Alliance of Serpents (21 page)

"You seem angry," Sartan noted as though
thinking aloud. "I've gone over it dozens of times in my mind, and
the only reason I can come up with for your sudden surrender to my
people is that you hoped to somehow exact revenge upon me for the
death of your father. Is that it?"

Vultrel grit his teeth and turned away. He
had to get that miserable wretch out of his sight. "You will pay
for what you've done. All of you. The Kyrosen will cause no further
pain to anyone. It's not revenge. For people like you, it's the
only justice possible. You cannot be made to listen to reason;
killing is your nature, a part of what makes you who you are. You
must be destroyed so that the killing will stop."

Now Truce snorted. "You sound an awful lot
like someone else around here."

"You would do well to abandon such ideals," a
female voice came from the right. Vultrel peered through the bars
of his cell, but there was no one else in the hall. "Who said
that?"

"Great, more pompous self-righteousness from
the Belvid queen," Sartan muttered. "Haven't heard enough of that
lately."

"I am imprisoned in the cell to your right,"
the female voice spoke again. "I am the High Lady Almatha of
Belvidia."

High Lady? The title sounded important, but
where in the world was Belvidia? Vultrel had never heard of such a
kingdom, yet it seemed the Mages had not only found it, but
captured a high-ranking citizen. "Where is Belvidia?"

"That is knowledge I cannot share," she
responded, sounding offended. "We try to keep ourselves separated
from the rest of the universe, as those who know of our location
tend—"

"She's a fairy-girl from another planet,"
Truce broke in. "What she's doing here, I have no idea, but I'm
sure there is a good reason."

Dozens of questions rose with that tidbit of
information, and for the first time Vultrel began to consider that
he was not on a Kyrosen ship at all. This Almatha woman, she was
captured and held on a ship that had picked up the Mages and
imprisoned Truce. But Olock claimed he was in charge. None of it
made sense. Who had come to take the Kyrosen from Terranias, and
why had they locked Sartan away? What had they been doing
beforehand that they had already taken other prisoners? What had
Almatha done to deserve to be jailed? "Who is command of this
ship?" he asked. It seemed as good a place to begin as any.

Neither had a chance to answer. Two men, one
dressed entirely in white and the other clad in black, appeared in
front of Vultrel's cell so suddenly that he'd almost thought they
had somehow materialized out of thin air. They both wore cloths
around their heads of the same color as their attire, concealing
all but their dark eyes. "The Admiral will see you now," one of
them said through a snake's hiss.

"See
him
?" Truce sounded legitimately
shocked. "Why him? What does Thorus—"

The one in white whirled to face Truce. "You
will speak only when spoken to, worm! You abandoned your post
willingly, and you are expected to adhere to the rules you agreed
to!"

Truce was certainly unhappy with that
exchange, but he kept his grin plastered across his face, however
forced it seemed, and sat back against the wall once more. The man
in white faced Vultrel again. "You will come with us at once. Do
not resist; we have no intentions of harming you unless you give us
reason."

"I will cooperate," Vultrel quickly agreed.
He saw Truce sit forward again, though the Mage held back whatever
it was he wanted to say.

The door was opened, and he was escorted down
the hall so quickly that he barely got a glance at the
green-skinned woman with flowing red hair in the cell beside his
own. He didn't get much of a look at her wings either, but he saw
enough to agree with Truce's assessment that she was a
"fairy-girl."

"Be wary," she warned from behind. "If you
were looking to throw yourself into a pit of vipers, you've managed
to find the king."

*******

The tiny fleck of reproduced lephadorite
sparkled with beauty by the time Kindel was through polishing it.
He had no idea how he was going to test the abilities of the cloned
stone, but then he had yet to test the properties of the original.
It put an invisible pressure on his chest, all the hard work and
research on a theory that had yet to be proven, but that seemed to
be the way of science. Countless claims, few of which held any
water, were made daily by men who thought that the universe must
conform to the boundaries of their own understanding. How could he
be so sure that his theories about the lephadorite were not as
baseless as the claims made by scientists that the universe just
somehow always existed out of nothingness?

