The Last Narkoy: Gathow: Book 2

by Elizabeth Price

  “And us?” Zion asked, fully on alert, his weapon drawn.

  “I'm Sortec,” Sedom answered cryptically. “Sortec’s blood tastes horrible. You, on the other hand, may want to stick close,” she warned.

  Rosanheer shuttered. “I'll take your word for that,” he said, crowding behind Sedom as they walked.

  She pushed him away. “I don’t mean that close.”

  “Coward,” Zion snipped under his breath towards Rosanheer. “They’re bred not to attack Narkoy blood,” Zion mentioned. “I’ve seen them before when we were searching for you,” he added.

  “Really?” Sedom questioned, concerned that the animals had ventured from the tunnels and out into the forest. They were bred to hate the sun and to only stay where there was no light. If they suddenly started venturing into the forest, they might be a problem.

  Rosanheer pointed ahead to a cave opening where a glimmering light cascaded outwards from the entrance. Sedom turned to the opening followed by Zion.

  “Firelight,” Rosanheer whispered.

  “I sense fear. These may be our men,” Zion mentioned low.

  Sedom raised her hand to keep the two men from continuing. Both men stopped, noticing shadows moving within the cave. All removed their pistols and took position next to the entrance. Cautiously, Sedom peeked around the corner into the cave as she pressed her body against the walls of the tunnel.

  Within the cave were several Crehail men and boys. Many of them sat on rocks, huddled around a meager fire. Four men stood guard at the front of the cave’s entrance into the forest. Many of the men were injured and covered in mud. Bandages were wrapped around three men’s bleeding heads and two wore makeshift slings for their arms. All of the group’s clothing were mangled and in shreds. The group obviously had seen action in the forest.

  For a long while, the three waited by the side of the entrance, listening to the group within.

  “If we return to the city, they may come back for us.”

  “We can’t stay here. Doss and Kerle need medical attention and we’re going to run out of food fast.”

  “Danstu, what do you suggest?”

  “How far away is the next city?”

  “About half a day’s walk, but it won’t do us any good. It was overrun by Marisheio about a month ago. The only city near here without Marisheio is about a week away on foot,” explained one of the men.

  Sedom turned to Zion, silently asking what city the man was talking about. Zion replied with a shrug, telling her he didn’t know what they were talking about.

  In the far corner of the cave sat a pile of weapons. Five men stood century over the pile of weapons even though none looked like they’d ever shot a weapon before.

  Sedom’s eyes scanned over every person in the group, sizing them up. Other than the three who looked badly beaten, none looked remotely like they had any military training. Only one of the men caused her to take notice. He stood near the fire, his hand fingering the snap of the pistol’s holster.

  “Looks like…” she swung back around to face her two friends, “about twenty, all male. Many are injured. It’s nothing I can’t handle. I'm going in and introduce myself,” Sedom decided.

  Zion held her back by her shoulder. “Are you mad? They're armed,” Zion protested. Sedom returned with a wayward smirk like he was crazy. She just took on a squadron of fully trained Marisheio and won. What could twenty half-dead city men and boys do to her? “Never mind. Have fun. Let us know when you've been shot.”

  “Funny, very funny,” she sneered. Without giving her decision another thought, she stepped inside the cave and into plain view of the group.

  “Father!” a boy cried out from the weapon’s pile, anxiously pointing to Sedom with concern.

  Sedom remained standing in the doorway, unsure what to say at first. She cleared her throat to gain everyone’s attention. “Hello everyone,” she called, thinking of nothing else she could say to announce her presence.

  In a split second, six of the men had their weapons drawn and aimed directly at her. She slowly raised her hands, keeping her own pistol in her right hand to prove she wasn’t about to drop it. She looked tensely into the eyes of the man closest to her.

  “Forgive the interruption. I was sent by your city leader to search for a man named Danstu. He wouldn’t happen to be among you, would he?” she asked, already knowing he was from the conversation she overheard.

  “Danstu?” one of the men questioned. He glanced over his shoulder toward two men sitting by the fire. “You know this girl?”

