by Jay Key
“It’s pretty easy to remember, Ja’a. It’s a red stone, two blue, another red, and a yellow. If you are reading it from left to right.”
“Red, blue, blue, red, yellow. Got it,” said Duke. The bounty hunter started to climb the ladder. He looked back at the group. “Come on now.”
“Once we’re in the attic of the supply room, we’re in. There isn’t a way to open the door from that side. That’s one of the reasons it has remained hidden from Orbius.”
“Got it. Once we’re in, we’re in,” Duke shouted back as he continued his ascent. “Let’s go, everyone. We have a tyrannical maniac to squash.”
Bu’r and Ma’n followed the bounty hunter, then Ja’a and Ishiro’shea. Vernglet brought up the rear.
Duke made it to the top and felt around the surface of the wall. Sure enough, there was a small inset panel about the size of his laser revolver. He readjusted his position so that he could see inside the cubbyhole. As Vernglet had described, there was a pile of colorful rocks—some even looked like jewels. Typical smugglers, thought Duke. There were also five tiny craters, each the size of one of the rocks.
“I see it, Vern,” Duke shouted. “Wouldn’t a button have been easier?”
“Buttons can be accidentally pushed. This requires previous knowledge that had to be acquired.”
Vernglet’s voice lowered as he uttered the word “acquired”—likely harkening back to his days as a smuggler.
“Makes sense, but my hand barely fits in here. Okay, red, blue, blue… uh…” Duke stopped to think.
“What happens if you place the stone incorrectly?” Ja’a said to Vernglet.
“The ceiling opens up and boiling oil is dropped down over the ladder. Instantly transforming those on the ladder into a gruesome, mangled, gnarled—”
“We got it,” Duke screamed. “Red, blue, blue, red, and YELLOW.”
“Yes.”
A loud click resonated throughout the cavern.
“Great, it’s unlocked,” said Vern. “Now remove them in this order—yellow.”
“Okay, yellow removed.”
“The first red that you placed,” continued Vernglet.
“Done.”
“Both blues at the same time. Then the last red.”
“Here goes nothing,” said Duke with a quaver in his voice.
A squeaking shriek and a whoosh of air followed. A soft light filled the room. It was a light from another room—on the other side of the now-open door.
“We’re in, my friends,” exclaimed Duke.
“Careful,” Ja’a reminded the group. “We have no idea what’s in there.”
Duke crawled through. The room was empty and quite cramped.
“No way we’re all fitting in here,” relayed Duke. “What next?”
Vernglet responded from inside the cave. “There is a door at the far end of the attic floor. Open it and you should be able to fall right into the supply room. It shouldn’t be exposed to the hallway; we should be hidden.”
Duke followed the orders, traversing the restricted attic crawlspace until he discovered a hatch. He opened it and dropped directly into the supply closet, as Vernglet had described. That was easy.
The others followed suit. Ishiro’shea and Vernglet were the final two to make it to the attic door. As the ninja hit the supply closet floor without a sound, the door suddenly opened, exposing the group to the hallway—and to a dozen priests with javelins pointed at them.
“General, we have intruders!” screamed a guard in a high-pitched, nasal tone.
“Vern!” shouted Duke.
There was no a response. Then a whoosh and click. The smugglers’ door.
Duke could sense Po’l’s smug “I told you so” from the back of the supply room. He thought that was the worst feeling in the world—but then was reminded that the dangerously sharp spears being thrust in his general direction might hurt a bit more.
Chapter 35
For the Good Part of Neprius!
THE ARROW FLEW MERE INCHES from Duke’s ear and struck one of the guards in the chest. Duke’s reflexes kicked in and he rattled off a few pulses. Most landed effectively. The guards retreated a few paces, providing the rebels with a little more separation from their assailants.
“Quick,” Ja’a commanded. “Let’s get out of this damn deathtrap of a room!”
The group sprinted down the ornate hallway until they reached a grand foyer sporting equally grand doors at its terminal point.
“Maybe that’s the throne room,” said Ja’a.
