going on, as the two passed by in their frantic rush.
Oryan pushed forward, putting distance between he and Celeste. The feeling of lightheadedness coupled by his limbs giving out made it increasingly difficult to avoid all obstacles. Just as he cleared the crowd, he slipped in a puddle of water. With a thud he fell. He tried to right himself, but his limbs refused and his vision spotted with black.
Celeste rounded the corner to find Oryan on the ground. He was violently throwing up but still managed to get back to his feet and keep following the man.
She discerned that Oryan had been given something to make him sick and she knew who he was after. “He’s over here!” she shouted as they both picked up the pursuit. She tackled the man to the ground, knocking the breath from his lungs. She rolled off him and squared up for another shot.
Oryan, doggedly rushed into the fight, placing himself between Celeste and the assailant. The man darted the other way, gasping for breath as he ran.
Celeste tried to pursue, but Oryan stopped her. “No!” he shouted at her.
“Let me go!” she screamed back.
Corvus rounded the corner and, seeing the commotion, ran to Oryan and Celeste.
“Hold her!” Oryan shouted, shoving Celeste into his arms. Corvus held her fast. “Don’t let go of her!” Oryan commanded.
Oryan could barely see through the fog that blurred his vision. His ribs were cramping, and he could hardly breathe. His heart raced and became more painful through every beat. Still, he could see the ghostly image of his attacker limp-running from him.
The man went into the next aisle of the camp. Oryan followed closely behind, but as he cleared the corner, the man was gone. His brain was feverish, and he tried hard to figure out where the man had gone. Homes stretched out on both sides of the street. He listened for commotion but only heard his heart pounding in his ears.
Oryan started at the first door on his left. He kicked open the door with a crack and plunged into the home but it was empty. He did the same to the second, third and fourth doors. Those in their homes, as well as the bystanders close by, watched in shock, but didn’t make an attempt to stop him.
His body was drenched with a sweat that matted his hair to his scalp. Each blink he took was longer than the one before. His muscles cramped and convulsed sending so much pain through him, that his brain could not distinguish which part of his body it came from. He searched for the next door.
With all his might, he sprinted, shoulder down at the door. It splintered, and he burst through it, falling to the ground with the pieces of ruined permatemp. In an instant, someone was on top of him. The attacker groped at him, punching and kicking in wild desperation.
The man was all but a blurry shadow to Oryan’s eyes, but he let the rest of his senses guide his moves. He threw his own share of punches and elbows but his waning strength did little to injure the man.
The pair smashed through a row of shelves. Oryan found a solid piece of bracket and with a whistling crack, delivered a sound blow to the attacker’s face. He wanted to finish this man, but was physically unable to do so. No matter how much his brain urged him on, his body would not respond.
The man lunged. His hands groped for Oryan’s throat. Oryan brought his knees up to his chest to put some distance between him and the blood-stained man. Oryan grasped high on his attacker’s neck, just below his jawline, cutting off his air supply.
At the same time, he grabbed a handful of the man’s hair with his other hand. The man’s face went red and then blue as he struggled for air. Oryan’s body fought the poison. The attacker tightened the muscles in his neck, staving off suffocation, and his arms were trying to end the fight.
Just as he felt the last bit of energy ebb from his fingers, Oryan felt the man’s body twitch and lurch. Frothy foam filled his mouth and dripped onto Oryan. The man fell to his side and began convulsing on the floor. The last thing Oryan could recall was a sickening gurgling sound and the blurry sight of his attacker lying still.
The Balance of Power
Emperor Navarro sat on his throne at the end of the main hall in his palace in Obsidian. He could hear the sound of troops securing things outside the large doors. They were Navarite soldiers, which should make him feel very secure. Today what flag they served meant little.
Counselor Doran Balsa, with his new military leader, had seized control of all Imperial forces two days prior. Most soldiers defected immediately to the new regime, who promised a truce with Vollmar, and an end of hostilities. Those who didn’t, were captured and imprisoned.
The rhetoric worked. Tamrus called a cease fire the moment Balsa made his move. The world held its breath waiting to see if the Counselor could deliver. Right now, the only thing that stood between Balsa and the fulfillment of his promises was a set of doors. Those doors used to represent strength and stability. Navarro saw them now as dry leaves to be blown apart with the next strong breeze.
Portraits of the previous emperors hung on the walls. Elegant pillars supported a glass roof fifty feet above his head. This had once been the symbol of his right to rule. He remembered with fondness the day he first stepped up to take the throne–a day after his father had been laid to rest. For both occasions, this place had been filled with people, his subjects, and now, they were his enemies.
A deep thud came from the doors. Sparks and smoke billowed from the hinges shortly before the doors crashed. A squad of soldiers entered the room, fanning out and looking for any signs of resistance. When the ‘all clear’ was given, Counselor Balsa entered the room. He strode to the throne and gave a ceremonial bow.
“Your highness,” he said giving off every indication of respect. “I’ve come as the peoples’ ambassador. Will you speak with me?”