  A man stood from the fire. He never once released his grip from his pistol. At first glance, he wasn’t much to look at. He was Crehail, a purebred by the looks of his narrow set eyes. His nose was small, thin and easily overlooked. His bottom lip protruded slightly over his top, giving him a smug pouting expression. What Sedom found interesting was his clothing. His brown slacks fit him baggy in the hips and his white shirt was obviously a size larger than his frame required. He must have barrowed them, perhaps from his uncle, she thought.

  Her eyes turned to his shoes as she listened to the men around her talk. His shoes were crafted from a fine animal’s skin. Even though they had run through the forest to avoid the Marisheio, and hid in a dirty cave overnight, they still held a sparkling shine about the toes. He was more than a simple farmer, more than a shop owner or a city politician. She could tell he was much more than the men he held company with.

  “And you are?” he spoke, his voice hiding an accent she didn’t quite recognize. His piercing eyes met her gaze, breaking through her defensive shield, and taunted her mind with questions.

  Sedom nodded to the man, understanding immediately he had to be Danstu. “Coppy sent us to find you and your friends. He said a group of you went off on a hunting trip before the Marisheio attacked and that you’d probably hold up in one of these caves,” Sedom stated boldly. She glanced over at the pile of weapons, suddenly realizing there was more to these men than a hunting trip. Some of the weapons were military grade and in no way would they have been used for hunting animals. They were protecting something or someone, but who?

  Danstu motioned for the men to lower their weapons. “Coppy was correct. How many survived?” he asked, his face stern and expressionless. It wasn’t what Sedom expected. He gave no emotional response, only the kind of response she’d expect from a leader assessing a situation.

  “I was told two-hundred and twenty-one have made it safely back to Gathow, that is as of my last update. We don’t know how many are dead or how many were taken yet,” Sedom replied cheerlessly. “We're searching for other survivors. You’re the first we’ve found.” She waved Zion and Rosanheer inside.

  “We were the only hunting party,” spoke another man.

  Sedom turned to the man who spoke. He was an older Crehail man, graying about the chops. His hands shook as he held his pistol to his side. She could tell he was no hunter, but he had some military training simply by the way he held his weapon. Something wasn’t adding up.

  “So you’re saying there is no need to continue searching?” Sedom questioned.

  “No, Madame. We’re fairly certain we’re all that’s left. If you wish to continue to search, Terman and Olgesh will go along to help,” Danstu offered as he pointed to the two men beside him.

  “MARISHEIO!” one of the children cried out. In a panic, all the men raised their weapons at Rosanheer as he and Zion entered the cave. He raised his hands followed by Zion.

  “Uh, Sortec, mind introducing us?” Zion called out.

  “Hold on now,” Rosanheer called out.

  Sedom dashed in front of Rosanheer, ready to defend him if necessary. “These are my friends. He does not work for the Marisheio. If he did, I would have already killed him myself.”

  “Put your weapons down, now!” Danstu ordered the group in the Crehails’ language of Vocten. Everyone in the group slowly lowered their weapons. “If they wanted us dead we’d been so by now,” he stated.
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  Sedom slowly stepped away from Rosanheer. “Good, good. I understand you’re all a little jumpy, we are a little too after what happened last night. Know that we’re only here to help and there is no reason to fear us,” she explained in a soothing voice.

  “You keep mighty interesting friends. What do they call you?” asked one of the older men in the group.

  “We are speaking to Sortec herself,” answered a Crehail man in his forties, who stood behind Danstu. He jumped away from the fire pit and hurried over to Sedom.

  He was a scrappy man, large at one time, but looked to have lost a lot of weight recently. His hair was a mess of grass and was so filthy Sedom couldn’t tell what his natural color was. He offered his hand, after dusting it off on his tan, threadbare pants. “Taraam Alree. It is an honor to meet you, Chadon.”

  Sedom looked down at his gritty hand, grinning to hold back her disgust. “Forgive me, I don’t shake,” she admitted. After her encounter with Hasapoi, she was beginning to think twice about shaking anyone’s hand, let alone one so dirty. She looked deeply into the man’s silver eyes, noticing a small mark in the corner of his right eye. It was a mark she recalled reading about a long time ago, the mark of a worker slave. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was also a tracking device in the form of a tiny microchip. She didn’t worry that it was tracking him, not from the caves. The rock was too dense for any tracking device to find him. It was probably why he hid within the caves.

