Pawns (The Wielders of Arantha Book 1)

by Patrick Hodges

  Once breakfast was finished and Mareta had cleared everyone's dishes, she and Kimur excused themselves to go visit a neighboring farm in the hopes of working out a trade for supplies. The mood darkened considerably when Mizar began speaking.

  “Vaxi, before we begin our discussion, I give you my word that you may trust everyone at this table, and in this house,” Mizar said. “But I believe, given what I now know, that you have information vital to the future of Darad, and all of Elystra.”

  Vaxi seemed overwhelmed by the notion. “I don't see how that's possible. There's nothing special about me.”

  “I disagree, young lady. Don't forget, it was Arantha that led us to you. He wouldn't have done that if he deemed you unworthy.”

  Vaxi cast her eyes to the table, staring at its wooden surface for many moments as she considered this. “It is clear to me that Arantha has brought me here for a reason. But I am at a loss as to how to proceed. Anything I say, should it become known, could mean disaster for my people. I cannot betray them any more than I already have.”

  Mizar folded his hands on the table. “I give you my vow as High Mage that I will protect your secrets to the best of my ability. My father here,” he indicated Deegan, “never leaves the farm, and Sen,” he gestured at his apprentice, “is sworn to obey any command I give him. However, there are things that I am sure you do not know, and it is my hope that when we pool our information, we will all have a better idea where our paths lead from here.”

  Vaxi nodded. “That is fair. Ask what you will.”

  “Are you a Wielder?”

  Vaxi's calm expression morphed into one of astonishment. She obviously hadn't expected this question. She stared at him with wide eyes for several moments before answering, “No. I'm not.”

  “But there are female Wielders in your tribe. Am I right?”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “How—-how can you know that?”

  “I will explain shortly. But first, please tell us what brought you to Darad.”

  Vaxi spoke slowly, as if measuring every word. “When girls in my tribe reach childbearing age, they are sent on Sojourn: we travel to distant lands and find a man to mate with.”

  Sen looked completely shocked by this confession. “That's why you came to Darad? To get pregnant?”

  “It wasn't by choice,” she replied drily. “My grandmother, who is on the Council, sent me here even though it was against the Protectress' wishes.”

  “ 'Protectress'?” Mizar said. “You mentioned that word in your sleep. What does it mean?”

  “The Protectress is our leader. She interprets Arantha's wishes. Thirteen years ago, right before she died, Protectress Onara decreed a halt to the Sojourns. Ever since then, my grandmother has campaigned for their reinstatement, but Onara's daughter Kelia refused, because she believes Arantha does not want them resumed yet.

  “Grandmother has never been able to accept that, so several days ago, when Kelia was away, she forced me to go on Sojourn without the Protectress' approval.” She sighed. “And look what happened.”

  “I don't understand,” Sen said. “Why would you need to travel to another land to find a mate? Why not simply mate with one of the men in your tribe?”

  Vaxi affixed him with a hard stare. “There are no men in my tribe.”

  Eyes widened, and jaws dropped.

  “No men?” Mizar whispered.

  “Now you see why we hide ourselves. If word of our existence got out, armies would come to enslave us or destroy us. Not just because of who we are, but because of what we are.”

  “So you are not nomads.”

  “No. That is what we tell strangers so they will not try to find us. Finding one wandering tribe among the vast Plains of Iyan would be akin to looking for a single blade of grass in a verdant field. That is why our village has been untouched, unspoiled by men, in the eight centuries since our liberation.”

  Vaxi went on to describe the legend of Soraya, and how she had used a Stone of Arantha to free a multitude of Vandan slaves. Now, eight hundred years later, their descendants had built a flourishing community.

  “You are the first men to ever know the truth,” Vaxi said, a tremor entering her voice. “I pray that you will not use such knowledge against us.”

  “Thank you for entrusting us with such an enormous secret, Vaxi,” Mizar said. “I feel I must repay you in kind.”