“Not like this,” Navarro said coldly. “I won’t answer to anything at the end of a gun.”
Balsa looked at the soldier closest to him. “Major Wall, take your men and secure the rest of the palace. No one gets in or out of this room without me.”
Wall saluted and left the hall with his squad.
“There. Now we can be friends again.” Balsa sat on one of the throne stairs with his back turned to the Emperor. “I see you’re not wearing your face today,” he said noting Navarro’s lack of make-up. “You couldn’t just give this up, could you?”
“This Empire belongs to me,” Navarro replied defiantly.
Balsa smiled. “Not anymore.”
“You think you represent the people? What happens when this peace fails? You and I both know it will. When they look to you for answers as to why everything fell apart, you’ll be exactly where I am. If you want my throne, you may have it and everything that comes with it.” Navarro stood and began to walk down the stairs.
“Sit down,” Balsa said in a tone that stopped the Emperor cold. Balsa looked up at him with devilish eyes. He rocked his head back at the throne. Navarro slowly backed up and took his throne again.
Balsa stood slowly and stepped up until he was on the stair just below Navarro. He held up a finger then reached into his suit coat pocket from which he pulled out a single white pill. “You know what this is, don’t you?”
Navarro swallowed audibly.
“We can do this the
easy way, or I can have you hung from the palace walls and broadcast it to the whole world.” Balsa laid the pill on the arm of the throne and backed away. “But, I know you won’t listen to me. I know you’d rather take the hanging to appear noble and defiant to the last, so I brought an old friend to change your mind.”
Balsa patted Navarro on the cheek and walked away. Navarro watched him leave then stared at the pill. He picked it up between his finger and thumb while his mouth opened slightly. His face went red as his heart pumped the blood through his veins at a furious pace. His brow furrowed and he threw the pill away. It clicked against the floor until it settled at the feet of Lucius Kovac.
Kovac stooped down and retrieved the small object. A smile passed over Navarro’s face. “Lucius! Old friend,” he exclaimed, but his warm greeting was not returned by the former commander of his armies.
“You, too?” Navarro shrank back onto his throne. Kovac ascended the stairs and extended the pill in his open palm.
“I’m here to show you mercy, old friend,” Kovac stated in his normal emotionless voice.
With tears in his eyes, the Emperor gave Kovac a bitter gaze. He looked at the pill in his palm with defiance before slapping away Kovac’s hand. For the second time, the pill clattered across the floor. Kovac closed his eyes and sighed.
***
Balsa was outside of the palace listening to the report from Major Wall confirming everything was clear when Kovac came outside. Wall stopped Kovac before he could get away entirely. “Well, did he listen to you?”
Kovac paused only for a moment and replied, “He saw it your way,” before he continued on.
Wall watched him leave and pointed to the communications pod parked outside the palace gates. “Tamrus is waiting for your confirmation, Counselor.”
“I’ll only be a moment,” Balsa said as he made his way back through the Imperial halls toward the throne room.
At the base of the stairs, in a heap, was Navarro. His purple robes were folded over his face. Balsa kneeled next to the body and pulled back the cloth. Navarro’s face was twisted nearly backward. Bruising covered his neck and jaw. Balsa smiled grimly. He’d bet Kovac had done it one-handed.
Wall entered behind him. “Counselor, we have to…” He became silent at the sight of Navarro. “Dear God,” he whispered.
Balsa covered the body again and stood. “He fell down the stairs trying to escape. Must have tripped over his own robes. Isn’t that right, Major?”
Wall looked at Balsa with wide eyes. A few seconds of shock passed before he gathered his thoughts. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ll have the medics confirm the death.”
Balsa patted Wall on the shoulder as he walked back out. Wall took one last look before leaving to fulfill his duty.
Out of Time
“He’s coming around,” said a distant voice.
Oryan opened his eyes. He was expecting to see the sterile walls of a hospital filled with men in white. He thought he would see the tubes from his body and hear the incessant beep of machines to monitor his recovery, but he awoke instead to a familiar sight.
Celeste sat on his bed, in their home, gripping his hand as his eyes focused. What also amazed him was just how good he felt. There was no nausea, nor were there the disorienting effects of the poison. He also noticed that his muscles felt strong, as if he were waking from a much needed, refreshing sleep.
“How long?” he asked as he sat up and embraced Celeste.
“About thirteen hours,” she replied.
He released her and gaped in amazement. “That’s it? I thought I was dead.”
“And you very well might have been,” said another friendly voice from the corner of his room. “Your eating habits are quite timely.” Sicari advanced with the Eldar at his side.
Eldar casually tossed a hand-sized piece of pink fruit in the air. “Recognize it?” he asked smiling. Oryan shook his head. “You should. Elesya says you ate at least four of them before you got attacked. It’s a fascinating little plant. The root of the tree secretes an amber colored liquid meant to prevent insects from getting at it. That liquid is highly toxic. Oh, the toxin alone isn’t deadly to humans but it sure will make you regret swallowing it! A person with even a little horticultural knowledge can tell you how to make it fatal.
