Promises & Prophecies

by Lee Watts

  "Mother and I were discussing some of the new security procedures we have to implement for the palace."

  "I don't want more guards following me everywhere I go," Cheyenne insisted. "They try to be invisible, but I can't breathe without them around me all the time. It's not so bad during the day, but in the evenings, well, I would like to have some semblance of a normal life."

  "I could watch out for her," Aulani offered. "If you'll have me, Majesty?"

  "What about that?" Cheyenne said, hoping to get Alexander to approve the idea. "You said she kept you alive in the jungle against all sorts of dangers. What about it? She can move into one of the rooms in my suite so I'll have protection in the evenings, and then I don't have to have guards all the time."

  "I'm going to need extra protection too," Vivica chimed in. "After all, I'm to be queen, the Premier Lady of the Realm - I'll need guards attending me day and night. Don't you think so, Alex?"

  "Yes… of course, my Dalla Tree," he said in using his pet name for her.

  Aulani suppressed a smile upon hearing it.

  Turning to the security officer that was accompanying him, Alexander instructed that a contingent of guards immediately be assigned to Vivica.

  "I'll see to it myself, Excellency," Cale answered.

  CHAPTER 7

  "…he that hath no sword, let him sell his garment, and buy one." – Luke 22:36

  Alert warnings flashed, and emergency alarms sprang to life through the Ramillie station causing the commander to bolt from his office and to the control room.

  "REPORT," he demanded as the entire space station suddenly rocked.

  "Hyperspace portal opening," the crewman shouted over the roaring sound and blaring klaxons.

  The station's commander was about to ask the portal's location, but there was no need. From one of the room's many windows, he saw a massive portal forming in-between his station and the main construction hangar. Shockwaves of gravity and energy pouring from the portal buffeted every structure of the shipyard complex.

  "Whoever it is, I have their command for this," he blared while having to hold onto a console to keep his footing.

  Exiting the rift was a colossal, gray-hulled vessel that seemed to go on forever. Six massive engines propelled it forward, and on either side of the front section was painted a familiar blue and white seal that was next to the words Dauntless II.

  The station commander's jaw dropped.

  "It can't be," he gasped. "The Realm can't be here. They… they don't have hyperspace technology."

  "They do now. Commander, they're powering weapons!"

  "Send out an emergency distress signal."

  "They're jamming all the frequencies!"

  Cutting the answer short was a bright, blue beam of energy bursting from one of the many side-mounted cannons of the Realm super-battlecarrier. Two seconds later, a second then a third beam joined it in drilling into the command station. Within moments, the rays penetrated the superstructure then punched through the other side effectively slicing the station into large chunks. With the main structure destroyed, the Dauntless eased forward through the shipyard complex. The Realm cannons lanced at the multiple floating ships and hangars of the yard.

  Taken entirely unprepared, the Ramillie weren't able to launch a single craft in response. Within twenty minutes, the entire shipyard was reduced to floating hunks of wreckage. Moving away from the devastation, the Dauntless opened a hyperspace portal and slipped inside while heading directly to its next target.

  ***

  "Fifteen outposts destroyed, three convoys missing, seven planetside bases attacked, and you can't find them," fumed Saqir Nexos to the uncomfortable admiral on the viewscreen.

  "Potentate, they're using hyperjump technology, and not following any predictable pattern," the admiral explained. "This Realm strike force-"

  "STRIKE FORCE? It's one ship," Saqir shouted, cutting off the other man.

  "Potentate, I've diverted ships from nearly thirty fleets looking for them, but the search area is too vast. Plus-."

  "Your excuses are uninspiring, Admiral, and so is your prosecution of quelling this rebellion in the Realm territories. Consider yourself relieved of command."

  "But Potentate-"

  "I suggest you hold your tongue before you're brought up on charges for gross dereliction of duty. Be out of your office within the hour, or I'll have you shot for trespassing in a secure location," he threatened then slammed his hand on the controls, abruptly ending the transmission. After a moment he re-keyed the buttons, opening a new comm line.

  "Get me Warlord Ra'daq," he instructed.

