The Martian King: The Slave Planet II

by Seven Steps

  “My King, there are others.”

  “Who?”

  “Arees.”

  “She is accounted for.”

  Lex let out a breath of relief.

  “And a Venian woman.”

  Cara gasped behind him.

  Lex’s gaze told Kiln everything he needed to know.

  Nadira was here.

  “Where?”

  “Down Diana’s hall.”

  Cara stepped between them. “How do you know about that?”

  “Take me to her immediately.” Kiln demanded, his heart beating out of his chest.

  Cara glared at Lex, but nodded to her King and began the trek down a darkened hallway. Each step felt like a homecoming. Each inch he was closer to Nadira, was an inch that he could breathe again.

  Finally, they stopped in front of a door.

  “Open it,” Kiln commanded.

  Cara put a key in the lock and slowly turned it.

  Kiln stepped in front of her, into the room that he’d seen so many times before.

  There, on the bed, her back against the wall, was Nadira.

  She looked up when he entered. Her eyes wide with emotion.

  Love. Longing. Relief.

  He felt it, too. His throat was thick with the sweet emotions. He wanted to fall on his knees in front of her, to kiss her and hold her and tell her everything that had happened to him.

  But Cara was watching, and he didn’t know how much longer he’d have to play Praxis. One thing was clear, however. Without Boikis holding Nadira over his head, there would be bloodshed in the palace tonight.

  “Come,” he said, turning and walking out of the room.

  “My King, there is one more.” Lex said, keeping his voice low, respectful.

  Kiln turned around, his eyes settling a bit too long on Nadira before he looked at Lex.

  “Who?” He asked.

  Lex pointed to the second door.

  Kiln nodded to Cara.

  “Unlock it.”

  His heart raced again. Who could be behind the other door? Arees was already upstairs.

  Cara unlocked the door and stepped aside, allowing Kiln to enter.

  He stepped into the unfurnished room.

  There, hanging from the wall, was a man that Kiln knew intimately.

  His brother, Praxis.

  His eyes had been covered. Urine pooled around him. He wore only thin pants and he was bare chested and barefoot.

  My brother.

  “Release him. Then leave us,” Kiln commanded.

  Cara hurried to follow Kiln’s orders, unlocking Praxis’s chains and ushering Nadira and Lex from the room. Kiln closed the door.

  “Who are you?” Praxis asked, his voice deep and dry.

  Kiln shuddered. It was like listening to himself, seeming himself.

  “I am Kiln. Your brother.”

  The two men stared at each other, taking in their other half.

  Something in Kiln shifted. Praxis was his brother in blood. That was undeniable. But he also felt this man in his heart, his soul.

  My true brother.

  Praxis squinted in the darkness, his eyes zeroing in on his other half.

  “Brother?” He asked.

  “Yes. And now that you are alive, we have much to discuss and no time to do it.” Kiln pulled off his wrist and shoulder guard.

  Praxis shook his head, as if struggling to wake up from a dream.

  “What? Where did you come from?”

  “I’ve been a slave on Venus.”

  “A slave?”

  “Yes. But that’s all changed now. There isn’t much time to explain. We have to go.” Took off the bottom of his uniform and threw it at Praxis.

  “Cara! Bring a change of clothes immediately.”

  Praxis’ hand went to his head and he stood, leaning against the wall for support. “What are you doing?”

  “You are the king now.”

  “King? But, if I’m the king that means ...”

  Praxis swallowed, the gesture one that Kiln had done many times before.

  “Our father is dead.” Kiln said. The hurt that stirred in Praxis’ eyes matched the hurt in Kiln’s heart. “Our mother as well. And Melu. And Lucus.”

  Praxis looked like he’d just be socked in the gut. He doubled over and gritted his teeth. Then he rose sharply and punched the wall with his fist.

  “When?” he asked.

  “All this week.”

  “How did they die?”

  “Boikis.”