“However, the antidote isn’t far away. The fruit produced by the same tree provides the healing touch.”
Eldar handed Oryan the fruit, which he eyed suspiciously. “Well, take a bite! That little gem saved your life. Since you ate so many of them, with no other foods to absorb it, the natural juices in the fruit diluted the toxin. Your running like a mad man through the camp didn’t help the situation, but had it not been for your particular craving this morning, you’d most certainly be dead.”
With a smile and a nod to Oryan’s new favorite food, he took a satisfying bite. His teeth easily broke the soft surface. The result was a sweet, refreshing flavor that slid across his tongue and sent a rush to his limbs.
Oryan was feeling more than alright, he was feeling on top of the world. He stood from his bed and embraced his sweet wife again. Just as he was going to suggest a walk, Sicari brought the mood back to reality.
“Did you know him?” he asked calmly.
Oryan might have seen him in passing through the city at some point, but never knew his name nor could he recall ever meeting the man formally. He relayed these sentiments to Sicari.
“His name was Marphan. Corvus brought him here years ago. He was a student of Eldar’s when he first came, learning the gardening skills that our good friend has become so famous for,” Sicari said placing a hand on the Eldar’s shoulder.
“Which explains his knowledge of that fruit and its other uses,” Eldar chimed in.
Sicari extended his hand. In his palm lay a small, thin needle jutting from a ring. “This was the injection tool. We found it on the ground not far from where you were attacked. There were two types of chemicals on it. The poison and a serum designed to numb the prick of the needle. While his poison making craft was chillingly perfect, his knowledge of numbing chemicals wasn’t. He didn’t have near enough of the numbing agent to prevent you from feeling the wound.” Sicari placed the needle into a small hard case and slid it into his sleeve.
“Why would someone do that?” Celeste asked, staring hard at Sicari.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Sicari replied.
“I knew this man,” Eldar spoke up. “He wasn’t clever enough to do this on his own. When I worked with him, he was afraid of pruning shears, much less a poisoned needle.
“Somewhere along the line, he overcame those fears. Or he feared something more than the prick of a needle.”
“Or someone,” Oryan added.
Sicari nodded. “If he were alive, we could ask him when, why, and who.”
Oryan hung his head. “I wasn’t trying to kill him. I didn’t think I even had the strength to do it.”
“You didn’t. He was carrying a capsule in his mouth filled with the same poison he injected you with. Either intentionally, or during the fight, he broke it open and killed himself. Someone wanted to make sure he couldn’t talk.”
Oryan looked for a few moments at Sicari. Slowly, he turned his gaze to Celeste. Tears were on her cheeks, but Oryan could tell they weren’t meant for him. She knew little of the Archide’s business and nothing of Damrich, but she was unable to put the pieces together. Her growing anxiety, plus the attempt on Oryan’s life, had increased her frustration. These tears were out of extreme emotions she was bottling up.
“Sweetheart,” Oryan said in a tone that let Celeste know he was going to ask her to do something she did not want to. “Will you show Eldar the overlook we found above the camp? Maybe get Asher on your way home? I need to speak with Sicari alone.”
There was a slight hesitation and a look of concern in her eyes but she relented. “Of course.” She rose to her toes and kissed him on the cheek. Eldar gave a worrisome glance
in Oryan’s direction, offered Celeste his arm, and the pair left the house.
“You knew this one was coming, didn’t you?” Oryan said.
Sicari was sullen; like a man trying to figure out where he went wrong. “I suspected. I just didn’t think it would be you.”
“It wasn’t. He was after Celeste.”
“I know.” Sicari avoided eye contact with Oryan.
A suppressed surge of contempt echoed in Oryan’s voice. “No, I don’t think you do. You knew this was coming! You knew it and you sat by and let it happen.”
“I can’t control everything.”
Oryan snorted in disgust. “You brought me to your fortress. The place she should be safe.”
“Don’t take this out on me! There’s nowhere she’ll be safe. You saw to that the moment you decided to love her.”
“That doesn’t excuse you. I don’t know much about you or this place, but I do know that you’ve been compromised. Do you know what I did to compromised units?”
Sicari shot him a condescending look. “Please, oh wise Warlord of Navarus, enlighten me with your years of experience.”
“You sound like every other arrogant commander I met who thought that because I was younger, I was wrong. All your years and wisdom didn’t prevent this, did it? You may have time on your side, but I knew what to do with situations like this!” Oryan bristled.
“Tell that to Ethanis Thomas,” Sicari stabbed back at Oryan.
The thought of Ethanis reopened the hole left by his death. Oryan’s eyes found the floor in shame.
“I’m sorry, Oryan. I should’ve been more diligent in my watch. Yes, I knew Damrich had someone in the camp, but I didn’t know who. Despite my best efforts, I didn’t know until he made his move. I’m sorry it was her he went after.”
“If he’s got one here, he probably has others. This is going to escalate,” Oryan muttered.