“Hey! You’re hurting me!”
His grip had tightened on the kid’s arm. Manfred released him.
The boy was staring at him. “What’s the matter? What did I say?”
Manfred didn’t answer. He tried to shake off the uncertainty but couldn’t. The safe course would be to wring the boy’s neck here and now and have done with it. But would that be the smart thing to do? Something was going on here. This boy was more than he seemed. A mystery. An enigma. Very possibly a pawn in a much bigger game. Manfred loved a mystery, but he’d never solve this one if he killed the boy.
Besides, Falzon wanted him alive… for now.
He would watch him. Watch him very carefully.
25
“The Lir has called an assembly – all males in the courtyard. Now.”
Telly was seated at a workbench in one of the outbuildings, pretending to troubleshoot a faulty steam valve while his mind still reeled in shock.
Ryan…his little brother… here and with one of those awful slave bracelets dangling from his thin wrist. It changed everything.
The lycan footsoldier’s words finally registered.
“All males?” A strange way to put it – especially since females were rare in the Uberall compound. “Any idea why?”
The lycan shrugged. “I just do like the Lir says.”
As he headed for the courtyard, Telly shook his head at the way the soldiers and guards always referred to big, ugly Falzon by his self-given title, Lir, which loosely translated as “Supreme Leader” or some such silliness in the ancient rakshasa tongue. Telly had never been one for that kind of formality but he had to keep such sentiments to himself if he wanted to be accepted as part of the Uberall movement.
And until now, he had. Because of its diversity among almost all of the creature-nations, it had provided the easiest place to hide.
His natural ability with machinery had gained him instant acceptance. His lifelong gift of being able to fix things hadn’t deserted him. Even these crazy, steam-powered gadgets didn’t faze him: He could look at them, fiddle with them a little, and figure what was wrong. It had come to the point where if something didn’t work around the compound, the first thing anyone said was, “Get Telly.”
He’d realized something lately: Yeah, he was stuck here, and he couldn’t let on he was human, but he no longer felt as if he was hiding. He’d started feeling like he belonged. An odd feeling, one it had taken him time to recognize… because he couldn’t remember feeling he’d ever belonged anywhere.
Now wasn’t that strange?
But no matter now. He had to get Ryan to safety.
Wait…hadn’t Ryan tried to say something about that before the guard cut him off?
Falzon’s planning to line everyone up…
An alarm bell rang in his brain as he placed his screwdriver on the bench. At the time it had seemed like a strange thing to say, but now… had Ryan been trying to warn him?
When he reached the courtyard, he saw his friend, Vertaj, a short, muscular necro, already standing in a line.
“Hey, Verty… so what’s this all about? Falzon doing an inspection?”
Vertaj shrugged. “Not sure. There’s a rumor we’ve got a spy in here – a human spy.” He grinned. “But he’s probably looking for an excuse to tell us one more time how he crushed the life out of Bluthkalt.”
Telly felt as if he’d been gut punched. He struggled to keep his expression neutral as he forced a laugh.
“Oh, yeah. Not that again, I hope.”
Bluthkalt had been some sort of mad scientist hated and feared by everyone in Nocturnia. When Falzon killed him, he became world famous, as did his then tiny Uberall movement, attracting funding and recruits from all over Nocturnia. Falzon never tired of boasting about it.
But Telly would listen to that story a thousand times more rather than face what Vertaj had first said.
His chest tightened as he added, as casually as he could, “Hey, did you say ‘a human spy’? What human would be crazy enough to try that? Or smart enough to get away with it?”
One of the things working in his favor was that Nocturnians thought of humans – at least the humans on Nocturnia – as stupid. But even so, he’d been so careful, so methodical…
Somehow, some way, this inspection had to be connected to Ryan’s presence here.
Trying to be unobtrusive, Telly checked the wispy hair he’d attached to the palms of his hands. The epoxy adhesive wouldn’t come loose without a liberal application of acetone, so he shouldn’t have to worry about that giving him away.
