Primeval Origins: Light of Honor (Book 2 in the Primeval Origins Epic Saga)

by Brett Vonsik

  The First Gal watched as several troops of Tusaa’Ner and Sakes entered the arena grounds from several different doors, then quickly made their way toward the stage.

  “What is to happen to us, Father?” Rogaan asked, fearing the worst.

  “The law . . .” Rogaan’s father coughed up more blood.

  “You are dying?” Rogaan asked with a trembling voice. He feared his father would not last much longer.

  “I will live, my son,” Mithraam comforted Rogaan as he coughed again. “Hear me.”

  Rogaan nodded to his father as Im’Kas approached them ahead of the Tusaa’Ner and Sakes. The Dark Ax then kneeled next to Mithraam and Rogaan. Rogaan felt more confused than ever and did not know what to make of things.

  “Rogaan,” Mithraam coughed. “Im’Kas kept us . . . from Darkness . . . this day. Tomorrow will see . . . the laws judge us. All but you . . . have little to account.”

  “What do I have to account?” Rogaan asked honestly.

  “The blood and Lights of guards and an old Baraan,” Im’Kas answered so that Mithraam need not have to. Mithraam looked weaker with each cough and word he spoke. “No telling how the Hall will judge you, but your words will be heard, unlike this abomination today.”

  “What does that mean?” Uneasiness rippled through Rogaan. “What is to happen to me?”

  “That is not yet written, son of Mithraam,” Im’Kas offered. He pointed to the Tusaa’Ner approaching. “Do not struggle against them. Allow judgment to flow its path. Your immediate days will likely be unpleasant, but long days to come will try you harsher.”

  “This is not how I envisioned saving Father.” Rogaan spoke to himself more than the others.

  “I would expect not,” Im’Kas agreed with Rogaan. “Your father has been a fierce foe of tyrants and tyranny for many years. He achieves great things out of sight of most. This is one time our foes have spied us and sought open conflict to end our challenge. Your father hoped you would join us and take up his banner when his days come to an end.”

  Rogaan stood up looking at Im’Kas dumbfounded. “Take up his banner . . . of this? Darkness and suffering?”

  “It’s necessary to remain free,” Im’Kas replied simply. “There are always those seeking power and authority over the weak and unaware, most often at the sufferings of those they subjugate. And the subjugated cry out against the tyranny only after they lose all they thought would last forever.”

  “You speak of this as if it is a simple thing to do,” Rogaan challenged, still finding this all difficult to believe.

  “Not simple.” Im’Kas continued speaking as if he were conversing with Rogaan over an ale. “Not without charge, sometimes requiring all of that we have. I was once counseled, ‘all tyranny and its evils require is for good fellows to watch and do nothing’. It took years for me to understand.”

  Rogaan thought he understood, but did not want to. It frightened him mightily of the implications this Baraan of legend was telling him. Then Rogaan recalled the words of the War Sworn and spoke them. “It is a measure . . . of the quality of your Light . . . how you depart this world . . . that matters to . . . the Great One.”

  Im’Kas looked quizzically at Rogaan. “Do you know what that of the ‘Sworn’ means?”

  “I think I do,” Rogaan answered more timidly than he wanted.

  “Seldom does one see clearly the path they ultimately walk.” Im’Kas offered wisdom he appeared to be reflecting upon. “If done so with righteous purpose . . . honor, moral honesty, and knowledge you will do so with few regrets.”

  Rogaan felt confused by a great many things, an unknown future, and such strange happenings to him and those around him. He looked about and found Aren in the hands of several Sakes. It looked as if he made a try at escaping, but failed. What is he about? Pax too was in the hands of unkind Sakes who were dragging him screaming from his father’s rended body. Rogaan’s heart ached for his friend and Suhd as they lost everything except each other. Tears welled up in Rogaan’s eyes. It’s my fault. They paid a heavy price for their friendship with me. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

  Two sky-blue armored guardsmen took hold of Rogaan’s arms, leading him away from Im’Kas and his father. Struggling with himself to comply with Im’Kas’s and his father’s wishes, he found it in him not to resist the guardsmen. Looking back, he saw four more guardsmen placing his father on a poled hide carrier, all at Im’Kas’s directions, the guardsmen all nervously following the Dark Ax’s commmands. Carrying his unconscious father on the pole carrier with Im’Kas at his side, they quickly fell in line behind Rogaan and his armed escorts. Looking ahead, Rogaan feared the vast unknown and his uncertain future as the Tusaa’Ner escorted him from the arena. What is to become of me and those I care about?