  ***

  Alexander, came the faint voice.

  Sitting at his desk, the Realm king wasn't certain he heard it. Late into the night and fatigued in mind and body, he thought maybe he just imagined the whisper of his name.

  Alexander, it repeated.

  No, definitely not my imagination, he reasoned.

  The voice was soft yet seemed distant. Placing the datapad down on the desk, he listened intently.

  Come to the hidden landing pad. I must warn you, urged the ethereal voice.

  "Merrick? Is that you?"

  There was no answer.

  Hurry… almost... out of time, the voice urged as it faded into nothingness.

  Baffled as to why his old mentor wouldn't come to the palace or even contact him via conventional means, Alexander knew there must be a good reason. His Guardian friend and teacher sounded like he was in trouble. Rising from his desk, Alexander headed to the door but then stopped halfway there. Backtracking he retrieved the battlestaff Merrick had given him. Staring at the etchings on the ancient weapon from another plane, he wondered what stories it could tell if it could communicate. Sheathing it in a case slung across his back, he exited his office. The guards on each side of the door came to attention.

  "At ease," the sovereign instructed.

  His old friend Marcus Gibson was one of the guards on duty that night. Noticing the King's weapon, Marcus gestured to it.

  "Is there trouble, Sire?"

  "I don't know, Marcus, but I've learned to not go far without it."

  Knowing the guards would not leave him, he gestured for them to follow.

  "Come on, Fellas. We're taking a walk."

  "Will we be leaving the palace, Excellency?" the other guard asked.

  "Yes."

  "I'll notify control," the guard replied as he reached for his radio.

  "No," Alexander said. "I know it's standard procedure, but I think the person we're meeting doesn't want it known he's here."

  The guard nodded and clipped the communication device back to his belt.

  They descended one of the palace's immense staircases and rounded a corner to the backside of the stairs when the King came to a sudden stop.

  "Gentlemen, what you are about to see you will tell no one – not your superiors, not your family – no one."

  "Understood," the guards said.

  Though Alexander implicitly trusted Marcus, he was formal for the other guard's sake.

  Alexander placed his hand on one of the pale stones of the wall. At first, it seemed as the countless others used in the building's construction, but when the king's palm was flat against it, the stone glowed with azure light. An internal beam glided over Alexander's hand. Scan complete, the luminosity extinguished and several of the stones slid aside revealing a tunnel. As the trio stepped inside, lights automatically activated that showed the great length of the passage. Moving back into position, the door closed and all traces of the entryway were again hidden. A small hovercar was positioned at the tunnel's edge. They boarded the small craft, and it sped them to the far end of the tube where they disembarked.

  Exiting the passageway, they stepped in to the cool and unusually foggy night air. Alexander expected to see Merrick waiting for him, but there were only the mist and a standby shuttle quietly positioned on the non-illuminated platform. Sounds of the rhythmic crashin
g of the inland sea waves upon the rocks filled their ears. Alexander smelled the salt air and felt the gentle spray of the sea carried by the night wind. As the tunnel door closed, he looked toward the long, narrow bridge connecting the tiny island to the mainland. The crossway was the island's only connection to the continent.

  Maybe Merrick is on the other side of the bridge, Alexander wondered.

  A breeze stirred the fog. Steadily becoming stronger, the wind made the wisps of condensed air begin circling. Growing firmer still, the wind now directed the mist toward the young guard by the tunnel entrance. Enveloping him, the mist seemed to absorb into his skin some even racing down his throat. Echoing all around them came a chilling soft groan then abruptly the rushing wind died. All was completely still. Though the guard was standing, his head was now deeply bowed.

  "Tyers?" Marus questioned. "Private Tyers, you okay?"

  Without raising his head, Tyers began speaking.

  "E repeta ala reki halla, Bachiyr," he said in a low and malevolent voice.

  Alexander and Marcus exchanged a concerned and confused look.

  "Come again," Marcus said.

  "E repeta ala reki halla, Bachiyr," the guard repeated at a normal level, but with an inhuman voice.

