Tiva Boon: Heir of Abennelp (Tiva Boon Series Book 2) (11 page)

The hunters were nearing and with them, a strong mind.

Tiva jumped up from the bed ignoring the ache as she ran through the house. “Harai they are coming, you must leave!”

The young girl rushed into the kitchen area and grabbed Tiva by the arm. “I’m not leaving without you, let’s go. My father is expecting us.” Harai pulled her out the back door and through the yard.

“It is too late…” Tiva said, stopped, and looked at the men surrounding them. She glanced into her friend’s eyes and smiled. “Thank you for trying, Harai. They want me, not you. You must remain safe…go!” Tiva pushed her back inside the house, closed the door, and sprinted toward the group of men.

“Tiva no! They will hurt you! I have foreseen it!”

She barely heard Harai’s scream as she hurdled into the air. Two of the hunters fired their weapons at her. She spun midair, shifting her body and planted her foot into the chest of one of them. Landing between them, she pulled the second close, snapped his wrist back, jerked his undamaged arm behind his back, and used him as a shield.

The hunters continued to fire. Tiva backed up slowly keeping herself hidden behind the man’s now lifeless body. She rushed to the fence at the end of the yard, pushed the body forward, and hopped over it.

When she rose to her feet, she was face to face with the man who had eluded the guardians time after time. He grinned wickedly and his voice blared through her mind.

All this fuss over you? I can hardly believe it.

Tiva fell to her knees and grabbed her head.

“Oh, did that hurt? I’m sorry, Royal Guardian Boon.”

She glanced up. “I am surprised you are still alive, Pethor.”

He howled with delight. “How could I expect you not to know me? Solun said you were sharp.”

“You will join him soon.”

“You jest, Tiva Boon, it is you who will join him once I’ve extracted all the information I need out of you.”

“What information? Have your alien friends not told you all there is to know, traitor?”

“Alien friends?” He knelt down and lifted her chin. His dark features hardened. “Oh, you mean our suppliers. Well, we severed ties with them long before the Great War ended; we have…other alliances now.”

She met his cold maroon eyes. “I will tell you nothing.”

“You will, eventually. I have ways of breaking the strongest of spirits, I assure you.” He hauled her to her feet and two others secured her hands and feet. He turned to his men. “Take her back to the ship.”

The drug was wearing off, and she was able to shield herself slightly. Pethor’s ship came into view as the Abennelpian guards pushed her through the forest. The vessel was a modified version of the king’s. Next to it was the bounty ship and the few hunters left alive. She grinned. Murek was lying on the ground with a hole in his chest, most likely caught in the crossfire.

Lekko and Pethor talked softly in the distance. Tiva saw the traitor hand Lekko two small containers. Most likely payment for her capture.

She had no way of knowing if Harai was alive. She hoped Major Raku informed the
Tolox
of her location, and she prayed they came after her. She knew if Aliri and Adam had any say in the matter, the captain would at least try.

Pethor’s men escorted her through the ship and into a holding room. They strapped her onto an upright bed, laughed, and left without saying a word. A shiver ran up her spine. The table next to her held various sharp instruments and weapons. Several items were foreign to her, but she knew their purpose.

When the traitor walked in, she felt the ship lift off the ground. Her heart raced, and her markings darkened despite her fear. Pethor silently moved to the table and picked up a long silver dagger. He cut both sleeves off her top and slit the shirt in half, leaving only her undershirt.“Let’s see, we should start off slow. How many of you survived the last Rebel attack?”

“I do not know.”

Pethor backhanded her across the face and calmly asked again. “How many of you survived the Rebel attack?”

“Strike at me all you wish, traitor, I will never tell you.”

“Damn you to the spirits, you will!” He grabbed a short three-pronged razor sharp instrument and pressed it into her upper arm. “Tell me how many survived.”