  Epilogue

  Wind of the Ra’Sakti

  Distant voices, mostly unintelligible and echoing, speaking of ship damage, being hunted, and worse—crew both wounded and dead taunted Nikki. She was unable to see . . . darkness remained all around, despite her opening her eyes. She grew anxious. Am I blind? “I can’t see.”

  “Nikki?” The voice of Anders sounded distant, not real. “Nikki. Can you hear me?”

  “Shawn . . .” Nikki started to cough, then stopped as her body was racked with pain. She hurt everywhere so badly that tears were flowing down her cheeks. Pain . . . Make it stop!

  “Nikki . . .” Anders’s voice was stronger, then it cracked and squeaked. He sounded ill with nausea again. “Don’t talk. We’re taking care of you. We’ll fix you.”

  His words alarmed Nikki. What’s wrong with me? Panic welled up inside her. She fought it, trying to maintain some element of control over her emotions. Imagination is always worse than the real world, she rationalized. But her body hurt all over. A painful migraine headache rapidly grew. She cried out, “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nikki, this is Doctor Dunkle.” The doctor used a calm tone. “I need you to lie still. You have injuries you will make worse if you move around. I’m giving you medication that will help with the pain.”

  Nikki felt the pinch of a needle, nothing compared to her other pains. Moments later, her thoughts grew fuzzy and her suffering eased. She lay there recalling . . . reliving the nightmare she dreamt, of the ship being attacked and of . . . Rogaan. She was free of his emotions she felt in her dream. It was a dream . . . good. Nikki found herself feeling disappointed. She wouldn’t admit to herself why. A stench of something burning filled her nose causing her to involuntarily wrinkle it. The smell of burning flesh and something caustic sickened her. Nikki grew anxious. Still unable to see, she asked questions with a trembling voice, “What’s that smell? What’s happening?”

  “Nothing to concern yourself with,” came the even-toned reply from Doctor Dunkle.

  “I can smell it, Doctor,” Nikki shot back with slurred words. “What . . . who’s burning?”

  “Nikki,” Anders’s voice was a comfort as the doctor continued fussing over her. He spoke with gulps and gasps. “We are hit pretty hard. People . . . are dead. More are injured. The ship . . . back here, is . . . torn up. That awful smell is coming from a couple of . . . burning bodies . . . of the crew and one of those armored soldiers . . . and what was the weapons bay.”

  “Oh . . .” is all Nikki could think to say in her semi-surreal condition. Pain still throbbed in many places, but it felt almost as if it was somebody else’s pain.

  “Ouch!” Anders yelled. “Would you stop doing that?”

  “The second injection will take care of the last of that nausea,” Doctor Dunkle informed Anders in his matter-of-fact manner. “Can’t have you falling over at the smell of the dead and dying.”

  A ruckus rose among the crew with yelling and footfalls and shuffling feet and clanking and handheld weapons being armed and readied for use. Then it fell eerily silent with only the wind and the oc
ean filling the silence.

  “Stop walking and put your hands on your head!” An unknown voice demanded. A few moments passed with only murmurs among the crew.

  “I said, stop walking and put your hands on your head!” The unknown voice demanded again with increased anxiousness.

  From somewhere in front of Nikki, not far away, voices spoke. Nikki didn’t know who was who and wanted to see what was happening. Either her head was clearing or she was getting used to the pain medication. She started concentrating on seeing for the first time since the explosion. Nothing. She tried again. Nothing. A voice with a mix of emotions entered her head. She hoped it was Rogaan. Quietly, she listened. Moments passed before she could better feel it . . . know it. The voice was troubled, confused, and a little angry. Nikki became alarmed. This isn’t Rogaan. Nikki strained to see. She feared it was him . . . experiencing a new world without counsel, guidance. His volatility and tendencies would lead to conflict, or worse. Light danced at the edge of her vision. Then a little more. Blurs of light formed. Nikki blinked hard, trying to clear her vision. The blurs of light gave way to blurred shapes, then people standing on a mangled structure in front of her. They were all armed, anxious, and fearful. It was dusk just before the deep night. Lights from above cast a greenish glow on the superstructure and deck around her. She found seven crewmen all pointing rifles at a spot to her left and lower. That anger she sensed elevated.