  "Bachiyr?" Alexander repeated trying to remember where he had heard that word. "...Chosen One," he said as the memory came to him. "It's a Ka Tchar, oh no."

  "Ka Tchar?" Marcus asked, "What's that?"

  "Trouble," Alexander answered as he began slowly backing away.

  "What do we do?"

  The possessed guard lifted his head, his eye openings now entirely black, and he yelled with the sound of a choir of demonic voices.

  "E REPETA ALA REKI HALLA, BACHIYR!"

  With no further warning needed, Alexander and Marcus turned and began running toward the bridge. Drawing his sidearm, Tyers let two shots loose at the fleeing pair. One azure bolt zoomed past Alexander into the night. The sprinting King heard the second shot and half a second later the thud of it slamming into something. Alexander turned to see Marcus crumble to his knees then fall face down to the ground.

  "MARCUS," the King called out to his long-time friend.

  Changing direction, Alexander rushed toward the downed man. Another set of energy bolts zooming at him halted his run and forced him to seek cover behind the shuttle.

  "MARCUS," the King called out again, but there was no response. Two more shots pounded into the side of the shuttle, but the sudden stop of weapon's fire was more concerning than its continuation. With the blasts halted, it meant the possessed guard was moving. Quickly turning his head, Alexander checked to see if the crazed man was coming around the left or right of the shuttle. Not spotting him on either side, but having no way to know which direction the Ka Tchar might take, Alexander considered choosing a path at random. He quickly discounted the thought reasoning such a choice might have him run directly into the unholy spirit trying to kill him.

  Looking up, he saw a component of the shuttle that jutted from its hull. Grabbing the component, he used it to pull himself upward quickly climbing the craft. Reaching the top, he saw the guard bolting around the ship to the side where he had been hiding. Looking down, Alexander noticed the emergency hatch on the shuttle's top. His fingers danced over the control panel trying to activate it. Hearing the beeps from each button, the guard glanced up and noticed Alexander. With an unholy scream, he started climbing up the craft. As the guard neared the top, Alexander reached across his shoulder, withdrawing his battlestaff. With no time to separate the blades, he swung the baton at the guard's head. Instinctively the man ducked, but the sudden change in direction caused him to slip and fall from the ship. Not wasting a second, Alexander went back to the keypad, finished the unlocking sequence and the escape hatch snapped open. Feet first, he plunged into the craft as he heard the murderer scrambling back up the side. Alexander reached up and hit the button closing the hatch then wedged his battlestaff into the hatch's handle, which kept the man on the roof from reopening it.

  The maddened guard beat upon the roof, enraged at barely missing its quarry. Alexander frantically looked about the compartment for a weapon, but there was none. Three quick bursts of energy slammed into the roof as the Ka Tchar blasted at the hatch. Rushing to the pilot's chair, Alexander powered up the shuttle. Activating the thrusters, he propelled the ship upward in a clumsy ascent. The wobbling of the craft caused the guard to lose his footing and tumble from the craft. Tucking into a double flip, the Ka Tchar landed on his feet. Picking up his fallen weapon, he switched it to the beam function taking aim at the shuttle.

  Alexander was jerked to the side as the ship lurched from the power of the energy hitting it. Alarms began blaring, and red warning lights flashed as the cutting beam tore into the engine. Smoke started pouring from the back of the craft as attitude controls were lost and the shuttle began a slow spin. Unrelenting, the Ka Tchar shouted in hatred as the blue beam of its weapon continued piercing the King's ship. Listing to the side, the craft drifted over the sea. Alexander fought to control failing systems then an explosion rang out that billowed from the aft end of the shuttle. Immediately, the doomed ship dropped from the air, plummeting downward and slammed flat upon the waves. Water rushing in from the rear section caused the nose to lift sharply upward. Alexander rushed from the pilot's seat, forced to grab onto the bulkhead to keep from tumbling out, he made his way to the side door. He hit the button to open it, but the power was offline. Quickly sinking, the water in the shuttle was now knee-high, and Alexander knew that within seconds it would be up to his neck. Desperate, he pounded on the door controls again, but without success. Deciding his best chance for escape was the same means used to get in, he sloshed through the thigh-deep water toward the ship's center. Reaching up, he tugged on his battlestaff eventually loosing it from where it wedged the emergency exit closed. Replacing it back into the narrow sheath on his back, he pulled on the release lever that opened the hatch. He pulled himself out of the water and onto the roof as the ship continued its slide to beneath the surface.

