Orphans and Outcasts (Northland Rebellion Book 1)

by Kylie Leane

  “Poachers. Forever the scourge of our seas.”

  Denvy turned and emptied the contents of his stomach, coughing and spluttering blood as it drained from his lungs. He put a paw to his throat, wondering if the Alpha had managed to cut through. Was he bleeding out? Was he dead? How long did it take to die? For Hazanin’s sake, was it supposed to be this laborious?

  “Mother!” He heard the shout and the nearby sound of gears clanking together. Wheels entered his blurry vision. “It is a prince.”

  A prince? He had not heard himself called the title of a male Kattamont in centuries. He wanted to laugh. The word made him sound young and valiant. He snorted. He had been around Humans far too long.

  “Don’t you go near Khwaja Denvy!” Ki’b made her presence known. Denvy felt her tight hands grab him, her small fingers seeking the bleeding wound and ruthlessly pinching the skin closed. “You horrible monsters!”

  She had become a very feisty little girl, a true testament to her ancestor barbarian queens. His ears twitched as he heard a clattering of stones against wheels grinding over the ground and the wheelchair stopped nearby. Strangely it was the diplomatic voice of the wheelchair-bound neutral that purred out, rather than the queen’s.

  “Please. We mean you no harm. If you let me, I may be able to help him. But I need to get him back to our sand-ship.”

  “You don’t understand.” Ki’b’s tears splashed over his nose. “He can’t be healed. He doesn’t heal! His wounds don’t…they don’t stop. You can’t heal someone who is cursed to die.”

  How it hurt to hear the pain in Ki’b’s voice. He did not wish it upon her, the agony he was causing her through her love for him.

  “Ah, by the Winds! Curses? Such nonsense! We shall see about this. Come, you little whelps, back to the sand-ship.”

  He was grabbed roughly under the arms and dragged upright. The queen lifted him and slung him over her back. “Tah, like I would leave a prince this old to die such a pathetic death with females wailing all over him. Nixlye, leave an arrow to mark our kill. Fetch the unconscious little prince-whelp while you’re at it. We shall see about breaking nonsense curses. You, little Kelib princess, hurry up! We do not have all day.”

  Denvy heard Ki’b shout something in Common Basic that sounded like one of Titus’ overly-flamboyant Trench profanities, but he was too surprised by the lack of pain in his lower extremities. Then he realized he was, in actual fact, being carried by the queen. Not since he was a cub could he recall being carried—maybe lugged was a better word, but, even so, for the queen to be able to bear his weight was unbelievably impressive.

  He must have said so. He was not entirely sure how the words escaped his mouth, since his lips were numb and his head ached. Everything was fuzzy.

  She snorted in offense. “I have lifted crates heavier than you, prince. You are nothing but shaggy fur and bones. It is going to be a long time before you are fit for anything but looking after cubs.”

  He was about to tell her he was fine with looking after cubs; he had been doing it for centuries. But somewhere between his growl and her laughter, he lost consciousness.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  You speak of missing me when I am but a thought away.

  You are surrounded by our children, who still love you.

  The Dragon has not yet taken from us our Dynasty.

  He has stolen our ability to give life, but he has not taken our will to live.

  You will succeed in your task, Nefertem.

  I do not doubt you, so do not doubt yourself.

  I look down from above and I see the work you and our children do.

  I am proud.

  Save Livila.

  Fight.

  We are Zaprexes.

  We save worlds, or we die trying.

  NORTHERN TOWER – private communication linkage –

  01010011 01100101 01101011 01101000 01101101 01100101 01110100

  Jarvis was sure he was back in the box that had imprisoned him. The Human part of him was frightened; it feared the enveloping darkness groping at his limbs and tugging at his skin. But the protector bot whispered reassurance.

  He had no reason to fear. The darkness meant him no harm. The longer he floated, drifting in the rhythm of a gentle river, the clearer the new world became and gradually he was immersed in scatterings of tiny lights. It was as though he was swimming in the night sky-sea, swirling and dancing with the stars themselves. Jarvis stared at his skin, admiring its new texture, covered in the same pattern of stars as the network surrounding him. Each time he stepped he left behind an open glowing footprint and through that hole he was sure he could see Pennadot, but he had never seen Pennadot from far above before. Maybe he was in the sky-sea; he had become a star. Maybe he was dead and he was travelling to the Sun.