  “Put your hands on your head!” One of the senior crewmen who Nikki could not remember his name demanded again. “Comply or we’ll fire.”

  “Za gabaldu we!” The voice speaking Antaalin was familiar to Nikki.

  A wave of dread swept through her . . .

  “You challenge me?” As if any of the crew were a challenge to him. That anger she felt flared. She knew what he was capable of doing when unrestrained and feared for them all. She looked to him on her left, just barely visible on the deck below.

  “Nagaah!” He growled in Antaalin. The crew were fools challenging a danger they didn’t even know.

  “Aren. Na!” Nikki yelled in Antaalin as searing pain shot through her chest at the effort.

  Arcs of directed lightning shot out from Aren striking each of the crewmen pointing weapons at him. It happened so fast that Nikki looked twice around the deck before she would believe her eyes. Each crewman went down without firing a shot. She feared them dead . . . Aren clearly intended it so. No threat lives. Nikki wondered where that thought came from.

  Wanting a better look at Aren on the walkway below, Nikki tried to raise herself up. Pain wracked her all over as she slumped back to the metal deck. She looked down at herself wondering what was wrong. Horror met her eyes. Her legs were a bloody mess with her right shin and calf bones showing and the foot at an odd angle. A compound fracture sticking through her blood-soaked khaki pants. Her left leg was a little better. It was cut up badly with some of her pants and flesh torn away and some burnt. Her midsection and chest both bled in spots through her khaki button-down roll-sleeved field shirt. Nikki howled in misery as she realized just how badly she was injured before falling back against the superstructure staring at the aft deck in front of her. She felt numb all over, and it wasn’t just the drugs. She feared she would not walk again, maybe not even live beyond the next few minutes. That mattered to her, she realized, as well. She wanted to know why this was happening to her. She asked with a groan to nobody in particular, “Why me? Why did this happen to me?”

  “You have knowledge of us.” Aren spoke in a half fact, half sardonic manner from the walkway below. “Clamor . . . chaos is our companion, and you have become part of the path.”

  Nikki stared at Aren as he rose from the walkway below. She was uncertain if he climbed the ladder or . . . somehow elevated to her. Now standing about ten feet to her left, he was still barefoot and dressed in his black sensor robe as he appeared to systematically survey the chaos around him. Doctor Dunkle and Anders hadn’t moved from their crouching positions next to Nikki. They both appeared to be stunned or mesmerized by all that happened. Aren’s gaze returned to Nikki.

  “You understand our words.” Aren spoke in English as if he had been raised with the language. Then he spoke in Antaalin, “Za marr ima ga sagdu. Edei!”

  “I don’t know how to get out of your head,” Nikki replied honestly with a gurgling cough. Something wet was on her lips. She raised her right hand to her lips to wipe it away. More blood. She was bleeding internally. Hope to see another dawn slipped from her. Her vision became blurred with tears filling her eyes.

  “Resussun sha!” Aren demanded of Dunkle and Anders in Antaalin. When they looked at him dumbfounded, Aren’s expression changed from that of arrogance to one of eye-rolling exasperation. “Help her!”

  “Her injuries are too great for me to do anything other than make her comfortable,” Doctor Dunkle answered with a frustrated tone as he looked at Aren, then back to a flexi-display and hand scanner he held.

  “Tebu nizu!” Aren demanded of Dunkle in Antaalin. When Dunkle didn’t respond to his words, Aren took another deep exasperating sigh, then spoke in English. “Remove yourself!”

