Warlords Saga

by Brian K. Larson

  “Can’t we just turn it off? Be a lot easier.”

  “Perhaps so, my human friend, but not nearly as much fun,” Akua smiled.

  The group planted the explosives and detonators and then inspected their work.

  “This should do the trick,” Race said, rubbing his hands together. “Set a five minute timer and let’s boogie!”

  “Boogie?” Daven asked.

  “Yeah, you know, beat feet, run like the wind, get outta Dodge.”

  “Ahhh,” Daven nodded, still looking confused, “five minutes and set.”

  “Okay, move out!” Akua ordered.

  The three made haste leaving the complex and headed for the hills when they were interrupted by the massive fireball and explosion going off.

  The shockwave knocked Race flat on his face. The two Sasquatch fell to one knee, but were up quickly, barely missing a beat.

  Race picked himself off the ground and looked back at the mushroom cloud, “Yep, sure a whole lot more fun than a power switch, that’s for dang sure! Whoo! Okay, back to the shuttle. I think that power grid should be down.”

  “Yes,” Akua nodded, “We were successful.” Then tapping his headset once more, “All teams, head back to the shuttle. Gor’con, do you read me?”

  “Yes, Akua,” he heard through his earpiece, “The power is down, you are free to storm the palace.”

  “My warriors are already in place,” Gor’con tapped his headset, terminating his comm link. He stepped over to one of his warriors, “Tell them to move out! Charge the Palace!”

  Six hundred Sasquatch shouted war cries as they ran toward the walls of the palace. Dumakas’ elite guard hesitated for a moment, and then fired at the approaching hoard.

  In a short time the Sasquatch were at the walls. Some scaled them with ease, while others rammed the wall trying to break through. The Liberator floated above ground, aimed its plasma cannons at the palace walls and fired.

  The plasma vaporized huge areas of the stone walls. Between the hundreds of Sasquatch scaling the walls, and the sheer volume of warriors flooding through the holes the Liberator opened in the walls, it wasn’t long before Gor’con and his men took the Palace. They made short work of the Emperor’s Elite Guard. Gor’con was led to the Emperor’s arena where Dumakas sat high on his balcony. The stands were empty, but he was there, waiting.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  ________________________

  Serintin

  Arena Balcony

  ________________________

  Dumakas stood to meet the towering old Sasquatch. Gor’con’s warriors, armed to the hilt, pointed energy rifles and electrified swords that gave off the essence of a blue electric flame. Cornering the Emperor, they pointed their weapon of choice directly at Dumakas.

  “What is the meaning of this intrusion?”

  Tumaleka came out from one of the side entrances to the balcony, “You are a seer, Emperor Dumakas... did you not foresee this occurring?”

  “This I have seen. It is true, I am born of the House of Delema and this, I did see. Why do you think I am here when there are no games? Do you think I watch the Gronjechs’ feeding?”

  Gor’con stood, staff in hand, and stepped closer to Dumakas, “I must take a closer look at you. It is my eyes, you know.”

  “Who are you? You do look Antarian, yet different.”

  “I am Gor’con; leader of the Clan of Ma’Getch, and keeper of the Crimson Guild where the ancient Antarian Blood Scroll resides.”

  Dumakas roared with laughter, “That is a good one,” Dumakas furrowed his brow, “But no! This is not possible!”

  “You claim to be a seer, and yet you deny what you know to be true, Lord Dumakas. Holder of the Kron’Shulooka!”

  “That word has no meaning any longer!”

  “Oh, but it does, Lord Dumakas,” Gor’con answered. “It does.”

  “More than you think, my Grandson. We must not let Empress Danielle come in contact with you. We must not lose the Kron’Shulooka!”

  Dumakas turned to Tumaleka, “You know of this, old Woman?”

  “I am one of the oldest living seers, my Grandson. Yes, I saw this, but never really understood until Gor’con spoke the ancient and long forgotten words. This is what our ancestors were trying to tell you, Dumakas. They fear losing their Kron’Shulooka!”

  “Empress Danielle has announced her return. This I already know. She will not be permitted to enter the Palace...”

  “That is too late, Emperor,” Race shouted from behind several Sasquatch, pushing his way forward.

