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Providence Ch. 01

By: truman11883



Aldus – English; From the Old House
Ava – Latin; Like a Bird
Cyrus – Persian; Sun
Dolan – Celtic/Gaelic; Dark Haired
Naava – Hebrew; Pleasant, Beautiful
Nero – Latin; Powerful
Shaun – Celtic/Gaelic; God’s Gift

Part 1

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Duscha. What is the Duscha?” she whispered.

He looked on in amazement. It had happened. The final bridge to connect her earthly and spiritual elements had happened. She was now one mystical being, with the Duscha firmly present in her body, her mind. 

Her aura had changed sharply after the awakening. Once an amber shade of gold and orange, it was now strikingly blue, with bands of purple fading in and out. Power and supremacy emitted from her being, and he unconsciously took a step back from the awe that it inspired. 

Even with all his spiritual training and schooling, the sheer magnitude of the Duscha presence could never be accurately anticipated. His knees fell week and his legs shook.

Her eyes were still closed, her eyelids trembled, her breath even but deep. She had asked the question that seemed appropriate, but deep down, the answer was inside her – she knew. There was a presence, a companion almost, fluttering in her conscious. The voices had quieted but were still present. The language they spoke was ambiguous; the meaning of the words seemed to rest just out of grasp.

“Where did you hear that name?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

“They called themselves Duscha. The voices.” Her eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the harsh sunlight. “What is the Duscha?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” He knew she did, if she would only search her heart. Realization would set in, and she would come to trust that she was the oracle. It was painfully clear now.

She turned to look at him, and was baffled by his appearance. While he was still the same man that she had come to love like a father and respect like a mentor, his authoritative presence was now … inferior. Of what, she wasn’t certain. He seemed unsure, almost pensive, his stance before her was humbled. His eyes were fixated on her, studying her.

She was still getting accustomed to the never-ending voices in her head; thought was hardly effortless. There were so many, too many aspects to give awareness to.

In the short moments of the lesson, ever since she had closed her eyes, Liz had been changed. She was no longer a sixteen-year-old girl struggling with Destiny and insecurities. She was no longer an adolescent searching for her place in the world. 

She looked down at her fingers, clenching and extending them. They tingled and sparkled with the after effects of the awakening. Short sparks emitted from the tips, and a hush went through her and the voices with every flicker. Almost as if they were quieted with the power she emitted. 

She felt no taller, her muscles no bigger. But she felt different. Her abilities were more practiced, proficient … plentiful; she knew without proof. She was changed, Liz knew. 

She was the oracle.

“The Duscha … its, its like a link, isn’t it? A link between the earth and … and God … Fate. I can feel it,” she whispered with awe streaming through her. “It worked. Whatever you wanted to happen today … it worked.” Their eyes met, both holding more emotion than they had known possible. “I am the oracle.”

He nodded, incapable of any other response. Her knees fell weak from the acknowledgement, and she slowly, clumsily lowered herself to the sand. She attempted to get her bearings and took deep, cleansing breathes. The weight of the newly acquired abilities, the voices, the realization all fell heavily on her shoulders. He silently came to her side, and sat next to her, unable to speak.

The full magnitude of her awakening had only begun to be revealed, but Aron knew that everything was different. Her aura exuded authority, and he suddenly felt very insignificant in his student’s presence. She had succeeded him in ability, in spiritual knowledge, in nearly every aspect that one could ponder.

“Elizabeth, how do you feel?”

“Different. It … it feels like a presence in my mind. The voices, they’re so beautiful.” She took in her surroundings, the dunes, the sky, the suns. “Everything is so beautiful. I’ve never noticed before. Even the sand,” she said as she took a handful in her palm. Before it always seemed like lifeless yellow specks. But now – now it was millions of jewels dancing in the sun. Opal, ruby, sapphire, and diamond all mingled in her palm, sparkling with a heavenly magnetism. 

Her eyes rose to the sky, now littered with white, billowy clouds, hiding the suns from her view. They were plump, eagerly awaiting the rapidly approaching storm. The sky was streaked with the typical reds and yellows, but also aqua and magenta.

“Do you see that?” she asked Aron, never taking her eyes away from the heavens.

“See what?”

“I … I don’t know. It’s all so new. I don’t even know what I’m seeing, or hearing.” The voices still did not stop, now long minutes after the awakening. There were no words to describe what she was seeing or feeling.

“The voices won’t stop. They will always be there guiding you, speaking to you. Teaching you. Don’t fight it Liz.” Another spark was emitted form her right fore finger as she went to stand up.

“I won’t.” Her whole body hummed with energy. The wind continued to whip through her hair; her tunic was now half undone, most likely from the ordeal her body was subjected to. The maroon undershirt contrasted nicely to the beige over-wrap. Her sandals were filled with the jeweled sand, but she did not care.

She wanted something. No, they wanted something.

She listened to the voices. Struggled to understand, to do their bidding. Another spark came from her finger, and the voices hushed again.

“Aron, prepare the android, please. I want to try something.”

He quickly moved to the target, and righted it. The android, now headless, sat on a small sand mound, leaning slightly to the right, silently awaiting its doom.

She stood quietly for a moment, preparing for the task that the voices requested. She closed her eyes in concentration. What did they ask of her? She listened.

Frytop a grunga. Cenomo ty req. Me vey akkobe laxune.

Hear our words. See our light. Follow your heart.

She let out a frustrated breath; nothing was making sense. If she had thought Aron spoke in circles, she was about to take it back. Liz desperately wanted to understand, to do their bidding, to be a worthy servant. But how could she serve the Duscha if she couldn’t recognize their request?

Hagona. 

Fire.

She understood that. Her right arm rose and aimed at the metal target, and this time, she kept her eyes open. The sparks started again, communing at her fingertips. They collected, grew in intensity, swelling into a ball of electric energy. She watched as it mingled with the atoms of the air, building … 

She fixed her eyes on the target, this time the torso of the android. Her vision cleared just as it had before, without her eyes closed. She saw the target highlighted by the thick, communing air. The ripples of the wind and slight sounds were visible waves only she could see. Her eyes clouded over a dark gray, and Aron looked on as she trembled from the energy that was literally at her fingertips.

The voices chanted over and over, and she obeyed. The white light was almost blinding and suddenly, it was hurtling towards the android. It flew from her hand in a flash, nothing but a blur of white light and energy.

Aron, who had been awaiting the inevitable impact, was caught off guard by the sheer force of the collision. At the moment of impact, he was thrown through the air, landing roughly a short distance away. Oxygen escaped his lungs, and he breathed heavily for several moments to regain his composure. He was left nearly unconscious, and only Liz was aware of her surroundings, because of the voices …

The velocity of Liz’s energy obliterated the android. The sparks surrounded the robot, filtering through the cracks and openings, tearing it from the inside out. An atomic boom sounded, and the machine was relinquished to distorted metal strips lining the sand. Gold metal on the yellow jeweled sand spread for hundreds of feet; wiring and screws from inside the sleeping robot fell from the sky in metallic rain.

After several seconds of deep breathing, Liz’s eyes cleared to their normal dark, chocolate brown coloring. Her hair was in disarray, and she struggled to regain her vision and concentrate on her target. She shook her head slightly when she couldn’t find it. 

She looked again. A crater twelve feet in diameter was all that remained of the sleeping android. It had survived so many training lessons and now, after only a few minutes, it was completely destroyed. Aron lifted his head from his comfortable pillow in the sand. She turned quickly to the sound of Aron coughing, and crawled over to him.

“Aron? Aron are you alright?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” His voice was rough from the violent impact his aging body had taken on the dune, and he shook his head again to clear it from his jumbled thoughts. He was still trying to comprehend the awakening. He had been unaware and was completely caught of guard by the powers that she was demonstrating. The old monk had told him the powers wouldn’t present themselves until days later, until the Duscha had time to manifest itself. To create a strong holding in its host. To attach and bond. 

But Liz was a special host.

“How did you do that?” he asked huskily, his lungs burning from the effort.

“I just did. They told me to. Was it wrong?”

“No, no. Just unexpected.” He sat upright with her help, taking cleansing breaths. He eyed the crater that was once the crucial training equipment. “You destroyed it … without a weapon.” Aron couldn’t help it; he was in complete awe of her, in only a matter of minutes.

“No, I didn’t. The Duscha did. It just used me, like … like a catalyst. It was amazing. It has so much energy Aron. I can’t even describe it.”

“Do you think you could do it again?” But he already knew the answer.

Her voice held nervousness and excitement, to see what else she could accomplish. “Yes.”

He struggled to stand, suddenly agitated. “Someone must have heard that. The Dolan hunters will come to investigate. We should go.”

“Do you hear them?” she asked, suddenly alarmed.

“No, not yet. But the Dolans are never far from mischief. We won’t want to be here when they make an appearance.”

She nodded in agreement, and they righted themselves; their muscles still weak from the explosive ordeal. Their walk to the sand vehicle was in silence. Both still mentally deciphering her awakening. Even sixteen years had not prepared Aron for her spiritual initiation. And Liz was still trying to decode the never-ending voices.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sand vehicle, called a hovercraft, soared just above the ground as the two made the journey home. The first of the two suns was setting on the horizon behind them, illuminating the sky with brilliant streaks of red and orange. The hum of the automobile was the only sound between them. Both were deep in thought; so much had happened, and Liz had an abundance of questions. All of which the answers had gone mysteriously unrequited.

“Aron, what will happen now?”

He was completely unsure of his answer, finally deciding to be honest with her and fill in the holes later. He looked to the sky. He too had sensed the storm that was only hours away.

“After the storm, we’ll practice your powers. Then we’ll – ”

“Powers? That’s what you’re calling them?” She was somewhat amused by his wording. She was anything but a super hero.

“Well, yes. What would you have me call them?”

“How about … gifts? Or abilities?”

“It is not a talent, Elizabeth. You destroyed our android with a bolt of lightning from your hand. That is not exactly something that anyone can acquire or perfect. You are changed now, Elizabeth.” He looked at her for a moment, and then turned forward while he drove. “You are no longer … completely human.”

Her gasp spurred him on. “The prophecy said you would be a link between the mortal and spiritual. The Duscha formed a bond with you, but it also had to change you for the awakening to be successful.”

“Awakening?” Her voice was quiet, quivering, unsure. She was almost afraid of what his answer would be. And what it could mean for her.

“These powers you possess, were actually inside you all along. But today, the Duscha awoke those powers. When you were attempting to see the target with your eyes closed, you called them. And they spoke. I am sure they are still speaking, yes?”

She nodded silently.

“The Duscha answered you, and your dormant powers came to life. The voices will continue for several days, and then quiet. From then on, they will only speak when you call them.”

“How will I call them? I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“You will. You should not worry. Not now. At this moment, a bond is being made inside you. The Duscha and your physical body are molding, merging … bonding. Once it is complete, we will be able to practice and perfect your powers. Whatever they are.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “You don’t even know what my powers will be?”

“They are different with every awakening. Every oracle. You must rest and allow the bond to form.” He gave a meaningful look, “Don’t fight it. These next few days are crucial.”

She silently agreed, and the following minutes were spent allowing this new information to sink in. For so long Liz had accepted Aron’s talk of Fate and Destiny without much complaint or question. But with these new developments, she felt compelled to learn as much as she could, while he was still willing to give answers.

“How many oracles have there been?” she asked.

He slightly shook his head in regret. “For years, the awakenings were never documented. There are two that I know of. Now three,” he said with a meaningful look.

“What were their missions?”

“The first oracle was sent to protect a man named Aldus. The prophecy said that Aldus was destined to rule his planet, Naava, which is in a galaxy far from here. The mission was successful; the prophecy was fulfilled.”

Liz turned to look at him. A story such as this should have brought a smile to his face, but Aron was far from happy. 

“The second was a boy.” He trailed off, his eyes steadily gazing ahead at the dune horizon, but not seeing it. All he could see were the memories flashing through his mind, slowly haunting him, even after all these years.

“What about the boy? What happened?” she prodded.

His voice was low, and she had to lean closer to hear him over the hum of the hovercraft.

“Fate foretold that a soul would possess strength unknown to mankind. The oracle would be resourceful, wise, and the ultimate weapon against all evil in our galaxy. He would be unconquerable, and because of this power, he would make peace on his warring world. 

“A prophet was assigned to seek out the oracle; and a boy was found who met the conditions that were given in the prophecy. As time passed, the prophet became impatient. The oracle was compromised by his own protector.” Aron began to raise his voice in anger; salt in old wounds. “Cyrus forced the awakening early, and the boy died.”

“Cyrus.” Liz’s voice was just above a whisper. She new of him, everyone knew of him. She shook her head sadly for the boy who never knew his Destiny.

“Cyrus is the reason why so many prophets are in hiding. Spiritual teachers and students conceal their true identity for fear of persecution … because of him. Fate is now legend and myth because of the doomed oracle. The prophecy was never fulfilled and so many lost their faith and abandoned all belief, because of Cyrus. So many lost their faith. Aevarians especially.”

The question left her lips before she realized she had spoke, “Why Aevarians?”

He slowed the vehicle as they neared their home, the small piece of land they owned. It was all they had on the dune planet, a small mud-brick home with no windows, and only one door. Fewer openings meant less sand to clean up. The hum of the hovercraft slowly died as he removed the key. He turned to her, wanting to explain fully, wanting her full attention. 

“Because the boy was an Aevarian Prince.” He read her reaction carefully. “He would have been the uncle of King Eamon. His name was Shaun.”

She couldn’t grasp it. The boy’s protector had betrayed him. Everyone in the Rylan system, in the Whirlwind galaxy knew of Cyrus and his tyrant-like policies. “Why? Why would he do such a thing?”

“Cyrus felt that Shaun needed to be awakened before he came of age. He didn’t listen for Fate to guide him; he acted on his own desires.” His voice remained low and controlled, but the tension and anger was thick. “He was power hungry, covetous. He wanted to rule Aevar, and Shaun would have been his only key to the throne. The bastard didn’t listen; Cyrus shamed us all. Everyone in the Rylan system lost their faith because of him.

“After Shaun’s death, and his treachery was revealed, Cyrus was banished from Aevar forever. When it was clear that he had lost Aevar, he sought out the planet Nero. He denounced his allegiance to the Duscha, married Queen Ava, and took the throne.”

He sighed as he turned in his seat to exit. “Come on. We should go inside before the storm hits. I’ll prepare dinner.” He walked toward the small home, and Liz slowly followed. 

She was emotionally shaken with the new information, and shook her head slightly at the deceit and corruption in Rylan’s history. 

But it explained so much. Why they never exposed themselves on Cantu. Why Aron never mentioned being a prophet to the locals. Why he never returned to Aevar and his once good friend King Eamon, whom he hadn’t spoken to in sixteen years. 

He had told her so much before, but with everything she had just heard, she had hardly known him at all. Or herself.

Or her Destiny.

Providence Ch. 02



Aimee – French; Beloved Friend 
Cora – Greek; Filled Heart 
Dagan – Hebrew; Grain of Corn 
Hallam – German; From the Hills 
Juniper – Latin; Juniper Berry 
Sunila – Hindi; Blue

Part 2

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After a restless dinner, Liz had finally found a fitful sleep on the tiny cot in her room. 

Her room was basic, nothing extravagant or expensive. They had no money to spare on such things, let alone time to enjoy them. She had her cot, her books, clothes hanging neatly in her closet, and a rug on her floor. In a box next to the door were her weapons. Her laser gun, her sword, and a few other necessities. Not much else was needed on the planet of Cantu. 

At least not for a warrior.

Once they had entered the house, Aron and her had remained mostly quiet, silently reflecting on the emotional conversation. 

She had never known of the deception that Cyrus had instilled in the Duscha following. To be a prophet had been a great honor at one time, and many had sought guidance from them. She had always assumed the shift of belief happened naturally, as did many opinions. Changes in culture and generation usually meant changes in belief systems. 

But, now that she knew the history of Cyrus, she feared for herself. Not from Aron – she trusted him with her life. She feared that the people of the Rylan system, Aevarians especially, would reject her, persecute her … or worse.

She had never had any choice when it came to her life. Liz was an oracle, a destined soldier. She was meant to fight evil and defend the weak and helpless. Aron had always told her that she was a gift, and that to fight Destiny would be the end of Aevar.

Yes, he had used guilt. But even she knew that her pride and stubbornness were at times resilient and impossible to compete with; guilt was a last resort. Liz had always been extremely independent, only ever being able to rely on two people, herself and Aron. Granted, those were the two people she ever had any direct contact with, but her isolation was for her safety.

Because of the hunters.

She knew of them. Aron had been very adamant about their presence and the need to be invisible. If the wrong people heard of her as a suspected oracle, they would do one of two things. Either laugh wildly in their face, or inform a hunter of their location. And she wasn’t particularly eager to be humiliated or dead.

The hunters only had one goal, to end all following of the Duscha, all spiritual teaching and study. They were salaried by Cyrus; she had always known that. Now she knew why. They were most feared by all Duscha allies, and more than likely the only thing that Aron ever showed fear towards.

When she was twelve, they had made an outing to the small town of Hallam for supplies. Being a young, curious, and autonomous girl, she had been at times somewhat rebellious. On this specific trip, for the first time, she had talked to someone outside of the tight circle that Aron upheld. A young girl her age, named Cora.

On several occasions Cora had tried to speak to Liz, but Aron was always present, and the conversation was sharply terminated before Liz could utter a sound. She knew he wanted nothing more than to allow her to lead a normal life, but … he couldn’t. So much rode on her. It was far from fair, but who was he to argue with Fate.

But on the day in examination, she snuck away silently in the quaint shop that Cora’s mother owned. And for the first time, she was a twelve-year-old girl. She giggled and whispered for several minutes, enjoying the newfound friendship. Cora’s smile and laughter were contagious, and soon she had forgotten about Destiny and Fate …

“How come you never talked to me before?”

Liz hesitated briefly. She wanted nothing more than to tell Cora her secret. She didn’t want to be different; she just wanted a friend. She wanted to be normal, even for a few brief, precious moments. And Cora had seemed so nice, with her inviting green eyes, and open, devoted personality.

“Aron says I shouldn’t. Its not safe.”

“Why’s it not safe? Nuthin’ happens on Cantu.”

“Some people don’t like us. We have to hide.”

Cora frowned and her golden blonde hair hung around her face as she leaned close, lowering her voice to match Liz’s. She sensed this was a secret between them. A really important secret.

“Don’ worry, I won’ tell nobody.” 

Liz smiled her thanks, both unaware of the figure watching them from the shadows.

Cora leaned in closer. “But, how come they don’ like you? Who are they?”

Liz whispered very softly into her friend’s ear. “Hunters.”

Cora’s eyes grew wide. She knew of the hunters, everyone did.

“They don’t like us cuz I’m special. Aron says so.”

“So you’re … a … a follower,” she said as the pieces fell together.

Liz nodded in confirmation. “Aron’s a prophet.”

“Wow,” was all Cora could manage. Did she say nothing ever happened on Cantu? She was about to take it back.

“Elizabeth!” Aron’s muffled voice called. Both girls turned to the sound of his voice and knew their secret meeting was coming to an end.

“I gotta go,” Liz said as she stood from their spot on the floor. She straightened her cloak and secretly, unconsciously placed her hand on her concealed sword that was hidden away inside the folds of cloth. A die-hard habit of a soldier in training – always know where your weapon is. “Don’t tell anyone. Please?”

“I won’. I promise,” came Cora’s hurried reply. Liz gave a small smile in thanks and went off to Aron, who was becoming frantic with worry. She was already mentally assembling another plan to secretly meet with Cora again.

Neither of the girls knew the man in the shadows had heard the entire exchange.

