Lawked Flame (4 page)

He sealed the room as Royce and Benicke
arrived on the floor and took their positions. Royce pulled out his
jewel-encrusted sword. The Minthian’s eyes widened. The gleaming
blade reflected in his eyes before he looked at Khayden,
recognition bright with the onset of death.

“Please, Master, help me,” he whispered,
releasing poisons even as he begged for his life.

Khayden hardened his resolve even as his
heart squeezed tight at the loss of another one of his people.
Wishing things were different and he could undo the damage caused
by the serum, he mentally swore, knowing it was impossible. With
the introduction of the serum, the Minthian’s body was altered and
no longer functioned correctly.

The whistle of the sword separated the head
from the body. Immediately, Khayden whisked the head into a
containment bag as Royce chanted the purification rite over the
jerking remains. Benicke poured the sealing fluid on the body and
the bleeding stopped. Khayden opened his palm. A spherical blue
light appeared. He sent the light to the bag containing the head
and then to the body on the floor. The light grew as it touched
each part of the decapitated being. Benicke joined Royce’s chant.
Khayden held the light steady as it engulfed the body parts.
Seconds later, there was nothing left of the Minthian, not even
ash.

Khayden passed the jar holding the virus to
Benicke. “Make sure the Murlins get this. They need to get a cure
out to the World Health Organization as soon as possible; this
virus had more exposure than some of the others.” Pulling out a
sanitation cloth, Khayden wiped his hands and re-called the blue
light. It returned to his palm and winked out. Benicke nodded and
strode out the building.

Khayden opened his senses and walked the
area, searching for traces of the foul virus. Stench smacked his
nostrils. He headed in the direction of the stairs and stopped
suddenly. It looked like he would be getting home later than he
thought.

“Gorsh,” Royce cussed, releasing a long
whistle as he looked at the man lying across three steps.
“Dead?”

“I do not hear any life signals.” Khayden
bent and looked at the corpse. The human male’s lips were blue and
his vacant eyes stared at the pale beige concrete wall. He was
dressed in gray sweatpants, a maroon sweatshirt, and sneakers. He
had probably come into work for a few minutes.

Khayden glanced down and his heart dropped
at the gold band gleaming in the dull light on his left hand.
Someone, somewhere, waited for this man’s return. Jaw tight, he
said through gritted teeth, “Get a Murlin here now.”

Royce sent out a telepathic summons. Seconds
later he turned back to Khayden. “We are in luck. Aspen is
available and on his way.”

Khayden nodded, pleased one of the more
powerful Murlins would look into this situation. It was
unacceptable on multiple levels for humans to die because of their
war with the Geleets. Nature’s Mother had been very clear in that
regard. Another glance at the deceased and he knew things were
escalating faster than he had thought. If the man was infected from
the Minthian they had just erased, then this virus was deadlier
than anything they had seen.

“I am here, Master Khayden.” Aspen’s
baritone voice never rose or lowered. He was the epitome of calm,
never flustered, definitely what was needed with these new
developments.

Rising, Khayden tipped his head at the
Murlin. “Good. Take a look at this.” He pointed to the man on the
steps. Aspen walked around him and down a few steps until he stood
over the fallen victim. After staring for a few moments, he looked
up at Khayden, his lavender eyes bright, as though the sun were
trapped inside.

“He is infected. Do we have samples of this
virus?” His brow furrowed as his gaze returned to the man.

“I have talked to Genus about this and
Benicke is currently taking him samples in the containment
jar.”

Aspen waved his hand. “Genus? I had not
heard he was back on duty. I will work with him on this.” He
pointed to the man, stared again, and then bent down. Peering
closer, he inhaled and released a long whistle. “This virus is more
complicated than the others. I will take him with me, but if my
initial findings are correct, someone is spending more time and
resources concocting these diseases.” He looked at Khayden and then
Royce. “This is not good.”

Khayden bit back a sarcastic remark, looked
at Aspen and then the corpse. He was tired of breathing this foul
air and wanted nothing more than to leave. Problems were piling up
on his plate and he needed a space of quiet to think through a few
things. He sensed the answer was near, he just needed time to think
it through. “None of this is good. Do you have a containment bag
with you?”