  “Do not let that puny human near me,” Dumakas ordered.

  “You have no say in this matter,” Gor’con said, shoving Dumakas back with his staff. “My warriors have subdued your Elite Guard. We have the Palace now... is this something you were unable to foresee?”

  “I do not see all things, no. I gave up my Delemian birthright to join the ranks of the House of Gornash. I am a warrior, and no longer a seer.”

  Race and his Sasquatch team crowded forward to the front, “Emperor, you’re days of being a Warlord are over.”

  “I will not allow this gorech of an Empress to dictate to me! I am the Emperor of the Rising Star Antares!”

  “You are nothing, Dumakas,” Skatie said, coming to Race’s side.

  “Ah, the Draconian that was saved by the weak minded Danielle. I must say, it is not good to see you again.”

  “The feeling’s mutual, I assure you.”

  “And just as ornery as before.”

  “But of course,” Skatie said, standing with arms folded.

  The assembled crowd on the arena balcony looked up at the high pitched screech. It was a horrific sound that curdled blood and reminded those present that death was near at hand.

  Dumakas cringed at the sight of the approaching Boreshog, gliding closer on its mighty wings. The creature swooped down and slammed hard onto the ledge of the balcony, shaking the masonry structure. Dumakas’ eyes widened as he took in the beast’s enormous size, from the muscular hooved legs, to the top of his horned head. The magnificent creature spread its wings, casting a great shadow over the group.

  Danielle held her jewel inlaid sword with one hand and the purple vine-reigns in the other, “Dumakas! You and I have unfinished business!”

  “Indeed we do, Empress Danielle.”

  “It is Queen Danielle! I hold the Bron vis’Ka!” Her eyes darkened with each word that fell across her lips, “You will bow down to me... as you did at Storm Keep!”

  “You are not my Queen and I will not bow down to your authority! I control all Houses now...”

  “Tell me, Emperor, where are your warriors, your protectors, the Elite Guard, now? I see you with no support. Nothing. I see neither the House of Delema nor the warships of Gornash here to aid you.”

  “You are a young and foolish human, this cannot be!”

  “It is, it has been written, and so shall it be!”

  Dumakas stepped over to Danielle, drawing his sword.

  “Dumakas,” Tumaleka warned with her panic stricken face, “You must not face her, my Grandson, do not do it!”

  Dumakas looked at Tumaleka and pulled his dagger from his side sheath. Without hesitation, he threw it at the old Antarian woman hitting her square in the chest, piercing her larger heart.

  She fell to the floor on her knees, looking up with bewildered eyes, “Dumakas! What have... you... done?” she struggled to ask, grabbing the imbedded dagger with both hands. She fell to her knees and then rolled to her back.

  “Sending you to Revein’sev and for treason in the poisoning of your Emperor... Did you not think I would never find out? This is something that I should have done many cycles past, old Woman.”

  Danielle climbed down the side of the beast and landed on the balcony. Sword in hand, she jumped down from the ledge.

  “What? You seek to kill me, puny human? You cannot fight me, you will lose!” Dumakas answered with several motions of his sword,
taunting Danielle, “Oh, Queen of Antares, you will die today and join ranks with Tumaleka in Revein’sev!”

  Tumaleka writhed in pain as her blood pooled beneath her. She lifted her head, grabbed for his leg, and began to whisper, “Do... not... fight her... you must... not...”

  “I am not afraid of this puny human,” Dumakas reached down to the dagger and gave the handle a sharp twist. Leaving the turned blade in her chest, Tumaleka fell back, clinching her teeth, her jaws pulsated as she fought the pain. Pain that would surely be her undoing.

  Danielle held her sword with both hands, “No, Emperor, today you shall be sent to Revein’sev. Today you shall discover the truth behind your... our ancient ancestors.”

  “What are these babblings, puny human?”

  “Tell him, Chief Gor’con. Tell all of them who you are?”

  “Dumakas...” Tumaleka gasped, “listen to him... the scroll... it is true... it is... all... true...”

  Race knelt down close to Tumaleka. He held her by the shoulders as she took her last breath and fell limp.

  “The old woman speaks the truth,” Gor’con said, taking a step closer.