Pain sear through her flesh, but she absorbed it and clenched her teeth. Again, he asked and she refused. Another jolt shocked her. The sting rode up her shoulder and down her torso. She met Pethor’s cold, dark eyes. He grinned.

“Don’t make me harm you, Guardian. I just want answers.”

“You called me Guardian so you know I will die before I tell you anything.”

“Well, we have other means. I did not wish to resort to such tactics, but I will if I must.” Pethor struck her across the face again, this time using the instrument. The blood trickled down her cheek, but she ignored it. He pressed the device into her other arm and shocked her again. Tiva struggled under her restraints. He lifted her undershirt and pressed the prongs against her stomach. He twisted the device and the metal cut deep into her skin. Tiva cringed and continued to thrash, but there was no way to break free. “Certain you don’t want to talk, Royal Guardian?”

“I will enjoy taking your life,” she stated calmly. Another barrage invaded her body, this time stronger than the last. Her body seized uncontrollably and when it stopped, she went limp on the table. Pethor neared and lifted her chin. Tiva spit in his face.

“Pity you have to lower yourself to such a level…” He grinned and wiped his face. “Let’s try another question, one I am sure you
know
the answer to…Where is the royal family?”

Tiva stayed silent. Was it possible that the Rebels didn’t know everyone else was gone?

“Answer me! Where are they?” He slammed the prongs into her shoulder and looked into her eyes. His markings were dark, but not as black as hers. She bit her lip to keep from screaming, and did her best to ignore the torment rising within.

“I am elite Royal Guardian, Tiva Boon. I have sworn my life to protect my king, and I will return to the Eternal Lands before I tell you anything!”

Pethor hung his head. “He said you’d be stubborn, but I was not expecting this…”

“Who?”

He rubbed the back of his hand nervously. “I urge you to answer me. These devices are meant for one thing only…”
“Go to hell, Pethor.”

“You’ve been with off-worlders too long, you are starting to sound like them.” He reached back onto the table and picked up a small box. After opening and inspecting the contents, he placed three small round patches on her face, one in the middle of her moons and the other two on her temples. Tiva attempted escape again, trying anything and everything to break loose. Her strength was gone, her will was lacking, but her mind was forcing her body not to feel any pain the only thing she had control over. Pethor kept watch on her as he cradled a small machine in his hand. “I did not wish to harm you this way, but you leave me no other choice.”

He pressed down on a small black button and immediately Tiva felt the painful shock within her mind. She cringed and clawed the bed. Her body shook violently. The three points on her head pulsed and vibrated, as the current flowing through her mind grew stronger. Pethor turned away. “Coward!” she yelled.

“Tell me what I want and I can end your suffering.”

“Fool, you know nothing of suffering.”

He glared at her, his eyes as cold as the vastness of space. After making a small adjustment to the box, the pain subsided. “The next round will be more intense, Guardian Boon, answer my question. Where is the royal family?”

“There is no way you can find them.”

“Answer me!”

“You will never find them.”

“Damn you!” He activated the machine again and walked out of the room.

A surge of power violated her mind. Searing agony filled her. She shook ferociously on the bed, crying out, but trying to gather every bit of strength she had to break from the restraints. Thoughts left her. Her mind felt hollow and torn. She growled and with a final spurt of energy heard the snap of the restraint. She pulled the pieces from her head and hurried to free her other hand. Before she did, Pethor entered and struck her across the face.

“You can’t get away that easily, Guardian Boon.”

Tiva wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth. “And you are a coward and a pawn, just like all the others, and I know you fear me. You have seen the damage I can do. Your Rebel children, your followers; I killed many of them. Like Solun, Unil, and Bumo. Lie after lie led them to their demise, and you will share the same fate for I will kill you. Your blood will stain my hands, Pethor.”

“Murderous wench! You do not seem to be in position to do so, now do you?” he growled. “We will be home in less than five days. Then you will pay for your crimes against Abennelp.”