  She turned to one of the men when she heard her name whispered. “Sortec?” asked another with a gasp. “The Narkoy, Sedom Sortec?”

  “The Chadon herself. This is an honor, Chadon,” Danstu said with a slight bow.

  Sedom nodded. “Let's get this group back to Gathow. We’ll decide if we want to continue searching once these people are settled.” She took hold of Alree's shoulder, causing a dust storm to rise from his jacket. “Uh,” she sneezed. “You-a… stay close. Half the galaxy is looking for you and not the good half,” she said sneezing again.

  Danstu offered Sedom his handkerchief and she gladly accepted it.

  Alree grunted nervously. “I know. I just hope wherever you’re taking us has a bath,” he mentioned. Sedom nodded, agreeing too that he desperately needed to bathe.

  “Into the tunnels? But, those animals will eat us!” cried a boy while pointing to the cave’s opening.

  “She has a special pass,” Rosanheer assured as he guided the child into the tunnels.

  Sedom took the lead, flashing her light into the tunnel. She called out her name again, sending several Hoviss running. Alree rushed up next to Sedom, matching her pace so close she could smell his insect-eating, rancid breath.

  “Sortec, not so fast,” Alree called. His sudden advancement towards Sedom caused Zion to step in his way. He glared down at Alree, forcing the man to take a step back. “Um, Sortec, a moment?”

  Sedom paid little attention to the man other than what her nose forced her to. Her mind was already thinking of how best to accommodate her new visitors and how she could benefit from them being in Gathow. Only when Alree cleared his throat a third time did Sedom realize he was near her.

  “What?” she asked abruptly, her attention on a passing Hoviss. She raised her hand to keep everyone from walking further. “Alka emina! Esha Manun!” she called out, her voice echoing throughout the tunnel. The animals ran off down another tunnel. She turned back to the group, motioning for them to continue.

  “Thank you for saving this group. I’ve been trying to keep them safe, but I didn’t know how to get past these… things,” Alree spoke humbly.

  Sedom grunted. “My security? They’re foul, but effective.”

  “I say they are,” returned the older man who had gray hair about the chops.

  Sedom glanced behind her at the man. He was the same man who she believed had military training. “And you are?” she questioned.

  “Terman Croon,” the man introduced.

  “Which military did you serve?” she questioned, wondering if he would admit to serving.

  “Calanthre,” he returned low.

  “Ah, I thought so,” she whispered to the man. “Let’s talk later,” she mentioned. She nodded several times as she attempted to file his name in the back of her mind, but she doubted she’d recall it. She turned her attention back to Alree. “You were an employee of the man who created the virus that destroyed my people. I want to know more,” Sedom mentioned hoping that Alree would take the hint that she didn't rescue him or his people without compensation.

  “Employed? Hardly,” he scoffed. “Try indentured servitude. If it wasn't for Waar offering his services as my replacement I might still be stuck...”

  “War?” Sedom questioned, only half-listening. “Who is Lord Wyice at war with?”

  “No, Waar, he's the nephew of Golentesh Hiylenveer,” he mentioned. Sedom turned to him with questioning eyes. “The Marisheio's leader,” Alree explained.

  “The Marisheio overlord who ordered the attack on your people,” Zion said in his native tongue so as to not embarrass her.

  “Yes, of course. I have a lot on my mind,” she covered.

  Danstu perked up, listening to Zion’s words. His sudden interest caused Zion to turn to him. “You know Calk?” he asked low to Danstu, who gave a sly smirk as an answer.

  “Why he wanted to serve as Sidoc’s aid eludes me. I mean, he's next to his cousin, Santurra, to secede the thrown,” Alree continued, muttering off in a mind daze.

  Sedom blinked several times, trying to keep everything straight in her mind. Although she wanted war with the Marisheio she knew very little about them. Even the name of their leader was as alien to her ears as peace.

  “Do me a favor and write me a detailed account of everything you know when we return to Gathow. It sounds like information I should know, but I haven't the concentration for it right now,” Sedom admitted.