Because of his training, only Aron knew of the trouble nearby. He could feel the evil in the air. A hunter…

“Liz, where were you?” he asked as she came into view from behind a rack of fruit.

“I was just getting the rice, like you wanted,” she said, supplying a large bag in her arms. She had eyed the bag as she had made her way to the front of the shop, and quickly took it to confirm her alibi. 

Aron sighed heavily in relief, but it was short lived. “Come. We should go.” His eyes never stopped scanning the crowd. Someone was watching them; he could read it clearly, as if the enemy was right in front of him.

They paid quickly, with Cora’s mom, Aimee, smiling her thanks to her customers. Aron turned to make the short walk to their hovercraft, which was parked just outside of town. 

Aimee secretly slipped Liz a sucker with a wink. She had noticed the little, dark-haired girl before and couldn’t resist giving her something to smile about. Liz self-consciously smiled at her and at Cora, who was sitting on the counter behind her mother.


She turned to follow Aron to their hovercraft, and once everything was loaded, she climbed inside, waiting for Aron to follow. When he didn’t enter, she turned and found him staring off with a blank look on his face.

“Aron?” 

No response. Her damnable fear kicked in when she saw his hands quake with tension. “Aron?” her voice trembled.

“He’s close,” he said quietly. His eyes met hers, and she could read his terror clearly. Something was very wrong; she could feel it in her bones. “He knows. Liz,” his voice broke with emotion. “We’re being hunted.”

Her body trembled with adrenaline and horror. She frantically searched around them, her eyes scanning for the hunter Aron spoke of. Her throat was immediately parched, and she struggled to swallow the lump that was rapidly forming in her throat. 

Unseen by her, Aron drew his sword standing ready to fight. The hunter was too close for them to escape or flee. It was inevitable. A confrontation would take place, and he could only pray that, if he was killed, that Liz would survive. She was so important, more so than even he could grasp. Her life was more precious than his, he knew that. And he was willing to fight for her, and if needed, die for her.

“Elizabeth, stay down. Don’t move.” She turned to Aron about to protest, when she saw the hunter. The dark figure, no more than a few feet away from them, stood in shadow created by his cloak. His face was masked, all but his mouth, which was upturned in a malicious smile. He stood tall, towering over Aron, as the hunter slowly took steps toward the hovercraft. 

He wore the sign of a hunter, a black cloak with the symbol of Nero resting on the chest – a silver and red triangle, three corners representing the kinship of the three strong dune planets, Nero, Juniper, and Dagan. These three dune planets cared nothing for Cantu, the weak, smallest planet in the Rylan system. Only the strongest survived in their heartless affiliation. The walked with a purpose, like a predator stalking his prey, and Liz unconsciously cowered in her seat. Evil emitted from his very being.

His voice was low, harsh, riddled with malice. He continued his quest, as Aron turned to face his opponent. “I saw you in the market, prophet,” his last word spoken harshly, as if merely saying the word brought him injury. He drew his sword, and the metal glittered from the suns’ rays. The sand sparkled, the heat waves emitted from the ground, the sticky, humid air clung to Liz’s skin. But all she could see was the hunter’s mouth. His teeth were black and gray, and his evil grin sent shivers down her spine. “Are you prepared to die?”

There were only a few second of silence, as the two wordlessly faced off. Then the swords met in fury. Liz slumped in her seat, her knees drawn up to her chest, her eyes closed tightly. She couldn’t bear to witness the battle, knowing that hunters were expertly skilled in hand-to-hand combat, and that Aron hadn’t fought in years. 

She was mentally willing the battle to be over. The clanging of bladed and colliding of metal resounded for what seemed like hours, an eternity even but she couldn’t bring herself to look. 

It was her fault the hunter found them. She should never have told Cora. She had been careless and unknowingly put Aron’s life at risk. Now they were sure to die because of her.

She rocked in her seat and clumsily brought her tiny hands to cover her ears. Fright and dread raced through her veins, and she prepared herself for her death. Sobs escaped her tight throat and parched mouth. 

Regrets ran through her mind. Liz had always wanted to see Aevar – its beauty. She had read books of the trees, and flowers, and birds. She wanted to swim in the blue waters of Sunila Lake by the palace. She wanted to feel Aevarian silk on her fingers. She wanted to hear the songs of the exotic birds that only lived in the Aevarian forests. Tears streamed down her face as she mourned the life she was never going to have. And the world that she would be letting down.

Aevar would parish because she had told their secret. She had been so selfish …

A hand clasped her on the shoulder, and she shrieked, trying to climb away. The hands held fast, and her fists punched and beat the body in front of her, keeping her eyes closed. She couldn’t see his smile again, the gray teeth or the spiteful smile. Behind her eyes, she was laughing and swimming in the crystal blue lake on Aevar, not on the dune planet about to die a horrible death. 

Sobs escaped her as she pleaded with the hunter, “Please, no! I don’t want to die! No, please don’t hurt me, please! No …” Her sobs were near uncontrollable, her body tensing in anticipation of the blow that she was sure was to come, that would end her life.

“Liz …” his soft voice penetrated her haze of regret. She slowly stilled, stopping her tiny fists from impaling the chest in front of her. Surely her mind wouldn’t be so cruel as to conjure up his voice in place of the hunters. Aron must be dead, she knew it. 

Her chin quivered, and her hair was in disarray from the ordeal. Strands blew across her face as she summoned the courage to open her eyes. Unhurriedly they pried open, and she half expected to see the hunter and his rotting teeth mocking her in an evil grin. 

She was only met with the loving, tearful eyes of Aron as he embraced her. It was the first and only time Liz had ever seen him cry, and the only time Liz ever cried in front of him. But they wept together that day, clinging to each other, seeking comfort in each other’s arms.

He stroked her hair and whispered reassuring words into her ear, silently thanking Fate for their lives. She clung to him, her fists clutching his robe in a desperate attempt to keep him and his never-ending comfort near. After several minutes Liz drew back. 

She saw the blood splattered across his tanned skin. 

She saw the small gash on his left cheek. 

She saw the sand sticking to his sweat-ridden clothing.

Even with the battle wounds, they were still alive and she couldn’t help but be relieved that the hunter was dead. Her breath remained erratic as she desperately tried to calm down. The adrenaline that was just moments ago running freely through her veins was now tempering off, leaving her sated, exhausted, lethargic. She needed confirmation that the hunter was dead; just to see Aron before her wasn’t enough. Liz’s mind would never be able to rest peaceful without closure. Slowly, she turned to her right. 


She saw the headless body of the hunter lying in the sand.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aron stood in the doorway, the candlelight softly flickering his shadow against her wall. He stood guard, watching her as she slept, marveling at the power in the petite, young girl that slept before him. He sipped his tea and thought to himself.

He had still so much to tell her, so much to teach her. But he knew that the appropriate time would come. He knew he must wait for Fate to guide him. It did not matter how he desired to reveal the truth of her Destiny. He was a father, a teacher, but above all he was a servant. And so he waited and prayed that every decision he made was the correct one.

Elizabeth had always been so strong and yet unsure in her capabilities. He knew she was afraid of Destiny and what it would mean fore her. It did not help that the prophecy given to him had been ambiguous and vague. However, Fate had yet to forget him, and so he held fast to his faith, and lingered further in his state of limbo.

Today had been an important day, and it was no wonder she was exhausted. He had half expected her to fight sleep tonight, knowing that the soft voices would likely keep her awake, if not drive her near crazy. But after their dinner, her energy proved low and she had retired to her room early for the remainder of the evening. He knew that the presence of the Duscha would be calming and soothing, but with Elizabeth’s stubborn tendencies, he would not have been surprised to see her fight exhaustion and his recommendation to rest.

He sighed heavily in the dark doorway, turning to the living area. He was in unfamiliar territory, he knew. Few were still alive to tell of the success of the first oracle, and to talk of the second was taboo. So he had received little preparation for his task, and had become accustomed to the spontaneous.

Aron hated withholding information from Liz. She was an oracle and deserved to know all the information he had, but this was not his prophecy to control. He was merely a servant, dutifully carrying out a mission, and could only hope that all turned out well in the end.

He had to be very careful with what he said; saying too much could lead to disastrous effects. So much was at stake, even their lives. He still was unsure how the hunter had found them four years ago. His training was tested to the brink, the hunter had been artfully skilled and if it had been any other circumstances, he would have complimented his opponent on skill and technique.

He had killed that day, not for the first time, and certainly not the last. But the event was always fresh in his mind, the sounds and sights extremely clear. The fear he had seen in Elizabeth’s eyes was all too real and he knew it had been mirrored in his own. 

He shook his head, willing the images away. He wanted nothing of ill memories tonight.

Today had been a good day, so much accomplished. But with each new discovery came more questions, fewer answers, and much more to hide. With the one incident four years ago aside, Cantu had been an extremely safe haven for them.

Aron reclined slightly in his chair, the steam from his tea and smoke from his pipe mingled in the candlelit air. All was quiet, except for the deafening commotion in his own head. Questions and insecurities plagued him now that Elizabeth had been awakened. For so long, his primary goal was to prepare her. Then, for the past year, unknown to her, he had cautiously started her ascension with small tasks that he knew would open her mind and prepare a place for the Duscha to reside.

Now that she was bonded with the Duscha, his next step was unclear. He was sure that she needed to enhance her powers, strengthen her concentration. That had always been his role – the mentor, teacher, guide.

But now with Elizabeth’s awakening came uncertainty. He didn’t know how to discover her power, how to strengthen them, he didn’t know how to do anything when it came to the Duscha. Few alive did, and the monk that he had spoken to month’s before Elizabeth’s birth could only give vague descriptions. The only awakening that had happened in this galaxy, in this generation’s lifetime, had been a forced, failed attempt. And of the scattered few that still had faith, even fewer believed in prophecies.

Cyrus had ruined so much with his treachery. But Aron kept his resolve with a heavy sigh and a deep drag from his pipe. Fate would not abandon Aevar, he knew. Nor would Fate abandon them. Elizabeth was much more special than anyone realized.

Her whole life had been filled with secrets and hiding. But Aron had his secrets too. He knew how important she was. No one knew of the prophecy given to him. The people in the Rylan system had always assumed he left to pursue enlightenment. And while many had laughed at the irony and danger he put himself in, few questioned his decision. For every one person that accepted him as a figurehead, there were five that wished for his death, and even more that didn’t care one way or the other.

He had always been a friend of Eamon’s, even as children. But when Cyrus had forced Shaun’s awakening, Aron had feared that the death of all prophets would be ordered. After all, the brother of the King had been killed, a member of the royal family nonetheless, and retribution was expected. 

But Eamon’s father had done no such thing. He saw the death for what it was – a murder at the hands of a madman. 

The King had refused, much to the dismay of the people, to pursue the followers as a whole, punishing all for one man’s deceit. And much to Aron’s surprise, the King had given Eamon permission to promote Aron as chief advisor, an unspoken declaration of acceptance of followers.

Seeing his good friend in mourning for his uncle’s death had been difficult, and Aron aided Eamon all he could. But Aron was keener than Eamon, and knew that the people’s acceptance of a follower was thin. So, while he advised Eamon through their adolescence and eventually Eamon’s integration to King, Aron was careful to always advice on the people’s wishes and complaints. Hence Aron’s popularity grew.

After most had lost their faith, Aron was careful to never become too controversial. His ideals and opinions he lectured on where ambiguous and adhered to socially accepted guidelines, and soon most forgot his role as a prophet and saw him merely as a royal figure. He kept his personal, controversial beliefs secret. He never told anyone his belief of the second, doomed oracle’s role.

He never told anyone that only he had seen the insufficient evidence that Shaun was the second oracle. Even though he had been a young prophet and relatively new to the teachings, he had seen the holes and deficient proof given by Cyrus before the committee. 




Providence Ch. 02



He never told anyone that he believed Shaun had never been an oracle at all. That Cyrus had been wrong all along. That the second oracle was still to come. 

He never told anyone that the second oracle had never been a boy, but a young girl destined from birth.

A young, sixteen year old girl, with chocolate eyes and a warrior aura, that just today had been awakened and had begun to fulfill not just one prophecy, but two. 



Providence Ch. 03



Alec – Greek; Protector of Men
Deva – Hindi; Celestial Spirit
Moana – Hawaiian; Ocean
Serena – Latin; Serene, Calm
Toan – Vietnamese; Safe, Secure
William – English; Protector

Part 3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

One year later …

"Mother, why is this necessary?"

The older woman sighed with her back turned. She was a regal woman, living her entire life as a monarch, with all the benefits and responsibilities. And her son just couldn't seem to understand the obligations of being a Prince. He never did. Koen was young, and impulsive, and volatile. But the soft, maternal corner in her heart always seemed to find a drop of understanding where her son was concerned. While he may be a young adolescent with conquests and adventures under his belt, she saw his heart – no matter how hard he tried to hide it. And it was good.

She stood several inches shorter than her son, dressed in customary royal attire, jewels, and such. Her hair was high on her head with a crown gracing her curls. Deva was preparing for the Festival that her husband was throwing, a well-known occasion throughout the galaxy. Every member of the council from the five planets was welcome. It was a grand occasion, and Koen arguing about his responsibility regarding it was not easing her nerves.

She turned to face him, collecting garments in her daughter's richly decorated room to give to the servants for wash. "Son, you do not have a choice in the matter. You are expected to make an appearance for your father at the Autumn Festival. Its an important occasion, you know this. To commemorate Aevar's continued wealth and upcoming harvest. I'm sorry, but you must attend. Why must Isabel be so chaotic? You know she rivals you," Deva commented as she retrieved a dress from atop the canopy of the bed.

"At least she has a say in the direction of her life. I cannot believe that you deny me free will."

"I do not deny you anything, Koen." Her anger was starting to surface. She did love him, yes. But she also had no tolerance for delinquency or misbehavior. Especially today. "You are a Prince. You have been since your conception. And yet you fight ever aspect of it. When will you realize that you have been given little choice? There are some things you are obligated to do as the successor to the throne. Attending the Festival is one. Deal with it."

"I don't remember you or Father giving Isabel this same discussion when she refused Will's proposal."

She rolled her eyes as her son rehashed yet another old and tired argument. "Isabel not marrying William is quite different from you denying your place as Prince. They did not love each other; it would have been over before it began. I may be a Queen and set in my ways," she said as she leveled him with a look, daring him to argue the matter further. "But forcing a marriage is not something I have ever condoned. Stop trying to twist my words around and make me the enemy. I am on your side Koen."

He gave an exasperated sigh. "You and Father make me feel so … helpless. Like I'm already dead before I even get to live. Its not fair."

"I'm sorry being successor to the throne of an entire planet makes you feel that way. Surely your sister or even William would be happy to take your place, along with all the responsibility you so callously deny," her sarcasm dripped from her words.

"Mother, I understand the obligations. But how can you expect me to agree to them when I know nothing else? I know nothing outside of Aevar. I'm young, and I want to live my life. Why does that anger you?"

"Your curiosity does not anger me. It's your insubordination. Its not enough that you understand the expectations, you must accept them, Koen. You must. If you wish to be King one day, you must fall in line." Deva stopped suddenly in her task and turned toward him, looking intently. She said quietly, "Unless you do not wish to be King."

Their eyes met at her words. 

Koen wasn't certain if he did want the responsibility that his father had. He could barely survive as a Prince, constantly under the public microscope. The whole idea of being King eluded him. He lived for the few hours he could find each week late at night to escape and spend time with his good friend Will. While they never admitted it to anyone within the palace, they frequently snuck out from the high barrier walls, through the palace sewers, and into the villages surrounding. They both dressed in disguise to hide their appearance, donning common clothing. The townspeople offered a refuge that Koen could never find within the confines of duty and speculation. Among the commoners he was a handsome, twenty-year-old man, not a Prince of a planet.

"I do not know if I want to be King. How am I to make that decision, when I have no point of comparison?"

There was a moment of silence as both stood their ground. This was the first time that Koen had actually spoken of or admitted to his aversion to the throne, which left Deva speechless. She had always expected her son to fall in line. It was never a question of if, but when.

"You are serious, aren't you? You actually consider denying the throne?" She spoke softly so as to not to attract an unwanted audience.

Koen kept his eyes fixed on his mother's unwavering as he said, "I have considered it, yes."

Her heart sank heavily in her chest. She knew without a doubt that her son, Koen, would make a fine King, possibly better than his father. He was strong willed, modest, charming, and, yes at times impulsive. But he always came out on top; he never lost at anything he attempted. She knew that the throne would be no different.

But it was becoming painfully clear that he had no desire to make his parents proud. In fact many of his actions, she knew, were only done to anger herself and her husband. The road he was paving for himself was a strenuous one, and she knew that her son's pride would never allow him to admit otherwise.

At length, she finally said, "You will attend tonight. And afterwards, we will talk. You, your father, and I will discuss your wishes. Not that either of us will be able to convince him to anything. But it is a start."

His shoulders sagged in relief. Koen had sincerely thought that she would never agree. He was beginning to see the benefits of being … honest. "Really?"

Deva nodded. "That is all I can offer you Koen. Do not ask for anything more from me. It will be a miracle if your father actually listens to you for five seconds. You know how he is."

"Yes," he said with disgust. His father may be the King of Aevar, but a sympathetic man he was not.

"Now don't start Koen. You know he loves you. He just … we just can't understand your aversion to the throne. It baffles both of us."

He bent to pick the last garment on the floor by his feet. He offered it to his mother with a sigh. "I know. I just wish we weren't so different. We have nothing in common."

She laughed lightly. "No, no. You are so very much alike. That is why you constantly disagree. Usually when a father and son argue, they have everything in common."

"Perhaps." Koen nodded with a companionable smile to ease his mother's mind. He did love her, more than he could possibly say. But his heart just couldn't accept this Destiny that he never asked for, never wanted. Why must he obey to a custom of life, a set plan of ideals and obligations? He wanted more. 

Koen wanted his own life, one that he chose – without duty or responsibility tainting it.

She brought her right hand up to rub his shoulder soothingly. "Why don't you prepare for the Festival, you know which tunic to wear. The ship leaves in a few hours. We'll wait for you at the dock." 

He nodded again and she went to leave her daughter's room. "Try and have fun tonight Koen. It is a happy occasion."

"I will."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that night …

He exited the dock along side his sister Isabel with a pasted smile gracing his handsome features. The Aevarian subjects along with visitors from the other four planets were applauding the royal family's arrival to the Festival and King Eamon returned their enthusiasm with handshakes and greetings. How easily he fell into the role of leader; Koen could barely hold the eye roll that so desperately wanted to appear. Even his sister and mother were walking with authority and supremacy, greeting their admirers. Isabel accepted flowers from a small boy; Deva shook the hand of a family friend. 

Koen walked with his head slightly bowed, not making eye contact with anyone, wanting to disappear. He didn't notice the swarm of young girls shouting his praises, attempting to get his attention. He was by far the most handsome young man in the kingdom, and every girl wanted to be near him. A handshake, a smile, any sign of greeting by him was a treasure. 

But he never gave any. He knew of his status among the young women. Sometimes he enjoyed his popularity, but most days he detested it. These young women wanted him, and they didn't even know him. He wanted a challenge, someone … real.

Security directed them through the throng of people to the stage that had been erected some hundred feet away from their ship. 

Eamon ascended, along with his family, and silenced the crowd by lifting his hand. He stood as a proud and strong leader, with graying hair and an intimidating stance. His plum purple cloak signified his role as King, the crown atop his head lined with Aevarian jewels and crystal. He was a figure to respect and admire, and his subjects in the crowd were quick to quiet and listen to their beloved ruler.

The four members of the royal family stood before their subjects, behind them members of the council seated who were dressed in royal cloaks – some hunter green from Nero, some cranberry red from Juniper, some golden yellow from Dagan, and four plum purple identical to Eamon's. The five Kings of the five planets of Rylan.