  “No, you are not dead, my precious little body. This is the network of the world, the Data-Stream, or, as you mortal flesh-bags call it, the Secondary Realm. Welcome, Jarvis of the Plains People, to the greatest machine the Zaprexes built—otherwise known as my prison.”

  Jarvis froze. The sense of beauty and tranquillity of his surrounds was broken. Something immense was behind him, choking him with its enormous existence, wrapping around him like a cloak with fingers. His head turned, eyes settling upon a flame-haired figure standing on a red-lit circle, with corresponding chain patterns across pale, freckled skin. It was a boy, younger than he was, perhaps about Clive’s age. But no boy he knew, not even annoying, bothersome Clive, had ever looked so cruel. He was reminded of a spider, crawling towards a helpless fly tangled in its web.

  Jarvis was the fly.

  He gasped, as suddenly the boy was inside his own circle, and the red hue was all around him, burning away his blue colours.

  “Your body is not my style. Not really what I was going for—a bit mundane. But I suppose I will grow to like it.” He leered. “Funny that: growing into something. Me, trying to fit into you. I am the size of a planet. I don’t think it will work, no matter what my minions tell me.”

  Jarvis flinched as a hand touched his chin. The skin was hot. A sharp pain struck him in the skull and he held his head as light dazzled his eyes. It was unbearable, worse than when he had felt the protector in the Zaprex Way Station die in front of him. Claws dragged into his skull, trying to tear through the layer of the protector’s program, and it was fighting back, screeching at him to regain control and win against the boy laughing at them. How could he fight something that was in his head?

  “Dragon!”

  Jarvis jerked back. He had been so transfixed by the bottomless pits of eyes void of everything, unable to move and speak, terrified by the hopelessness that had gripped him. He had not moved, though he had believed he had.

  The high-pitched screech that rang out was like a blaze through the starry realm, sending a pulse into the galaxy. Everything swelled into rivers, forming long arms that unfolded from a singular point and standing in the centre of the spirals was an infuriated Zaprex holding up a finger.

  The protector that shared his body confirmed that it was indeed a Creator and his relief was immeasurable. If only the sweet face was not set in such rage, it would have been beautiful.

  “Back away from the protector bot,” the Zaprex snarled, “or I will unleash upon you everything I know if you come even one grid-step closer.”

  Jarvis gasped. The movement was involuntary; he floundered away from the smirking boy standing behind him, splashing into the silver spiral. He dashed across its surface, kicking up starry codes as he moved.

  “It is all right. Do not panic. He cannot hurt you with me here. Follow the sound of my voice; come to my grid-polygon.”

  Jarvis ran. It felt as though he ran for miles, when it may have been mere metres, but there did not seem to be such a thing as distance in this eerie world. Eventually he found himself surrounded by the swelling of stars, coating him protectively.

  The Dragon was still there, just beyond him, leering with empty eye sockets
and a wide, toothy grin that chilled him to the core. A touch stirred him and he looked down at the beautiful fairy. It was not the Time Master, who had led him to the Zaprex Way Station. The Time Master had an air of great age; this Zaprex was tiny and he guessed it was young.

  It was a child.

  The Dragon waded closer to them, making the hair of the Zaprex behind him stand on end in a static charge. It hissed in irritation.

  “Hello, little Key! How lovely of you to join us—”

  “Silence! I know what you are trying to do and it is not going to work. If you attempt to take over this protector bot again, you will not get a chance to enjoy having a body. When we meet face to face, I will tear it apart!”

  The Dragon’s hands fisted and Jarvis cringed as the black world rippled. He watched in horror as the boy’s image wavered. But the Zaprex waved a hand and stabilised the distortions.

  “It is strange, little Key, how different you are to your beloved people. It took them centuries to decide on violence, and, even then, it backfired on them.”

  “Do not think that you will bother me with tales of my people, Dragon. I am beyond that. You cannot taunt me. Now you will either remove yourself from my presence, or I will make you.” The Zaprex levelled the Dragon with a glare.