Because the stories of the historical war had
led him to the precise location of the stone. Ancient textbooks
handed down through civilizations for thousands of years had
provided detailed accounts of what had happened on Terranias during
that ancient battle. All of his research had led him to discover
the stone exactly where he expected it to be, colored as it was
described in the books, and shaped as predicted by descendants of
humans that had survived the ordeal. Kindel's theories regarding
the lephadorite were born from more than simple mathematic
calculations and common scientific principals. And it was only a
matter of time before his theories and expectations would be
proven.

He nervously rolled the two rocks around in
his palm as he reclined at his desk. There was more to the puzzle
than simply them; there was the amulet to consider. Everything had
to come together with exact precision. But it would all be tested
soon, he would make sure of that. A random soldier from the
Vezulian Guardsmen would suffice for those tests. If there were any
adverse effects, the soldier would be dismissed and the formula for
the construction of the amulet would be reassessed. As it was, a
smaller housing would need to be constructed for the pebble of
lephadorite that the lab had managed to create. As long as it
possessed the same ratio of gold and jewels to lephadorite, Kindel
saw no reason why it wouldn't work as effectively. But then, if the
stone was as unpredictable as he'd been led to believe . . .

The visitor alert tone sounded, interrupting
his thoughts. He dropped both stones into his top drawer and closed
it; he could deal with them later. There were more pressing matters
to be handled, and if the rumors going around the ship were true,
then his visitor could prove useful in retrieving the Arus boy. The
situation would have to be handled delicately. No doubt this young
man had no love for the Kyrosen, and by now he must've certainly
learned of their partnership with the Armada. Still, a relationship
could be salvaged if the proper seeds were planted. "Come in."

A visibly wary young man entered, nervous
eyes darting about as though he expected an ambush from every side.
His black clothes matched his dark eyes and hair, and there was a
muscular definition in his arms that was rare for a boy of his age.
Well, for a
human
boy. Scimitar and Kalibur were close
behind, though they stopped just inside the doorway.

"He came without resisting, though I think
Truce was trying to confuse him with his usual rhetoric." A hint of
disgust laced Kalibur's voice.

Kindel's lips twisted wryly. "Let him talk.
Truce doesn't have a clue about what's really going on around here,
anyway." There. The first seed planted. He motioned the young man
toward an elegantly crafted wooden chair set before his desk. "Sit,
friend." A brief glance spared for his two assistants was met with
slight bows before they exited, leaving Kindel alone with the guest
from Terranias. "I've been reading much about the history of your
world lately. Truly, your people are a fascinating race."

The boy kept his cold stare fixed on Thorus,
though it did seem a bit forced. He was struggling to maintain his
calm composure; that much was clear. "Thank you," was all he
said.

Kindel let a grin slide across his face. "You
seem tense. Relax. I mean you no harm so long as you show the same
respect toward me."

"I don't even know you. I know very little of
what's going on around here."

Kindel nodded as he rose to his feet. "Fair
enough," he conceded. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kindel
Thorus, Admiral of the Vezulian Armada and Defender of the Homeland
of Zo'rhan." He finished the sentence with a bow that would've
pleased a king.

The youth stood as well, returning the bow
while managing to hang onto his defensive facade. "Vultrel Lurei,
son of Eaisan Lurei, Master of Blades, Captain of Honor."

"An honor well-deserved, I'm sure," Kindel
said as he sat. "From what I hear, he dealt the Kyrosen more than a
few crushing blows over the course of his life. Tragic how it
ended."

The corners of Vultrel's eyes and mouth
tightened briefly. "How do you know about my father?"

"As I said, I've been studying your people.
In fact, you might say that it was the circumstances surrounding
your father's untimely demise that set up this meeting between
us."

Vultrel shook his head. "I don't
understand."

