Hair or fur, which is it?
His hat had fallen off to reveal his fairly short, wavy fur beneath.
Thank you.
A bolt of blue plasma suddenly grazed Akrillis. His leg took the hit. Suddenly, he no longer felt the cold, the wet, or his quick and heavy breathing but just the surge of pain that shot up his leg. Akrillis limped away from the mercs at the top of the intimidating staircase as Val and Laurelle helped him. The humans hurried down after them, trampling over Val’s hat along the way.
Sure, write about hats. That’s going to make the story much more interesting.
They quickly disappeared into the jungle. The humans were still getting closer and closer. Certain death chased the trio. A wave of fear travelled behind Laurelle, she didn’t dare to look behind and see said wave. Akrillis fell to his knees, his strength wavered, his determination seemed to have faded fast. A mercenary approached him, ready to kill. His head was then separated clean from his body, and it’s lifeless state hit the ground. Val put his sword away and pulled his rifle out to hold them off.
“Help him!” Vanakis told Laurelle.
The young hybrid did what she could, but she was tiny next to the prince. She attempted to drag him, achieving nothing. Well, almost nothing. After that, he seemed to find the strength to keep going. Akrillis limped away with Laurelle helping however she could. She held him to try and keep him upright. Vanakis followed close behind, spilling human blood with every pull of the trigger. With every step, Laurelle felt the wetness mushing between her toes.
Dozens of mercs followed them as they dashed through the trees. Val made short work of them. Fountains of blood stained the local flora, even in spite of the pouring rain. Laurelle heard Vanakis scream out in agony behind them. Vanakis took several bolts to the shoulder and fell to one knee in pain. He quickly got back up and continued to defend their getaway, with only one arm now. Val reformed his rifle back to a smaller pistol, while his injured arm remained stationary. He used his one good arm to deal with what mercenaries he could, although his aim was significantly reduced as evident by the increased number of humans still approaching. Soon, he was overwhelmed by numbers.
Vanakis took another bolt of plasma to the torso and he fall backwards. He landed on the soaking grass. His eyes squinted and blinked as he stared up at the jungle canopy with raindrops landing on his face.
“Vanakis!” Akrillis shouted.
Just like that, they had failed to escape. Humans now surrounded Vanakis, as well as Laurelle and Akrillis several metres ahead. As they were forced back together at gunpoint, Vanakis managed to get onto his feet. The pouring rain had slowed to a simple sprinkle.
“What’s happening?” Laurelle worried with shaky arms. She felt dread’s shadow standing tall over her.
Two mercs stepped aside, allowing the leader to step through.
“Oh, shit!” Val said out loud.
This slightly pale human looked carefully at the trio of Tarians.
Vanakis took a step forward as the human came closer. “Hey, listen, Jaroot, I know things have been—”
Jaroot punched Val square in the face, and the prince fell to the ground.
“Wait, Jaroot?” Akrillis said with raised eyebrows.
Laurelle shook as her eyes watered ever so slightly.
“You thieving piece of shit,” Jaroot exclaimed as Vanakis struggled back to his feet.
“Jaroot,” Val spoke. “C’mon, there’s no need for this.”
Jaroot punched Vanakis right in the gut, and he fell to his knees. Akrillis closed his eyes at the sound of his brother’s groan.
“Stop!” Laurelle shouted like she herself was in pain.
“Look, I know things haven’t been the best with us lately,” Val spurted out. Then he suddenly pounced onto Jaroot. The two of them wrestled around on the muddy ground.
As they fought one another in the mud, one of Jaroot’s mercs laughed as the others watched on. Eventually, one merc fired a single shot into the air. A scream followed, but it did not come from Vanakis; it came from Jaroot.
The human panicked and covered his ears, his long dark hair covering most of his face. Jaroot let out another cry of fear and shook his head violently.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Akrillis questioned with scrunched eyebrows.
“PTSD,” Val answered as he got back to his feet.
“Don’t do that!” Jaroot yelled at his men. When he got back up, he knocked Vanakis across the face one more time. His brother caught him as he fell back.