  With Vaxi listening intently, Mizar spoke of his visions of the three female Wielders, as well as the wanton destruction wreaked by the lightning-Wielder known as Elzaria. When he mentioned the decimation of the Agrusian army, the blood drained from Vaxi's face. “No. It cannot be.”

  “What is it?” Sen asked.

  “Lightning-Wielders are very rare. Only one family in our tribe has ever possessed that ability. The last of that family was a woman named Proda. She hoped to produce a daughter when she Sojourned to Barju more than thirty years ago. But she never returned. No Ixtrayu has Sojourned to Barju since.”

  Sen's eyes glossed over. “What did you just say? 'Ixtrayu'?”

  “That is what my tribe is called. Why are you looking at me like that?” Vaxi said, alarmed.

  “Merdeen the Sage,” Mizar said, his voice hushed. “He was High Mage nearly a century ago. He spoke of a tree, its roots spreading all over Elystra. He called the tree 'Ixtrayu', which means 'Mother Tree' in ancient Elystran.” He stood up from his chair, placing his palms on top of his head. “Great Arantha. This is what he meant. The Ixtrayu is not a tree. It is a tribe of women. A tribe of Wielders.”

  “We're not all Wielders,” Vaxi corrected. “Most of us are not. But those that have been given one of Arantha's gifts have the same standing as those who haven't. The one exception is the Protectress. She is the most powerful of us; not only can she control the elements, but Arantha speaks to her through visions.”

  Sen snapped his head toward Mizar. “Master?”

  Deegan leaned forward, a pleading look on his face. “Please, girl! Do you know Areca? Tell me!”

  Vaxi stared back at him for a few moments before nodding. “How do you know that name?”

  Mizar had finally recovered his voice. “She was my mother.” He stumbled forward and resumed his chair, cradling his head in his hands. “I was right. I was not accorded these abilities by Arantha. I inherited them from my mother. So did Merdeen, Jerril, and every Daradian who has ever become a Wielder.”

  There was a loud gasp. All heads turned to Sen, who had stood up and was backing away from the table, shaking his head vigorously. Never had Mizar seen the boy looking so anguished. A tear snaked its way down his face.

  “Sen?” Mizar said.

  But Sen wasn't listening. With a gut-wrenching sob, he ran from the room. Seconds later, the front door slammed shut.

  “Vaxi, I beg you,” Deegan seemed not to have noticed Sen's tearful departure. “Areca … does she live?”

  So many revelations at once had stolen Vaxi's voice. Meeting Deegan's gaze, she slowly shook her head.

  “When did she die?” Deegan said with a muffled sob.

  “It was many years ago, before I was born. Her granddaughter, Kelia, is Protectress now. And Kelia's daughter Nyla is …” She caught herself. “Was one of my best friends.” The image of Nyla's face had burned itself into her mind, and recollecting it now made her stomach clench.

  Deegan turned to Mizar. “Do you know what this means, son? This woman, Kelia, and her daughter … are your blood. You have the same abilities. They're your family. Our family.”

  Mizar struggled mightily to recover his wits. Vaxi hadn't moved, and was still staring at him. “Vaxi,” he said, “this third Wielder from my vision … do you have any idea who it might be?”

  She shook her head. “I'm sorry, I don't.” Her breath became rapid. “What are you going to do now?”

  Mizar stood up, gripping the table to steady himself. “Do you understand the enormity of this? Your tribe, without even realizing it, has shifted the entire balan
ce of power on this world. A war is coming, my dear, and no matter which side wins, the Ixtrayu are indirectly responsible.”

  Vaxi was rendered speechless, finally grasping his meaning.

  Mizar continued, “Should these revelations become common knowledge, it will rock Elystra to its foundations. Arantha help us all.”

  END OF PART ONE

  Author's Note

  If you enjoyed Wielders of Arantha – Book One: Pawns, you would be doing me a tremendous service by leaving a review on the book's pages on Amazon and/or Goodreads. Reviews are critical to independent authors like me, as it helps to elevate our books above the millions of others that make up the literary landscape. A review need not be long, just a few paragraphs or even a couple of sentences.