"Thank you. Thank you. Good people of Aevar, we celebrate another year of affluence and wealth. Because of your hard work and continued persistence, Rylan is still the most successful system in the galaxy. We welcome the leaders of the other four planets and ask them to celebrate with us." He quieted for a moment as a wave of applause was heard. "The harvest has come to be …"

Koen stood to the far right of his father, not really listening to the speech he was giving. Something of thanking his people for hard work and giving praise for their prosperity, he was sure. It was all the same to him, and eventually he ceased to hear his father's voice at all. His thoughts drifted to the day's previous activities. Target practice in the quad, casual talks with Will, flirting with the beautiful servant girl after midday's meal. What was her name? Sharon? Sera? Serena?

A slight commotion to his right caught his attention, and he turned his head toward the voices. Two men he didn't recognize were arguing, and the distance and the crowd drowned their words out. But he recognized their green cloaks. They were from the planet Nero, most likely servants or guards of one of the men seated behind him. Perhaps even of Cyrus himself.

He never paid much attention to political affairs, but he had been interested recently. His father had come to an agreement to end the long-standing animosity between Aevar and Nero. He knew some of the conflict all those years ago involving Cyrus, but not enough to understand it fully. Eamon had been gone for nearly a week to a conference, where he and Cyrus had come to an agreement. Cyrus had publicly apologized for his deceptions and had asked for forgiveness, a second chance, a fresh start for the system. And his father had accepted the apology.

Why, Koen didn't know. Ever since his childhood, he had been taught that Cyrus was a man to hate. His father had never tried to conceal his hatred for the ruler of the neighboring planet. Perhaps in his old age, Eamon wished to have peace in the system and on his planet. And so Cyrus and leaders of Nero, for the first time in many decades, had been invited to the Autumn Festival. It was a major development in Aevar's political history.

He wondered what the men were discussing and strained to hear. With a sigh of defeat, he turned his attention to the crowd in front of him. There was a myriad of brilliant color of cloaks and tunics and he realized there were several individuals donning the hunter green Nero cloaks. Close to thirty men were positioned sporadically throughout the people, all seemingly listening to the speech, their arms folded across their chest in an almost militaristic stance. Interesting, Koen thought. But he thought nothing else of it. They were most likely nervous about the Festival, keeping their guard up wondering if they were really welcome or not. He would most likely do the same thing.

He looked to his right again. The men had stopped arguing and were intently staring at something behind him. He slowly followed their line of sight, and was met with Cyrus's face. The older man was wrinkled, aged, but nonetheless able and agile, probably an ideal leader for a planet such as Nero. To rule a dune planet, one required strength, tenacity, and few scruples. Koen found himself immediately respecting the long-time foe of his family. Even though he held no kinship for him, a good ruler was a good ruler; even he had to admit that.

Eamon ended his speech, raising his arms above his head as the crowd hailed shouts of praises. The eruption was deafening, and it signaled Isabel and Koen's departure. They both turned to their right to exit the stage. Only a few steps more needed to be taken for their exit when he heard it. A whizzing, almost like a laser blast, shot close to his right ear flying past him. He turned in the direction, grasping tightly to Isabel's arm, holding her close by brotherly instinct.

At first he saw nothing. His eyes furiously searched for the shot, and then the Koen's eyes fell on his father. The crowd and the men who were previously seated were all a mass of color. All he could focus on was Eamon staggering, seemingly puzzled by the soft impact on his shoulder. He raised his left hand to feel his right shoulder, and he found the yellow dart resting just shy of his shoulder blade. One inch higher, and he would have been hit in the neck. 

"Father!" Koen screamed, seeing the trembling form facing him. Eamon slumped to the floor and Deva was at his side screaming. Isabel tried to rush their parents, but Koen held firm not allowing her to be compromised as well. The crowd was a fury of feet and arms and shrieks of fear. Koen was paralyzed by panic for all of two seconds, and then his militaristic training kicked in. He thought furiously. Someone must have planned this …

The green cloaks.

He turned quickly to the right towards the swarming crowd. The thirty cloaks were now advancing, taking the security by storm. His eyes turned to his left, towards Cyrus. The ruler sat unmoving, a sadistic grin gracing his haggard face. Fury burned behind Koen's eyes. His hand instinctively reached for his laser gun in his belt. It took all of Koen's strength to not shoot Cyrus in that moment. He knew that if he did, he and Isabel would be dead in seconds.

Cyrus's men detained the rulers from the other three planets and members of Aevar's security were picked off by bullets or laser shots. 

It was an attack. They were taking the Festival under disguise. He pushed Isabel further behind him for protection and pulled the laser gun from his belt. His mother and father were surrounded, Neroan guards advancing to the stage. 

Cyrus stood slowly and went to Eamon, kneeling. Koen could see his mouth moving, silent words from one man to the other. Eamon's eyes grew large and than faded as the poison from the dart took its fatal assault. Deva was a stoic figure above her husband, tears streaming her face, until a guard came up from behind and slit her throat with his blade. She slumped forward lifelessly onto her husband's limp body.

Isabel wailed in anguish at the sight of their parents, knowing they were next. The breath rushed from his lungs, his vision blurring. This couldn't be happening. His father wanted peace, and now him and his wife were dead by the hands of the man standing before the crowd.

He gazed at the huddled mass of his parents, murdered by the man who Aevar once hated most. Cyrus grinned in victory. Aevarian civilians within the crowd were taken by bullets and lasers from the guards who had mysteriously sprouted from sniper positions lining the stage.

Will was suddenly at Koen's side urging them to the exit he had found. "Koen! Thank God. Come on, I've found a way out." Will grasped Isabel's arm and roughly shoved her through the small, dark door that had been hidden by the thick curtains. But Koen stood unmoving, and for the first time unwilling to cower away from responsibility. He couldn't just leave them. His father was dead. And that meant that, as the successor, he was King … 

"KOEN!" He turned his head sharply as his friends voice finally cut through the haze of combat. "Come on!" With one last look over his shoulder, he silently said a prayer to Fate for his deceased parents. His stomach lurched as he entered the small door after Will. He would never see his mother's smile again. Or argue with his father. Or see them dance at their anniversary ball every year…

The small humid tunnel from the door lead downward, and soon the three found themselves in the forests of Aevar that lay thick with overgrown trees and shrubbery. They ran for their lives, their chest heaving and burning, Isabel sobbing her grief, Koen stoically silent. 

He couldn't seem to get the image of Cyrus from his mind. The grin, the evil eyes, his very being had emitted a sense of victory. He had successfully killed King Eamon of Aevar – no easy task. The fury burned brighter, and Koen made a silent pledge between heavy breaths that he would make Cyrus pay, ten fold. 

They ran and ran into the night away from the Festival. The stars above them gave them just enough light to see through the vines and foliage that hung low in the forest. Will directed them through the almost invisible paths that had been worn by local commoners. His training as a Second was coming forth, and he filled the position well. 

An eternity seemed to pass until Will slowed and stopped, gasping for breath. 

Koen bent, his hands going to his knees for support as his lungs demanding oxygen. He heard Isabel to his right and turned and offered his shoulder for her to cry on. Ever the dramatic, she was uncharacteristically quiet, most likely from the shock of the attack. They had witnessed their parents' deaths. Koen realized very quickly in that moment that it was very likely that neither of them would be the same again.

He held Isabel in his arms, and gazed at Will who looked much the same as Koen felt. Lost. Eamon had been like a father to Will for many years, and the loss was disturbingly parallel between the two. All three of them had lost people they loved tonight, and the mortality of the situation was setting in.

"What do we do now?"

Will looked at Koen, and then to the ground quietly searching for a solution. Quietly he answered, "We need to get off the planet. Knowing Cyrus, he'll comb Aevar looking for you two. As long as you're alive, you both could hold a claim to the throne. And we know that's what he wants. It's so obvious. He all but took it tonight." Koen nodded his agreement. Isabel sobbed quietly into the fabric of Koen's tunic, but said nothing, seemingly not hearing a word that was spoken.

They rested for several minutes, until they quietly returned to their escape. They walked through the night, stopping frequently when Will detected someone close, huddling in the shrubs near the ground for several minutes until Will deemed the coast clear. It wasn't until just before dawn that they had made it to a safehouse in the small village of Toan.




Providence Ch. 03



They quietly walked up to the door of the disheveled house.

"Are you sure this is it?" Isabel asked, as she took in the unkempt lawn and the rundown exterior. The paint was flaking and the windows were filled with grime and what looked like cobwebs. The establishment was anything but regal, and the three were quite unaccustomed to such ordinary, plain traits. 

She shuddered as her body screamed in exhaustion and fatigue and hunger. 

Will nodded, "Yeah. This is the place. We were drilled on the locations of all the safehouses in the kingdom. This is the closest one."

They stepped up onto the porch and after a nod from Koen, Will raised his fist to dock. Three hard raps were heard, and they waited for an answer. After several long moments of nothing, Will looked to Koen. The two shared a look of doubt. Had the safehouse been compromised? Hesitantly, Will knocked again. 

Suddenly the door swung open to reveal a tall, young man standing eye to eye with all three royal figures. His eyes were a clear blue, set behind a pair of glasses. He was thin but muscular, and his voice was load and thunderous but welcoming all the same. "You made it!! Come in, come in." He ushered them inside and closed the door, locking it with the five durable metal bolts. He went swiftly to the windows and pulled the drapes down to hide the interior from any nosy neighbors or unwelcome company.

"I heard what happened," he said. He walked past them walking through the living area and into the kitchen; they followed silently. "I wasn't sure if you had survived or not. The reports that Cyrus has issued said the royal family was dead, but in situations like these, you can never be sure."

He immerged with hot tea for each of them. "I've been up all night just in case. No one from town has returned home from the Festival. It's been quiet all night. I'm guessing he didn't let anyone out alive." He eyed them carefully, noting their disheveled appearance and fatigued bodies. "You must be exhausted. There's a lavatory through that hallway, and beds already made waiting for you. There's clothes and supplies in the closet, help yourself."

Koen nodded and steered Isabel down the hallway that the man had pointed to. They disappeared from view and Will took the silent moment to question the young man before him. "What exactly has Cyrus been saying?"

He shook his head sadly. "That we shouldn't try to resist him. The royal family is dead, and that he's taken their palace. He declared himself King of Aevar."

"Shit," Will cursed under his breath. This was very bad, and they needed to escape from the insanity to regroup. "Have you heard from the other contacts? Has anyone else survived?"

"I heard from three contacts several hours ago. All together there are about twenty survivors, not including you three."

"Why didn't they come here? This is the closest safehouse."

The man gave him a sad look. Of course they wouldn't know how bad it really is, he thought. 

"The survivors were palace guards and soldiers from bases in the kingdom. There were no other survivors from the Festival … that I know of," he tried to offer quickly. "They're all from other targets that Cyrus must have ambushed after taking King Eamon. You are very lucky you survived. You're not even injured."

Will could only nod, but stayed silent for several minutes letting the information sink in. Cyrus had planned the attack well, striking when Aevar was most vulnerable. Never mind the fact that the Autumn Festival was a sacred ritual, and to fight on that day was unthinkable. It was a holiday, and the fact that Cyrus planned his attack on that day made his scheme that much more despicable. It would be like spitting in the face of the King himself. But obviously Cyrus was without moral or principle. After all, he did murder the King and Queen in front of the entire kingdom.

"Go ahead and contact the other safehouses. Let them know that Koen and Isabel are alive. We'll meet up at the Moana dock, and leave the planet there. Hopefully we'll break the atmosphere before Cyrus's men realize we're leaving."

"Moana? Are you sure that's wise? That dock hasn't been updated in several years. Who knows if there's even a decent ship to transport you, never mind twenty others?"

"Just do it. We're running out of options," he said wearily.

The young man nodded and went to his communications to contact the safehouses. 

"Wait."

He stopped and turned to face Will with a questioning look on his face.

"What's your name?"

He smiled then, saying, "Alec."

"Thank you Alec. You've saved our lives."

He bowed in respect, and exited the room to contact his fellow protectors.



Providence Ch. 04



Part 4

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She sat on the bed shivering violently, seemingly oblivious to her brother’s attempts at conversation. Her eyes remained fazed, fixated on the blurred images in front of her, but she saw nothing of the room she was in. The only images that were of any clarity were the horrifying memories of the Festival that flared to life behind her glazed eyes. Watching her father die, her mother’s murder, the crowd screaming, Cyrus’s malicious grin in triumph. She felt responsible, helpless, lost. But mostly dead. 

What possible reason did she have to live now that nearly everyone she had loved and everything that she knew was taken away from her in a matter of moments?

Koen’s voice was muffled by the indifference she felt. For the first time in her life, Isabel wished she had never been born. For so long, twenty years, she had loved her life and everything that had accompanied it. The responsibility, the wealth, the status, the constant circle of servants, the public speculation. She never once wished for a different life, and now she couldn’t seem to wish for anything but the exact opposite. Why had Fate been so cruel to her? She had always been the good Princess, the dutiful daughter and sister and friend. What had she done to deserve this pain and void that now infested her heart?

For the past ten minutes Koen had busied himself around the small, secure room gathering the supplies they would need. He was sure that Isabel was in a state of shock considering she hadn’t moved or uttered a word since they were alone. Her eyes were empty of any emotion, she shivered slightly every few minutes, and her breathing was even but shallow. He had tried to talk to her, keep her mind occupied, but it was obvious that she was far from needing a distraction. 

But so was he. Busying himself around the room had become maddening very quickly. 

He went to the closet to retrieve clothes for the both of them and Will. They were poor substitutes from the royal tunics there were currently wearing, but Koen was never one to complain about such things. If it were up to him he would never wear such restraining, pompous clothing in the first place. The only reason he did was because his mother asked him to …

He shook his head to halt that path of thought quickly, violently. He couldn’t think of her now. Perhaps not ever. It was much too painful. He was quite certain that the images from the Festival would haunt his dreams for a very long time, if he were ever able to fall asleep again.

Koen took a common shirt from one hanger and ran his fingers along the fabric. It was nothing of Aevarian silk and yet it offered some kind of release for him. He had the quick realization that his past life was over. The palace, the servants, the balls, they were all a thing of the past for him and Isabel. And while that would have given him a sense of relief and hope just twenty-four hours ago, it offered nothing but a deep-seated despair weighing his already shattered heart. His chest constricted with the strong, newly found emotion.

For so long he thought he was trapped and isolated, and through that he had felt despair. But he quickly found that he had only been naïve and imprudent. He had been a callous twenty-year-old boy who thought that he was entitled to anything and everything. And now literally everything he had had been ripped from his life right before his eyes, and he wanted to weep for the loss. A loss of something that he had never known he had. How foolish he had been.

He summoned the last of his strength and composure, and faced Isabel, saying softly, “Isabel, you need to change. Your tunic is a mess. Here. Here are some clothes and some soap. Go ahead and wash up.” He sat the things in her lap but she made no move to fulfill his request. 

He tried again. “Iz, please. You need to get up. We need to get clean and get some rest.” Her eyes remained dulled and unresponsive, mirroring his heart. He kneeled before her, desperately trying to keep his emotions in check in front of his devastated twin sister. But when he spoke his voice cracked with the misery he felt. “Isabel, please.”

“They’re gone.” Her voice was low and flat. Her eyes slowly lowered to meet his, coming out of her daze. “They’re gone, we’ll never see them again.”

He lowered his head in shame, his only response to the utter truth she spoke. Quiet sobs were emitted as he clung to her satin clad knees. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m so sorry Isabel.”

Moments past between them, Koen sobbing for the first time in years and Isabel stoically showing no emotion at all. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way, as if his heart would literally burst from the loss he felt. And looking at his sister, he saw that she was fading very quickly. She was always so emotional, wearing her heart on her sleeve. Seeing her emotionally catatonic was heart breaking in and of itself. He would give everything he had to feel anything but annihilating misery, but he was sure it was better than feeling nothing at all.

At least with his emotion, he knew he was still alive. Isabel was beginning to look like she was already dead before she reached her grave.

“Isabel,” he said with as much strength as he could muster. “Get up Isabel. You need to get up.” When she didn’t move, he stood and pulled her up by her limp arms. “You have to get up. We have to keep going. Its what they would have wanted.” He spoke the words softly, but the impact was nonetheless forceful.

She broke down at that. Her tears were a steady stream down her face and Koen had to hold her up as her legs failed her. Her howls of anguish, he was sure, filled the small safehouse, as she let her guarded emotions run free. She sobbed and screamed and prayed and cursed for their dead parents for lengthy moments, held securely by her brother. Her breaths were choked and broken, and Koen could only return her emotion with the same uncensored fury. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He clicked the communication orb once, then twice, trying to establish contact with the first safehouse. His equipment was old, but over the years he had been forced to make do, repairing broken wiring and replacing missing screws. And even with the few and far between metal shortages through the years, he was able to improve his orbs, giving them options that even the palace orbs didn’t have. Alec may have been secluded in the small village for several years, but he was sure to never leave himself wanting. At least not when his job was considered.

He had been a hidden protector for five years, living in his disheveled home since his entitlement, keeping a low appearance. It was necessary given his mission. No one could ever know his status, nor of his affiliations with the King. His whole life and the façade he kept were for the royal family protection. If there were ever an invasion or attack, they would be able to come to his safehouse and be protected. No enemy would expect or conceive of a Prince or Princess taking refuge in a shack on the outskirts of the ominous Chogan Forest.

So far this plan had worked well. No soldiers of Cyrus had come calling at his door. And even if they did, Alec had a Plan B already in mind.

A scoring, abrasive noise emitted from the orb, and a gruff voice asked, “Alpha 5-6-17. This is Alpha 5-6-17. Identify yourself.”

“Omega Beta 9-2-54.”

“What can I do for ya Omega Beta?”

“The doves have landed. I repeat … the doves have landed.”

There was silence on the other end, save for the coarse sounds of static. Alec waited for a response. He was sure no safehouse expected those words to be spoken.

“I’m sorry Omega Beta, repeat.”

“The doves have landed.”

“Status?” His voice has grown from gruff and indifferent to nearly elated and expectant.

“Hungry and cold, but no broken … wings.” After five years of nonuse, his training was beginning to come back. The dove pretense they used as code was an old one, designated only for the royal family, birds for royal associates, and so on. Each social standing in Aevarian society had an animal code for them. 

He was sure that the Alpha safehouse was a bustle with activity by now.

“That’s great news Omega Beta. Report?”

“I’m transmitting now. Check you orb’s imprinter.” Alec turned to his fax-like machine and pressed the coordinates for the safehouse of Alpha 5-6-17. The information detailed their plans of escape.

“Copy that. Stand by.”

Short moments passed as the details were transmitted from one safehouse to another. Alec was sure that when Alpha received the plans, the protector would be less than pleased. But little on Alec’s side could be done. He was given an order by the Second In Command of the new King. To over ride that order would be treasonous.

“Received.”

Alec waited as his fellow protector read the plans. 

It was not customary to leave the home planet during an attack. It would be expected that Koen address the survivors, regroup, and attack quickly, swiftly. None on Aevar would want Cyrus to rule long, not ever. But little else could be done at this desperate point. His fingers tapped lightly and impatiently on the desk in front of him. The static faded in his mind as he lingered for a response. The anticipation was maddening.

“Copy that Omega Beta. Our birds will leave home and meet with you up north.”

His brows furrowed. He copied? No argument or questions?

“I’m sorry Alpha. You said you copy?”

“Agreed. Our birds won’t make the winter at home. They needs time to rest.”

He asked expectantly, “Broken wings?”

“Copy that.”

“How many?”