“First, you steal from me!” Jaroot explained. “Then, you have the audacity to try and beat me here and steal this treasure out from under me, too!”
“Jaroot, I swear, we had no idea you were lookin’ for this thing, too,” Val exclaimed.
“Bullshit,” claimed Akrillis.
Laurelle was almost in shock at the response.
Vanakis turned to his brother with wide eyes.
“Before we left the city, you mentioned the prymus, and at the cantina, you brought up Quell artefacts again,” Akrillis explained.
“So?” Val shrugged it off.
“So, you knew. You already knew this relic was our best shot at freeing those people. You worked that out before we even left, long before speaking to Daxx. That’s why we were in that cave on Etherel, that’s why we happened to have that dagger earlier. That’s why you came!” Akrillis shouted with rage. “And when you realised that one of the best ways for me to achieve my goal was to find this thing, you thought you’d use that to your advantage. This was just an opportunity for you, and you fucking took it. I can’t believe I thought you came because of anyone but yourself, that you were doing something for someone else for a change. But no, all this was to get the prymus, and to get at him!” Akrillis pointed to Jaroot, who was quite enjoying the show.
“I don’t know what to tell you, mate.” Vanakis was dumbfounded for words.
“You don’t need to say anything,” Akrillis told him, ferociously staring at Vanakis.
“You found out I was going to go after the prymus,” Jaroot claimed. “So, you figured you could beat me to it. I should have pieced it together. Those artefacts you stole from me, after all, were Quell artefacts, ones that may or may not have aided you in some way.”
Vanakis just stood there, his head down towards the ground and away from eye contact.
“You know, after all of this,” said Akrillis. “I’m still not surprised. You never surprise me anymore, Vanakis. Hell, I should have expected this. We may be from the same flesh and blood, but you’re no brother of mine.”
“I’ve had enough of this,” Jaroot explained. “On your knees now,” he ordered. He pulled out his lengthy knife. “On your knees!” The human shouted.
The mercs forced the Tarians down onto the ground, with hands placed behind their heads, prepared for an execution.
Laurelle sobbed. She felt her knees slowly sink into the chilling mud. “I don’t want to die,” she whispered to herself as tears added to the raindrops on her face.
“It’ll be okay,” Akrillis attempted to comfort her.
“You happy now? You killed this little girl,” Val commented.
“Oh, shut up!” Akrillis snapped. “You used me. You’re pathetic!”
Vanakis rolled his eyes, “Now is not the time for a fucking family meeting! If you haven’t noticed, we’re about to die!”
“And who's fault is that, you selfish prick?” Akrillis yelled louder.
“Oh, fuck you!” Val shouted back.
“Oh, will you two shut up?” Jaroot finally intervened. “Going to give me a fucking headache.”
That’s when Akrillis noticed him—a hooded figure amongst the mercs. It was the same Veech who had attacked them on Sorrentalle. The two of them locked eyes for a moment, then moved at the same time. The Veech suddenly slashed at the mercenaries from behind and caught them off guard. They were even more thrown off balance when, at the same moment, Akrillis tackled Ja
root to the ground. The quick sequence of events left the mercs vulnerable. They hesitated at the surprise, giving Laurelle and the brothers the upper hand.
Vanakis turned to attack the mercenaries behind them Both fell to the Tarian’s blade with ease. Laurelle took advantage of her height, punching one human right in his family jewels. The Veech forced his way through with blood, progressing to his targets. The two dozen mercs created a nice diversion for the Tarians. Vanakis managed to grab a hold of Jaroot’s pistol in the midst of their struggle, firing it right in his ear. Jaroot cowered away in terror as he saw the traumatising past events still haunting him.
Akrillis watched as his brother leapt off into the shrubbery; that’s when he noticed that the terrain behind them suddenly dipped down on a steep hill. Vanakis dove down the hill to safety, and the assassin approached Akrillis. The prince pushed Laurelle down the hill before the Veech grabbed him from behind. Akrillis struggled and resisted, causing the assassin to lose his grip before he could drive his dagger deep under the flesh. Akrillis fled as Jaroot and his mercenaries fired upon him. He led them away from Laurelle as they followed after the prince.