  I hope to have Part Two of the series, entitled Queens, available to you sometime in summer 2017. Part 3, which is tentatively titled Endgame, will hopefully be out in winter 2017.

  In the meantime, if you love my writing so much that you just can't get enough, feel free to download my Young Adult Contemporary trilogy, The James Madison Series. The three books, which include the multi-award winning Joshua's Island, as well as Ethan's Secret and Sophie's Different, are wonderful reads for preteens, teens and adults.

  Keep reading for a preview of Book Two of the Wielders of Arantha series, Queens, due out in late summer 2017!

  Queens, Chapter One

  EIGHTEEN DAYS AGO

  U nder the dark skies and swirling sands of the Sahara Desert lay a structure, buried so deep neither Terran nor Jegg technology could find it, even if they were looking. Built decades earlier as an R&D lab for the purpose of exploring propulsion methods that exceeded even supralight capabilities, the base was designed to hold several hundred personnel. At this moment, however, it was home to only ten.

  Of all the rooms in the base, the most important was the security office. The vast bank of computer consoles and screens monitored not only the base’s interior but the surrounding desert as well––five hundred miles in every direction. If the Jegg, the race that invaded Earth five years before, decided to pay them a surprise visit, they’d only have minutes to evacuate. With their mission to flee Earth nearly complete, vigilance was paramount, so this office had to be manned twenty-four/seven.

  A man whose posture, rumpled clothes, and scruffy beard gave him the appearance of being much older than his forty-one years sat at the main computer console His ginger hair bore streaks of grey, and the eyeglasses that usually clung to his face now perched precariously on the tip of his nose.

  Though he kept a watchful eye on the monitors, on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary, his attention remained primarily fixed on the screen in front of him, which bore his image as he spoke into a tiny microphone. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known, Maeve. Whatever is about to happen, I know you’re going to kick ass. Win this game. For humanity.” Then he shut off the recording.

  Feeling the pinch of fatigue behind his eyes, he removed his glasses and set them on the console. “One down, one to go,” he muttered to himself.

  He heard a shuffle of footsteps behind him, and turned around to see a young, olive-skinned man in a blue jumpsuit standing in the doorway. A short yet thick beard and mustache covered the bottom half of his face, and his piercing brown eyes were far more alert than they should have been, given the late hour. “Hey, Richard. Mind if I join you?”

  Richard waved the man in. “C’mon in, Mahesh. I just made some coffee; help yourself.”

  Mahesh moved directly to the chair opposite Richard, sitting down. “No thanks, I’ll stick to tea. Besides, we packed the synthesizer yesterday, which can only mean you brewed the coffee yourself. And no offense, Richard, but your coffee sucks.”

  “Screw you,” Richard said with a wry smile. “Besides, I got just the thing to make it taste better.”

  Mahesh gave him a bemused smile. “Drain cleaner?”

  Richard opened a nearby drawer and pulled out a small flask, waggling it in front of his friend. “Eighteen-year-old Scotch. 2719 was a very good year.”

  “Pass. If I come back to the room with that on my breath, Suri will read me the riot act.”

  “Suit yourself.” Richard unscrewed the top of the flask and took a swig, throwing it back with a satisfied exhale. “Is everything prepared?”

  “Yes it is.” Mahesh scooted his chair forward until it was only a few feet away from Richard’s. “Is there any way I can talk you into coming with us?”

  Richard’s heart sank at his friend’s concern. “Someone has to be here to make sure the Talon gets away safely.”

  “It doesn’t have to be you.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “Is that what Banikar said?”

  “In so many words.”

  Mahesh folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not buying it.”

  Richard drew himself up in indignation. “I beg your pardon?”

  “This mission has been two years in the making. Have you ever wondered why the rest of us––who have never so much as laid eyes on this mysterious trans-dimensional being who has been influencing your decisions since childhood––follow your instructions without question?”

  He shrugged. “Because the Jegg have had us farked twelve ways from Sunday since the day they dropped from the sky?”