So what was going on? How would they check everybody? Worry was making his knees shaky. Not good.
And it didn’t improve when he saw Falzon and his coterie enter the large open space. Despite the hundred yards or so separating them, Telly had no trouble recognizing the ever-odd Koertig and that spindly overseer, Simon, who gripped a small boy by the shoulder, steering him toward the long line of Ubers.
Ryan.
No question now about this being connected to his brother. But how?
“You okay?” Vertaj was looking at him with about as much concern as a zombie’s face could register.
Telly shook himself. “Not feeling so great,” he said, improvising. “Skipped lunch.”
Vertaj shook his head. “You lycans. Always eating.”
Telly forced a laugh through the sick feeling welling up in his stomach. “You should talk, zombie-boy!”
His eyes met Ryan’s and for a second he was afraid the little guy would betray recognition. But he held fast. Telly’s heart swelled with pride; his half-brother was all sorts of tough. A million questions had to be buzzing though his brain: When had Telly arrived here? How had he got here? Why was he with the Uberalls? Good questions all, but they’d have to wait.
Ryan’s presence was the threat. It could mean Telly’s death. If Falzon found a human hiding in his ranks, there’d be no arrest, no trial. The Falzon method of dealing with traitors was to tear them limb from limb in front of his followers.
Telly worked to control his wildly spinning thoughts as he watched his brother being slowly guided along the file of Ubers, all standing still and straight in their yellow jumpsuits. Ryan paused before each, then moved on, his face frozen in a neutral expression. As he approached, Telly sucked in a breath through his teeth, held it deep in his chest.
Ryan stopped before him. His expression remained frozen, but Telly saw his pupils widen. He stared Telly directly in the eyes with no other sign of recognition, then moved on to stare at the next guy, and on down the line.
Telly released the breath slowly, ready to collapse with relief. Ryan had pulled an excellent fake.
As the boy reached the end of the line, he faced Falzon and shook his head.
“My brother Tommy isn’t here.”
Tommy? Good for you, Ryan – never let them know my real name.
The rakshasa looked angry enough to strike Ryan. If he did, all it would take was one blow and the little guy would be dead five times over. But instead he turned to Dr. Koertig.
“Do you believe him?”
The doctor stared at Ryan. “This young creature is an enigma.”
“That isss not what I asssked you. Isss he lying?”
“How would I know? I saw no sign of recognition as he went down the line, but he might be a good actor.”
“I believe he isss lying. I will have hisss ssskin removed one thin ssstrip at a time until he tellsss.”
No! Telly thought. He couldn’t let that happen. He steeled himself to step forward and identify himself when Dr. Koertig raised a hand.
“No need to harm him yet.” The doctor’s face showed genuine concern. “He may prove far more useful alive than dead. Have them all report to my lab. A simple blood test will identify the human, if there is one.”
Telly’s blood turned to ice. No way could he pass that.
He realized he’d just heard his death sentence.
Part S
ix
Escapes
26
As Telly turned and began to file toward his doom, he heard Simon cry out.
“Not so fast!”
Everyone stopped and waited.
Ryan cried out, “But I’m telling you, he’s not here!”
“We heard you,” Simon said, “but the one you mistook for him must be here. Point him out.”
Telly clenched his jaw. Damn that man – or rather, that lycan. Simon was smart and devious. He was trying to trap Ryan.
“Yesss,” Falzon said. “Point him out.”
But Ryan looked calm and collected. “Actually, there were two. The fifth from the end and…” he paused to count backward with his finger “. . . the eleventh from the end.”
What?
Falzon gestured to one of the necros in his entourage. “Get them. Now.”
The zombie hurried to the line and pulled out the fifth and eleventh, then herded them back. Telly studied them – both lycans – and then realized that Ryan must have anticipated this. During his inspection, he must have searched for two Ubers who looked similar – not like Telly, simply like each other. He’d chosen lycans because they looked perfectly human except for their palms. And these two did look vaguely alike.