Bu’r and Ishiro’shea tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Move,” shouted Duke. He drew Betsy. She shook the entire hallway. The doors splintered and collapsed inward. Orbius knows we’re here now.
“Even better than a throne room,” said Ma’n. “The armory.”
The sound of the footsteps of Orbius’ troops were growing louder. Their approach was rapid.
“Let’s prop these doors up. They should provide some cover,” Duke said to Ishiro’shea.
The bounty hunters began to form a rudimentary barricade. Bu’r noticed their efforts and quickly joined in. Po’l, Ma’n, and Ja’a started to grab as many projectile weapons as they could—javelins, arrows, spiked stones, skins filled with flammable oil—and stockpiled them behind the makeshift barrier.
“This should make for one hell of a final stand,” Duke said to Ishiro’shea.
“Who said this was our final stand?” Po’l interjected. “Our business is unfinished. A trap by that wormy priest won’t stop us.”
“They might have something to say about it being our final stand,” Duke said. He pointed Betsy’s barrel towards a horde of javelin-toting priest soldiers.
“A mere delay.”
“I appreciate the optimism, Po’l. And, just so we can get it out of the way—I’m man enough to say it—”
“Say what?”
Duke knew that Po’l was aware of exactly what the bounty hunter was about to say. He wanted to milk it. That bastard.
“About Vernglet and—”
“Yes?”
“I never thought this would be the last word uttered in the life of Duke LaGrange, adventurer, trailblazer—”
The footsteps came to an abrupt end.
“Rebel trash and off-world scum.” The voice was booming. It sounded like fresh death. Tsarano Gar. “I’m surprised that you decided to drop in on us like this. More courage than I thought.”
“I’ll give it to you, Gar,” Ja’a responded, “your spy fooled us. But there’s a massive chasm between placing us in this trap and actually stopping us.”
Gar did not respond immediately. He looked around, almost confused at Ja’a’s retort.
“Fine. Whatever you say, rebel. Prepare to die as your father did, begging for forgiveness.”
The general released a throaty baritone laugh.
Duke could hear Ja’a gritting her teeth.
“But before you put up this annoyance of a resistance, remember that whatever you do now will affect what I do to this ingrate.”
The general reached behind two of his soldiers and yanked out a ratty-haired Neprian child—gagged and tied.
“Uu’k!” shouted Duke.
Ishiro’shea’s teeth were now grinding even louder than Ja’a’s.
“How?” asked the bounty hunter.
“Lo’n,” replied Po’l, his voice full of defeat.
Duke drew his gun and aimed it at Gar’s head.
“Kill me and this puny accident of a life will be skewered.”
Before Duke could respond, he felt a body leap past him.
“Come back, Ma’n!” shouted Ja’a.
The rebel hurdled the barricade and charged the entire Neprian line, his bow drawn. He sent arrows into flight toward the mass of soldiers without breaking stride.
Gar held the soldiers from advancing. He shoved Uu’k back and she disappeared behind the ranks.
Ma’n threw the bow down
as he approached Gar. He drew his ax. Two soldiers stepped in front of their commander and were chopped down in a single motion from the irate rebel. His momentum carried him to Gar and he came down with a powerful stroke. However, his ax was halted in midair by Gar’s twisted sword.
“Weakling,” shouted Gar passively.
Ma’n countered with another swing, but again it was blocked by Gar’s blade. Gar reached out with his free hand and clamped down on Ma’n’s throat. The rebel struggled and dropped his ax as he gasped for air. Gar’s death blow was quick but he held the blade firm so that the other rebels could see and digest what had just happened. With a slight shrug, Ma’n’s corpse slid off the sword and fell limp to the floor.
“Attack!” screamed the general as he sank to the back of the line.
The soldiers stormed the rebels.
Between Duke’s marksmanship and the constant barrage of deadly projectiles lobbied from behind the barrier, the priests weren’t immediately successful in breaching—but their numbers never dwindled. It was a constant flow. And though Duke could keep shooting forever, the rebels’ other ammunition was running low.