Akrillis eventually stopped running and lent against a tree trunk while he caught his breath, panting uncontrollably. Soon, he tried to breathe more slowly, reducing his heart rate. As he looked behind, the mercenaries were, at last, nowhere to be seen; neither was the assassin. The lone Tarian pulled out his communicator.
He sighed when he realised. “Oh, come on. No signal,” he thought out loud. “That’d be bloody right.” Without any way to contact the ship or anyone else, he knew he needed another plan. ‘Got to get to higher ground. Better signal that way,’ he thought to himself. Suddenly, Jaroot appeared. He slowed down and tried to catch his breath.
“Not so fast, Tarian,” he told Akrillis.
“I don’t think so,” Akrillis responded with confidence. “You appear to have no backup,” he pointed out.
Jaroot’s goons nowhere to be found, and Akrillis quickly took the human’s weapon from him.
“What now?” Jaroot wondered.
“I’m not my brother. I have morals. You’ll go to Nova for trial,” Akrillis explained.
“If only all Tarians shared your sense of self-righteousness,” Jaroot remarked.
Laurelle tumbled down a stream of mud. Thick, dark liquid guided her to the bottom before she hit the almost-solid mud at the base. The young girl scuffled to get herself up in the chilled mud. After wiping her eyes, she noticed the dirty figure nearby.
“Vanakis!” She shouted, glad to find she wasn’t on her own.
He sighed when he realised. “Are you still here?” Vanakis of course didn’t like children and was obviously not keen on being stuck with one.
“What do we do?” Laurelle asked him, unsure what happens next.
“Leave me alone,” Val said as he grabbed his communicator. He held it high to try to get a signal. “We must be in a bad area,” he concluded. They were unable to reach the Azura for a pickup, or to reach anyone else, either.
Laurelle sat her exhausted body down on a rock.
“You’ve got fluids coming from your face,” he informed her.
Laurelle was scared; she didn’t know what was going to happen now that she was left with Vanakis, who clearly didn’t care for her.
“You don’t like me,” she stated.
“No, I don’t.”
Laurelle sobbed. She felt lost. She wondered why he put her down constantly. Val walked away and left her. Laurelle quickly jumped up and chased after him, afraid of being alone all by herself in this lush and dangerous jungle.
And now we have two separate couples who travelled together, not one of them keen on their travelling buddies. Things should be interesting ahead. I’m thirsty. Where’d that Debra go?
FOURTEEN
Avayan guards began to ransack the slaves’ sleeping quarters, obviously desperate to find the stolen weapons. Things were thrown everywhere, and slaves were pushed aside.
Trydon felt the anxiety growing as they got closer and closer to his dorm where the majority of the stolen goods were hidden. They all knew it was death if the guards found them.
“Quick!” Trydon shouted to his fellow slaves. “Hide them!”
They scrambled to do what they could, but there was nowhere to keep them. The room was just a plain old steel chamber with no furniture or even beds—just the sheets they slept on and some horribly uncomfortable pillows. They didn’t even get a window.
Mantis hurried in. “They didn’t find anything in my quarters,” the Zantian informed.
“How we going to keep all this hidden?” Trydon agitatedly asked.
“In our rooms, we hid pistols in our pillows. They didn’t even notice when they tossed them aside,” Mantis explained. “But you’ve got rifles in here, too. Snipers as well. No hope of shoving that in a pillow.”
“So, what the hell do we do?” Trydon wondered. Avayans were ransacking the room just next door. Time was running out, Trydon felt his heartbeat pounding against his chest.
“To the next chamber!” A guard barked orders.
“We’re out of time,” Mantis said.
Trydon froze. He knew they were about to be caught with stolen goods—an act punished by death—but he knew better. They wouldn’t let them get off that easy. Torture was far more likely. Making the slaves regret their actions and watching them as they suffered was a far more satisfying punishment, something the Avayans could really enjoy.