  “You think you can fight me? Not even the combined forces of your entire Empire could defeat me!”

  “No. But I will send out a distress signal that will run an anti-virus in this area, and I am sure you do not want that, do you? They are a bit like jailers to you, I imagine…heh?”

  The Dragon hissed, spitting liquid as it turned sharply. “You are nothing like Hazanin. Hazanin was a crazy lunatic, far easier to manipulate—”

  “Insult my Positive Parent again,” the Zaprex snarled, stepping closer, yellow eyes glazing into a red film,” and I will show you just how much like Hazanin I am.”

  “Such ferocity.” The Dragon bent forward. “Do you get that from your Human guardian, or from the Kelib? Oh, which one will I kill first when I am free? Maybe…the Human—”

  Jarvis flinched as the Zaprex moved. It was like a flash, so fast the light could not keep pace with the imp. It appeared before the Dragon and lashed out, the Dragon stumbled back with a shout. The surface beneath them scattered with symbols as the Zaprex swung out a leg, smashing it into the Dragon’s waist and striking him against the floor. Around them alarms flared. Jarvis curled into a ball as the blackness turned red, as red as the eyes of the small Zaprex. The Dragon choked, hands flayed out in a protective shield.

  “You cannot harm me!” the Dragon rasped. “It is against the mandate of your people to kill. You cannot kill me! You cannot kill; you value life too much. If you hurt me, you will destroy the very memory of your race. You…do not want to do that…do you…little Key?”

  The Zaprex lifted its foot. “My people are already dead, Dragon. I am the last one, therefore I think I can decide what I want to do to honour them. Now be a good little worm and slither off to your hole.”

  In a burst the Dragon scattered into flecks, only his haunting voice remaining.

  “We will meet again, little Key, and you will burn, just as your people did!”

  The Zaprex shook itself and Jarvis watched as remains of the Dragon’s clinging flakes rippled off the imp. “If I burn, it will be because I choose to burn, Dragon,” it muttered.

  Jarvis would have held his breath but he was sure he did not actually have breath to hold in this realm of energy. His mind could not comprehend that he was within another plane of existence—the place of Elementals and spirits. His family—was his family here? His eyes darted toward a bright star in the distance, the giggling he could hear. It might have been Ki’b, or even his sister.

  The Key snatched his wrist.

  “Do not follow the will-o’-the-wisp; we only lead you astray.”

  “What are they?” He looked down at the pixie, and the flowing heads of the antennae daintily bobbing free from the centre of its head. The Zaprex smiled sadly.

  “They are other Zaprexes. Lost programs. There was a great calamity; I do not know what it was, but it was a terrible disaster that broke the cycle of my people’s existence, a cycle that I must begin again. Come—you are part Human; you will want to escape into the bliss of Eternity. I need to get you back to your terminal.” It tugged his hand gently and he stumbled after the floating Zaprex. “This way.”

  The trails of the galaxy followed them, as though they were connected to the fairy’s movements, though what it represented he could not fathom, and the protector within him had no knowledge of the Key to feed into his mind. It appeared as though the tiny imp was in deep thought, muttering to itself, something about a ‘Gifu and Positive Parent’. It was beginning to look despairingly concerned, the grip on his wrist growing tighter.

  “Are you all right?” Jarvis offered softly.

  The Zaprex squeaked and turned sharply. It stared at him with bright eyes, unblinking under the curls of its soft raven hair. Suddenly it beamed a huge smile and twirled away from him in a dance.

  “I am fine,” it chirped.

  “I…ah…” Jarvis rubbed his nose, hearing a giggle from the Zaprex. “I should thank you for saving me.”

  A nonchalant shrug returned his thanks. “It would appear you called me here, so I had to come.”

  Jarvis frowned. “I called you?” The signal—was it possible that the signal he had sent out through Bez-at:_Who_Lingers_by_Water had already been heard, and by a Zaprex? Of all the possible recipients he supposed it would be a Zaprex who would have picked it up first. “The signal I sent out—you heard it?”

  “So you did send the song?” The Zaprex settled on its heels. “The frequency you used is set to a particular molecule; it would resonate with only me and those who are related to me. How you received this information is beyond my comprehension right now. It is rather…unpleasant…and I request that you reduce the volume or turn it off. I doubt it is having a nice effect on Gifu. Poor Gifu. His brain must be all mushy by now.”