“My crimes?” she said in disbelief. “I am a protector of Abennelp…”

“You admitted your crimes! You killed your own people, destroyed the fiber of our society. You abandoned the Legionnaires and Guardians and fled during war, you are a coward and a deserter.”

“My people?” she snorted. “Men, women, and children who you and your cohorts manipulated into fighting for a pathetic cause.” She spit blood in his face. “And I am no coward; I fled to protect King Delos. That is my duty!”

Pethor met her eyes and laughed. She tried to gather a sense of him, but it only caused pain.
Where is the king?
His voice roared in her mind, she cringed and reached out to grab him. Pethor backed away and leaned against the table. He picked up a long tubular piece of metal and rested it on his shoulder. He paced back and forth for a spell before turning to her.

She felt the cold metal under her chin and looked at the traitor as he forced her head up. Every cell in her body burned. Her head was on the verge of exploding.

Pethor moved the metal along her neck and down her arm. He pinned her hand against the bed and stepped closer.
I will give you one last chance to answer me. Tomorrow I will not be as forgiving.

Tiva stared him down, saying nothing. The traitor shook his head, lifted the metal tube, and struck her on the temple.

W
ake up.

Tiva stirred in her sleep, trying to push the dreams and voices away.

Wake up.

She opened her eyes, and reached up to touch the side of her head. The metal chains confining her clanged against the floor. Tiva blinked and tugged, testing its strength. She glanced around the new room, trying her best to disregard the stinging in her head and the fire under her skin.

The room had a mattress and a bench attached to the wall. It seemed like a long-term establishment, and for a moment, she found it humorous that Rebels would need a holding cell. She slid back on the floor and began to feel the mattress. Anything would be helpful at this juncture, she was losing strength, and her ability to keep focused continued to wane. The lumpy bed held nothing but feathers. There was no metal, wood, or other material to help her. She attempted to rise to her feet, but her ankle was swollen and sore, she could barely stand on it. The chains allowed enough length for her to reach every area of the room, save the door.

Tiva hopped over to the bench and sat down. Something caught her attention underneath the tray of minimal food on the floor.

She glanced toward the doorway, reached down, retrieved it, and rested the book on her lap. It was an old Yantar—the Abennelpian holy book. Quickly she hopped toward the door and peered down the corridor to find the gift giver. No one was around. Curious, she sat back down on the bench and opened the book. On the inside cover she saw writing in her native tongue.

Tiva-keep this safe, it holds the key.

Before flipping through the pages, Tiva studied the book to ensure it wasn’t a trap or recording device of some sort. It seemed legitimate, so she read the note on the cover again. The handwriting was unrecognizable, but she was not one to turn away a gift or means of help. Her mouth twisted as she searched the room. She couldn’t risk leaving it in the room for someone else to find, but she needed to hide it and keep the giver secret, too.

Tiva ripped at her undershirt tearing the midsection off. She shredded the cloth in three strips. One she tied around her head over her wound, as a decoy, and with the other two strips, she tied the book to the inside of her thigh. It wasn’t very secure, but it would have to do for the time being.

As she sat back on the bench to ensure it wouldn’t move, footsteps echoed nearby. She leaned back against the wall and stared at the door. Pethor’s face came into view. He was smiling, again.

“Spirited Greetings.” He tapped on the side of the door and the bars retracted. She noticed he was holding the tube weapon. Curious, she kept her attention on it for a moment longer. “Ah, you like my new toy?” He chuckled. “It would displease me if I was required to use it against you, so are you ready to answer my questions?”

“No.”

Pethor twisted the end and a long, thin, blue glowing cable sputtered and hissed as it grew in length and curled around itself on the floor. “These bounty hunters we hired to find you have interesting technology. Take this laserwhip for instance…” He flicked his wrist and the cable snapped back, vibrating in her ear. “How many of you survived the attack, and where is the royal family?”

“Do your worst, coward.”

He sighed, and struck her side and back. Tiva cried out, the sting of the weapon burned her skin as it inflicted its pain. She fell off the bench and moved to the corner. “I told you…” He bent over, jerked the chain forcing her to the middle of the room, and flogged her back again.