“The both kinda look like my brother, Tommy,” he announced, “so I’m not sure which one I saw. It was just a quick glance. But I am sure that neither of these guys is my brother.”
Oh, you beautiful, brilliant boy, Telly thought.
And then Falzon said something that sent a stab of fear through Telly.
“You ssshould sssay, ‘Neither of thessse guys are my brother.’” He turned to Simon with a toothy grin. “Thessse humansss are ssso ssstupid.”
Oh, no! Oh-no-oh-no-oh-no-oh-no!
He’d corrected Ryan’s grammar – and was wrong. No one did that and got away with it. Ryan had to control himself, make this time an exception. He sent out a string of mental warnings:
Don’t do it, Ryan! Let it go! He’s a freakin’ psycho rakshasa, for God’s sake! Do NOT provoke him! Please-please-please!
He saw the struggle waging across Ryan’s baby face.
For once, just once, please listen to that voice in your head, the one from your primitive hindbrain that’s all about self-preservation.
And then Ryan shook his head.
Noooooooo!
“Sorry. It’s ‘is,’ not ‘are.’ You’re wrong.”
A silence like death fell over the courtyard. Everyone, including Telly, had stopped breathing.
Falzon’s yellow-green reptilian eyes bored into Ryan as he leaned toward him. In a voice loaded with menace, he said, “What… did… you… sssay?”
Ryan must have realized he’d really landed in it this time, because he took half a step back.
Say “Nothing,” Ryan. Tell him you didn’t even realize you’d spoken.
But when Ryan straightened his shoulders, Telly knew it was all over.
“I said, I’m right, you’re wrong.”
Falzon let out a howl and raised a taloned hand. Telly stood paralyzed in shock. He’d never get there in time–
But then Dr. Koertig spoke. “He’s right, Lir.”
Falzon froze, his huge arm suspended in the air, and pivoted toward the doctor.
“What?”
“‘Neither’ is the subject of the sentence and is a singular noun, therefore it gets a singular verb: is.”
Falzon remained frozen for a few more heartbeats, then howled in rage as he lunged into furious motion – screeching, whirling, slashing the air. If anything solid had stood within his range, it would have been slashed into tatters. Telly had heard of the rakshasa’s awesome rages but this was the first he’d ever witnessed. Truly terrifying.
Finally he cooled enough to approach Koertig in a menacing crouch.
“How dare you–”
Koertig had stepped up next to Ryan during the wild display. He shrugged, apparently unfazed. Maybe he considered himself too valuable to be killed. “I don’t make the rules.”
“No!” Falzon screamed. “I make the rulesss! And from now on ‘neither’ isss plural and will be followed by ‘are’! Isss that clear?”
The doctor held up his hands in mock surrender. “If you say so.”
Ryan started to open his mouth, but Koertig gave him a furtive nudge to the elbow and a glare. Why was he protecting Ryan? Koertig was a pluriban, and all they cared about was science.
An awful thought squirmed through Telly. Was Koertig planning on using Ryan? Studying him? Maybe even experimenting on him? But why? Nothing special about Ryan.
But at least Ryan finally got the message.
“Absolutely clear, sir.”
Falzon seemed only partially satisfied. He jabbed a finger at Dr. Koertig. “You! Tessst thessse men to make sssure none are human.”
Oh, no! The wrong verb again!
Ryan began to open his mouth but closed it when he received another nudge from the doctor.
Thank God! But what was going on between those two?
“And you!” Falzon said, pointing at one of his minions. “Take thisss runt back to the holding cellsss until the tessting isss finished. If we find a human, I’ll have both of them flayed alive for our evening’sss entertainment.”
As long afternoon shadows inched across the courtyard, Telly repressed a surge of vomit. Things had gone from the very worst to something even beyond that.