  “Chadon, how long will we be allowed to remain in Gathow?” asked Danstu, who continued to walk next to Zion.

  Zion and Rosanheer both perked up, waiting to hear Sedom’s answer. “Prove your worth and we’ll talk,” she returned, amusing her two associates.

  She would allow them to remain. With so many people in Gathow, though, rules had to be established and rules were not her area of expertise. She walked ahead, leaving the group behind so she could think more clearly and without interruptions.

  “Is she often this… aloof?” Danstu asked Rosanheer.

  Zion smirked, finding humor in both Sedom’s actions and the man’s choice of words. “I haven't known her not to be,” he returned in a whisper, so the rest of the group wouldn’t hear. “Gathow isn't much further. Cidele will arrange quarters for you until Sortec makes up her mind how to handle this situation.”

  “And how long will that take?” asked Alree.

  Rosanheer glanced down at the man, smiling deviously. “You? I'd get comfortable. There's no way we're letting you out of our sights. The others, we'll see what she wants to do.” When Rosanheer turned back to Sedom, she was far ahead of the group. She hadn’t heard anything he said nor did she look like she cared.

  “You’re a war criminal?” Danstu asked Alree with concern in his almond-shaped, bright sky-blue eyes.

  The man hesitated to answer, his eyes constantly shifting back and forth from Zion to Rosanheer. “Um, well, you could call me a man of circumstance, nothing more,” Alree replied cryptically.

  Danstu glanced over to Zion, motioning with his eyes to Alree that something wasn’t quite right with the man. Zion grunted. It was as if the two men had a connection, knowing what the other thought. Zion understood this, he had the ability of telepathy, but Danstu was Crehail. How did he know what Zion was thinking? Regardless, both held concerns about Alree.

  “Sortec!” Rosanheer called. She waved him on as she disappeared down another tunnel. “Damn it, Sortec!” he grumbled under his breath.

  “Yes, aloof is a good word for her,” Zion agreed.

  “I gu
ess we’ll handle this on our own,” Rosanheer spoke low to Zion, even though his voice carried in the tunnels.

  Zion turned to Rosanheer, questioning Sedom, pausing only when he realized Danstu was watching them. “She has a lot on her mind. She figures we can handle it from here,” Zion covered, knowing that any sane man wouldn’t buy it.

  “Let's pick up the pace, in case her snarling friends return.” Rosanheer waved them along, waiting for the entire group to pass him so he could take up the rear.

  The group emerged from the tunnel and into the golden lights of Gathow. Beyond the light of Gathow's sun, Zion and Rosanheer could see the extent of the group’s injuries. Suddenly an orb swooped down, scanning each person in the group individually. Three more orbs dropped from the ceiling and surrounded Alree.

  “Limited access. Proceed,” one orb spoke directly to Alree.

  Alree stepped back, his eyes wide as he gazed into the yellow light of the crystal orb. “Um, guys. What's this?”

  “You're new guards. I suggest you don't piss them off,” Rosanheer returned.

  “She doesn't waste any time,” Zion smirked low to Rosanheer. “Those who don't need immediate medical attention I'll take to Cidele. Those who do need medical attention, you’re in charge of taking them to the infirmary… unless you want to deal with Cidele?” Zion ordered to Rosanheer.

  Rosanheer nodded. “No thanks. You can have the honors,” he grumbled back.

  They continued into the main part of the city, where Cidele was waiting. Rosanheer stepped to the back of the group, watching for who was wounded. Danstu held back with Rosanheer, pointing out four people he believed needed medical treatment.

  In the middle of the city, across from the cafeteria, Cidele stood to wait for them. Behind her sat a table covered with all sizes of clothing, care packages with cleaning supplies, and bundles of fresh blankets and linen.

  Zion approached Cidele, shaking his head pleased. “This is impressive. What made you believe this was needed?” he asked.

  “Not bad for a woman, right?” she jabbed, having had to deal with his sexist remarks in the past. “I was thinking ahead. Sedom mentioned you were going out to search for survivors,” she said. In her hands, she held a computer pad. She glanced over Zion's shoulder, shaking her head, befuddled by the group of people that they had returned with. “Good fishing, I see. How many did you catch this time?” she asked.