  Jarvis frowned. Surely he was not addressing the Duamutef, Lady of the Tower, Titus had told him about? That was the only other possible Zaprex connection that he knew anything about.

  “I am sorry. I am rather,” he rubbed his hands together, “new at working Zaprex technology.”

  “I presumed this was the case when I saw you were a hybrid. Like I said,” the Zaprex smiled, waving a hand about dismissively, “tone it down or turn it off. Actually…why are you sending out a song, anyway?”

  Jarvis jogged to keep up with the dancing pixie who had skipped ahead of him. Whatever was he supposed to say to it? Was it all right to tell a Zaprex what was going on? Master Titus would approve, would he not?

  “We’re Messengers, you see, and my Master received a message from Commander Zinkx about the eruption of Coltarian come the Midsummer Solstice. My Master was sure that if we used this song to get a signal out, someone at the House of Flames would pick up the message I coded into it.”

  The Zaprex advanced on him, causing him to skid to a halt. “What is your designated code?”

  Jarvis frowned. Code? The protector bot within him threw up a few symbols, and he relaxed. He almost chuckled. “You…ah…mean my name? It’s Jarvis, son of Jerark, of the Plains People. I was captured by Twizels but we escaped some months ago, along with some other children. We were being taken to Utillia, though we are not sure why. My Master saved us.”

  “My designated code is Semyueru,” the Zaprex touched its chest, “but you are welcome to call me Sam. It is what my protectors call me.”

  “Sam.” Jarvis smiled, letting the word pop out of his lips. It was so very simple.

  “I actually like Sami.” The Zaprex tipped its head to one side, a tinge of blue touching its cheeks. “My newest companion has begun to refer to me by that name. I think it is a form of affection, though I am not sure. My processing of such things is still in progress. Well, Jarvis of the Plains People, how d
id you become a hybrid?”

  “Oh,” Jarvis laughed. “I suppose I followed a will-o’-the-wisp into a Zaprex Way Station. The Time Master, actually, but I didn’t know at the time who I was following. I was attacked by a machine inside when I found this crystal—”

  Tugging open the rim of his silver suit, Jarvis relaxed at the sight of the precious triangular prism still attached to the chain around his neck. He pulled it out, revealing it to Sam. The Zaprex had gone entirely slack, but by the vibrating buzz in the air, he had the feeling the imp was suppressing a vast amount of energy.

  “My Master, thankfully, came and dealt with the machine but not before I was contaminated by its philepcon liquid.”

  He heard Sam breathe in sharply. The Zaprex twirled a hand in the air, bringing up an information screen suspended in the air, flicking through pages of scrolling symbols. The smile that had formed over the imp’s face began to dissolve and its antennae flopped.

  “I…should warn you…the area where you are currently is going to destabilize soon.” Sam glanced up.

  “It is?”

  “Yes. Have you not been picking up the warning signal?”

  “You mean the weird blinking thing on the side of my vision.” Jarvis tapped his temple. He had not thought anything of it. It had been around for days, almost since they had entered Utillia. He had believed it a malfunction in his optical lenses.

  “Yes, that.” Sam sighed heavily.

  “Oh, that’s what it’s for?”

  “Yes, you need to get out of here and leave wherever you are now.” The Zaprex shoved him roughly.

  Jarvis stumbled. “Can you come with me?”

  “No. The defragmentation station in your ship is defective, but, even so, I would not abandon Gifu and Gibo. And there is no defragmentation machine on my side either. This is problematic. Your body is also damaged, but you are recovering. Nothing vital was hit. Fortunately the lung that was injured has already begun its transformation. I am impressed, Jarvis; you absorbed the philepcon liquid of a protector class robot and survived. According to the user-manual in my hard-drive, if they do contaminate a carbon creature, they usually reject the host…as per protocol. Maybe it liked you.” Sam drew up another information screen, surrounding them both in a scattering of holographic displays. Jarvis spun around. It was the central control room he had been in. He gasped. Master Titus. He could see the Hunter bending over a body—it was his body.