  The growl that left Praxis’ throat made Kiln take a step back.

  His tan cheeks reddened and he pulled off his pants, thrusting his hands out to take Kiln’s blackWar Games skirt, armband, and shoulder brace.

  Cara knocked on the door, momentarily breaking the sadness that had settled on the room. Kiln opened the door just enough to take the clothes she handed to him before closing the door again.

  In silence, the twins finished dressing.

  Then, Praxis marched from the room, determination and revenge in his eye.

  Nadira, Lex, Cara and Nim made way for him and Kiln.

  He stopped briefly, his gaze heavy on Nadira. He held up his hand. “Wait. The girl. She comes with us.”

  “Girl, my king?’ Cara asked.

  “The girl who fed me.”

  “Diana?”

  Praxis leveled Cara with an icy look. Everything about him screamed warrior, king. Cara cowered under his gaze.

  “I’ll go get her,” she said, before scurrying from the room and down the hall.

  Watching Praxis walk on the comicore feeds was nothing compared to watching him walk in real life. There was a dogged arrogance in his stride. As if he owned everything and everyone around him.

  In a way, he did.

  At the end of the hallway, Diana stood, her head down. She was both blind and deaf. Not from birth, but mutilated so that she could care for the Royal prisons most secret prisoners. And now, Praxis scooped her up in his arms.

  She cried out, trembling.

  He ran his finger down her cheek, as she had done to him, and she seemed to calm.

  He then threw her over his shoulder and continued his march out of the now empty jail. Cara quickly opened the doors for him.

  “Where are we going?” Kiln asked.

  “I’m going to kill our brother.”

  CHAPTER 34

  A river of men flooded the streets outside of the prison door. They all seemed to be in a great hurry. Further away, the domes groaned as they opened, letting out wave after wave of ships into the darkness of space.

  “What’s going on?” Kiln asked.

  Praxis eyebrows knit together as he watched his men nearly knock them down in their rush to who knew where. Something had happened. Something terrible.

  “Follow me.”

  The Martian King pushed his way through the crowd, and into the palace.

  “Bleck,” he barked.

  One of the guards stationed by the front door stood up straight. “Yes, my king.”

  “Where is everyone going?”

  “To follow your orders, my king.”

  “My orders?”

  “Yes, my king.”

  “And just what were my orders?”

  Bleck looked from Praxis to the man in who looked like he could be his twin.

  “Bleck,” Praxis said, his voice rough, commanding. “Eyes on me. What were my orders?”

  “The Zenithians have declared war on us. The men are following Boikis’, your Master General, to Zenith to confront them.”

  Bleck withered under Praxis’ heavy gaze.

  “And just where is my brother?”

  “He, and the Venian ambassador, have already left.”

  Praxis took a step back, and placed one hand on his hip. He ran his tongue over his lips and sniffled before raising his eyes back to Bleck.

  He jerked his head at the Venians behind him.

  “Take them upstairs. Have them changed, fed, a
nd back down here in an hour.”

  “Yes, my king.”

  “Find me whoever is in charge of the spaceport. I don’t want another ship to leave the ground.”

  “Yes, my king.”

  Bleck called several other guards to him, and, in a matter of moments, one was on the comicore, one was running out of the door, and Kiln, Nadira, Lex, and Arees were heading up the stairs with Praxis marching behind.

  “Prince, uh, King Praxis!”

  A man at the top of the stairs waved at them, both arms flying over his head like banners.

  “What is it, Gerome?”

  “The Magistrate. She’s waiting for you.”

  Praxis reached the top of the stairs, and gently brought Diana down to her feet.

  “Take her to my rooms. Have her bathed, changed, fed. Have someone change out Melu’s old room to accommodate her.”

  “Yes, my king.”

  As Gerome went to grab Diana’s hands, Praxis placed a hand on his shoulder, leveling him with an intense gaze.

  “She cannot see or hear. Be gentle with her.”