Now they were both as good as dead.
27
The long hot day had finally ended, and as Emma trudged back to the farm barracks, she wondered how she would ever make it through tomorrow. The sheer monotony of harvesting those evil blossoms was worsened only by the energy-sapping heat of the sun. Dillon’s stories of how humans were treated in Nocturnia provided some distraction, though not a pleasant one.
And of course she was worried about Ryan.
When Simon freighted him off on his zeppelin-bike, all bloody and beaten, she’d had to force herself to believe it was a good thing that her little brother was going to be taken care of. But after listening to the horrific possibilities all humans faced in this world, she was beginning to think she might never see him again.
And worse, never even know what happened to him.
The march back from the fields blurred her sense of time as thoughts and fears ping-ponged through her head. Her emotions had her all tangled up and she knew she had to find the strength to push on.
Worse, she kept seeing images of Ryan, but not in an infirmary – more like a jail cell. Once she even saw a flash of Telly, but he was standing in a long line, maybe waiting for something. Both seemed to have a cloud of doom hanging over them. The flashes kept repeating, interrupting her thoughts. And the last time it happened she saw another figure in there with Ryan. Just for an instant, like a camera-flash; the other figure seemed to be wearing one of those old-time diving suits.
Weird, sure, but this was not the first time she’d experienced such flashes, as she’d come to think of them. Emma had learned over the years to trust her little visions. She didn’t have them very often, but whenever they happened, she could usually connect them later to some event in her life. She learned to trust them.
In addition, her instincts told her to cultivate the friendship she was forming with Dillon, but she knew she must do it for the right reasons. Just because he was cute and strong was nowhere near as important as his confidence in dealing with this hostile place. She needed the wisdom of his experience and to learn from his savvy ability to survive.
As she trudged along, she looked around at the other silent laborers, her fellow slaves, their faces slack and sullen and beaten as they stared off into a blank meaningless future. Emma made a vow to herself – no matter what happened, she would never allow herself to become like them.
An hour later, Emma sat in the stark dining hall finishing her plate of bland cornmeal bread and a thin stew of over-boiled vegetables. The benches were lined with other
farm laborers who ate in a kind of dazed silence. Dillon was seated to her left, finishing his bowl with no real enthusiasm. Across the table, Amelia regarded her with a comforting smile. Emma guessed she must have been quite attractive in her younger days – large clear dark eyes, high cheekbones, and aquiline nose. Her classic features gave the older woman an almost aristocratic look, and just sitting in her presence bolstered her spirits.
Amelia seemed to be studying her as she reached across the table and took her hand. “You need to buck up, Emma. There are alternatives.”
“Like what?”
“All in good time. I need to see what you’re made of first.”
“All fine and good, but what about Ryan? He should have been back by now. What’re they doing to him? Where is he?”
“They may have decided to keep your brother overnight – just to make sure he’s okay.”
“Then why didn’t they tell us that?”
Amelia smiled softly, gave her hand a squeeze. “Oh, Emma. Sooner or later you’ll realize that we can’t look to them for anything… ever. Especially useful information. They have no need to tell us anything.”
Dillon nodded. “And most of the time, you’re going to be glad they don’t tell you what’s going on. You’re better off that way.”
“I’m not going to be better off till I find out how he’s doing. He was bleeding.”
“Simon’s not going to let anything happen to him,” said Dillon. “Not unless he wants Falzon all over him.”
Emma wished she could be sure. “Why is everyone so afraid of this Falzon?”
Amelia patted her hand. “He comes from a race of demon-warriors, and even his own people are cowed by him.”
“Does he run this whole world?”
Dillon chuckled. “No… not even close. But he’s working on it.”
Amelia said, “His Uberall movement has members everywhere, from all the races and within all the nations of Nocturnia. He claims his movement supercedes all national concerns because it represents all Nocturnians.”
Definitely Not Kansas (Nocturnia Book 1) Page 15