  Dumakas raised his sword, pointing it at Gor’con, “What is it you have to say before I end this... this charade?”

  “It is true, that we are your ancestors. My ancestors left the Rising Star of Antares one-hundred of our generations ago.”

  “Are you saying that was over fifteen-thousand years ago?”

  “Indeed I am, Emperor Dumakas, holder of the Kron’Shulooka.”

  “How do you know of such things?”

  “Because it is as I tell you, Emperor, for we left the sacred hunting grounds and brought with us the beginnings of our people’s writings. The writings which are better known as the Blood Scroll.”

  “Ridiculous!”

  “It is our ancestors, Dumakas,” Gor’con laid a hand on the Emperor’s shoulder. “They foresaw all that would come to pass. We knew that once infected, there would be no turning back; the Kron’Shulooka was... is strong. Come with us, Dumakas... my Brother... come and be cleansed of this terrible thing that has bestowed our peoples.”

  “Never! I am very fond of our Blood Lust rituals. They must continue for the advancement of our kind... we are the Warlords of Antares!”

  “This thing that has happened,” Gor’con answered, “will be taken away by the Bron vis’Ka. Our kind will continue, but we will celebrate in peace and harmony, instead of bloodshed and death.”

  “I will not!”

  “You cannot alter this path, my Brother, you will either submit to this new way, or you shall indeed travel to the place you refer to as Revein’sev.”

  “Bah!” Dumakas lunged at Gor’con, grabbed his staff and gave him a shove. He turned and swung his sword toward Danielle, “You! This is all your fault! If you had not come to this place, instead of watching the Gronjechs feed, we would be watching more games!”

  “Dumakas! Do not!” Danielle changed from a defensive posture to one of offence, “The last time we fought, you were beaten. You bowed to me, Dumakas, but now I hold the Bron vis’Ka!” Danielle’s eyes grew completely black as she furrowed her brow. “This time you will fight me to the death, Dumakas!”

  Dumakas laughed at Danielle’s words. Her anger intensified and with a mighty warrior’s cry, she charged at the Emperor. Danielle grabbed him by the leather strap draped across his chest, pulled him with her as she fell backwards over the balcony. Attempting to carry the eight and a half foot tall Antarian with her, Danielle lost her grip and fell over the edge. She landed feet first with sword in hand on the high ground of the arena.

  Dumakas stumbled backward, the Boreshog creature, perched on the side of the balcony, spread its wings and took off. The creature screeched as it circled back around and swooped down. It grabbed Dumakas by his shoulders with its sharp front talons, lifting him into the air.

  “Danielle shot a stern finger at the Boreshog, “Give him no harm! Set him down!”

  The creature flapped its wings, hovering above the high ground of the arena and then dropped him. Dumakas crashed to the ground unexpectedly.

  “What’s the matter?” Dumakas said, slowly picking himself off the ground. “Why do you not attack me when you have the advantage?”

  “It would not have been an honorable kill, Dumakas!”

  “Your honor is your mistake,” Dumakas scooped his sword from its resting place and charged.

  Danielle held her sword strong. The changes to her body gave her incredible strength, with her four lungs and two beating hearts. This new rich supply of blood pumping through her body, gave her superhuman supply of energy. She let out another war cry and powered towards Dumakas.

  The two swords met as each swung, a deafening clang echoing through the empty arena. Danielle sliced and hacked at Dumakas, but each time his sword deflected hers.

  Dumakas charged, but Danielle held her ground and pushed him closer to the edge.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Dumakas protested, “Not this time!”

  The two swords locked together and slid to each other’s hilts. Danielle looked into Dumakas’ eyes, “It matters not if you fall to your death, or if I kill you. You will partake of my blood, Dumakas!”

  “Why is my partaking of your blood so important to you?”

  “I must give you Bron vis’Ka!”

  “Bah! I will not partake of your blood lust!”

  The two pushed away from each other, their swords ringing out as the two blades drew across one another. Three more strikes from Dumakas and four more in return by Danielle, each evenly matched in strength.

  The two were watched by the Sasquatch and Race’s team form above. Tumaleka coughed and spat blood from her lips. Race again knelt down to the old Antarian, “What can I do?”