  “Well, there is that, of course. But there’s more to it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Mahesh stared at the ground. “People have believed in a higher power for thousands of years, Richard. Whether they call that higher power Jehovah, or Vishnu, or Allah, or Banikar, it doesn’t matter. When things are at their most hopeless, sometimes all a person has is his faith.” He raised his head again. “For the last two years, I’ve watched you feed this team information you couldn’t have gotten from any human source.

  “Believe me, things would’ve gone so much smoother if Banikar had decided to include the entire group in his briefings instead of insisting on appearing to you exclusively. God works in mysterious ways, and for whatever reason, he chose you as his messenger. As a man of faith, it’s not my place to question that.”

  Richard took another swig. “But you’re a scientist. You’re supposed to question everything.”

  “Whether I question it or not doesn’t matter.” Mahesh smirked. “I’m going to heaven regardless.”

  “Sure, rub it in.” Richard rolled his eyes. “Make sure you look for me when you get there. If you don’t find me, well … you know where I’ll be.”

  “Why are you so determined to end it all?”

  Richard’s eyes flicked toward the security monitor to his right, taking in the wide-angle view of the hangar, inside which sat the rebuilt, refurbished, soon-to-depart hulk of the Talon. “I’m tired, Mahesh. I’m so tired. I lost my whole family to the Jegg: my parents, my brothers, my little sister … all gone.” His hands curled into fists. “After tomorrow, I will never see my wife or son again. And it’s probably for the best. When Maeve plays that recording, I don’t know what’s gonna piss her off more: hearing the truth or that she won’t get to kill me herself.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Richard sneered. “This is Maeve we’re talking about, Mahesh. She’s Irish and a combat veteran. If there’s one thing she’s better at than piloting spacecraft, it’s holding a grudge.”

  Mahesh’s face was, as always, infuriatingly calm. “Richard, come with us. The Resistance still needs people like you.”

  “‘The Resistance’?” Richard turned his flask over and over in his hand. “It sounds so noble, doesn’t it? ‘The Resistance’. Like we’re a shining example to humanity, who dares to hope that we may gain victory, cast off our vile oppressors, and regain our freedom.” He chuckled. “What horseshit. Humanity doesn’t even know we exist. And as for victory? This is it right here, buddy. This is mankind’s last, very last chance. Either this works, or the next millennium will be exactly like the last five years: watching
the Jegg carve up every planet in the Confederation, and unable to do jack about it.”

  Mahesh arched an eyebrow. “Well, that doesn’t mean you have to be an asshole.”

  “I’m not an asshole. I’m from Texas.”

  “Not sure those two things are mutually exclusive.”

  “Well, that’s certainly true.” He downed another gulp from his flask. “You’ve told the other five what’s going to happen?”

  Mahesh leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. “Yes, everything Banikar told you. In four hours, I’ll load the crate with the personal transporters onto the Talon, having removed six of the ten for ourselves. In five hours, Gaspar will activate both our borrowed Jegg quantigraphic rift drive and the ship’s supralight engines for final testing, and Maeve will begin the pre-flight checks. Twenty-one minutes later, the base will come under attack, by which time, the rest of us will have already transported away to Himalaya Base. You’ll make sure Davin is on board?”

  “Don’t worry about that. He goes wherever Gaspar goes.”

  Mahesh idly cast his eyes at the monitors, and his voice became hushed. “Does Gaspar know what’s going to happen to him?”

  Richard shook his head. “That would only distract him. We need his entire brain on this, or they’ll never make it.”

  “Have you recorded the messages?”

  Richard turned back to face the console in front of him. “I just did Maeve’s. I’m going to do Davin’s in a minute.” He sighed. “For years, I’ve known this moment was coming, and now that it has … I don’t know what the fark I’m gonna say.”

  “Tell him what he needs to hear,” Mahesh said, standing up. He reached over and put a hand on Richard’s shoulder. “Nothing else matters.”

  “Is that a Hindi saying or something?”

  “Nope. Metallica.”

  Richard stood up and extended his hand. “Thank you. For everything.”

  Mahesh took the offered hand, shaking it firmly. “It’s been an honor.”