A loud vehicle with glowing red lights veered down the street, startling Vex out of his mournful, heated thoughts. Its siren brought everything to a stand-still. Vex’s senses awakened as he could smell, almost taste the nearby fear. Someone was dying, and another was falling to pieces over the matter. A small crowd gathered. In the not so far distance, a house was engulfed in flames and emergency vehicles continued to arrive on the scene. One was a police car…
His eyes narrowed on the damned thing, reminding him just what he needed to do. He wanted the blood of that woman, to taste her bones, to feel them turning to dust while he crushed them in his mouth. He was going to appreciate her salty sweet essence to its fullest and he’d have it! After all, the degenerate human being had killed his favorite relative — his dear nephew, Gertu…
****
“This isn’t what I had planned.” Xzion couldn’t stand it another second. The overwhelming Warrior had demanded to travel to Drakenard, right then and there. Xzion had plans to visit the man, too, but not as part of a covert operation. He wanted Jatorn to believe he was handing over his son, while Xzion gained easier access, but Zahar demanded a sneak attack and wouldn’t go into the reasons why. Xzion was prepared to argue, but the look in Zahar’s eyes let him know that though the man had been in a dead, frozen sleep for over three centuries, he still wasn’t to be questioned. He sighed with slight anxiety as their pod arrived on Yuledrake territory, skidding along a heavily foliaged area. Drakenard was always under some form of development, due to the inhabitants’ lavish lifestyles. This part hadn’t been destroyed as of yet, making it ideal for them to park and gather their bearings.
Zahar clumsily pulled his burly body out of the damned thing and reached down to Xzion, assuming he needed help. He didn’t, hesitated, but thought, what the hell, and took the man’s hand. They stood there taking a gander at their surroundings, their eyes scanning the entire perimeter. They weren’t far from Jatorn; he’d been pinpointed in his home. Instinctively, they walked the rest of the distance. Thick, fallen branches cracked and disintegrated under the warrior giant’s gait. On his feet were not boots but hand-tied gladiator-style sandals with thick ropes. He refused the new clothing of his people, instead opting to keep his chest bare, his jewelry intact, his long hair loose and his old-school ways. He finally conceded to turning in his loin-cloth for a pair of pants, and even that was a struggle. Aton tried to convince Zahar that he should take the army with him. He refused them, stating that was not the way he conducted business and all he needed was his great grandson. He’d seen a lot in that eye, Xzion was certain, and the man had confidence in him, perhaps or not because of the bloodline.
“The day has changed, but the Yuledrakes are the same,” the man offered gruffly as they made their trek through the heavy thicket. Odd insect type creatures roamed about, snipping and crawling as the two continued forward.
“From my understanding, you had your fair share of battles with them.” Xzion pushed a branch out of his way while stepping over a deep puddle.
“Yes. Shiny things they love. Not great fighters, but relentless. Crafty and destructive.”
Xzion smirked and nodded as he walked several feet behind the man, allowing him to lead the way. “Yes, if that is your assessment, they haven’t changed one bit. They’ve not evolved.”
The big warrior paused, his back still towards him. “Not all evolutions are good…”
Xzion agreed with the big man’s wisdom… great-grandfather was onto something. The Intellects believed their way was the door to the future, and took no notice of the warnings from the Warriors. Due to that lack of listening and understanding, the heat plague grew, yet no one had so far acknowledged the connection. This reminded Xzion quite a bit of all the Washington Congress talk on television. Living in the heart of it all with his family, he was bombarded on a daily basis with stories of corruption, unhappy citizens, in-fighting, government shut-downs, the never-ending blame game and a host of other political ramblings that never gave way to a reasonable resolution. He knew Jayme grew weary of his analysis of Earthlings, but he found it sickening how one could be so visionless and stupid in following these figureheads with blind allegiance or casting a good soldier in the political game aside based on race, gender or religious differences.