“We’ve lost three. Seven birds here. But that could always change”

Seven. Only seven survivors at the Alpha safehouse. That dwindled the royal survivors down to twenty even. My God, had Cyrus killed everyone? he thought.

“Copy that. Give the report to Epsilon Theta 4-10-8 and Zeta 2-8-212. Repeat, that is Epsilon Theta 4-10-8 and Zeta 2-8-212. Send a report when you have confirmation.”

“Understood. Good work Omega Beta.”

“You too, Alpha. Omega Beta out.”

“Roger that.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“What did they say?”

Alec met Will’s eyes as they stood in the living area. He had just reentered the room after hearing back from the other safehouses, getting the full report of the survivors, their status and confirmation on their plans. He had been prepared for disappointment. But what Alec hadn’t been prepared for was the sheer dissolution of any hope he had had. The number kept ringing in his mind, over and over like a mantra of failure and disappointment and defeat. How could so much change so quickly?

Will waited for an answer, and could read very easily that the protector was reluctant to release any information. His fingers tingled; his nerves were standing on end from exhaustion and anticipation. 

While he had been left alone to wait for a report, Will had explored the small safehouse and had found it surprisingly flawless in structure and integrity. The weapons were concealed in camouflage; swords hidden in plants, lasers secured behind the bricks on the wall, small grenades looking like decorations. To the bare, naked eye the home was the epitome of family and domesticity. To the trained, soldier’s eye it was the embodiment of uncensored security and combat. It was high-tech, and yet completely fundamental and accessible. Will was sure that if they needed to, the four refugees hidden away in the safehouse could defend themselves quite nicely. This Alec had been preparing for quite some time.

“Well, um …” Alec fumbled with his words under the scrutiny of his superior, and the large lump in his throat. He hated being the bearer of bad news. His eyes diverted from Will’s and landed on his hands. “I was able to contact the three safehouses that I mentioned before, and all reported back with an update of their status.”

“And?”

“There are ten survivors total, including you three.”

Will’s shoulders sagged in metaphoric defeat. Those few words had literally crumbled any hope he had at attacking Cyrus quickly. His mind was plagued with insecurities as it was. Being a newly allotted second was wreaking havoc on his abilities. He found himself rethinking and second guessing many aspects of the plan he had constructed, searching for any weaknesses hidden away. The last thing he wanted was to have his first order as second to fail with all their deaths. 

But the plans he had been formulating crumbled with the news of ten survivors. That meant fewer trainers, fewer soldiers, fewer … everything. How was he supposed to orchestrate a counter attack when he couldn’t even get past his insecurities? A second was supposed to be strong and confident and disciplined in his training. And he was all a bundle of nerves and questions.

“They said that Cyrus used some type of chemical weapon on the military bases. The soldiers that actually did make it to a safehouse were so badly burned they didn’t make it but an hour or two. The other survivors were maimed, lost limbs … you get the idea.”

“What’s the demographic? Men to women?”

“There are five men, two women, and you three. There are three soldiers, one nurse, a few craftsmen, and actually one child.”

“A child?” Will asked surprised.

Alec nodded. “Yes. A young girl, maybe nine or ten. She was found in some rubble by one of the soldiers and taken to a safehouse. She didn’t have a scratch on her.”

He nodded to Alec and turned his gaze to the window behind him. The trees hung low with the weight of their branches in the wind. The sky was a gray-black haze, surely from fires set by Cyrus’s men within Aevar’s cities and ports. He was devastating all that Aevar stood for in a matter of hours, and in Will’s disgust, he found himself sitting back and watching. 

Fury burned in his chest. He wanted revenge. He wanted victory. He wanted Cyrus’s head. And Fate be damned if it stood in his way of succeeding. 

“Will they be able to make it to Moana at the designated time?”

“I informed them to meet at the rendezvous point one hour prior to what you had said. I figured that way, if they are late … they’re still on time. You know?”

“Good thinking.” He nodded letting the new information to sink in. “So, everything is in motion. We need to get off this planet. Fast.” He spoke more to himself than anyone, but was loud enough for Alec to hear.

Coming to a quick decision, Alec spoke.

“Sir?”

Will turned from the window, “Yes?”

“May I make a request?”

Will eyed him speculatively, but nodded, wondering what the protector could possible be asking for. Surely he knew that none of the three refugees had anything of value anymore.

“May I accompany you off the planet?”

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “You wish to leave Aevar … with us?” When Alec only nodded, Will continued. “Why? You do realize that is a very forbidden request? To leave the planet at a time of crisis.”

“Yes I know.”

“And do you remember the pledge you took when appointed protector, stating that you would ‘never depart or abandon the sacred and righteous planet known as Aevar until my death parts us’? Do you remember saying those words Alec?”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“Then why are you asking?”

He waited to respond, trying desperately to find the words to accurately portray his wishes. “Yes, I did pledged to serve my planet until my death. But not just Aevar, the ‘sacred and righteous planet’ of Aevar. The way I see it, Aevar was those things because of the leader it had. King Eamon was a righteous man, and I had no qualms serving him. But he died last night, leaving Cyrus in control. I owe him no allegiance. I will never see him as my King, sir. I feel a duty to stay with my leader, Koen. He is the rightful King, and I owe him my loyalty.”

Will remained silent, taking in Alec’s speech. It was obvious that he had a strong conviction about his responsibilities as protector, and was resolute in his mission. He would be a great asset to the small group of survivors. But Will didn’t show any of these thoughts as he maintained his blank expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

When Alec didn’t see a change in the Second’s expression, he continued. “I will take any position you see fit, and I will faithfully serve Koen until my death. I just honestly cannot see myself staying on a planet that is in political chaos, under a tyrant. Aevar is better than that, and I believe that if I can help in any way, I can do so by leaving with you.” He finished his speech, taking a deep breath. “Sir,” he added hastily.

Will a few moments, leaving Alec with baited breath, before responding. “Very well. We will all leave in the morning. Keep watch while we sleep. Wake us in five hours.” He turned to leave the living area, and Alec enthusiastically nodded and saluted, even though it was not required.

After Will’s departure, Alec stood in his home, which sat eerily quiet. He was leaving Aevar for the first time in nearly sixteen years. And the sooner the better.

He went about double-checking the locks on the doors and windows, and walked softly to his small bedroom to pack what few things he would take with him on his journey off the planet. A few changes of clothes and several devises he had invented that he was sure could aid them in their escape. If nothing else, they would help ease his trepidation of Cyrus. He knew the stories and tales of his tyranny and malice. Alec could only ask Fate for one wish – for all the royal survivors to make it off of Aevar safely. Once they reached their destination, he was sure that Koen and William would formulate a plan and set it into action, saving Aevar.

But he couldn’t, for the life of him, understand why William had chosen Cantu for their refuge.



Providence Ch. 05



Bo – Hebrew; Strong and Fast 
Devlin – Celtic/Gaelic; Brave, Fierce 
Dominic – Latin; Belonging To God 
Mabyn – Welsh; Ever Young 
Miya – Japanese; Sacred House 
Rylie – Celtic/Gaelic; Valiant

Part 5

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“How are you feeling?” Will asked softly, as he neared Isabel. She had been alone in the quiet living room gazing into the burning fire of the stoned hearth.

She turned towards his voice, her eyes sullen and red from tears. She held a sweater around her shoulders to fight off the chill that had settled into her bones since the night before. No matter how many cups of tea she drank, or how many warm baths she took, the cold just wouldn’t leave. Her muscles ached from her constant shivering. The sleep she had found previously only lasted for two short hours, and even then they were far from restful. 

Her voice was hoarse and raspy from fatigue. “Like shit.”

He nodded with a slight, half smile on his face, knowing the feeling well. He had lain on his cot for some time, staring at the ceiling unable to find rest. Will had heard her get up and leave the room and after several long moments, finally deciding that she wasn’t going to return, he went in search of her.

He was sure that he looked as awful as she did, though he was careful to not let his opinion of her appearance show on his face. Despite the fact that she had declined his marriage proposal years before, they were and had remained uncharacteristically close. He wasn’t surprised when she said no, more disappointed. William had known that the King and Queen were expecting them to wed, and feeling compelled to fulfill their wish, he had proposed. But he couldn’t lie and say that he hadn’t also been relieved. It would have been incredibly awkward if they had actually gotten married. He did love her, but in a brotherly way. Not enough to marry her, not in the way she needed to be loved.

Isabel crossed the small living area and took a seat by the fireplace. The couch cushions were fluffy and comfortable, and she quickly found a small, but nonetheless fleeting, sense of relaxation in the warmth around her. 

She had been telling the truth; she did feel like shit and she knew that she looked it too. She had caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror when she had finally found the strength to freshen up earlier. Her makeup was smeared and smudged along her face. Her royal tunic had been torn in several places, holding leaves and grass in the holes. Her hair was disheveled, strands of her silky golden hair torn from her up-do. She was unsure what had happened to the crown that she had worn at the Festival. More than likely it was forever lost in the forest. Good riddance, she thought. One less thing to worry about. If it were up to her she would never think of the palace or the Festival or her parents again. The heart-wrenching agony was becoming too unbearable. Isabel was strong, but not that strong. 

But it seemed that she was a glutton for punishment, because no matter what she did, she could not get the memory or image of her parents’ deaths out of her exhausted mind. It haunted her.

Will watched her as her eyes unfocussed, and he sighed heavily knowing exactly what she was doing, what she was always doing. Over thinking. This situation was already wearisome and arduous. And to not think of the circumstances they found themselves in would be insane. But to over think the situation would prove just as foolish. The past was unchangeable. Will found no need in dwelling in what could not be altered. It was common sense to make peace, and move on.

But Isabel was different.

“Iz,” he said quietly, trying to break her from her silent, torturous reverie. When she made no move, he continued. “Isabel, stop.”

She gave him a sardonic look. “Stop what?” she said, asking for no particular answer.

“Stop acting like you can change it. It’s not going away. What happened happened. You need to move on.” His voice was quiet and soothing, but Isabel found little solace in his words.

She turned quickly in his direction, tears forming in the brim of her eyes. “William, my parents died not twenty-four hours ago. Give me a break.” She shook her head in disbelief and self-pity. If he didn’t stop this right now, she was going to loose it all over again, and she couldn’t let that happen. 

“Maybe you should talk about it. You know? Let some of your … emotion out.” He was never good with sentiment or feelings, but desperate times definitely called for desperate measures.

She dismissed the offer quickly, waiving her hand in the air dismissively. 

This isn’t going very well, he thought. Will tried again. “You know, we’re going to have a hard couple of months ahead of us. Maybe even years.” He kept his voice soft, and what he hoped was soothing. “Maybe … maybe the sooner you let this go, the sooner you can move on.”

Her reaction was unspoken but nonetheless harsh. Her face told him in so many unspoken words that she found the idea ridiculous, and he forged ahead before she could yell at him, which was her tendency.

“I don’t mean you should forget, just … accept.”

“Semantics. It’s the same thing!”

“No, its not. Think about it. There’s nothing you can do…”

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear this!” she said, her voice bordering hysteria.

“Okay, okay,” he said quietly, trying to get her to lower her voice. He had never meant to upset her, especially now. He crossed the rug that separated them and sat next to her, slinging his arm over her shoulder in apology. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

Silent moments passed until she spoke again. “Do you think they suffered Will? Do you … do you think that the pain was very bad?” Her voice was choked with emotion.

He turned to her and slightly faltered at her appearance. In that moment, she was not a Princess, or a daughter, or a sister, or a friend. She was a scared, helpless, desperate girl trying to come to terms with her parents’ gruesome death. Her eyes were round with grief and anticipation of his answer. Her lower lip trembled slightly.

He chose his words carefully.

“Iz …” He hesitated involuntarily, and took another moment. “No. No I don’t think they suffered.” Why distress her more? He would do anything to ease her heartache, and if this consolation did it, all the better.

Her brows furrowed. “Are you sure? You really mean that?”

“Yeah Iz. Everything was happening so fast, I really don’t think they even knew what was going on until it was over.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded.

“So … what are we going to do now?” It wasn’t a question of helplessness, but of hope. She knew that William would come up with a plan that would work in their favor. If she knew anything about him, she knew that he was smart and cunning. Any plan that he devised would save them, and Aevar, from any more pain.

“I talked to Alec and …” When he saw her unknowing look, “Alec is the guy … the protector.”

“Oh.”

He inwardly rolled his eyes. Even now, Isabel was still … Isabel. Unknowingly taking advantage of the little people. 

“Anyway, I told him to have the other survivors meet us at the Moana dock. We’ll leave first thing.”

“Survivors?” she asked surprised.

“Yeah. There are eight other royal survivors. There were originally twenty or so, but … with their injuries, they …” She nodded, understanding. He didn’t want to bring up death, and she didn’t want to talk about death. So they each let the topic lie.

“You said we’re going to leave. What do you mean leave?”

“I mentioned this last night. I guess you didn’t hear.” When she shook her head in the negative, he continued, “We’re leaving Aevar.”

“William! How can you say that? We can’t just leave. Our people need us.”

He raked his hand through his hair in uncertainty. How on earth was he supposed to explain this to her, to make her understand?

“Isabel, we have to. Cyrus has attacked every major port, every base, the palace, the Festival…the list goes on. Thousands have died. It’s a miracle that we’re even alive. There are only eight other royal survivors. Eight, Isabel. We need to regroup, get supplies … heal.” Especially heal, he thought, and gave her a knowing look.

“I’m sure by now, many have already left the planet for safety. We have to contact our allies, and get an army together, a strategy. This is the time where we lick our wounds and rest and figure out what the hell we’re going to do next. This is no time to counterattack when we have absolutely no firepower. We can’t afford to be foolish. Cyrus is a smart man. Devious as hell, but smart. We have to be smarter. Getting off the planet is the only thing I can think of that he might not expect. For obvious reasons.”

She nodded. Cyrus certainly wouldn’t be expecting it. Aevarians were known to be kamikaze-like, ‘going down with the ship’ so to speak. Isabel had to sift through his entire soldier-second-in-command talk, but she agreed with what she could understand. They did need to regroup and ‘lick their wounds.’ What a disgusting analogy, she thought.

“Yeah … I guess you’re right. When do we leave?”

“In a couple of hours. I told Alec to take the first watch. But when you left the bedroom, I relieved him. Him and Koen are sleeping now.”

“Will … are we going to make it through this? I mean, how are we going to get through this? This is Cyrus we’re talking about.”

“I know, I know. Listen, I’ve spent nearly my entire life studying attack patterns and reconnaissance. Isabel, this is what I have been training for since I was ten years old. We’ll be okay.”

She laid her head on his shoulder, and nodded in acceptance. Will always seemed to know what to say to make her feel better. 

She had no idea that Will had very little faith in himself, and was at that moment praying that he wouldn’t have to break his promise.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He scanned the horizon, searching, waiting, anticipating the arrival of the others. It had been hours since they had last heard from Omega Beta, and his nerves were literally standing on end. If the protector was correct, and if nothing else had gone wrong since they last spoke, the royal family – or what still remained of it – was still alive. 

Dominic’s eyes never stopped their search, skirting from left, to the right, to the forest, to the lake. Nothing.

He sighed and turned to the cave behind him where his companions were hiding. They had arrived about an hour ago, two hours early, and despite injury and illness, most were actually in rather high spirits. All wanted to see their Prince and Princess. Just their presence would offer a kind of solace that their hearts needed from the malevolence attack from Cyrus.

The previous night had been hard for him. He had not seen so much death and suffering since years before when he fought in the Miyan Wars. Aevar had aided the failing planet of Miya with soldiers, and he had fought bravely along side their long-time ally. And they had won.

But this … this was very different. The Miyan Wars were a time of bravery and honor and camaraderie. But what Cyrus did the other night … that was nothing short of spiteful, and unlawful, and hostile. There was no honor in what Cyrus had done. There was no honor in ordering your men to murder women and children, or spraying entire villages with chemical weapons, or unleashing pain and death unseen or unknown before.

Dominic entered the dark cave that sat just outside of the Moana port, waiting for the Omega Beta protector and his survivors to show. The other survivors of the three safehouses sat quietly, but looked at him expectantly waiting for his answer.

“Nothing yet,” he said softly, and they all turned they heads, staring off into the dark, waiting. 

He sat roughly on the rocky floor, and picked at the pebbles that lined the cave.

He realized he needed to see them as much as his companions did. He needed to see William, Koen, and Isabel with his own eyes, confirming that they were really still alive. He needed to see them to prove that his greatest fears were indeed false. He had thought the worst when he had made it to the safehouse the night before, and heard about the attack on the Festival and the death of King Eamon and Queen Deva. He had thought them all dead. 

He shook his head, warding off the painful memory of brief moments spent in agony. His friends’ deaths would have been too much for him to bear, and just remembering the few minutes spent in that knowledge was grievous. 

He turned to take an inventory of the other survivors in the cave. Across from him sat a young man by the name of Bo, a soldier like himself. He had not fought with this man, but could tell that he was strong, and confident. To Bo’s right there were two other men, older but not elderly. Perhaps assistants of the royal family. If they were in this company, they were of royal regard. 

He turned his head further to the left, aligning his gaze with a woman, a nurse. Since they had all arrived at the safehouse the night before, she had spent tireless hours attending to injuries. She had saved the life of one of the men across from her. He had had a severe laceration in his neck, and she had been able to stop the bleeding and repair the severed artery. The three soldiers had offered some help, having taken first aid training. But she had proven quite praiseworthy in her efforts. She was unable to save the lives of all the survivors the night before. But she had been able to ease their suffering some. 

He stumbled over her name, sifting through his jumbled thoughts … Rylie. Her name was Rylie.

Closer to himself sat Devlin, the third of three soldiers. Dominic had served with Devlin before, although it had been many years ago. If they were lucky, working with William, they could form a plan and save Aevar. He could only hope …

Lastly the child. He had found her huddled underneath fallen rubble, clutching a doll tightly to her chest with her hands covering her ears from the screams and fighting. Upon hearing her crying, he had picked her up and carried her the several miles to the safehouse not bothering to question her of family. If the village they had been in was any indication, her family had died along with hundreds of others.

He leaned in closer to the girl, and spoke softly. “Mabyn. Are you okay?”

The girl turned her head, and her hair hung in her face shielding her eyes somewhat. She nodded, but he could tell that she was hurting, even if it wasn’t physical. He slung his left arm lightly across her shoulders and brought her closer, giving her some of his warmth and support. There was something about this little girl that touched him. He had never had a sister or a mother. The closest he had gotten was Isabel, but even that was fleeting. Being a soldier was hardly conducive of friendly, civilian relationships. 

Maybe it was the fact the she had no one. Maybe it was the fact the he had no one either. Whatever it was, he found himself becoming very protective of the little girl at his side. The men at the safehouse had automatically thought that Rylie would care for the child, seeing as how Mabyn was all alone. But Rylie had been far too busy with saving lives to think about a small child, and so the task had been given to him. And he had accepted it sincerely. He had spoken with her, learned her name, her doll’s name, her favorite food, the list went on. He had only left her briefly to help Rylie when she needed it, but other than those short moments, Mabyn had his full attention.

They sat this way for several moments, until shadows crossed the light from the opening of the cave. Immediately the three soldiers were on their feet, moving toward the entrance, raising their weapons in case it was Cyrus’s men. 

“Identify yourself!” he yelled out.

There was a brief pause. The figures outside the cave turned in the direction of his voice, and then entered carefully. The dark of the cave immersed the four newcomers in shadow, until the torches surrounding them illuminated their faces. 

“Nic? Is that you?”

“William!”

Dominic motioned for the other two to lower their weapons, and Will and him embraced swiftly in relief. Dominic then turned to Koen and Isabel who were standing behind him. They were alive. His heart was beating wildly in his chest with the knowledge.