  The mainland was still out of sight leaving his only recourse to return to the island. Looking up to the shuttle landing pad, he saw the guard staring in his direction to see if he would escape the sinking ship. Noticing Alexander on the roof of the shuttle, the guard drew his rifle to his shoulder, switched the weapon to bolt and took careful aim.

  A blast of blue energy streaked through the night air and slammed into the head of its target, killing him instantly. The headless body of the guard staggered a few steps then fell with its back flat against the ground. Marcus lowered his pistol and limped forward, his severely wounded leg preventing a run. Moving to the railing at the platform's edge he peered across the waves in search of his king.

  "MARCUS," joyfully called out Alexander as he waved his arms to get the man's attention.

  "Thank the Elder," Marcus said to himself, having been worried that the king might already be dead. "HOLD ON, SIRE," Marcus shouted then hobbled to a life preserver attached by a rope to the railing.

  With all his strength, he hurled the ring toward his sovereign. Alexander leaped from the shuttle just before the last portion of the craft was pulled beneath the waves. Swimming through the night sea, he grasped the floating device and gripped it tightly. Forcing beyond the pain, Marcus began reeling in the lifeline. As the king reached the stone base of the island, he then climbed over the boulders and made his way back onto the landing platform.

  "Are you alright, Marcus?"

  "I will be," he grunted as he tightened a makeshift bandage. "I've radioed for help. They should be here in a few minutes."

  "How many times do I owe you my life now?"

  "Twenty-three, but who's counting," he chuckled trying to mask the pain from his leg.

  Suddenly, a column of green light and mist rose from the body of the guard. Accompanying it were the mixed voices of rage and terror. As the column rose to high in the atmosphere the sight and sound f
aded.

  "What in the worlds was that?" Marcus asked.

  "Something that's been after me for a long time," Alexander answered lowly.

  "At least it's gone."

  "For now," the king admitted, "but I have a feeling it will be back."

  CHAPTER 8

  "Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain..." – Proverbs 31:30

  Salazar Yorin, Chief Minister of the Assembly of Worlds, cursed any gods there might be for the caryon disease steadily eating his flesh alive. Enraged, he slammed his gloved hand against his desk then cried out as the impact against his withered appendage caused excruciating agony. It made Salazar harden his heart all the more.

  As the double doors opened to his grand, circular office, in hobbled his mother, Duchess Mara Yorin. Once one of the most beautiful women of the Realm, she was now hunched, deeply wrinkled, and her liver-spotted scalp was clearly visible through her what remained of her now thin hair.

  "What do you want, Mother?" he bellowed.

  "What I want," she snapped bitterly, "is what's mine!" She held out a shaking, crooked finger at him accusatorily as she spoke. "You said we couldn't get the T'lec treatments because The Remnant took back Theera-Enty, but we're in neutral space now, so I want them!"

  "Those treatments cost a fortune."

  "It's my fortune," she spat angrily. "You've locked me out of the accounts, but it's my money, Salazar, and I'll spend it as I see fit! It's mine; I earned it!"

  "Grandfather earned it; he merely left it to you… and what did he leave me?… This," he growled, ripping the glove off and lifting his decaying, shriveled hand. He thought of the one material possession his grandfather did leave him, a datacard detailing his only hope for escaping the dreaded disease, an alien device that transfers life energy from one being to another.

  He looked at the bracer on his arm, his eyes transfixed at how the light reflected off its jeweled center. His eyes gazed at the alien script etched on the band. He couldn't read it, but his grandfather's translations of the ancient language spoke of how the bracer was the key needed to activate the transfer device. At last wresting possession of the bracer from his half-brother, Salazar's hopes of using the mechanism were thwarted as he no longer had access to the device.