Jayme was quick to remind him how his people were doing the same thing, and he could not argue with that logic. The only difference was, Aton gave the Zarkstormians the power to make their own choices. In Zarkstorm, the main focus was always the military, and that is what he ruled with an iron fist. All other matters were decided by the judges and magistrates after votes from the people and since the Intellects far outnumbered the Warriors, their beliefs always reigned supreme. It was not a democratic system but in fact was completely unfair. With Xzion being the only Zarkstormian possessing a DNA split of both entities, he could feel the tug from both sides.
No one listened; they only wanted their interest heard. This occasionally resulted in violence, but that turn of events still never swayed the majority.
“You are the key to change.” Seemingly reading his mind, the big man interrupted his thoughts. Xzion didn’t respond; he simply absorbed the information and followed the man along the heavily wooded path. They arrived at a clearing atop a jagged cliff. Below, was a bright city gleaming with lights.
“So what now?” Xzion huffed.
“This wasn’t here before…”
“I’m sure it wasn’t.” Xzion rolled his eyes. “Would you like to hear my original plan now?”
“No, I saw it. You were going to bring the army and your boy, the half human. It would’ve worked.”
“I know.” Xzion muttered as pebbles under his feet moved and fell down into the city pit.
“But not as well as mine. We don’t need the army. They’d draw attention.”
“How in the…?” Xzion caught himself and ran his fingers over his eyes. He didn’t want to be disrespectful to the man, but this was getting far too out of hand. The way he saw it, he still had time to call his troops to join them. “How in the world, Great-Grandfather, are we, just the two of us, going to fight all of those Yuledrakes? All I want is Jatorn! I needed a clear path to reach him.”
The man slowly turned and looked down at him. “And you shall have it.”
The old warrior’s eye booted up, the damn thing turning tight and hard until the laser was in place, ready to light the whole place up in blood red. Then, he raised his big, muscular arms out in front of him like an Olympic diver and leapt right off the cliff.
“Waaaaaiiiiit!” Xzion called out, sure the crazy bastard would be dead by the time he hit the pavement below. He went down on his belly. His heart beat out of his chest as he clutched the dirt with his hands and looked aimlessly for the man that disappeared into a cloud of smoke. He called himself crazy, too, as he got to his feet.
And you shall have it… were the last words his great-grandfather uttered. Xzion took a deep breath, closed his eyes, put out his arms, and did what he hated to do most — trust and follow. A rush of air, colors and madness breezed past him as — he was certain — he was falling to his death. He stifled the screams as he went down, though his body told him this may be the end.
He hit a dark bed of water, ice cold. His instincts kicked in. Gasping, pumping his legs and vigorously moving his arms, he swam and swam until he reached an outer bank. There, he found his great-grandfather, his hair slick with water. The man extended his hand to him again, and helped to pull him out.
“How…in the…” Xzion bent at the waist, gasping for air. He looked down at himself. Somehow or another he’d lost his shirt. Now he didn’t look much different to the old warrior he was certain to call a crazy fool after this harrowing ordeal. Without saying a word, Zahar pointed the way. Xzion smiled as he saw through the maze of buildings, via his eye booting and gathering his coordinates. There, in the middle of the cityscape, was the acropolis… Jatorn’s urban lair…
****
> “Are they even here?!” Rizya questioned. No one, according to Zarkstormian intelligence, had seen the bear-like head or stubby tail of the Lyalts. Jayme sat on the edge of a cot watching these soldiers in action. They acted as if she wasn’t even there. That meant one of two things: she was either finally accepted by them or considered inconsequential, not even a blip on their radar. They were big people with stiff faces, odd movements, and scary demeanors. These were now her people too, simply by default.
Her child had similar DNA running through his body. This was his stock, what he came from, and it baffled her that they didn’t barrage her with a bunch of questions. They acted in the ‘know.’ In her line of work, that’s what you did when you wanted to find out more about a suspect or possible ally. You asked questions, you observed, you waited and you instigated in order to obtain a reaction. She wanted to reach out and say something, but instead, she bided her time, watched them cluster together, some seemingly in hot debate. They were speaking in their native tongue now, which only aided in her perplexity.