  Gerome nodded, choosing to lift Diana in his arms instead of dragging her along. “Yes, my king.”

  Praxis ran a hand along Diana’s cheek once more before heading to the conference rooms.

  When he arrived, the Magistrate’s worried face was already on the screen.

  “Prince Praxis,” she said, relief heavy on her face.

  Praxis stood before the screen, legs apart, hands clutched in front of him, head tall. He gave her a slight nod of recognition. “Magistrate.”

  “Where is the King?”

  Praxis swallowed. “Dead, Magistrate. Along with my mother, my ration, and my doctor apparently.”

  Embrya put her hand to her mouth. “You have my deepest sympathies. King Haggarty was a brilliant man, and I honor his memory.”

  “As do I.”

  “I’ve been trying to get through for days, but something’s been blocking me. I haven’t been able to reach you or anyone else on the planet. Has someone activated the machine?”

  Praxis’ heart beat a little faster. The machine was built by the Martians as a failsafe, in case Zenith ever attacked. But who would turn it on? Only a select few men knew about it. Just him, and his father and a few dignitaries and...

  Praxis swore under his breath.

  And his brother Boikis.

  “It seems that my brother Boikis has taken a league of my men with him and is heading your way.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “I don’t know. War, is my guess.”

  “Praxis, are Mars and Zenith still allies?”

  “As far as I am concerned, our friendship stands.”

  “If Boikis brings the machine here-”

  “I will do everything in my power to see that that does not happen.”

  “And if it does?”

  “As I said, Magistrate. Our friendship still stands.”

  Embrya nodded. “Thank you, King Praxis.”

  “I will be in touch.”

  Without waiting for a dismissal, Praxis left the room. There was one more stop to make before he would see to himself.

  He jogged back down the stairs, where Bleck awaited him.

  “King Praxis, the spaceport manager is on the line for you.”

  Bleck took a comicore from another guard and held it out for Praxis to see.

  “King Praxis,” the thin man in the screen said. “It is an honor.”

  “I want every spaceship grounded immediately.”

  “Yes, my king.”

  “How many have already left?”

  “General Boikis put out a scramble command. About three quarters of the fleet are already gone, your majesty.”

  Three quarters? Praxis shook his head. This mission was turning into an impossible feat.

  “I don’t want another ship to leave this planet. Ground them. Send the men to the stadium.”

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  “Bleck, put out a call. I want every man left on this planet to meet me in the stadium as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, my king.”

  Praxis continued his walk through the palace doors, and down the steps. He didn’t stop until he reached the wall. His father’s final resting place.

  Haggy.

  He ran a hand over the rough bricks, and envisioned what laid beyond. A coffin with his father’s name inscribed on the top.

  Old Haggy.

  He put his forehead to the bricked wall, trying to staunch the anguish that ran through him. Him and his father were kindred spirits. Everything Haggy did, he did for his son. Everything Praxis did, he did for his father.

  How could Boikis snatch him away like this? How could he destroy a man who was a light in the world?

  Who will guide me now? Praxis wondered. Who will set me on my path?

  He ground his teeth to keep from crying out in his grief. That was not the Martian way.

  Instead, he banged his fist on the brick and made his father a silent promise.

  I will avenge you, Haggy. If it takes me burning the world to the ground, I will avenge you.

  ~()~()~()~()~

  Kiln slammed the door closed with his foot, before dragging Nadira into his arms and kissing her with every ounce of yearning he’d built up over the past week. He turned, pressed her back to the door, and devoured her lips. The lips he’d dreamed about. The lips he couldn’t seem to get enough of.

  She was back by his side. He felt as if he could do anything now. His world continued to spin because she was in it.

  She ran her fingers through what was left of his mostly shaven hair.

  He pulled away just to smile at her. She smiled back and he felt his temperature rise.

  He'd missed that smile.

  She touched her fingers to his lips.

  He hissed her fingertips.

  Suddenly, Etree’s voice rose like a ghost from behind him.