In one fluid motion that made Royce’s eyes
widen, Aspen rose and pulled the bag from somewhere in his
coat.

“I do.” He covered the top of the deceased
with the plastic bag, allowing it to expand from the top of the
human's head to the soles of his white sneakers. Once the bag
settled, it began to mold itself around the body.

Seconds later, Khayden watched as Aspen
lifted the plastic covered man over his shoulder. “I want a report
tomorrow.”

“Yes Sir.” Aspen waved and disappeared.

####

Khayden, Master Lawke of Lawkmeria, stalked
into the solarium. Bits of blood and skin stuck to his bronze
jumpsuit. Head high, he strode across the cobble-stoned floor to
the far corner, confident no one would guess how tired he was of
the weight of his office. He yanked open the stainless steel
decontamination chamber door and stepped in. A minute later he
stepped out, free of all the pestilence from the destroyed
culprit.

Walking toward the opposite side of the room
while Benicke and Royce went through decontamination, Khayden
stood, frowning beneath the sparse Frejyn plant. There were fewer
leaves on it now than three days past when he'd left to dispose of
the Minthian. The thick trunk sprouted several limbs that normally
hung heavy with three-pronged, silvery leaves. Leaves with blackish
veins produced Fre, the one nutrient his people needed to maintain
their gelatal membranes. Although they appeared humanoid, there
were some significant internal differences.

When Lawkes and Kees unlocked, that membrane
acted as a facilitator, ensuring the Kee fit correctly and each
party received the correct benefits from one another. If the
membrane dried up and didn’t allow the connection between Lawkes
and Kees, the Lawkes would cease to function. Just as a rusted
physical lock required protection when exposed to the elements, the
membrane also acted as the filter between each Lawke, anywhere on
the planet, and the Master Lawke. Closing his eyes, Khayden
released his jaw and unclenched his fist incrementally, one second
at a time. He cleared his thoughts and his mind. For a space of a
few seconds, he was free of the chatter and demands of his office.
No transmissions, no problems, no emergencies, just blessed peace,
a rarity for him.

“Master Khayden.” Addie, the housemaster,
called as he walked into the room.

Khayden flung up his hand, stopping the flow
of words. He needed a few more minutes of silence to regroup, to
refocus, and to re-channel his energies.

Royce instructed Addie. “Bring Master
Khayden his tonic.”

The shuffling of feet in the background
assured Khayden the request was carried out. After another deep
cleansing breath, he turned to face Royce and Benicke. “This last
Minthian was stronger than the other three. He tried to escape. But
in the end he pleaded for his life, which is not common. The
Murlins must act fast on damage control.” Royce nodded in
agreement. “We need to find the Geleet spies and the serum they are
using to infect our people before this gets out of hand,” Khayden
added.

“I hesitate to agree with you,” Royce said,
moving closer to Khayden and Benicke. “Remember, the last major
outbreak was in the Southern Regent’s area and it took years to
eradicate that virus from the humans. I can see by the bareness of
your plant—”his chin tipped in the direction of the Frejyn, “—the
Good Mother is still not pleased with our progress. No matter how
many infected outcasts we catch and destroy, or how many cures the
Murlins provide, it is never enough. Our people will die without
more Frejyn.”

“I am aware of this.” Khayden sighed. He
sounded tired even to his own ears. He moved to sit in one of the
heavy leather chairs in the middle of the room. “That is one of
many challenges facing us. The Geleet must know of the Mother’s
anger against us, it seems they have stepped up the viral attacks.
Plants and wildlife are affected as much as humans. However, there
is still hope. She has not stopped producing the plant
altogether.”

“Na yet, but she hae cut back her
production. The fields yield fewer crops than afore. Our stores a’
diminishing. Thee people are on rations,” Benicke said, heated. His
colorful use of various dialects an earmark of his distress. It was
if his tongue could not make up its mind how it wanted to
communicate. Khayden had to listen closely to understand everything
the man said or run the risk of offending his close friend.