Her sister-in-law, the only one of them in Xzion’s absence that made her feel as if she had a lifeline to sanity, was nowhere in sight. Jayme wrapped the blanket tighter around her form. They kept it bristly cold in there; she could clearly see her breaths each time she opened her mouth to speak. It didn’t matter anyway. What would she ask? For a translation?
Jayme sighed with relief when Cxeza burst in the room.
Everyone turned and looked at her. She commanded attention with her mere presence.
“Kitfi! Juilpgi ing gurtz Bosi.”
Murmurs and loud chatter commenced.
Jayme had had enough. She leapt from the cold, hard slab of a bed and screamed out, “What’s going on? What did you say?”
Her sister-in-law looked at her and they exchanged a quiet understanding.
“Jayme, I said the Lyalts are here, and they wish to speak to us.”
Jayme slumped back down on the bed. Her face was surely melting right before everyone’s eyes.
“This has gone from bad to worse…”
“I don’t know about that,” the woman stated as she stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. “Bosi said he has important information.”
“How do we know it’s not a set up? The fact Bosi was even on board with this proves he is untrustworthy!” one of the soldiers protested, and others joined in agreement with his declaration.
“Aton contacted me.”
The room came to a hush.
“No.” Cxeza shook her head. “This is different.” She looked over her shoulder at Jayme. “Jayme, you wish to go home, no?”
Jayme raised her head high as she ran her hand along her pant leg. “No. I’m going to see this through. I don’t expect to see Yogi or Winnie the Pooh…but I’m good.”
“Who is Yogi?” someone questioned amongst whispered banter.
“A chubby, brown cartoon animal who enjoys periods of extreme gluttony via picnics and telling others he is not the average bear. The children of Earth enjoy him though his popularity has steadily decreased in recent years due to newer cartoon themes, advanced character portrayals and modern illustrative technologies,” Cxeza snapped, her tone serious, as if the information was somehow crucial to her personal development.
Jayme nodded and grinned so wide her cold ass face hurt as the woman looked back over her shoulder and winked.
“I took your advice…I’m learning,” she mouthed.
Jayme looked down into her lap, unable to stop smiling. Maybe Cxeza wasn’t so full of herself after all…
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Xzion and Zahar’s laser beamed eyes scanned the perimeter of the structure.
“He’s in the upper left hand corner, block seventy-eight. Bedroom is approximately one hundred and fifty feet in length. There is no weakness to the structure. One female Yuledrake, one of his concubines, is with him but she is leaving the room. He is sleeping.” Xzion’s glare darkened until the light was extinguished.
“We have to go up fifteen flights. Let’s climb the wall.”
“If we climb the wall versus breaking inside, we risk being seen.”
“It will be faster. You must move quickly once you’re in. If we break inside, he will be alerted of our presence at least one minute and twenty-four seconds earlier. A lot can be done in one minute and twenty-four seconds…”
Xzion nodded in agreement and hitched his body to the solid, dark gray stones. They needed no rope, no pulleys, no boosts. It was the Zarkstormian Warrior way. He chuckled internally as he made his way up the damned thing, reminiscing about the last time he’d climbed a wall…to spy on his growing addiction, his attraction to the love of his life…
“Why do you smile right now? What’s humorous?” the warrior asked gruffly while he grunted and maneuvered his big body around as if it were light as a feather.
“Oh, nothing…just nothing,” he said, unable to remove the goofy grin from his face.
“Must be a woman.” The man sniffed as he dug his fingers around another stone. “That would be the only reason I’d smile…your great grandmother.”
Xzion’s grin widened. “Yes, I’d imagine so. And, you’re right.”
They left it at that. There was nothing else that needed to be said or shared. The man had to know, all of this was in fact for his Jayme, and for that little boy that innocently now slept in Aton’s grand home, under the man’s unwavering eye. Aton lived alone and few people stepped foot in his palace, but he was elated to transport young Zachary to his residence. Zachary…the best present a human, a lovely woman by the name of Officer Jayme Khrome, could ever give a Zarkstormian…
They reached the top; Xzion waited a couple of seconds for the warrior to join him. Not winded in the least, each man nodded respectfully to one another.