“How are you?” he asked softly to no one in particular. It seemed that they were all healthy with no evident injuries. But he noted the melancholy looks on Koen and Isabel’s faces. He wasn’t surprised however, after hearing of the events at the Festival.

“As well as can be expected.” Nic nodded at Will’s words. “You’re early.”

Dominic nodded again. “We left as soon as we could. We didn’t want to be late or keep you waiting. I think they all want off this planet as much as you do. Its kind of surprising how readily they accepted it.”

Will nodded.

He then turned away from Dominic towards his companions. “Nic, I’d like to introduce you. You’ve already met Koen and Isabel.”

They all shared a companionable smile and Nic nodded, bowing in reverence.

“Please,” Koen said, extending his hand. “There is no need to be so formal. Its nice to see you again Dominic.”

He hesitated slightly, unused to such an everyday, common gesture from a royal figure. But he shook Koen’s hand wholeheartedly and said, “Same here. I heard about the Festival. I’m so sorry. I wish I could have been there.”

Koen averted his eyes, but nodded his thanks. 

Isabel approached him with a smile, extending her hand as well. Dominic remembered her being beautiful when she was younger. And now she was just as beautiful, even with her common clothing and unkempt hair. When they had been younger, and he was a guest of Will’s in the palace, he remembered her taking delight in her royal status. Seeing her this way, dethroned and defeated, it was … disconcerting. There was a sadness in her eyes that had not been there years before. He was sure Koen held the same sadness but had expertly disguised it.

Will turned towards the fourth of their group. “This is Alec. He’s the protector from the safehouse we were at.”

They shook hands as well, exchanging pleasantries.

Dominic spoke. “Koen, Isabel. The survivors have been waiting for you,” he said, gesturing to the seven other individuals now standing behind them.

Koen and Isabel nodded and walked off to greet the small group, Isabel reveling in the comfort that the survivors offered, and Koen shaking hands, acting genuine as best he could.

Nic turned to Alec and Will. “So Will, what’s the plan?”

He glanced at his watch. “We’ll leave in half an hour. From what I saw the dock is pretty deserted, so we shouldn’t have a problem getting access. Finding a descent ship to break gravity and get us to Cantu is another story.”

Dominic nodded, and then turned to Alec.

“Um … the other three protectors have left already.” He hesitantly asked, looking to Will in question, and then back to Alec. “Will you be leaving soon as well?”

Will shook his head. “No, he’s coming with us.”

He went to question Will’s response, but the query died in his throat. Now was not the time. Instead he nodded and offered Alec another welcoming handshake.

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Alec smiled, and returned the handshake. “That I do,” he said as he gazed at the group of now jubilant survivors. 



Providence Ch. 06



Brody – Celtic/Gaelic; Brother

Lamar – German; Famous Land

Part 6

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I can't believe this. I can't fucking believe this. If you had just stayed quiet none of this would have happened."

"What do you mean? I was just asking a question. And it was good question, too."

" 'Do you think my tunic makes me look fat?' is not a valid question! You know what ... because of that, you're telling him."

"Why do I have to tell him?! You lost the Prince, you should tell him!"

"I didn't lose him! His Second rescued him. That's not my fault!"

"Like hell its not!"

Lamar rubbed his brow with his hand in exasperation. It had all been planned perfectly. The previous night at the Festival, they had position, they had their weapons, they had their orders. Their job, their main prerogative, had been to capture the Prince. The Princess was expendable, the Second as well. But the Prince, Cyrus had wanted alive. That he had made abundantly clear.

And Koen was alive all right. Just not in their custody. And Lamar was sure that he and Brody were going to bear the brunt of Cyrus's wrath.

Brody had been his usual annoying, quarrelsome self and had distracted Lamar. The two brothers had fought for several minutes about completely irrelevant topics until Lamar had finally convinced Brody to give up his argument. They had stood waited for the sign from Cyrus. 

"So ... do you think this will work?"

Lamar turned to Brody, with a smirk on his face.

"Knowing Cyrus, this is planned to the T. As long as everything goes according to plan, Cyrus will have the throne, and we will be promoted. So keep your eyes open. I don't want this to go south because of you."

Brody was immediately offended. "What do you mean 'because of me?' I don't do anything."

"Exactly. You're always goofing off, and not doing your job. So shut up. We need to stay alert."

"I'm alert."

"No you're not. You're a distraction," Lamar said offhandedly. He was far too preoccupied to offer his brother's words with any sophisticated acknowledgement.

Lamar turned his attention to the Prince, while he and Brody stayed off to the side of the stage, the large curtains hiding them somewhat. 

"I am not a distraction."

Lamar rolled his eyes and turned to his brother again. "Will you shut up?!"

They both turned to the stage, looking intently at Cyrus who was seated just behind King Eamon and the royal family. He sat regarding the crowd, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike. All but the Neroan people were completely unaware of his intention. 

Laser guns were in hand as they awaited the signal to capture the Prince and, if need be, kill the Princess. Remorse and regret were foreign words to the two brothers, having worked with Cyrus ever since their graduation from temporary aide to lasting employee. They relished in the presence of their leader and completed any work he gave them with gusto. Anything to please Cyrus was worth doing.

Brody sighed slightly, already bored of standing and waiting for minutes on end, while Lamar maintained his position intently.

He kept his voice hushed, "Lamar, how do I look?"

Lamar turned to his brother with a fully puzzled look adorning his face. "What?"

"Well, this is a new tunic," Brody stated, running his hands over the cloth to straighten the wrinkles. "I'm not sure of the color. Do you think it makes me look fat?"

A beat.

"You can't be serious," Lamar said as he gave Brody a blank look. Was his brother really asking this question?

"It does, doesn't it?" Brody continued completely unaware of his brother's true opinion. "I told that seamstress that green wasn't my color. She just wouldn't listen."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Unbeknownst to them, a figure in the shadows watched in horror as the attack took place. 

He had kept a close eye on the two, curious as to why two Neroan guards would take watch behind the stage, while most others were standing in the crowd. Something had been off with them the entire night, their staring at Cyrus, seemingly waiting for something. 

Will had never been particularly at ease with the prospect of having Neroans attend the Festival. But Eamon's wish was Will's command, even if it seemed to be complete insanity. Even after the reconciliation, Eamon, along with the rest of the kingdom, had been worried of the implications that the Neroan presence offered. They were known for their callousness, their dishonor, their utter disregard for anything and everything pure and good. Inviting the Neroans, and especially Cyrus, to Aevar's Festival was like inviting a hungry wolf into a flock of sheep. 

And it had proved just as foolish, and just as deadly.

Will had been assigned as a covert guard that night, watching for anything out of the ordinary. He watched intently from behind the thick curtains for any militaristic movement. Anything that would put Aevar on the defensive. 

He hoped with all his heart that nothing would ruin or disgrace the Autumn Festival. Not tonight, of all nights.

The order had proven to be quite beneficial, although entirely eerie as well. The ironic coincidence played in Will's favor. Upon seeing the dart hitting the King, Will was quick to respond. He emerged from his hidden corner and rendered the two Neroan guards unconscious, thus allowing for a small window of escape.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lamar had lost sight of his mission for the second time that night, and verbally battled with his brother, ordering him to be silent. But it had been too late. When Cyrus had given the signal, they had missed it. The Second, William, had snuck passed them and rescued the Prince and Princess. 

They had awoken form their brutally induced slumber to raging headaches and an insufferable sense of dread. They had failed miserably. 

Despite hours of searching, neither could find any sign of the Prince, save for a crown they had found in a nearby wooded area, which in turn had led to nothing but dead ends.

The plan would have worked perfectly. The two royal figures had been stunned by the death of their parents; the crowd had roared in anguish; their emotions had been at an all-time high; the distractions were paramount. If only Brody had kept his mouth shut, this never would have happened.

"Listen," Lamar started in semi-defeat, pacing in thought. "We both lost him. And now we have to tell our God damn leader that we failed."

Brody's eyes went wide. He was, in all honesty and obviousness, the comic of the pair. Somewhat dimwitted, and completely incompetent, Brody seemed to always find himself fighting with Lamar, and losing. And than somehow they both end up in immense trouble. 

He scratched his ear in thought.

His brother sighed, seeing Brody's innocent reaction. 

"Okay, you just stay quiet. Let me do the talking. All right?"

Brody nodded, and Lamar turned to knock on the heavy wooden door in front of them that now served as Cyrus's throne room. 

After the assault on Aevar, and seeing that the Festival had been a 'success,' Cyrus had been quick to leave for the palace. He had confidence in his subordinates, knowing that they would follow his commands and complete their missions. 

Attack the military bases. 

Deploy the chemical weapon known as Kulleanium. 

Close all ports. 

Leave no survivors. 

Eliminate the royal family. 

Capture the Prince.

Perfect, Lamar thought. Just perfect.

"Enter," a booming voice behind the heavy door sounded, and the two brothers shared a look before Lamar opened the door.

Brody entered first, keeping his eyes downcast. Lamar followed, closing the door behind him and turning to Cyrus. 

He sat on the extravagant wooden throne that had once been held by King Eamon. The throne room was lavish, probably the only room that Cyrus hadn't immediately destroyed any sign or presence of the prior royal family. The silk drapes hung from the twenty-foot windows aligning all four walls. Numerous, grand paintings hung in place, except for the portrait of Eamon above the large throne – which Lamar was sure had been swiftly taken down. Gold and silver accented many of the decorative pieces within the room. It certainly held the presence of a King, even if the person sitting in the throne was not the rightful owner of that position.

But Lamar was quick to extinguish that thought. Those particular notions would certainly help neither him nor Brody in this situation.

"Sir," he said respectfully with a bow and Brody was swift to follow, though his reply was much quieter.

"Well, what news do you have for me boys?" Cyrus asked from his throne, picking at the bowl of fruit to his right, hardly giving their presence acknowledgement.

"Well sir, there is a slight problem." 

Cyrus turned to Lamar and Brody, dropping the fruit in his hand. "Oh? And what is that?" A strong, undeniable sense of authority and power emitted from his being. With golden hair and crystal blue eyes, Cyrus was an intimidatingly handsome man, which only added to his commanding presence. Every muscle, every sinew of Lamar trembled in his presence, and tried unsuccessfully in disguising it. 

Cyrus was now giving them his full attention.

"The Second, William, he..."

"Ah yes. The intolerable Second In Command. And what 'problem' do I have the distinct displeasure of owing to him?" He moved gracefully from the throne, descending the few steps, and menacingly walked towards the two brothers. A slight smirk adorned his handsome face. 

How he despised the royal family.

Lamar anxiously teetered from one foot to the other, throwing his brother nervous looks over his shoulder.

When Cyrus stood no more than a few feet away, Lamar turned to him and said, "The Prince escaped." Rather be blunt than prolong the agony, he thought.

Cyrus eyed him; a clear look of annoyance and anger crossing his face. "He what?" His voice held such malice that Lamar jumped slightly in fear. 

Cyrus stood several feet taller than the two brothers, even without the crown adorning his head. His eyes had turned from blue to dark black with fury, seemingly looking thru the onlookers and into their souls, piercing them with evil. Royal clothing and stature was evident in appearance, but it was something else entirely that made Lamar tremble in his superior's wake. 

The sheer velocity of his rage. Cyrus could move from subdued comrade to enraged tyrant in the blink of an eye, and God help the poor man held in its path.

"William was able to rescue the Prince and Princess before we could contain them. They escaped into the Chogan Forest."

Cyrus's blood was literally boiling in his veins, and before the wrath could erupt, Lamar pressed on, hoping to offer some consolation – a bit of good news among the travesty. 

"But they're alive. We found the crown of the Princess. We tracked them as far as a creek running through the woods, but lost the trail. They're alive, sir." He purposely left out the key information that they were in fact compromised themselves by William. That fact would undoubtedly be their deliberate and painfully undoing.

The temperous fog lifted slightly from his eyes and ears, and Cyrus took in Lamar's words.

"You are sure? The Prince is alive?" His words were tight, but inquisitive. 

Lamar took the opportunity.

"Yes sir. I'm sure of it. Brody and I believe that they are hiding in a safehouse. Its only a matter of finding them, weeding them out."

Both Brody and Lamar stood in anticipatory apprehension, looking at Cyrus with regret. They both knew that Cyrus was less than pleased, but at the moment, he seemed to be taking the information in with some curiosity, and was that ... delight they saw in his eyes? 

"Do you know what safehouse they are hiding at?"

Lamar hesitated.

"There are three known safehouses near the Festival. We searched them last night, but they were empty. We think that the Prince is hiding in an underground safehouse. One unknown to our radar." 

He looked at Brody who was equally unsure. They had discussed it somewhat the night before. If the confrontation with Cyrus wasn't a complete disaster, they could ask for soldiers to help them find the Prince. But the question had been would Cyrus even hear them out if he knew that the Prince wasn't in their custody. 

Lamar hesitantly added, "The two of us alone can only cover so much area. But ... if we had some men, we could search the villages lining the forest and find them quickly, within hours even."

Cyrus's eyes narrowed. 

"You are aware that you have failed in your mission," more a statement, rather than a question, of ignorance.

The two nodded and waited for Cyrus to continue.

"And still you ask for me to provide soldiers in an effort to correct this ... inexcusable act of neglect?"

Lamar was left speechless, and Brody too scared to utter a word in defense.

Cyrus eyed them carefully.

"The only reason either of you are still alive is because you are my best men, and have never failed on a mission in this magnitude."

He turned from them, headed for the throne.

"With that said, I will provide you with the soldiers you requested."

When Lamar went to respond, Cyrus cut him off.

"But know this ... it is only out the of the love of a chase that I will allow this sorry excuse for a mission to continue. Hunting down the Prince will not only be entertaining, but enjoyable as well." Cyrus was a predator, and all who knew him expected him taking enjoyment out of hunting his prey.

When Lamar and Brody went to exit the throne room, Cyrus added, "By the way." The brothers turned toward Cyrus, as he lazily sat on the large throne. "Another failure in this mission ... will be your deaths."

Lamar expelled a harsh breath and Brody gulped hard.

"Yes sir."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Papers and furniture littered the floors of the ramshackle safehouse. The last of the underground safehouses, the abandoned home held all the evidence of several occupants leaving quickly some hours previous. And even though Brody and Lamar had been successful in tracking the royal survivors to this safehouse, they had yet to find any indication of where they were now.

"Sir, nothing yet."

Lamar turned to the soldier at his left, and nodded.

"Keep looking. There has to be something here. They couldn't have covered all their tracks with a hasty exit. Don't stop looking."

"Yes, sir."

The soldier left just as quickly as he had appeared, and Lamar was once again left alone. 

He and Brody were trained guards, proficient in taking down a target and disposing and threat. Why had everything gone so terribly wrong for them the night before? He had personally searched every square inch of forest and safehouse they had encountered, and even he had not found anything. 

They were missing something. It was quite possible that the protector of this underground safehouse was well trained. But that did not mean that he had been able to dispose of all information regarding their destination. There had to be something ...

He turned to the hallway, moving slowly past the soldiers who were feverishly destroying any and all furniture for a clue. Bedspreads and mattresses were torn and shredded. Desks and dressers toppled. Drawers emptied onto the floor. The once well-kept and clean safehouse was now destroyed of any integrity. 

Integrity, Lamar snorted. Aevarians held no integrity, only fraudulence. 

Every Neroan knew of the conflict decades ago between Eamon's family and Cyrus. Lamar knew of Cyrus's brief stint as a prophet, and had heard quite frequently from the horse's mouth how indescribably ignorant and arrogant the entire system was. The council had asked for him to find the oracle, and Cyrus had delivered. Perhaps somewhat self-servingly, but delivered just the same. Everyone would have gotten what he or she wanted. But that was never good enough.

For years Lamar and Brody studied Neroan history, learning Aevarians' weaknesses and strengths. The two planets had a longstanding rival, and Lamar waited with baited breath for the chance to attack his foe. Never mind the fact that no Aevarian had done one distrusting or sinful deed to Lamar himself. The implication was that it could and would happen. Better to strike before stricken.

He turned to his right and entered the communication room. The once active orbs laid dormant from the soldiers merciless scavenge. He kicked a broken orb at his feet and spun in place, searching the wooden walls that surrounded him. 

Once again, nothing. He had searched this room, along with Brody, and they had found absolutely nothing to aid their investigation. Perhaps the protector was better equipped than Lamar gave him credit for. Perhaps Eamon had been a better militarist King than once anticipated. If he had implanted the covert guard who had rendered he and Brody unconscious, and had trained the protectors of the royal safehouses as well as Lamar suspected, perhaps Eamon would have been a political force to reason with. No matter now though, he thought. What's done is done. 

A startling static sound caused Lamar to turn to the desk behind him. His brows furrowed in confusion. He was sure that upon arrival a soldier had informed him that all communication equipment had been previously unplugged and dismantled. Why now is an orb transmitting, Lamar thought.

He neared the desk, and watched as the fax-like orb printed something onto the thick paper it held. He waited, his curiosity growing and he read the first words unveiled slowly. The heading read in bold black letters: ALPHA 5-6-17 TRANSMITTED TO OMEGA BETA 9-2-54. His fingers itched when he realized it was a transmission from a neighboring safehouse.

Finally, the printing stopped and Lamar all but tore the paper from the orb. His eyes read furiously, and then his eyebrows rose. A small smile graced his tanned face. "Oh my God," he said in a harsh whisper.

He turned quickly to the door, and ran as fast as his legs could carry him to Brody, who was searching the surrounding landscape. The many soldiers littering the hallway and door were caught in his fury to find his brother. "Watch out!" he cursed. "God damnit, get the hell out of my way!"

Finally outside, the suns hit him in full, midday force, and Lamar waited impatiently for his eyes to adjust. He searched for the green cloak that his brother was now wearing, and spotting him by a large tree, Lamar resumed his running towards his brother.

"Brody! Brody, thank God."

Brody turned to his brother's approaching voice and, finding him out of breath, wondered quickly whether he had done something wrong. Was Lamar mad at him still for last night? He tensed unknowingly and waited for the impending ridicule. 

"Brody, read this!"

A paper was shoved roughly into his face, and Brody took the printout in his hand, curiously eyeing his brother once more, lowered his eyes and read.

His mouth opened in surprise. "Oh my God," he said quietly, and then lifted his gaze to his brother's now jubilant expression. "Where did you get this?"

"It just printed out. I can't believe it. I guess we're luckier than we thought, huh?" A smirk adorned his face, and Brody called over a soldier.

"Yes sir?"

"Prepare your men. We're leaving immediately for the Moana dock."

The soldier left quickly with his orders, and the two brothers shared a relieved look. Perhaps they were not to die after all.

Brody and Lamar turned to lead the now organized group of Neroan soldier, and in their eagerness, the transmission fluttered in the soft breeze, and was left sitting on the green Aevarian grass:





Providence Ch. 06



UTILITIES STABLE FOR TRANSPORTATION

NO SIGN OF CYRUS OR HIS MEN

RESPOND WHEN RECIEVED

OVER AND OUT



Providence Ch. 07



Vondila – African; Lost a Child

Part 7

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“When will they be back?”

The timid, quiet voice echoed softly in the cave, as Isabel paced back and forth. She nearly ignored the small voice at first, discounting it as some wishful, childlike voice in her own head speaking the numerous questions in her mind, ‘When will they be back’ being the prevalent one. 

It had been several long minutes since Nic, William, and Alec had left the cave to ensure that the base was deserted and safe. They planned on finding a ship and preparing it for takeoff, hoping that any ship large enough was in good enough condition for Alec to repair. If they were lucky, they would be leaving before dark. None in the cave expected them back anytime soon, but that knowledge did little to lessen Isabel’s nerves or, as it seemed, Mabyn’s fear.