She screamed and twisted the chains around her arms trying to move away from him. The scorching sting depleted her strength, energy, and will and her body couldn’t handle much more.

Tell him.

She glanced around the room for a moment—that voice—Pethor struck her leg with another crack of the weapon. Blood seeped through her clothing. She covered the wound with her hand; thankfully, the ties were still in place around the book.

Tell him.

Pethor struck her once more before she recoiled to the corner. Every inch of skin was ablaze. She felt something inside change as she looked up at him. She narrowed her gaze as he stepped back. He raised the whip and struck her across the face. The cable wrapped around her neck and he tugged her closer. After releasing her from the weapons grasp, he put his foot on the chain keeping her in place. “I will stop when you answer. Where is the royal family?”

“They are dead.” Her voice was low and deep. She touched the scorched mark on her neck and looked up at him.

“You lie!”

“No, I do not,” she replied, with ice in her voice.

He walked toward her and grabbed a handful of hair. He studied her. “Sworn Royal Guardian to the throne of Abennelp has allowed the royal family to die?”

“It was not by choice, traitor. Your alien friends destroyed the vessel and all the escape modules, save mine. I am surprised you did not know, after all it was you who drove us to the stars. Is that not what you wanted, Pethor? A unified Abennelp under Rebel reign. You have torn our world asunder and every royal is dead.”

Pethor took a step back and gasped. “By the spirits, you aren’t lying.”

“No, I am not. The spirits saved me…” she stared into his eyes. “For some purpose.”

A smile lit his face as he turned toward the door. “Such good news, I must inform—”

Tiva leapt up and kicked Pethor in the back. He staggered forward, slamming against the wall. She remained on her feet, supporting herself on her strong ankle. He turned and swung the laserwhip high in the air. It slashed her cheek and she fell back. He twirled it around again slashing across her stomach. “Move and I will beat you until you are utterly deformed, Guardian Boon.”

It didn’t matter what he said, she barely heard his words. The darkness was taking her eyesight. Rage coursed through her. She rose to her feet, took a step closer, and as her legs gave out under her, she crashed to the ground and passed out.

Tiva paced the corridor leading to the Great Hall. Like many, she could not find sleep. The final battle of the Great War was just beyond the rising of the suns. Legionnaires and Guardians filled the path leading to the palace. Every able-bodied person who was willing and ready to fight for their king and home made their stand.

The first group of Rebels broke through the gates at daybreak, Tiva and the elite watched from the summit room as their fellow protectors began to fall. She was anxious, she knew she could help hold back the masses, but she needed to remain by the king’s side until he ordered otherwise. She exchanged worried glances with her father and uncle throughout the day. Tespor comforted her as best he could and for that, she was grateful.

Morning turned to midday and eventually to night. By sunsrise of the third day, half the Legionnaires were dead. Harer ordered the majority of the level three and two guardians into battle. When the fourth day ended, Harer reluctantly allowed his elite guardians to join those still standing.

Tiva fought by her father’s side. She watched her friends and loved ones die horribly before her eyes. A traitorous Legionnaire gutted Skky and Loloa. Tespor met his demise at the end of a Rebel spear and her uncle’s dead eyes stared up at her from his severed head. The majority of the guardians were recalled, but Tiva was not through. She had not killed enough. She wanted more. Hacking and slashing her way through crowds of Rebels and traitors was becoming second nature. She was an automated killing machine; ruthless, cold, and calculated.

As she stood on the stairs to the Great Hall with two swords in her hand, she baited the Rebels to meet her face to face…

An agonizing wheeze escaped her as the dream faded. She was not home fighting, she was captive, on her way to meet her end. She was devoid of energy. No food or drink had crossed her lips in days. Her body was bloody and battered. She felt like a caged animal. The pain that had seethed through her body was now a numbing discomfort. All her senses were open. Her mind was focused and stronger, but she didn’t feel the same.