  “Lift me... to the wall...” Tumaleka fought to say.

  He sat her upright and called for Davan to assist. The two hoisted Tumaleka to the wall so she could witness the death of her Grandson.”

  She watched as the two fought, swing after swing, “No... Dumakas... my Grandson... you must... not... die...”

  She grabbed the dagger sticking out of her chest and pulled it out. Taking the weapon by the blade, she expertly flung it at Danielle before Race or Davan could stop her. The knife flew from her hand and traveled with deadly accuracy, hitting Danielle square in her heart.

  Danielle froze as the dagger pierced her chest. She dropped her sword and fell to her knees.

  “NOOOOOO! Race shouted, “Danielle! NOOOOOOO!” he cried once more, feeling helplessness overcome him.

  Race climbed to the balcony ledge, but Gor’con lay his hairy hand on his shoulder, “No, do not interfere. This must play out as the seers have foretold.”

  Race stretched his hand out in a useless effort to help Danielle, but Gor’con held him fast.

  Danielle looked up at Dumakas as he stepped closer to her. He looked down on her, his girth overshadowing the small framed woman.

  Standing over her, he began to laugh as she lay fat on her back. Grabbing her sword with one hand, she pointed the blade at Dumakas, the jeweled handle planted firmly against the ground.

  “You actually thought you would beat me, puny human woman... Empress... no, Queen of Antares...”

  Dumakas enjoyed watching Danielle slowly die before his eyes and didn’t hear the scream of death flapping above. The angry female Boreshog dove toward the Emperor’s back, landing her massive hooves square in Dumakas’ back. The force of the beast pushed him down onto Danielle’s sword.

  He cried out with pain from the beast’s blow to his back, the impaling blade of Danielle’s jeweled sword, and the final pain of the hilt impacting his ribs. The blade glistened crimson as it pushed clean through Dumakas’ two hearts and out through his back. The Boreshog creature stepped over the two, flapping its wings and climbing high above the arena, the creature circled like a vulture waiting for death to arrive.

  Dumakas clinched his teeth a
s he looked eye to eye with Danielle.

  She licked her lips, “You... do not... have to drink... the Bron vis’Ka.”

  “It is over, Empress Danielle, we... both shall... travel to Revein’sev...”

  Danielle took her free hand, pulled the dagger from her heart, her blood dripping from its tip, she jammed it into his chest, “...I only need to expose you to the Bron vis’Ka!”

  Her blood mixed with his own and began pumping through his body. Dark storm clouds rolled in, thunder cracked and lightning flashed. The wind picked up the snow swirled it around the arena.

  Then the clouds of winter vanished. Now, the brilliant shining light of their sun Antares lit the arena grounds. The heat from the sun warmed Danielle as she lay on the ground, watching Dumakas fade to his death.

  Danielle smiled as she wiped her blood soaked hand on his face, “It is done!”

  Dumakas’ eyes changed to a milky white and he went limp, resting on the end of her sword.

  Danielle gasped for air, as her chest continued to spill her life blood. Gor’con finally removed his hold on Race, who managed to climb down and be at Danielle’s side in seconds.

  He threw Dumakas’ carcass to one side, the now dead Emperor hit the ground with a thud.

  Race grabbed Danielle by her shoulders and held her up to him, “It’s alright, we can fix this,” he stuttered. “Can’t we?”

  Danielle looked him in the eye, the blackness now gone, her natural color shining through, it made Race smile, “I am sorry, Race Jennings...” she held her hand to his face and gently stroked his stubble, “I am... sorry... we could not... make it... home...”

  “It’s okay, Danielle, you’ll be okay,” Race said, glancing over his shoulder at a towering Darnash, who had a single tear flooding in his eye, caking to his hairy face.

  Danielle dropped her hand from his cheek, limp. Her eyes now empty, she exhaled her final breath.

  “It is okay,” Darnash said, padding Race on his shoulder. “She was a great warrior.”

  “I will never forget her...”

  “...nor will I,” Darnash said, wiping the back of his hand to his eyes.

  Race’s hand shook as he held it up to Danielle’s eyes and closed them for her. He looked down on her and began sobbing.