Isabel turned to the child, immediately wishing that her mother were here. Deva always knew exactly what to do or say to calm a child. While Isabel had never been maternal, she was devastated in knowing that for once, in this instant, she would give what little she had left to ease the fear and uncertainty shimmering in Mabyn’s eyes. 

They had an unspoken kinship, as all the survivors did, each of them having lost so much: family, security, love, comfort. So much lost so soon. At least for Isabel, she had been able to live for years in the safety of the palace among those she loved. She had been able to give and receive her love freely, admiring her parents, quarrelling with Koen, crying on Will’s shoulder. All of it, the good and the bad, was memories that would sustain Isabel for a lifetime. 

But the shy little girl standing in front of her now had no such hope. It was all Isabel could do to not bring her into a tight embrace and never let go.

Since Nic had left with the others, Mabyn had been alone, even though the cave still held several people. Looking at the other occupants of the cave, she felt excluded, an outsider among royalty. They looked at her with uncertainty, even though she was sure they thought they masked it well. It was as if they wanted to include her, but held her at arms length because of … she wasn’t quite sure. 

She missed Dominic. In the few hours since he had rescued her, she had grown unusually close to him. His engaging smile and soft voice called to her, begged her to seek refuge in his arms. She had never had a father, had never known the kind of comfort that one could bring. Maybe Dominic wanted to be hers. Mabyn knew she wanted him to be, but she wouldn’t push. She lost the things she loved when she did that. 

Mabyn had been leery of even bothering to ask. Grown ups always seemed to never really answer questions, shrugging off their validity because it was voiced by a ten year old. But Mabyn wanted to know so badly, and Isabel had seemed nice. She had watched the older woman pace by the entrance near the other guards that stood watch waiting for them to return. The others all sat and spoke with Koen, but Isabel waited – quite impatiently – just like Mabyn.

Her big brown eyes were expectant, and Isabel had to shake her head to clear the emotional fog to answer the girl’s question. “Um … soon. They’ll be back soon.”

Mabyn nodded; obviously disappointed at the answer Isabel had given her. Grown-ups always gave answers like that, elusive and vague. 'Soon' didn’t answer her question at all. She wanted to continue her questioning, but kept quiet. She didn’t ask 'How soon?' or 'But why?' even though she desperately wanted to. They were on the tip of her tongue, but she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to get in trouble. And the woman standing so tall in front of her, with her blonde hair and piercing eyes, scared her just a little bit.

Isabel continued to look at the girl standing next to her. She was always so quiet, and almost afraid. It was as if she had so many questions and ideas and theories and arguments, that she didn’t have the breath to voice them all, so instead she stayed silent. It was as if she didn’t want to get in trouble for soliciting them. It was sadly pathetic how she craved acceptance, but kept it at arms length all at the same time. 

She had seen the closeness of her and Nic before the men had left earlier, and marveled at the ease at which they spoke.

“Why do you have to go?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back. I’m not leaving you Mabyn.” He brought his hand up to sweep a lock of hair out of her eyes, and tweaked her nose good-naturedly.

But her fear was hardly assuaged. She clung to him tightly, her tiny fists gripping the cloak he wore, her head buried in his neck. He brought his arms up to embrace her in her impromptu hug. 

So far they had not been so deliberate or affectionate in embraces, being careful to keep an imaginary arms length. While they were by no means cavalier, he had been wary of getting too close. He was, after all, a soldier, and forming irrational bonds with young girls was something that his warrior mind should not be burdened with. He already had enough on his shoulders, not to mention the fact that Will was impatiently tapping his foot on the rock floor of the cave.

“Mabyn, don’t worry. I’m going to be fine.”

She sniffled as she pulled away slightly, his hands continuing their soothing pattern on her back. Neither of them was aware of how close or in tune to the other they were. He knew she needed to be reassured, and she knew that he needed to know someone was waiting for him. For the two of them, it went both ways - even though neither spoke of it, or even realized it.

“You promise?”

He nodded. 

“But … but maybe I can go with you?” Her eyes were hopefully, and his heart broke a little knowing he would have to say no. 

“I’m sorry, but … you can’t come with me. This … is for soldiers only. No beautiful little girls allowed.”

“I’ll be good,” she supplied quickly hoping to sway him. She bit her lip in anticipation, but she already knew he would say no. 

He sighed.

“I know you will be, but you’ll have to be good for me here, okay?” When he saw her crestfallen face, he said, “I’ll be back soon, and then I’ll tell you another story, okay?”

“Promise?”

He smiled softly at her eagerness. “Yes, I promise.”

Even though Isabel had been seated on the other side of the cave with Koen, she had heard the exchange and was, needless to say, astonished. Who knew ‘The-Once-Sweet-Talking-Ladies-Man-Now-Famous-Not-
To-Mention-Decorated-Soldier’ Dominic could tenderly let a child like Mabyn down and still come off as the good natured, loving, gentle person that he appeared to be. Amazing, she had thought. 

So much had changed in the years since she had last seen Nic. He was certainly not the same egotistical young boy he used to be. But then again, she was not the same snobbish bitch she used to be either. War and death will do that to you, she surmised.

Isabel crouched in front of the child, hoping that her usual intimidating stature would lessen if the two were face to face. Mabyn’s guarded demeanor reduced considerably with the gesture, and Isabel sighed internally. Perhaps more of the maternal instinct had been passed on than she had thought. The girl in front of her needed comfort or just some amicable company to pass the time; they both did. Isabel could only hope that she was up to the task.

Mabyn really was a beautiful young girl. Probably about nine or ten, Isabel guessed. Her curly brown hair hung at her shoulders in slight chaos, guarding her eyes and holding leaf fragments. Her clothes were torn, from constant wear or the attack on her village, Isabel wasn’t sure. 

But despite that, Mabyn had a curiosity, a child-like wonder about her that gave Isabel pause. She remembered feeling like that once. She had once been open to life and the possibilities it held. But then real life had happened. It always does, she thought.

She reached up slowly to bring a lock of Mabyn’s hair out of her face and placed it behind her right ear. Mabyn watched her carefully, neither flinching away nor actively seeking her comfort. The trust she had instilled in Dominic was the only connection she had with any of the survivors, and that was tenuous. Was Isabel like him? Her eyes seemed so nice, and her hand was warm. She took a small step toward Isabel, and waited to see if the older woman would say anything else.

Isabel slowly lowered her hand from Mabyn, and asked quietly, “What is your name?” She knew the answer, but she was hoping to warm the young girl up a bit, engaging her in some sort of conversation.

“Mabyn,” came the quiet reply.

“I’m Isabel. It’s nice to meet you Mabyn.”

She nodded uncertainly. 

“So … what village are you from?”

“Vondila.”

“Oh? I’ve been there before.”

“Yeah?”

Isabel nodded. “Mmm hmm. A long time ago. I went with my mother on a tour. I remember, they had delicious pastries. They were famous for them.”

Her eyes grew excited. “Yeah. My mom worked in one of the bakeries. She was really good at it.”

“Oh yeah?” Isabel asked.

She nodded emphatically. “Uh huh. I used to sit on the counter and watch. The banana crème were my favorite.” A small smile had graced her face in the memory. Isabel hoped that smile would not disappear when or if she remembered that her mother was probably dead.

“My favorite was the … what was it called? Chocolate … something.”

“Chocolate mousse?”

“Yes! That’s it, chocolate mousse!”

The little girl smiled softly … but shortly. The tension in Isabel’s back lessoned as Mabyn opened up ever so slowly.

She decided to change subjects.

“Mabyn … now that’s a beautiful name. What does it mean?”

She shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Hmm,” Isabel said, patting her finger on her chin in mock thought. She knew the meaning, having studied the Aevarian language in school. But she wanted to elicit some sort of youthful response out of Mabyn. A laugh, a giggle, something. Anything. “Maybe it means ‘bumble bee?’ ”

Mabyn scrunched her face in distaste, and shook her head. She was quiet sure her mother wouldn’t name her after a bug.

“No?” Isabel smiled internally at the girl’s reaction. “Maybe … its means ‘great warrior?’ ”

She giggled. “No. That’s Dominic.”

“You’re right!” she said. The two were getting along better than Isabel had expected, and she noticed how Mabyn had taken a few more steps closer, now standing just inches away. “Maybe … maybe it means ‘ever young.’ What do you think of that?” 

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s that mean?”

“It means that, you’ll always be able to remember what its like to be young, and carefree.” Hopefully, she thought. If the real world hasn’t scarred you too badly already.

“Oh,” came her blank reply.

Isabel could tell Mabyn still wasn’t so sure if that explanation was quite good enough, and she also didn’t miss how the little girl didn’t ask or push for an answer even though it was painfully obvious she wanted one.

“You know, that’s a very desirable trait. Most people can’t remember what its like to be a kid. They grow up … and they forget.”

Mabyn tilted her head in thought. “How come?”

She shrugged.

“I guess they just don’t think about it enough. Everyone grows up and gets a job and a family and they start thinking about all the things that they never wanted to think about. They forget how much fun they had, and the friends they had, and they grow up. They just stop remembering.”

“Oh.” Mabyn thought for a moment, examining Isabel. “Do you remember?”

She was caught off guard by the question. For so long, she had completely forgotten, and had lived quite happily in her ‘grown up’ life. But looking at the small child before her, she started to remember. She remembered the simplicity, the wonder, the freeing feeling of childhood. 

The little girl would very likely never have those memories, considering the events that had brought the child here. Isabel didn’t know her history, didn’t know if she had had a family, or friends, or pets. It was very possible that she had those things at one time, but had lost them in the name of war. No child should suffer the loss of youth that way. Having it ripped from her soul too soon.

As she eyed the little girl, she saw that Mabyn’s eyes still held remnants of that youth. Isabel hoped somehow it could be salvaged, before it was too late.

“I’m starting to,” she said softly. “I’m starting to.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Koen watched as his sister spoke to the girl, obviously attempting to calm Mabyn’s fears, and surprising had the nearly undeniable urge to laugh out loud. 

Certainly this was not the same snobbish, arrogant woman that he knew as his sister. It had to be an imposter, a duplicate, someone other than crowned Princess Isabel of Aevar.

The fact that Isabel was supercilious, and demanding, and impossible was a constant in Koen’s life. It always had been. He couldn’t count on much growing up, but he could always count on Isabel ordering someone around, or demanding something completely outrageous. It was always that way, and Koen had never even imagined that it could be any different. He knew for a fact that their parents had given up long ago on breaking their daughter of the habit.

He shook his head in wonder, and watched as the little girl and Isabel engaged in conversation, giggling and smiling like old friends. 

Koen brought his head to lay softly on the wall behind him, drawing his knees to his chest.  

He had desperately wanted to go with Will and Alec and Nic. But that idea was quickly doused by Will. A look had been exchanged between the two close friends. Will didn’t want Koen to come because he was a liability, an added concern. If something happened to him, most, if not all, would be lost. At the cave, Bo and Devlin could protect him and the other royal survivors more efficiently. Nic had expressed complete trust in the two, and Will had had no qualms with Nic’s decision.

But the smothering feeling of claustrophobia was unbearable in the small cavern. The suns were beating harshly on the landscape just outside the entrance, but it was cold and dark in the cave. And quiet. So unbearably quiet.

He supposed he could try and sleep for a few hours before their journey, but decided against it. His attempt at slumber the night before had proved impossibly futile. And anything but peaceful. Jumbled images from the Festival wreaked havoc on his subconscious ... and thinking about it now, his conscious as well. 

Alec had brought him out of slumber, awakening him only three hours after he had fallen asleep. Apparently he had been whimpering and talking in his sleep, something about ‘revenge’ and ‘your blood on my hands.’ He couldn’t remember the dream specifically, but Koen had a pretty good idea of what it entailed. And he desperately did not want to relive it. 

So he made a concerted effort to keep his eyes open. Wide open.

His stomach rumbled with hunger, his throat parched with thirst. He idly wondered when his last meal had been, and for the life of him could not remember. His thoughts and priorities had been so chaotic in the past hours that he had had little time to worry about nutrition or his health. Obviously he was sleep deprived, but taking a quick inventory of the survivors around him, that was a quality in abundance. 

He turned to the gentleman to his right, and asked softly, “Do we have any water?”

The man jumped slightly at the voice and then, realizing it had been Koen, answered eagerly. “Oh, yes. Water, of course. You must be thirsty. Rylie? Rylie! Come, bring some water to King Koen, please!”

Since when have I become a King? Koen thought. I was only half a Prince, and that’s a stretch.

There was a busy of activity as the man brought water from Rylie, and watched awe-struck as Koen drank every drop. Why the man found pleasure in watching him quench his thirst, Koen would never know. He couldn’t for the life of him remember the man’s name. There had been many introductions, and the only name Koen could remember was Mabyn’s.

He thanked the man standing in front of him with a nod, and then turned his attention to his sister. The two girls were seated now, talking about some subject that required flailing arms and excited facial expressions. 

Koen had no idea why the small girl had touched him so deeply. Maybe it was the fact that she was so small and vulnerable. Or maybe it had been meeting a disturbing, heartbreaking visual of Cyrus’s fury, who stood just over four feet tall, with brown, expressive eyes and a sad smile. 

He had never felt the urge of duty or obligation or nobility, and certainly never felt the need to act upon them. But meeting the young girl who had survived such hardship, he couldn’t help but feel his heart twist with the knowledge that he could help in some way. If he found the strength … or stupidity … or whatever it was that was required for him to do something that was not self-serving, he would gladly do it. Just to see a smile on Mabyn’s face. 

Koen furrowed his brows slightly when he felt a building in his chest. Some emotion began to fester, a foreign emotion that he couldn’t name. But it built in him, bubbling and quaking. He was feeling; that in and of itself was a tremendous start. But the emotion he was experiencing was new, and different, and for some reason very comforting.

At first he was unnerved by the sensation. How could something so vague but at the same time tangible, something so disquieting but at the same time exhilarating, something so new but at the same time familiar be something inside of him? Koen had always been a creature of habit, sticking to what he knew and never breaking from routine. This new and quite unusual commotion in his chest should have completely frightened him. And it did for all of two seconds. 

But then he embraced it. And his heart swelled with … pride. And that had been an emotion he had never known before. He had never been proud of anything, and certainly never accomplished or achieved anything that would allow him to feel such a thing. His parents rarely if ever showed their pride in him. Why now, all of a sudden, did he feel that, if he fulfilled his ‘Destiny’ and became the King his parents had always wanted him to be, he would be a better person for it?

The pride that flourished inside of him grew with each acceptance that he embraced. He would become a leader. He would accept his role in Fate. And he would become the King of Aevar. 

He watched as Mabyn leant against Isabel in laughter. Koen wanted to give the little girl as many chances to feel that carefree as he could. The pride quaked roughly in his chest, and he smiled with tears in his eyes. He could … and now, would help her. And fulfilling his Destiny was the way to do it. 

He wouldn’t do it for the survivors, or Isabel, or even himself. He would do it for Mabyn.



Providence Ch. 08



Loman – Celtic/Gaelic; Bare

Rumigan – N/A


Part 8

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Long shadows outlined the sand and dirt as the three figures made their way towards the port. It was hot, the two suns burning, scorching their uncovered skin, but none noticed as they hesitantly took one step after another. Each could be their last; all of them knew it. Cyrus’s men could be watching, waiting, surrounding them. 

Their feet hit the grass with soft thuds as they neared the dormant dock. The sun did little to hide them from any probing eyes, but the lingering shadows were a helpful substitute. Small animals scurried out of their way in haste. All three of them were on a mission; any living being could sense it.

Will’s instincts were on high alert with each sound that he heard. He had never had a first hand experience to test his learned abilities. He had never fought in a war, or battled in hand-to-hand combat. He had never had to strategize or plan an attack … or counterattack, rather. 

Before the Festival, he had not the position to do so. He had been a Second In Command – in training. Eamon, and Will’s father before his death, had taught him. The best soldiers and strategists in the galaxy had taught him, and his abilities and instincts were becoming apparent with every decision he made. His inner warrior was seeping through, breaking through … shining through. He was no longer the insecure twenty-year-old boy. Will had seen death and despair and war first hand. He had witnessed his King’s execution in front of the entire kingdom. 

And now he was fighting it. He was fighting the evil that Cyrus distributed with every turn. He was doing what he was trained to do, what he was born to do. Every fiber of his being reveled in the newfound prospect.

In truth, he also felt guilty… or at least he should feel guilty. He had witnessed his King’s execution in front of the entire kingdom. He should be sullen and grief-stricken. He should be besot with anguish, unable to move on or get out of bed. 

And yet, he wasn’t. He was clearheaded and confidant. Yes, he wished circumstances could have been different, that the King and Queen were still alive and ruling. Perhaps someone could say that he was taking advantage of the situation, relishing in his new status as the affirmed Second. But he wasn’t. He was following his Destiny, his path. He had always known that it would be a hard road to travel, but as long as his ‘family’ was with him, he was more than up to the challenge. Especially if he was able to acquire Cyrus’s head in the mean time.

The three had reached the port shortly after leaving the cave, and were greeted by concrete under their feet and several large buildings above them.

The three young men hid behind a corner catching their breath. 

“What now?”

“Wait,” Will said, raising a hand in the air signaling for Alec’s silence. He waited and listened for any sign of movement. There was none. “Okay.”

He turned and nodded to Nic, who turned and nodded to Alec. The three continued down the alley, stopping every few minutes, waiting for Will to determine it was safe. 

After reaching the last corner before the concealed hangar, Will stopped again. He turned to Dominic, and said, “Nic, stay here with Alec. I’m going to scout and see if I can find anything … or anyone. Wait for my signal.”

Dominic nodded in agreement.

Will looked over the corner of the building, and then in the other direction. Seeing the coast was clear, he ran off towards the right, headed south. Soon Nic couldn’t hear his footsteps, and knew that he was out of earshot, and ultimately on his own.

If anything happened to him, Nic and Alec wouldn’t know until it was too late. 

Nic and Alec sat leaning against the large building, crouched on the balls of their feet. Nic kept scanning their surroundings for any sign of movement, keeping his grip on the laser gun tight. Alec checked and rechecked his equipment. They both wanted this mission to go as successfully as possible. No hang ups, no disasters … and especially no deaths.

After several long minutes of silence, Alec spoke. They were careful to keep their voices low.

“Nic?”

“Yeah,” he said absently.

“You don’t want me on this mission, do you?”

He hesitated. At first, no … he hadn’t wanted Alec to stay with the survivors. It wasn’t normal; it wasn’t protocol. The protectors were expected to remain on Aevar and offer refuge to any and all royal survivors in their time of distress. Especially Alec, who had been an underground protector, of sorts. His safehouse had successfully remained undetected by other planets’ radar. Alec, unknowingly and quite unexpectantly, had been quintessential in the royal family’s survival and preservation.

The fact that Alec had asked to leave the planet had been entirely unsettling, and Nic had found himself questioning the young man’s motives.

But now…?

“Um … well, its not that I don’t want you on the mission. Its just that …”

“You don’t agree with my reasoning,” Alec offered.

Nic furrowed his brows in confusion. “No, that’s not it either. You’re a good guy, obviously a good protector. I understand you wanting to get off the planet. Shit I can’t wait to break gravity and get the hell off this rock … and get Mabyn the hell away from Cyrus. But … I guess I just wasn’t expecting it, you know? Protectors are expected to stay on Aevar.”

“I know.” 

And he did know. The night before, he couldn’t help but ask … even though Alec had been entirely certain that Will would deny his request outright, and if he hadn’t been lucky, Will would have demoted him as well. He was walking a fine line with the royal survivors, and was choosing his words and actions wisely. The last thing he wanted was to find himself, or even worse Koen and Isabel, at the hands of Cyrus.