“Now.” Xzion relaxed a bit, his head beneath the window to where fates would change. “How would you like to enter, Great-Grandfather?”
“I will go first. Security will rush in, and we will fight.” He said it as if he were speaking of the breakfast he had earlier. Xzion understood the nonchalant stance, yet he still found it slightly comical. He may as well smile again, because in a few short moments, there would be nothing to laugh about at all.
Before he could form another thought, a burst of glass echoed in his ears. Through the rain of shards, he ducked and covered his eyes, then entered the window, crunched down, his steps grinding the glass into dust. Jatorn leapt up from his resting position, baring his fangs. He growled something in his native tongue, but they both understood the fiend loud and clear, for they heard the security alarm blaring as well, followed by an onslaught of what sounded like a million feet pounding the damn ground. He could kill ten, twenty, hell, even one hundred Yuledrakes all by his lonesome, but this was more…way more. He and the old warrior, stood back to back, their weapons drawn, their eyes booted and ready while Jatorn screamed of being ambushed and tricked. What nerve…
They waited, the stomping growing louder and louder and then…Xzion saw it. His heart slowed to an even beat as his eyes narrowed. There, on a hearth above a roaring fire mantel place was the head of his dead friend, his eye plucked away and the dried, bloodied tendons falling from the deep-set darkness. He no longer felt like himself…actually, that was incorrect. He felt like himself all right, a ‘self’ that existed before Jayme entered in his life. He was once again a motherfucker that no longer gave a fuck. Everyone was about to feel what he was feeling, too…
The bedroom door burst open and in poured an avalanche of Yuledrakes dressed in royal regalia. He felt his grandfather press his shoulder into his back, signaling him to move in his opposite direction. Five Yuledrakes immediately raced towards him, guns spewing and fangs in full view. Xzion ducked and dodged, and slid backwards between them. He sliced them all at the kneecaps, causing them to tumble and fall like bricks from a bulldozed building. Then as they sighed and moaned, he finished them off, going straight fo
r the hollow of the ribs. He quickly looked to his side, checking for his great-grandfather, but didn’t immediately have him in his vision through all the commotion. Then, he heard a guttural roar. The big man was on the ceiling, now spraying the bastards like roaches. Xzion smirked. He caught Jatorn making his way towards the busted window but the bastard appeared to second-guess it, considering how many stories high the motherfucker was.
Zahar emitted a loud grunt of pain when a bullet pierced the side of his gut. The man worked through it and immediately fell to the ground, making the damned place shake and crack open like the shell of a hard-boiled egg. He charged the group, working his sword in one hand and his laser in the other, and sliced them into bony, perfectly serrated pieces that collapsed to the ground in a silver-blooded mess. More Yuledrakes entered, spilling forward, almost tumbling on top of one another as they showed their fangs, held their weapons high and prepared for another show-down. The old man climbed up the wall once again, taking his previous station. The new entourage looked up at him in utter confusion. And then, their attempts to back away were much too late as a bright, crimson light caught dust particles in its path. The enemy fell like snowflakes on a cold, pitch black night. Only this was Jatorn’s damn bedroom, his odious master suite, in which a battle of epic proportions, two Zarkstormians versus thousands of Yuledrakes, had commenced. Xzion looked up at the old warrior clinging to the ceiling, then back towards the door as more Yuledrakes piled inside the place, oblivious to the fate that awaited them.
Focusing on the new avalanche of victims, he joined forces with the blinding glare of rubicund light, picking them off one by one until the damned floor barely had a clear spot in sight. Square inch by square inch, freshly dead Yuledrakes lined the wooden boards like frosting on a bloodied cake. Ten minutes and forty-two seconds later, the Yuledrake Army was officially defeated…
The Tale of the Blood Diamond Page 28