Kindel leaned back and put his feet on his
desk. "You see, the Kyrosen have been enemies of the Armada for a
number of years. It is the sole purpose of the Vezulian Armada to
eliminate any beings or races that threaten the safety of others
through their cruel and malicious actions. From your own
experience, I gather you are aware of just how heartless and
cowardly the Kyrosen can be. The Armada spent many years chasing
Aratus Truce and his men in an effort to rid the galaxy of the
threat they carried. But then, seven years ago, they vanished.
Terranias and its solar system was uncharted territory for us at
the time, so the Kyrosen remained hidden from us until recently
when Sartan Truce began to use some of his old transmissions
equipment to put feelers out across the galaxy in search of a buyer
for his implant technology. What he wasn't aware of was that one of
his ‘contacts' was a Vezulian spy. The transmission led us right to
Terranias." There was no need to mention that they had been headed
to Terranias anyway. The lephadorite and its origin would be
another subject for another time. If things went according to plan,
of course.

Vultrel shifted in his chair. He seemed less
tense, though his hands still gripped the arms of his chair
tightly. "Is that why Truce is now locked in your prison
level?"

Kindel couldn't help but chuckle. Having
Sartan locked up served as a constant reminder that even the
greatest of evil could be defeated. "Something like that. Though he
believes I've formed an alliance with the Kyrosen. He offered
himself as collateral to ensure that his followers wouldn't turn on
me, and as a result, he now stews in a prison cell. Incidentally, I
apologize for keeping you down there for so long, but I wanted to
give you a chance to regain consciousness and I couldn't risk
having you wake up unbound only to cause havoc on what you would've
likely thought was a Kyrosen ship."

"So . . . I'm
not
a prisoner?" Vultrel
asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"Not unless you give me reason to make you
one." Kindel stood and walked to the large viewport, unconsciously
shifting his black cloak as he moved. "You see, Truce had a favor
to ask. He wanted ships to use in order to escape from your
planet." He laughed again, this time more openly. "What kind of
fool goes to his greatest enemy for a favor? At any rate, as
payment, he offered me something that he obviously believed would
set me following at his heels. Whether he knows it yet or not, he
was wrong."

Through the reflection in the viewport,
Kindel could see the sudden concern on Vultrel's face. He'd already
figured it out. A smart boy, that one. "What was it? What did he
offer you?"

"Judging from your face," Kindel began,
facing him, "you've already guessed. He offered the implant, and
the boy you know as Arus along with it."

The young man seemed torn between rage and
concern. He clearly didn't trust Kindel yet, but Thorus had given
him no indication that he was interested in controlling his friend.
"W-What are you going to do?"

Now came the tricky part. The answer had to
be worded just right if Kindel was to convince Vultrel to assist
him. "Well, as I said, the Armada's sole purpose is to protect the
galaxy from tyrants like Truce and his men. If I don't get to Arus
first, someone else will, and you can be sure that they'll use him
for their own selfish wishes. I can provide him with protection to
keep him from dangerous hands."

"He already has protection," Vultrel told
him. "People calling themselves the Aeden Alliance have taken him
into their custody."

So he knew. The information Kindel had been
provided with regarding this one had not included any interaction
with Aldoric's band of thugs. It made little difference, though.
"Yes, so I've heard. How much do you know about them?"

He shrugged. "Only that they are some kind of
space military that claims to protect civilizations that cannot do
so themselves."

Kindel pursed his lips in disgust. "The mask
of righteousness is the guise that evil prefers most."

"Are you saying that Arus is in danger?"

"Not directly, though I would put nothing
past the Aeden Alliance. No, I believe the true threat comes in the
Alliance's inability to properly protect him. You see, their vision
is weak and flawed. They show mercy where there should be none.
They allow criminals to go unpunished, giving them limited prison
sentences or sending them to work in community benefit facilities.
All too often, men are pardoned for crimes that should've been
answered with death simply because they aren't satisfied with the
evidence presented, and many of those who have been freed have gone
on to commit similar crimes. On top of all of that, the Aeden
Alliance opposes the Armada and has interfered repeatedly with our
mission of bringing true justice to those who would trample the
rights of others." Kindel growled and turned away, trying to keep
his emotions in check. Anytime he spoke of the hypocrisy of the
Alliance, a fire raged inside him. "They stand in the way of
justice more often than they uphold it, and their weakness will
lead to their downfall."