“As well they should be,” Royce said, his
tone clipped. “Our nation is under attack. Our way of life
challenged and threatened. Every Lawke must make sacrifices for the
good of all.” Khayden listened as his two advisors rambled on. It
was a familiar sound, an important outlet after decontamination he
supposed.

Royce slammed his fist into his palm as he
stood. Lines of passion crossed his face as he glanced at Khayden
and Benicke. “We must destroy all the Minthians and reverse the
damage they’ve done to the earth.”

Benicke’s square face reddened, matching the
color of his hair as he stared at Royce. “If we hae a knowing who
been infected we could destroy ‘em, but we do nae. There canna be
nae witch-hunts. Besides, the Murlins hae solved most of thee
viruses spread by infected ones.”

“Not the main one, I believe the Good Mother
withholds the production of our plant because of that major
catastrophe,” Royce said through clenched teeth and jaw. His dark
complexion glowed under the tepid lighting from the ceiling as the
veins in his neck stood out.

“There was no proof an infected Lawke
started that virus in Africa. We are not certain that disaster was
attributed to our column. Also, our Murlins work to find a cure in
good faith, not to assuage our people of guilt,” Khayden said,
stopping the heated conversation. It never failed. One advisor felt
they did too much, the other felt not enough was being done. He had
grown weary of the bickering.

“You are correct, Master Khayden.” Royce
nodded, his eyes hooded as he returned to his seat.

Khayden sat with his elbows on his knees and
his fingertips beneath his chin as he spoke. He pushed aside one of
two long beaded braids that ran along each side of his face. “I
believe Nature’s Mother is working with us, although she is
displeased with the viruses and diseases that have damaged her
planet. Her position that these calamities would not have befallen
Earth if our enemies had not instigated them as a way to get rid of
us is correct. The recent viral outbreaks are because the Geleets
are out to destroy me to insure we never regain
our
home
planet. Since they cannot destroy me directly, they are making our
temporary home uncomfortable.” His analysis of the situation rubbed
him raw, but that was the nature of life. Cut off the head and the
body dies.

“But why now?” Benicke asked, frowning.
“We’ve been 'ere over two hundred years, wit-in thee past fifty the
Geleets made themselves nuisances. They hae stirred up trouble in
me ranks and split off’ a few Lawkes from thee herd, turning ‘em
into mindless Minthians. Good fur nothing but spreading
pestilence.”

“Perhaps they are trying to have us expelled
from Earth?” Royce asked.

“They know we die wit’ out thee plant thee
Good Mother cloned from one of our home plants for us. I donna see
her expelling us aft’a she hae done s’ much,” Benicke said.

“But what if she became angry with us? She
has
stopped producing the plant,” Royce said.

“The Good Mother is many things, but she is
no murderer. She may be angry, but she will not willfully destroy
us. There must be another reason for the sudden onslaught,” Khayden
said. He leaned back in his chair as Addie walked in with
refreshments and placed the silver container on the table.

“Would you like me to pour, Sir?”

“No. We need a few more minutes to debrief,
then I will have your report.” Khayden turned to pour his beverage
and noticed the pained look on Addie’s face. Obviously, the man
wanted to speak now. But after chasing a malignant Minthian down
and erasing him, Khayden wanted to unwind before re-opening
channels for domestic problems. “I will contact you when I’m done
here,” he said. He dismissed the housemaster with a mental
push.

Red faced, Addie bowed and left the
room.

Royce looked at both men. “Perhaps we should
ask the Gramiers if they have heard of anything.”

Khayden had thought of that earlier as he
traveled back to Lawkharven. Gramiers were the Seers of his race
and they were the ones who had made initial contact with Nature’s
Mother centuries ago after they first arrived to this planet. One
thing held him back, whenever he talked to the Seers, their answer
for everything was his Kee. The head Gramier believed all their
problems would be solved the moment he unlocked and for that
monumental event, he needed a Kee. Not a Kee, he corrected snidely,
he needed
his
Kee. The only person who could unlock him and,
because of the symbiotic connection, his people. The day had been
too long and he was not in the mood for more
Kee
advice. It
wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to find his Kee. He’d traveled
extensively to all of the Lawkharvens and met with every available
Kee. None could unlock him.