As their footsteps came rushing closer, Trydon knew it was already too late. Suddenly, he was thinking how much he should have thought this through. His already sweaty hands began to shake, and the images of his fate played in his head. He was about to experience pain like he had never imagined. This would’ve made losing his tail seem like a walk in the sandy Rynok park. It was only moments before the guards entered and saw it all. Mantis was visibly desperate. Anything was better than excepting defeat. The Zantian used his telekinetic abilities to lift the weapons and hold them on the ceiling.
Trydon looked at the dozens of firearms stuck to the roof. ‘Please don’t let them look up,’ he thought to himself.
The Avayans barged in and tossed the slaves aside. They threw the sheets and pillows everywhere. Mantis was careful not to break his concentration. One wrong move, and the guns would fall to the floor. Of course, they all knew all the guards had to do was look up. Dozens of sheets were tossed. The slaves’ sleeping arrangements were ruined. The ceilings in the facility were quite high, which helped keep the weapons out of view.
Trydon replayed the same thought in his head over and over. ‘Don’t look up. Don’t look up.’ But, at the same time, he already expected to be caught anyway.
“Nothing here. Move on to the next one!” The guard proclaimed.
Trydon felt a slight relief, but the Avayans still had to leave the room. As they made their exit, a guard turned and pointed his weapon at a slave. Everyone in the room froze with shock. Mantis’ eyes fired open to maximum width immediately. This however, distracted him just enough. A single rifle fell from the ceiling, but a single rifle was all it took. As the gun plunged to the ground, Trydon suddenly screamed in his head. After seeing how close they were to going unnoticed. The gun slammed into the ground, and slammed hard. It made a loud crack as it hit the concrete. Fortunately, it was overshadowed by the guard’s gunshot. The slave fell to the floor with her leg in agony. The Avayan was satisfied with making an example of her. He quickly left.
A single slave stood in front of the fallen weapon, concealing it from view. With the guards finally gone, Mantis slowly descended the weapons. The slaves raced to cover them with sheets and pillows.
“That was way too close,” Trydon told Mantis.
“We need to conceal these better from now on,” Mantis suggested.
Hundreds of Tarians watched as several were held captive. The tall Zantian towered above everyone else.
“What’s happening
?” Trydon asked his friend.
“They found some of those weapons in their chambers; they believe they are the ones causing the trouble,” Mantis replied.
A wooden stage stood a few feet high for all to see.
A day had passed, and the three suns were shining bright above. On the stage were three slaves—two males and a female—tied to wooden slabs with their hands and feet bound in chains. They were nude and helpless, exposed and vulnerable.
“Behold! Your traitors!” Overseer Zurey announced to the gathered crowd. “Through acts of violence and cowardice, they have brought chaos to our homes!”
A guard approached them one at a time, then used his military knife to slice a long deep gash across their chests leading down to their stomachs. One by one, they received the mark, and each screamed louder than the last. The Avayan did this slowly, prolonging the pain for as long as possible while watching their faces as they cried out. Mantis watched the pain unhurriedly crawl across their bodies. The audience cringed, but for some, it was, sadly, as natural as waking up in the morning. When the guard reached the female, he leaned forward for a moment to smell her neck before slashing her like the rest.
“If any other culprits remain, we will find them!” Zurey promised. “We will have order once more!”
The Avayan guard reached over to a chain nearby. Above the slaves were barrels filled with searing hot liquid. As the guard pulled the chain, a barrel turned over and poured the liquid over the first slave. He screamed for a second or two before he no longer had the ability to do so. What was left of him was very little of the man that once was; there was just a charred corpse now. Bones and insides, seared and burnt, were visible to all.
“This is horrible,” Mantis exclaimed. “They’re suffering because of our actions.”
“Don’t worry,” Trydon told him. “I’ve got a plan; they’re planting them as we speak.”
“Planting what?” Mantis wondered.
One of the captives screamed with all the breath in his body as the blistering hot liquid was poured on him next. Mantis noticed Trydon tap the top of his head several times, giving a signal.
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