He had a mission, and he would be damned if he was going to fail them.

“Can I ask, why you requested to leave with us?” Nic was giving Alec his full attention now.

“I just feel like … I not only serve Aevar, but I serve Aevar’s leader. With King Eamon dead, that leaves Koen.” He thought for a moment, trying to choose the correct words. “Koen is my first priority, ensuring his safety. Cyrus is a threat, and I feel like staying on Aevar will only put Koen and Isabel at risk. I honestly feel like I have something to contribute.  If I didn’t think this was the right thing for them, I wouldn’t be here.”

Nice nodded. That settles that, he thought, with a smile.

Alec sighed inwardly, when he sensed that he had won over Nic’s approval.

“How is Mabyn doing, with all of this?” Alec asked.

Nic’s smile vanished.

“Well, she’s pretty scared, I can tell. She tries not to show it, but … you can see it in her eyes. She’s terrified. I wish I could do more for her, but I don’t know anything about kids, you know? I’m surprised she hasn’t figured that out yet.” He laughed shortly, sardonically. “Maybe she has.”

“You’re good for her.” When Nic gave him a surprised look, Alec continued. “She has no one. You saved her life. From what I gathered, she probably didn’t have a father, and her mother was more than likely working constantly. You’re the first father figure, adult role model she’s had in her life. She looks up to you.”

Nic’s eyes grew in astonishment, and asked blankly, “How do you know all of this?”

Alec gave him a smile. “Its my job.”

“I take back everything I ever said.” Nic clasped a hand on Alec’s shoulder in a friendly gesture. “Glad to have you on board.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Will moved from shadow to shadow, inspecting every noise, every disturbance, every feasible possibility that there were eyes watching them, ears listening to them, soldiers surrounding them. He couldn’t remember the last time that his senses were on such a high alert before the Festival. Ever since that night, his hearing, sight, smell, touch, everything was sharp, elevated, like an inborn, finely tuned weapon. He felt like he literally heard everything.

And the problem was, he wasn’t hearing anything. Everything he examined turned out to be nothing. And yet he couldn’t get passed the foreboding in his nerves, the anticipation of an attack. His skin tingled with the unseen eyes watching him. Why couldn’t he find them? He knew they were there, if he could only discover their hiding place.

After several minutes of searching, and finding nothing, he chalked it up to nerves. After all, he had been thru quite an ordeal in the past thirty-six hours. Surely, his already frayed bravado was crumbling. Not to say that his reliability as a soldier or Second was in question. But he couldn’t help the feeling that something was going to happen. Give it up, Willie. There’s nothing here, he concluded inwardly after finding yet another shadow empty.

He turned and continued on his journey around the port, having made a large circle leaving him just due east from his starting point. He rounded one corner, and took a right. Will found himself fifty feet ahead of Nic and Alec’s shadows across the alley. He could see that they were huddled, hiding.

He called to them, under the guise of a birdcall, and Dominic returned it. Will readied his weapon, prepared to cover them if any shots happened to be fired. Alec came first, crossing the sunlit alley quickly. Having reached the other side, he resumed his crouching position next to William, keeping quiet until Will spoke. The last thing Alec wanted was to unveil their position accidentally. He’d be smart, and wait for Will to make the first move. After all, it was quite obvious he knew what he was doing.

Nic crossed next. The harsh suns’ rays lit the alley, and brought his once shadow-clad body into the sunlight. It only took a few seconds for him to reach Will. The three caught their breath, the intense heat of the midday desert suns already fatiguing their bodies. 

“So?” Nic asked after several long moments of silence.

Will shook his head. “Nothing. There’s no one here,” he said, even though it was quite obvious he was convinced. 

Nic studied him, reading his uncertainty, but said nothing. If Will said there wasn’t a threat … than there wasn’t a threat.

“All right, now what?”

Will motioned for them to follow his gaze, and three laid eyes on the hangar where three derelict ships lay dormant. The once disguised hangar was now open to their view at this angle. 

“Jackpot,” Nic said, thoroughly excited to see their ticket off the planet. 

“I saw it while I was scouting, but I couldn’t get a decent view. Alec, what can you see?” Will asked, as he switched his leading position with the protector.

“Let’s see … alright, the one on the left, that’s a Starbird. Its definitely big enough, but…” He set his eye glasses on top of his head and looked through his binoculars, studying the physical integrity of the space craft. “Damn.”

“What?” Nic voiced right away.

Alec lowered his binoculars, and turned to say, “It’s too damaged. You see that opening on the left side, by the gunners?” He pointed to the object in question. The two soldiers nodded. “It shouldn’t be there. At least, not that big. Someone must have been repairing the internal structure, and they needed to open the gate wider. They tore the door panel completely off. I’ll never get the pressure seal to lock. It won’t even leave the ground.”

“Shit,” Will cursed under his breath.

“What about the other ones?” Nic asked.

He brought the binoculars up to his eyes again, spinning certain knobs to focus. “Lets see … the one on the right is a Juniper Loman. From what I can see, it doesn’t look too bad, but…” He focused the eye piece further, letting his visual expand into the cabin of the aircraft. Wait a minute, he thought. “Damn!”

“What?!” Nic asked again.

“They gutted it. It’s a shell.”

“Shit!” Will cursed again.

Nic shook his head in annoyance and frustration. “What were these people thinking? Jesus, who guts a Loman, huh? I mean … who does that? Its insane.”

“Quiet,” Will commanded.

Both Alec and Nic obeyed him and turned silent immediately, looking to him.

Will had thought he had heard a pop to his left, just behind Nic. But as he searched their surroundings, he saw nothing. He would have sworn that there was something … someone there. His nerves had never quieted since his scouting. He was careful not to let his guard down, even though he nodded to Alec to continue.

“What was it?” Nic asked.

Will shook his head in the negative. “Nothing, I just … thought I heard something. Its nothing.”

Alec gave Nic a look, and then turned back to the hangar with binoculars in hand. 

“What about the third one Alec? What do you see?” Will asked, his voice catching somewhat in his throat. It’s the anticipation of leaving, he told himself. He just wanted to get the group as far away from Cyrus as possible. Now that they were just hours away from their departure, his valor was being tested. That’s it, he attempted to convince himself. 

“The one in the middle, that’s a Rumigan.”

Nic said, “Damn, its too small.”

“Hold on,” Alec said. “It looks like its in pretty good shape. There might be something wrong with the engine or thrusters, but overall, the integrity looks pretty good. If I can get it running, we should be able to make it work.”

“Alec we can’t fit eleven people on a Rumigan. We’ll be too heavy.”

“No, I can do it,” he said shaking his head. “If I can get it working, we can lighten it, take out anything extra: cargo, supplies. All we really need is ammo and boosters. Anything extra goes.”

“Do you know what you’re suggesting?” Nic asked incredulously. “It’s a Rumigan! Eleven people will never fit ... let alone break gravity.”

Alec shook his head, and turned to Nic. “Look, we’re running out of options, here. This is the only ship that will get us off the planet. I can’t tell you what you want to hear.”

“All right, enough,” Will commanded. “Alec, you do realize how risky this is, right?”

Alec nodded.

“And, you’re sure that you can make it work?”

He nodded again.

“How are you so sure?”

“I studied ships while I was in training –”

Nic interrupted, “Yeah, so did we. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Nic,” Will said exasperatedly. “Let him talk.”

Nic rolled his eyes, but remained quiet. 

“Like I said, I studied ships while I was in training. I was required to memorize the blueprints of every Aevarian ship, and every other ship from the four other planets. It was sort of a failsafe plan: in case a protector needed to, he or she could manipulate the ship, adding or subtracting, making sure that any ship that they had could meet the requirements of their surroundings and position. I know exactly what should and shouldn’t be in that ship. What’s heaviest, lightest, strongest, weakest. The simulations we ran through in training would leave us in bleak conditions, and we were required to formulate a plan to successfully accomplish the virtual mission.”

He took a breath, and turned to look at Will and Nic, who stared blankly at him. Great, he thought. I’ve lost them already.

“Its all math,” he continued. “I can take the estimated weight of all eleven passengers, compared to the weight the ship must be to break gravity, and then eliminate any cargo that is not needed until the equation is equal. It’s really not that impossible. Difficult, yes … but not impossible.”

“Its all math, huh?” Nic asked.

Alec nodded, “Yeah. That’s all.”

“Uh huh,” Nic said, shaking his head at his dumb luck. He turned to Will and said, “Man … I failed Algebra.”

Will ignored him. “So you’re saying … you have that ship memorized, inside and out?”

Alec gave a lasting, confused look at Nic’s reaction, and nodded. “Its required of all protectors.”

“Wow,” was all Will managed to say.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He knocking hard with his laser gun on the metal railing just above his knees. “How’s it coming, man?”

Alec’s head poked through the opening in the floor panel. He swiped his arm over his forehead to clear his eyes of sweat. He was hot and exhausted, but completely pleased with himself. “Good, almost done. We’ll be ready within the hour.” His toothy grin spread liberally across his handsome face.

“Excellent.” Will nodded in approval as Alec disappeared once again. He reached into his pocket for his comlink, and clicked the transmitter on. “Nic?”

Static sounded from the speaker in Will’s hand, and a voice was heard, “Yeah?”

“How’s it going? We’re almost done here.”

“We … you make that sound like you’re actually doing something,” Nic joked through the comlink. His voice was breathless, and his face was flushed as he heaved yet another box of irrelevant and unnecessary items out of the Rumigan. 

“Yeah, yeah. I am doing something … keeping on your ass,” Will joked back.

“Yeah, and my ass is exhausted. Do you know how heavy this shit is? Hey, is Alec sure we don’t need those freezer-cooler things?” He picked one up from the box he had just set down. The dry ice effect emitted from the top, and the cone shape base glowed bright green. He had absolutely no idea what it did, but it could be a cool toy … or something. “Cause, you know … they’re kinda cool.”

“Everything that Alec put on the list has to go. No toys.”

“Yes mother.”

Will laughed at Nic’s antics, and at the fact that he hadn’t laughed for longer than he cared to remember. Before the attack, the stress of his position and shouldering Koen’s imprudent attitude had been an unbearable load. He had often found himself unable to sleep because of the stress of it. Now … there was plenty of stress, and sleepless nights. But at least he had some comic relief as well. God bless Nic and his immature mind-set.

He placed the comlink back into his pocket as he made another sweep across the hangar, searching yet again for any intruders. Alec had found the three comlinks, along with several other useful gadgets, in a small box below the captain seat. They could certainly come in handy in the future, were Alec’s exact words. Yeah, and that’s calling the kettle black, had been Will’s witty internal comeback. 

He rounded another corner, looking left, then right. 

The lake was quiet. The forest was quiet. The hangar was quiet, save for Nic. Will cringed as he heard glass break and Nic’s swear. He was sure everything Nic had carefully boxed up was now crushed under the weight of his inattention. The boxes could only take so much.

But it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like they were coming back any time soon. If they were lucky, he would get Isabel and Koen off the planet, and into hiding for months on Cantu, leaving them plenty of time to wage a counterattack. The wheels in William’s head started to turn furiously with the possibilities. Cyrus won’t know what hit him, he thought smugly.

He entered the hangar again, needing to get out of the sun. It was still uncomfortably hot inside the enclosed hangar, but the ventilation and soft breeze gave much needed comfort. 

“Will!”

He turned quickly to the direction of Alec’s voice, and headed in that direction. He rounded the front of the ship, walking swiftly to the opening that he knew Alec was in. “Yeah?”

“Can you hand me that screwdriver?”

“What?”

Alec poked his head out, and gave him a look. “That screwdriver,” he said as he pointed to the object that had rolled out form his grasp. “Can you hand it to me?”

Will stared at him, annoyed. He’s asking me to do what? he thought. He didn’t move from his looming, intimidating position above Alec.

Seemingly reading Will’s annoyance, Alec added, “After this, I’ll be done.”

That got Will moving. He picked the object in question up and handed it to Alec, who once again disappeared from view. A few load bangs and cranks later, Alec reemerged.




Providence Ch. 08



“Well? Are you done?” Will asked, impatiently.

“I don’t know. If it starts, then yeah, I’m done. If it doesn’t then … then it doesn’t.” Alec pulled himself from the hole in the floor panel, placing the missing board back into place, and stood to wipe his oily hands on a rag.

“But, you think you fixed it?” Will trailed him as Alec walked around the ship, and entered through the open gate. 

Inside the ship, the air was stale and musty. It was obvious the Rumigan hadn’t been active in quite some time. Hopefully that doesn’t work against us, Alec hoped. The thrusters, engine cells, and boosters all had looked intact and in relatively good condition. The only thing that had given him trouble was the wiring. There were … or rather had been quite a few faulty cables connecting the three components. 

“We’ll see,” Alec responded noncommittally, as he took the captain seat. He heard Will exasperated sigh behind him, and smiled secretively. “Why don’t you call Nic up here? I’m sure he’s done by now. He’s probably playing with the pressure globes.”

“Yeah,” Will said absently, as pulled the comlink from his pocket. “Dominic!”

“What?” he yelled back through his speaker rather annoyed. 

“Get the hell up here. Alec is done.”

“Yeah, be there in a sec.”

“No, right now!” Alec snickered at their behavior and bickering, as he keyed in certain access codes, and overrode the security lock that had been placed on the engine.

“What the hell is up your ass? Jesus, chill Willie.”

“Just get in here. We’re going to try and start her.”

There was a pause of silence. “Oh,” came Nic’s surprised response. There were several scrambling, clanging noises as Nic made haste to enter the cockpit to join the two of them.

“Are you sure you can get her started? There wasn’t too much damage –” Will asked.

The humming of the boosters cut off his questioning. His eyebrows rose and he turned to Alec, who was now twisted in his seat, facing Will, with a grin on his face.

“I guess that answers that,” Will said under his breath.

Nic entered soon after, and said, “Alright, I’m here. Let’s get this show on the road.” The ship rattled once, and then twice, as the thrusters came to life for the first time in months. Nic reached out to steady himself, “Whoa.”

“You boys ready?”

Will took the seat next to him, and answered, “Show us what she’s got, Alec.”

Alec continued to click buttons, switching keys, turning knobs, all to maximize its controllability. He didn’t want the ship crashing fifty feet outside the hangar because a setting was ninety degrees off center. It wouldn’t just be embarrassing, but devastating as well. The control board in front of him came to life, lights blinked and blared.

Nic moved to stand behind William, one hand above him holding onto a cable for stability, the other on the back of the seat. He watched Alec’s hands and fingers fly with certainty, making adjustments and calculating coordinates. Impressive, he thought, that he could do this so effortlessly. Like Alec had said, its all math. Nic snorted in mockery. Math my ass.

“Here we go,” he said, clicking the large red button above his head, and crossing his fingers at the same time. Slowly, the Rumigan lifted from the concrete floor. 

“Yes,” Will hissed with excitement.

“Don’t get excited yet. We still have to get nine more people in here. How’s the cargo bay, Nic?”

“Huh?” he asked, as he came out of his stupor. He shook his head, and answered, “Oh, yeah its good. Everything’s out. Even those little cone, smokey things.”

Alec’s eyebrows rose in amusement. “You mean the preservation rods?”

“Yeah those. What do they do anyway?”

Alec shook his head. “They help preserve supplies, like food, while you’re in space. The constant gravity and pressure changes can spoil produce faster. The rods help stabilize that.”

Nic gave him a blank look, but said, “Oh, okay,” nonetheless.

“Ready to get out of here?” Alec asked William and Nic.

“Definitely,” came Will’s enthusiastic reply. He reached over to his right, and disengaged the locks on the landing gear. They heard the sounds of the retracting device, and the small doors shut with a thud. Nic took his seat behind Will, and was sure to fasten his safety belt tightly … just in case.

Alec grasped the control bars in front of him and, after steadying his shaking hand, pushed slightly. The ship moved forward as Alec maneuvered them through the open hangar gate, and into the surrounding open area. They all squinted in the change of light, and soon Alec was accelerating the ship towards the cave that rested no more than ten minutes away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The tall, overweight soldier seated in the undetected hovercraft watched as the Rumigan ship passed them. The cloaking devices he had installed on their ships no more than a week ago had definitely come in handy. “Do we proceed?”

“No,” came Lamar’s reply. “Let them lead us to the Prince.”

The soldier nodded, and turned the hovercraft to the Neroan ship that rested quietly behind them.



Providence Ch. 09



Midori – Japanese; Green

Part 9

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bo and Devlin stood guard at the cave entrance, scanning the horizon for the ship that they hoped would be their salvation. The three had been gone for several hours now, and the two soldiers struggled to keep their composed guise intact. Every minute that ticked away was another chink in their armor of the 'control' that they let the survivors see.

Mabyn had soon fallen into a restless sleep against Isabel's shoulder. The tall blonde had been entirely surprised at her ability to relate to the young girl. Despite her innate insecurity, Isabel had eased Mabyn's fear relatively easily. Soon after the girl initiated Isabel in conversation, Mabyn's eyes had softened; the childlike awe of Isabel in particular was amazing. Isabel knew that the commoners had always looked up to her, admired her, but she had never seen it first hand on such an intimate, innocent level. Mabyn was truly a wonder of souls.

Most of the survivors had drifted off into slumber in their waiting. Bo and Devlin had taken shifts to check their status, especially Koen's who seemed to hibernate in his position. They had noticed how he hadn't moved from his spot on the cold cave floor in several hours. His eyes were closed, but they both knew he wasn't sleeping. It was almost as if he was meditating, preserving his energy.

"How's our water?" Devlin asked softly, so as not to disturb the survivors.

"Full. Rylie made sure that our supplies were up to par." Devlin nodded at his answer, and Bo continued, "How much longer, do you think?"

Devlin turned to lean on the right side of the entrance wall, propping his right foot under his knee. "Dunno. Soon, I hope." He went about cleaning his weapon, extracting a rag from a back pocket of his pants.

"Yeah." Bo nodded, his green eyes never leaving the landscape in front of him. 

They fell into a silence, which had happened quite frequently in the hours that had passed on their guard duty. Devlin cleaned his weapon, Bo stood guard. While just two hours earlier Devlin had stood guard while Bo cleaned his weapon. 

"So, I gotta ask." Bo waited for Devlin to look up at him before he voiced his question. "Why did Will decide on Cantu?"

Devlin shook his head in the negative. "I dunno. It's the last place I want to go."

"Why's that?"

"When I was accepted into the army, my first rotation was on Cantu ... back in the day when the ports were still open. You know before that sandstorm that knocked out transmissions for like two weeks. Remember that?"

Bo nodded; a small smile graced his face at the memory. "Yeah, I was still in the academy."

"Ah man, you're dating me here." He shook his head, "That makes you, what – 24, 25?"

"22."

"Shit," Devlin mocked himself. He shook his head and sighed heavily. "Anyway, back then, Cantu was known as the 'Shit Rotation.' If you could survive Cantu's rotation, you could survive anything. No water, no sun, and when there was sun there was way too much. No electricity, 'cause most of it was solar. And all that fuckin' sand."

"Sounds like fun."

"It was hell. When they closed the military ports cause of the damage, I think I partied for a week straight. No bar was left untouched. But I gotta admit, it definitely roughed me up, got me ready for scouting and shit. Definitely helped."

Bo nodded, and turned to the landscape again, and his eyes grew large. "Holy shit!"

Devlin was at alert immediately, and his eyes acknowledged the same sight. Both watched as the Rumigan neared the cave. His toothy grin said, "There's the cavalry."

They turned to the survivors, clapping and saying loudly, "Everyone up! It's time to go. They're on their way. Let's go, let's go!" They spanned the cave, jostling the sleeping figures, and as their eyes cleared of the fog, they moved quickly, gathering supplies and readying themselves for their trip to a new planet.