“We can’t hold them off much longer,” said Po’l. “And Gar is getting away with Uu’k.”
“And pretty soon Orbius will turn up—with the Orb,” added Bu’r.
“At least I could get a shot at him,” said Duke.
“Orbius is not that careless,” reminded Ja’a. “He won’t put himself in harm’s way—especially since we aren’t posing much of a threat at the present.”
“So, basically, this is our last stand?” questioned Duke.
“If Uu’k has been kidnapped, then Mo’a must have pieced together Lo’n’s betrayal,” Ja’a said, changing the subject. “They will be working on another mission as we speak.”
“Or those that abducted her with Lo’n’s help already destroyed the base and everyone in it,” Duke replied grimly, “and we are the last hope.”
“I refuse to believe that.”
“They’ve been pretty successful thus far in one-upping us,” countered Duke. “They stole Uu’k from right under our noses; a betrayal from one of the trusted rebel brass.”
“And your priest friend,” added Po’l.
“Yes, and Vern. I’m not making myself immune from anything. I was fooled, the same as you.”
Po’l seemed surprised by Duke’s honesty. And then he lobbed a javelin into the chest cavity of a charging priest.
“I refuse to believe it. I have faith in Mo’a.”
“We don’t have much left,” screamed Bu’r.
“Here, Ishiro, catch.” Duke tossed his pulse pistol to the ninja. Ishiro’shea dropped the bow and arrow that he was using. Duke took Betsy from her holster. “At least we’ll have two things rockin’ when they run out of arrows.”
Betsy cleared the hallway. Duke let loose another shot, pushing back the line even more. He smiled. Ishiro’shea discharged pulses into the cloud of smoke.
“As long as this door provides cover, we can do this all day. They have to run out of soldiers at some point. Right?”
Before Duke could receive an answer, a booming crack rang out. Duke and Ishiro’shea, being the closest to the door, were thrown to the ground about halfway into the room.
Duke looked up. The door that had served as their barricade was shattered. The culprit was a javelin nearly quadruple the size of the ones carried by the priests. Emerging from the cloud of dust and debris was a gargantuan mounted crossbow, pushed by four priests. The rebels were now fully exposed, and the priests accelerated in their advance.
Ishiro’shea leapt to his feet and threw Duke the pulse pistol in the same motion. He drew his sword. The meaning of the gesture was clear: if he was going to die, it would be with his sword in his hand. Duke spun the revolver on his finger and slid it into his holster. He drew Betsy. If this was going to be his last day, he would spend it with his true love. The Neprians followed suit. Bu’r, Po’l, and Ja’a drew their weapons and readied for the horde that was sure to overwhelm them.
“This should take a few out!”
Betsy sang. Smoke and the smell of burnt death filled the hallway. But the pattering of feet didn’t wane. The mounted crossbow continued to roll towards them.
This is how it’s going to end. On a two-bit planet in an unknown sector of the universe. Definitely not going to have a parade in my honor, Duke concluded. This was not how the bounty hunter drew it up.
During the course of his career as one of the best-known bounty hunter–playboys in the universe, Duke had been charged by many violent entities, so he knew the anxious feeling right before he engaged in mortal combat. When his enemy was a few paces away, he would tense up and visualize the first few moves that he planned. Maybe an offensive attack, or a counter to what the assailant was likely to do. Against a massive blob of assailants, it would be all firepower until the lights went out. He aimed Betsy at the direct center—at the group toting the rolling crossbow.
“For Neprius!” shouted Ja’a.
“But only the good part!” added Duke.
The rebels began to scream—an organic and primal sound. Worthy of a last stand.
Oblong faces, gaunt and bony, emerged from the cloud. Duke tensed.
And then they were gone.
An entire side wall collapsed on top of the soldiers. The roar of the charging mass was silenced in a mere flash. A chunk of rock lay on top of dozens of soldiers. The others that stood behind the disaster area looked shocked, then readied themselves for another charge.
“What just happened?” asked Duke, wiping dust from his eyes. There was no response.