  Dunkle and Anders both remained on one knee next to Nikki exchanging uncertain looks. Aren’s expression turned from impatient to frustration, then, with a backhanded flick of his fingers, both of them flew several meters away from Nikki where they landed painfully. Nikki tried to suck in a breath at Aren’s dismissal of the two, fearful he would toss them from the ship. Instead, she started another coughing fit with more blood spitting from her mouth. She looked up to Aren with unfocused eyes watching his blurry figure kneel next to her and touch her chest. An icy-cold wave rippled through her making her involuntarily convulse. Nikki hovered somewhere between pain and pleasure. It was a sensation unlike anything she ever felt. She was uncertain which sensation dominated, but when a breath filled her lungs free from fluids that were drowning her, she knew it was pleasure. Aren then placed his palms on her stomach. Another icy-cold wave rippled through her. Nikki felt something inside of her chest become . . . unbroken. She didn’t even want to know what he healed. Aren repeated his mending of Nikki for each of her legs. With each touch, the black Agni gemstone he wore around his neck faintly flashed of dark vaporous light so briefly she would have dismissed it if it had not done so multiple times. He healed the burnt and torn flesh of her one leg, then fixed the compound fracture of the other, but became visibly tired when attempting to heal the flesh of her leg around the once-fractured bone.

  “Mending takes much from the one healer,” Aren offered in a weakened voice. His head slumped low with his hands on the deck holding himself up. Nikki thought Aren exhausted by the look of him. Then, Aren then looked up with tired eyes. “Rogaan kalag za lutila.”

  Nikki looked down at her legs. Her left looked and felt healed despite the bloodstains. Her right leg no longer had the compound fracture and her foot was almost at a normal-looking angle. Her muscles were healed such they looked like they might hold her weight, but her skin remained torn and burnt away. Pain from her right leg started to work its way through the medication and whatever Aren did to her. Nikki did her best not to cry out from the deep stinging and burning sensation, but she couldn’t keep from groaning as she futilely tried to move her leg into a pain-free position.

  “Let me help,” Doctor Dunkle half-demanded, half-asked for permission as he in a low-crouch shuffled back to Nikki’s side.

  “Aren says Rogaan can make me healthy,” Nikki told Dunkle through gritted teeth.

  “He’s not here,” Doctor Dunkle replied matter-of-factly as he searched his medical kit. “There it is.”

  Aren remained still watching the doctor administer a spray to her leg from his medical pack. Relief from the pain was immediate. Nikki sighed. The doctor told her in his rough bedside manner, “You’re not walking on that leg without surgery, but it looks intact. Amazing.”

 
“Asar me Rogaan?” Aren asked.

  “How did you do this?” Doctor Dunkle excitedly asked Aren, ignoring the question.

  Silence was all Aren provided. He still held his head low and his arms remained bracing his body up. At first, Nikki thought Aren about to collapse, but the heated emotion she felt from him told her to be less compassionate and more wary.

  “Nichole, asar me Rogaan?” Aren asked again without looking up.

  “I don’t know,” Nikki answered with a slight tremble in her voice. Aren frightened her, almost as much as the other one. Pointing aft to the poop deck and helipad, she continued. “Rogaan was thrown overboard when that ship out there shot us there.”

  Dunkle and Anders looked to the poop deck, then out into the darkening ocean. It was a futile effort. Aren slowly lifted his head allowing his eyes to scan the ocean. Nikki felt a deep concern coming from him.

  “What is it?” Nikki asked Aren with her trembling voice.

  “Rogaan hates to be submerged in water,” Aren answered simply in English. “Puts him in terrible mood.”

  “Status, Doctor?” A familiar voice demanded, filled with confidence and being in charge.

  Nikki saw the captain climbing the ladder on her left. He looked to be struggling, mostly when using his left side. His dark-colored uniform, complete with a black coat with insignia, was ripped in a number of places and bloodstained mostly on his left side from head to just above the knee. Drying blood on the left side of his head and dark hair covered him from ear to eye. Nikki wondered how he kept standing.

  “Captain, you need medical attention,” Doctor Dunkle voiced an obvious observation everyone likely agreed with.

  “No time for it, Doctor.” The captain waved him off with his right arm, his singsong inflections muted. “Get off the perch watching over our guests and tend to the wounded. More of the crew lay injured as you go forward. Hop to it!”