  “Isn’t this a lovely sight?”

  Kiln closed his eyes, and put his forehead on the door, trying to control his anger. His rage.

  “Why are you here, Etree?”

  “We’re here to kill you, Kiln. Your services are no longer required.”

  Nadira’s body cooled beneath him. He felt the fear rise in her.

  They would pay for that.

  He touched her cheek with the back of his hand, and looked deep into her eyes.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered.

  “Say your finals, Kiln,” Etree said. “It’s the end of the road for both of you.”

  Kiln covered the space between him and Etree in three steps, reared back his fist, and rammed it into Etree’s face.

  I’ve wanted to do that for a week!

  Etree stumbled, back and went for the rifle at his hip.

  Namic jumped from behind Etree, pushing his palms into Kiln’s shoulders and forcing him to the ground.

  Kiln easily pushed him off, and scrambled upright.

  Etree stood, aimed his gun at Kiln, and shot.

  Kiln crouched low, the shot going to his left. He charged forward, using his broad shoulders to slam Etree into the wall.

  The rifle flew from Etree’s hands.

  Kiln delivered an iron punch to Etree’s gut, then another.

  Blood flew from Etree’s mouth.

  Namic grabbed Kiln’s shoulders, and spun him around.

  Kiln delivered a blow to Namic’s face that sent the man spinning to the floor, motionless.

  Etree pushed Kiln’s back. When Kiln turned around, Etree sent a fist to his jaw.

  Kiln grunted, and then returned the punch to the side of Etree’s head.

  Etree shoved Kiln back again. This time, Kiln tripped over Namic’s body and fell to the ground.

  Etree picked the comicore up from the bureau, and raised it above his head, intent on crushing Kiln’s skull.

  Then, a shot.

  Etree fell to the ground, the comicore landing on his chest.
>
  Kiln gazed at the puddle of blood coming out of Etree’s head, before whipping around to find the gun shaking in Nadira’s grip.

  She’d saved him.

  Kiln stumbled up, and took the gun from her.

  “He was going to kill you,” she said. There was no remorse in her voice. It shook, but there was no fear in it. “I had to.”

  “I know you did.” He placed the gun on the dresser and dragged her back into his arms.

  “He was going to kill you,” she whispered into his chest.

  He rocked her back and forth for a moment, before lifting her in his arms.

  This room.

  This place.

  He couldn’t stand to be here a moment longer.

  He rushed them from the room and went in search of Lex and Arees.

  It was time to go to Zenith.

  It was time to go home.

  CHAPTER 35

  Only a few thousand men gathered in the stadium.

  If this is all that’s left, then we’re in for quite a fight.

  Kiln and his friends were already headed to the spaceport to secure a ship. Now, all they needed was an army.

  Praxis ascended the stairs to the makeshift stage that had been set up center field.

  In one hand, he held the ceremonial sword, a symbol of kingship. On his hip was a Martian rifle.

  His voice echoed through the open aired stadium.

  “Men of Mars. Hear me! Hear your king! Today, my brother, your Ambassador and General, has deceived you.”

  Mummers broke out through the crowed.

  “He has told you that the Zenithians have declared war on us. It is not true. Under the flag of my name, Boikis has declared war on Zenith. Our Ally. And now, our brothers have gone off to fight in a war that is based on lies and deceit. Will you stand for it?”

  Boos. Shouts of disgust.

  “Will you stand for it?”

  “No!” The men cried back.

  “Then we will go to Zenith. We will fight. And we will bring our brothers home.”

  He banged one hand to his chest, and let out a deep grunt.

  The men responded, their fist thumping against their chest as they grunted back.

  He repeated the action, banging one hand on his chest and grunting.

  The stadium shook with the sound of the grunts and cries that flew back at him.

  A third time.

  Thump. Grunt.

  This time, the grunting didn’t stop. The men slammed their feet against the floor, grunting, crying out, and thumping their chest.