Stepping from outside and onto the makeshift stage created by the fallen wall fragment was Fazeek. And his grundar. And the grundar’s grundar friends.
“I thought I would come lend a helping hand,” Fazeek shouted. “And paw. Attack, my lovelies!”
Looloo roared.
The grundar pounced and growled. The priests mostly screamed. And ran.
Fazeek turned to the rebels. “Well, don’t just stand there. We’ve got this handled. Go get that Orb!”
“Thank you, Shepherd of the Grundar,” proclaimed Ja’a, rather regally considering the circumstances.
Fazeek turned his back to them and entered battle, waving his staff and striking down the much smaller soldiers effortlessly.
“Thoughts on how to get to the throne room that Vern spoke of?” asked Duke. “I bet Orbius is tucked away in there… unless Vern was lying to us about that as well.”
“With Uu’k, too,” added Po’l.
Ja’a hesitated. It was clear that she didn’t know.
“We can’t follow Gar’s route since that will lead us right through the skirmish,” said Duke. “And Fazeek doesn’t seem like someone that would enjoy us meddling in his business. Maybe. No...” He caught himself. “Well, maybe...”
“What?”
“This.”
Duke took aim at the side wall of the ammunition room. He fired Betsy.
Once again the bounty hunter was making his own doorway. Betsy fired again. And again. The gaping hole connected to another hallway. It was empty. No guards; nothing.
“I say we go that way,” Duke said, pointing into the vacant hall.
There wasn’t another option. They all sprinted into the open area, then stopped to assess their position.
“The hall looks like it wraps around to the right up ahead,” said Ja’a. “Maybe it circles back to the direction that Gar was heading with Uu’k.”
“Makes sense,” chimed in Duke.
“In agreement?”
“Yes!” called Po’l and Bu’r. Ishiro’shea nodded.
They all made their way down the passageway, following it as it wound to the right. Before long Duke could see that they were heading in the correct direction. At the end of a long, narrow corridor was another decorative entrance—not as big as the ammunition keep, but more detailed. It appeared to be made of must
angsen and dotted with a jeweled design befitting a crazed dictator. Only two guards stood outside, both holding golden javelins.
“I’m thinking that’s our destination.”
Duke unleashed his pulse pistol and dropped both guards.
“Let’s go meet this Orbius and his pet rock.”
Chapter 36
Just a Villain
THERE WASN’T EVEN A LOCK on the door. How very Neprian. The doors swung open and hit the wall with a ringing clang.
The capacious dwelling was so large that Duke had trouble finding the perimeter walls. The entire village of Horteyaya could have crammed into it with room to spare. From what Duke could see, the walls were gray, with a metallic tint. In the center of the room was a maroon and yellow rug that stretched from the entrance to a set of four steps that led upwards to an immense and gaudy throne. Sure, there were a few stones here and there—but mostly it was roughly sculpted mustangsen, matching the walls.
Standing at the bottom of the steps was General Tsarano Gar. His monstrous claw was gripping the back of Uu’k’s neck. Her wiggling and writhing did not appear to faze the Neprian general. His other hand held his drawn, twisted sword, its business end facing the visitors. Extending from the throne, like wings on either side, was a contingent of priest warriors. They looked like the foot soldiers that the rebels had encountered in their march towards Sansagon, save that they wore additional armor around their chests and bulky helmets that covered the majority of their faces. Their javelins were drawn and they each held a circular shield in their left hand that seemed to reflect the remnants of light that emanated from the lanterns that hung from the ceiling.
Standing in front of the throne was a human who sported a cloaked robe of deep red accented with bright yellow. Around his waist was a rope that served as a belt. His hood was down, revealing a very ordinary face. No scars. No facial hair. No demonic eyes or fangs. His skin was a milky-cream color, with noticeable creases and age lines. He’s a bit on the ordinary side, thought Duke, especially for a ruthless tyrant and murderer. The more Duke contemplated it, the more Orbius’ nondescript nature started to freak him out. So ordinary that he is terrifying.