You will feel pain no longer.

Tiva glanced around the cell. The voice returned. Was someone near? Did the person who left the Yantar come to help? No, this was…her voice. Her mind, but the darkness of her thoughts made her shiver. Escape and death consumed her.

She wrapped the chains around her forearms and pulled them, attempting to break free. The metal cut into her wrists and hands, but she felt nothing; no distress, no twinge of agony. Her fingers tightened around the links and she pressed against the floor with her feet for leverage, but nothing was working, the chains were solid.

She sat in the middle of the room for hours, not a single thought entering her mind. No emotions, only blank darkness. Not until she heard the sound of breathing down the hall did she begin to think again.

She needed to escape.

This time, however, she used all her strength on one set of links instead of both. She pulled and twisted, grunted and moaned as she struggled get free. Pools of blood dripped from her wrist. Still, she felt nothing and continued her attempt.

When the clink of the chain snapping echoed in the room, she fell back to the ground and blinked. A wicked grin shaped her lips. The blessing of the spirits was on her side. She wrapped the chain around her hand, and positioned herself back on the floor. She prayed that Pethor would show soon. She wished him dead.

Minutes and hours passed. Tiva’s over-exhausted body and mind fought for every moment. The footfalls in the distance finally neared, and the bars on her door retracted. She stayed still, but averted her attention to the front of the room. Like a gift of rain on parched fields of grass, Pethor stood before her with a smug look on his face, a dagger in one hand, and his laserwhip in the other.

“Your confession has surprised many of us, but I’m afraid that it’s only caused more grief for you, my dear.” He stepped into the room, and loitered near her. She tugged at her still chained arm to create the illusion she was still helpless and growled at him. “I’m going to give you the choice for your execution, Guardian Boon.”

“How utterly merciful you are, traitor,” she sneered.

“It is the proper thing to do for someone of your…status.” He moved closer and lowered to one knee. “Not every day does one have the honor to kill a—”

Tiva swung the free chain around his neck, twisted it, and began draining his life. She rose to her feet as if never injured, tightening the links, and grinned as his face changed colors. Pethor slashed her arms with the dagger. Tiva felt nothing and continued to apply pressure. His eyes rolled back, the air from his lungs escaping in short shallow gasps. She released the chains, grabbed the dagger from his hand as he fell, and then plunged the blade into his chest stealing his last breath.

Retracting the weapon, she wiped the blade on the back of her hand.

The laserwhip rolled out away from his limp body. She used it on the cable links of the remaining chain. They melted and gave way. Snickering, she tugged on the cuff and her second hand came free.

Slowly, she moved to the door. The corridors were clear.

Reaching out, she sensed every person around her in various rooms. Silently, she limped down the main corridor until she came upon the first room. Two people were inside. She gripped the whip tight in her hand and entered. Both men faced away from her. Luck, perhaps, but she ran into the room regardless and went for the closest man. She flicked the whip around his neck and pulled him backward. The second man turned around, reaching for his side. Tiva threw the dagger with all her strength across the room expertly hitting him in the chest. The other, struggling for breath, reached for his weapon. She kneed him in the stomach, stripped the weapon from his hand, and blew a hole in his forehead.

Suddenly, the ship rocked under her feet. She dropped the whip and retrieved both blasters. Running to the door, she supported her weight against the wall as the violent shaking of the ship continued. The corridors were still empty, but a loud voice boomed over the comm system.

“All personnel to their stations, we are under attack.”

Tiva grinned, and as the rooms began to empty, she fired on every man striking them dead with each surprising hit. She walked the corridor, stepping over body after body, and reached a junction. Three men ran toward her. She cocked her head to the side and fired both guns at them continuously until they all dropped. Before she made it to the next doorway, it opened and several more men stepped out. She jumped back and began firing. This time, she was outnumbered, but continued to fire while backing away from the group.