Isabel helped Mabyn up, who at the moment was cranky from the rough awakening. She took the small girl in her arms, and soothingly rubbed her back, waiting for Mabyn to wake up fully. She clung to Isabel in her semi-sleep, her head resting instinctively in the crook of Isabel's throat and shoulder, and Mabyn's legs wrapping around the woman's thin waist.

Koen stood slowly, leaning against the wall, waiting for his leg to stop tingling. Sitting with his legs crossed for hours on end had caused his right leg to fall asleep ... painfully. He kept his eyes closed, avoiding as much human contact as possible. He had too much on his mind ...

"Are you ready to see Dominic?" Isabel asked Mabyn quietly. When she felt the girl nod, she continued, "He's on his way. He'll be here any minute."

"Really?"

Isabel nodded. 

"Uh huh." She neared the opening of the cave, and saw the small ship in the distance. "Look, Mabyn. There he is."

She pointed to the silhouette of the Rumigan. Mabyn scrunched her face in confusion. 

"He's in that?"

Isabel nodded. "Uh huh."

"Its kinda small."

Isabel thought for a moment, examining the ship. "Yeah," she said quietly to no one in particular.

"Alright, everyone. Listen up." Devlin clapped again loudly, assuming his leadership role quickly and efficiently. Everyone in the cave surrounded him, waiting for orders.

"I'm gonna give you the order that we leave the cave. It's women and children, then men. And I know, it might seem a little sexist, so ladies ... save it. I don't want to hear it." He missed Isabel's obvious eye roll.

"Here's what we're gonna do," Devlin said loudly getting the attention of everyone in the cave. "Bo goes first, with Isabel and Mabyn. You follow close behind. Bo's your guard," he said pointing to them in their corner. They nodded in agreement. 

"Rylie, you're next with the supplies." She nodded to the soldier. "You two are next," he directed to the two older men standing next to each other. "When you two leave the cave, I want you close to Koen – one of you on each side of him, shoulder length apart."

"Why?" the larger man asked in confusion.

"Because, you're going to be a shield for Koen."

He turned his attention to the quiet man standing in the very back. Koen's head popped up at the mention of his name.

"Koen, you're right after them. I want you to stay close to them, in case anyone is out there. They'll be flanking you, like a shield on both sides. Alright?" he asked the three, not expecting any answer but a yes.

The two older men assigned their position regretfully nodded, as if they had a choice in the matter. Koen replied, "Yeah," quietly, and noncommittally.

"Alright. I'll be last, covering everyone as they leave. Are we clear?"

"Is all this really necessary?" Isabel asked, drawing everyone's attention. Under their scrutiny, she faltered briefly, but continued nonetheless. "I mean, no one knows we're here, right?"

He sighed at the inquiry. Leave it to the Princess to question a seasoned soldier's reasoning. "True. But we have to be careful. Just because they shouldn't be here, and we can't see them, doesn't mean they aren't there. We have to protect the King." 

Isabel and Koen's eyes met at Devlin's last words. King? Isabel's eyebrows rose in question, and Koen shook his head at her, silently telling her to not bring it up. That was definitely a discussion for a later date. 

Isabel lowered Mabyn to the floor slowly in preparation. She needed to give her back a rest.

Removed from the group, Koen fought against the numerous voices and thoughts in his head, and he had to literally shake his head to help clear it. 

He sighed deeply through his exhaustion and confusion. He had wanted to sleep just for a few hours so desperately, but his brain just wouldn't rest. It was working overtime with the implications of their attempt at escape. There were so many 'what ifs' and unanswered questions. Too many chances at disaster and death.

As he cleared his mind, somewhat unsuccessfully, Devlin's last statement started to sink in. This could be my last chance, he thought. He kept his eyes down, and neared Isabel slowly, rounding the small group that was now centered at the entrance. "Iz?"

"Yeah?" she said quietly, recognizing Mabyn's now near-conscious state as she stood next to Isabel clutching her hand.

He took one second to question it, before he embraced her in a tight, brotherly hug. "Be careful, alright?"

She was slow to respond, but soon her hands rose and hugged him back. "Yeah. I will. You too."

He nodded against her shoulder. His heart raced in his chest at the anticipation. Someone could be out there; Devlin had admitted it outright. Someone could be out there waiting for them to leave. Waiting for him, but worse yet, waiting for her to leave. He couldn't lose Isabel too.

After several long moments, Isabel realized Koen's desperation. "Koen, I'm going to be fine, okay?" she reassured softly. "Everything's going to be okay. We're getting out of this."

She felt Koen pull away slowly, his back and shoulders stiff with emotion. She gasped at the look on his face when it came into view.

A small tear fell across his cheek as he responded passionately, "I can't lose you."

Her heart constricted in her chest, the aching feeling of loss surrounding her. "You won't," she promised. "You won't ever lose me, Koen."

He nodded jerkily and, attempting to lighten the suddenly dark mood, replied, "I'm going to hold you to that."

She smiled through her tears. "You better."

The moment was broken as they heard the ship appear and Devlin yell to them, "Isabel, front and center!"

Her eyes never left his as she vowed, "I'll see you on the ship."

He nodded, unable to respond.

He watched as she tugged on Mabyn's hand, guiding her to the entrance. The little girl was timid in the wake of the loud, abrasive sounds from the Rumigan, and shyly brought her hands up, silently asking to be held. Isabel was quick to embrace her in her arms again.

"Mabyn, are you scared?" she asked the little girl in her arms.

She felt her nod sadly.

"Close your eyes until I say to open them. You won't be so afraid, okay?"

The only response she got was Mabyn clinging to her neck tighter, and she assumed that Mabyn had agreed and shut her eyes.

They all stood watching as the small ship neared, turned, and lowered to the ground. The gate opened and, when the landing gear had settled on the gravel, Koen readied Isabel. 

"You ready?" he yelled over the sounds of the ship.

She hesitated, and took one lasting look over her shoulder to Koen. They held each other's gaze for several seconds, until Koen nodded. She attempted a smile in response, but knew she failed miserably.

She turned to Devlin, and said, "Yeah."

"Alright," he said, waiting for a signal inside. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Nic, get on the gunner." 

Before the sentence was finished William could see Nic sprinting from the cabin, down the corridor, and into the small outcropping on the ship, which held the controls of one of two gunners on the Rumigan. Will sat in his seat next to Alec, helping him guide the ship to the ground safely. Not all of the guidance equipment was working, and two men were needed to land the ship safely. 

All three were now wearing the comlinks, talking back and forth.

Nic's nerves were at high alert now that they were at the cave. He literally jumped into the seat of the gunner, controls in front of him. He had verified earlier that both gunners were fully operational. Another small wonder in their streak of luck. After pushing four buttons, switching the auxiliary button on, and strapping himself in, he animatedly told Will through the comlink, "Ready."

"Alright." He turned to Alec soon after, "Alec, buddy. You got this?"

Alec nodded silently, completely focused on the task at hand. His hands had long since stopped shaking. The adrenaline running through his body was an amazing sensation. He hadn't experienced anything even remotely close to it since training, some ten years ago. Which was about as long since he had been the pilot of a ship. He didn't think Will had noticed anything strange. Thank God.

Will took in his response, and pushed one button above him opening the gate, and pulled one to his right to release the landing gear. He unstrapped himself while saying, "Alright. I'm going to the gate. I'll let you know when to take off."

Alec nodded again while maneuvering the ship to turn. The rear end of the Rumigan now faced the entrance of the cave, and he heard the landing gear lower.

Will passed Nic's corner in the ship and, without stopping, yelled to him, "Nic?"

"Nothing yet. Its all quiet."

Will nodded, even though Nic couldn't see. "Don't hesitate to shoot. You see something, you kill it, understand?" he ordered thru the comlink as he entered the cargo bay.

"Yes sir," he confirmed, without an ounce of sarcasm. There wasn't time to think of a witty remark with his brain on overload anyway. All pretense of friendship fell away as their soldier personas took over.

Will came to the end of the ship, watching as the gate opened and the ship to land. The steam emitted from the ship, fogging his vision somewhat. The pressure lock gave, and the heat of the suns entered the ship. The steam cleared, and he saw the dark opening, Devlin standing guard and yelling something at Isabel, who was clutching the small child to her chest.

He frantically motioned for them to begin the exit, and Devlin nodded.

"Ready?" he yelled to the survivors. None were quick with a response, but Devlin wasn't expecting one anyway. It was merely an announcement of action. They were finally on their way to safety.

Bo clutched Isabel's arm tightly, saying more to himself then anyone else, "Here we go." He ran out first with laser gun in hand, quickly scanning his surroundings for any enemy. Isabel was close behind, Mabyn's grip so tight her air began to catch in her throat.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Do we engage, sir?"

Brody thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "No. Wait for the Prince."

"Yes, sir." The soldier maintained the position of the hovercraft and aimed his weapon at the entrance, waiting for his target to appear.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They reached the gate soon after with no difficulty. William pulled them in quickly, squeezing her arm before motioning for them to go to the back of the cargo bay. There wasn't time for any discussion now. Later, when they were on their way to Cantu, he would engulf Isabel in the best hug he could muster. Right now he had other things on his mind. Knowing she was safe did wonders for his concentration.

"Get on the second gunner!" he yelled at Bo, who immediately obeyed and disappeared down the corridor. 

He motioned for the next survivor to enter.

Rylie was hesitant at first. Devlin pushed her forward and she bravely crossed the distance between her and the ship, carrying the first aid kits, water canteens, and food cases on her shoulders and back. Will pulled her in as well, and she stumbled over to Isabel and Mabyn, who were both seated in a ball, in a far corner of the cargo bay.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Alright, you boys ready?" Devlin inquired roughly, pulling the two men to the entrance of the cave. He stepped away quickly, not waiting for an answer. He didn't catch the dreading look that passed between the two.

"Koen? Its time to go, sir."

Koen nodded reluctantly. It wasn't that he didn't want to leave. He had to actively fight his body to not run out early. His hands literally shook with the anticipation of the event. But he certainly didn't want the two men who were now standing just before him, to possibly give their lives for him. He wasn't worth it. He had seen Isabel and Mabyn make it safely to the ship. And while they were by no means out of the woods, it had been a huge relief to witness Will pulling them to safety. 

He readied himself for the short run to the Rumigan, shaking his head to clear the fog. 

Rylie entered just seconds later, and Devlin was motioning for them to leave next. 

"Go fast, and don't look back," he instructed loudly over the continuing racket from the ship.

They all acknowledged the advice silently.

"Go! GO!"

The two men hesitantly began to run, literally for their lives, with Koen in between them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Shit!" Brody said, as he saw through his binoculars the two men come into view, with Koen between them completely shielded.

He grasped the comlink in his hand and yelled loudly, "Engage! Engage!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Devlin had been scanning the landscape around them when the man on Koen's right fell hard to the ground. Devlin could see the yellow dart in his neck as he gasped for breath, red blood oozing into the brown dirt below him.

Koen caught movement on his right side, and saw the man on the ground, writhing in pain. "Oh God," he said breathlessly, and unknowingly slowed his progress in fright.

Devlin quickly took the man's position, not stopping to help the doomed man. There wasn't time. He pointed his gun in the direction the dart had come from, and shot off three quick blasts. Devlin grabbed Koen's tunic tightly and dragged him for several feet, shouting loudly, "Go! Go! Don't stop!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Will held out his hand, preparing to pull Koen to safety when he saw the man hit the ground hard.

"Oh shit," he mumbled under his breath. He had known all along. There had been someone out there. Damn it! 

"Nic!" he ordered through the comlink, still at the gate anticipating Koen's arrival.

"I don't see them! Where are they?!" Nic asked frantically.

"Fuck it, just shoot!"

Dominic unleashed his weapon, red laser shots emitted from the canister. Seconds later a large green bubble formed in the distance. The Neroan ship, a Midori, came into view as their cloaking device was destroyed, and the green bubble dissipated. A chain effect transpired, the mother ship's cloaking device failed and all connected ones did as well. The Midori was much larger than the Rumigan, a silver-green metal exterior, and a rounded, glass window in the front. Nic knew that the ensuing battle would be quite one-sided, unless another miracle was in their horizon.

"Engaged! I got 'em!" he yelled through the comlink. Soon after, he could hear Bo shooting as well. Both were shooting frantically at the two ships surrounding them, one Midori on each side of the Rumigan. Smaller hovercrafts could be seen, after their cloaking devices fell away too.

All hell broke loose.

Green lasers shot it one direction, red in another. Koen and Devlin scrambled to the Rumigan as they saw the other man on Koen's left fall hard as well. 

Will pulled Koen in roughly, Devlin shooting at the hovercrafts relentlessly. Two of the smaller ships went down hard under Devlin's wrath, blasting into pieces on the dirt; the third retreated quickly to a large Neroan ship in the distance.

"Alec, get us the fuck out of here!" Will yelled into his microphone. He hit the release for the gate above his head firmly, and moved to the corridor leading to the cabin. Devlin continued to shoot until the gate closed completely, and then huddled the survivors together.

"Everyone stay together. Don't move."

"Is everyone alright?" Rylie asked, examining the survivors quickly for any injuries. 

Koen took his seat by Isabel, clutching her and Mabyn to him fiercely. Isabel hid her face in his shoulder, as the image of the two fallen men resurfaced her parents' deaths behind her eyelids.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"What the hell happened?" Alec asked sternly, when he heard Will enter the cabin.

"We're surrounded, God damn it!" he cursed himself.

Alec's eyes grew large in acknowledgement, and returned to the controls in front of him. When he had heard William order their take off, he had acted swiftly, employing the thrusters, adding an extra boost for good measure and hopefully good luck, and retracted the landing gear.




Providence Ch. 09



They now hovered close to the ground, the Rumigan awkwardly attempting to break gravity with the added weight. For a second Alec feared he had calculated wrong, and that the ship would crash into the ground below them, sending them all into a painful death. Either by his hands or by Cyrus's, and he wasn't sure which one would be worse.

But then the thrusters came to full life, glowing bright blue in the engine room, and the Rumigan broke gravity, sending them into the atmosphere of Aevar.

"Go, go, go," William said to himself, willing the small ship to go faster.

He reached quickly to his left on the board in front of him and switched on the surveillance scanner, and the images of the two Midori ships came into view.

Alec saw the holographic image, and his eyes widened again. "Oh shit."

"I know," Will said grimly.

Just then the ship shook radically with the impact of a direct hit.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Damn it, they broke gravity," Lamar said to himself, while watching the Rumigan's attempted retreat through the large window in the Neroan ship. "Brody, come back," he said through the comlink attached to his head, with the microphone positioned at his mouth.

"We're on our way. The Prince is on the ship!" he yelled through his communicator.

"Copy that," Lamar responded, and moved swiftly to the young man stationed at a desk in front of the window.

He leaned close to his ear, intimidating the poor young cadet to death with the fierceness of his words. "I don't care what you do," he growled. "But get that ship the fuck out of the sky."

"Yes sir," his voice managed to squeak out.

Lamar turned his grim face to the window, acknowledging Brody's hovercraft returning to the ship's gate. His hands gripped the railing in front of him tightly, his knuckles turning red, and then white. He'd be damned if he failed this mission a second time.

He half listened as the cadet reported a direct hit on the Rumigan. It didn't matter. They weren't out of the sky yet.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Screams were all that were heard in the cargo area. The light flickered off and then on. Steam and smoke began to emit from secret placed in the floor and ceiling panels.

Devlin moved to put out the small fire.

All the civilians were huddled together, silently praying for their lives. Their heads were lowered, Koen's looming figure covering Isabel and Mabyn, while Devlin moved to cover Rylie.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Direct hit," Alec's broken voice reported dutifully after the tremor faded.

"No shit," Will retorted, and then bellowed into the comlink, "Dominic, keep them off our ass!"

"I'm trying!" he replied, busily firing at the ship. 

His red lasers continued to hit the ship in front of him, but with little success. He watched the target holograph in front of him expectantly, as the computer scanned for the optimum target of the looming Midori. It locked on the front, bottom panel of the silver-green ship, and Nic unleashed his fury, aiming and rapidly firing at the panel. Seconds later the ship blew from inside out into a million pieces, fire and smoke billowing from the impact.

Will and Alec both witnessed the explosion, and cheered into the comlink.

Nic sagged in a short-lived relief. He turned in his seat quickly as yelled to Bo, "The bottom panel! The bottom panel!" 

"What?" Bo asked absently, as he continued to fire at the ship, which in turn continued to shoot at him.

He entered Bo's adjacent gunner room, giving him the extra comlink to report to Will.

"Try the bottom panel in the front! Its weak," he suggested.

Bo reacted, and shot several times, with no success.

"Shit!" he cursed, raking his hands through his hair in frustration. "They centered their shield on the panel."

"Looks that way," Bo replied, while continuing to shoot frantically. 

"One ship left, sir." Bo's voice reported to Will, and Nic stood watch as the computer frantically searched for a target. He clung tightly to Bo's seat as the ship changed direction suddenly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Copy that," Will responded, as he watched Alec guide the ship over and under the green lasers from the remaining ship. 

The green blasts trailed the Rumigan in the air, as Alec moved the Rumigan down and then took a hard right, trying to out run the laser shots. Will's stomach dropped with the sudden altitude change. 

"Jesus," he said nauseously. "Where did you learn to drive?"

Alec didn't bother responding. "Damn it," he cursed to himself, instead. "I can't out run their gunners. They're too quick," he told Will.

Will sat in frantic thought for a moment, scouring his brain for the answer. They were so close to escaping; it was literally in the palm of their hand. But they didn't have much going for them in a Rumigan, its primary use being military transport. Not combat. If they could only find a way ...

Alec had thought that maybe he could outrun the guns of the Neroan ship. The opposing craft was much larger, and while it gave them added firepower, it also slowed them down, allowing the Rumigan at least one advantage. Agility.

As if a light bulb went off above his head, "Will, adjust the gravity-pull forty five degrees to the left."

Will looked at him quickly in confusion. "What?!"

"Just do it. I got an idea."

He rolled his eyes, but adjusted the knob nonetheless. Oh what the hell, he thought. "Adjusting forty five degrees left. Complete."

"Okay." Alec took a steadying breath, preparing himself. "Nic," he said through the comlink. "Make sure the survivors are secure. They're going to be jostled a bit."

"Copy," he heard through his earpiece, and soon after footsteps traveling down the corridor.

"Bo, continue rapid fire until I say."

"Copy that," he heard from the soldier.

"What are you planning, exactly?" Will couldn't help but ask, as he felt the gravity pull adjust to the new setting, pulling the front of their ship to sit directly in front of the Neroan, reminiscent of a face off. Alec continued to dodge laser shots, and then motioned to the thruster latch next to him.

"When I say, thrust full throttle."

"What?!"

Alec turned to Will as he readied himself and the ship, "Trust me."

Will turned away, staring with his mouth slightly open in shock at what Alec was implying. 

"Adjust shield to front cabin, 100%," Alec reported, as William hit two more buttons, moving the defense shield to completely cover the front of their ship.

"Oh shit," he mumbled for not the first time under his breath. He grasped his armrest tightly on his right side, his left hand grasping the thruster firmly.

"Bo, cease fire."

"Acknowledged," Bo reported, removing his hands from his gunner. With that, all the extra energy in the Rumigan moved to the defense shield.

"Will, now!"

William thrust forward, giving the thrusters in the engine room full power.

They hurtled toward the Neroan ship, the nose of the Rumigan seemingly plummeting toward the earth. The Neroan gunners could not get a lock, and their laser blasts missed their target widely.

Their pace grew, faster and faster and faster ...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"What the hell are they doing?" Brody turned and asked over his shoulder to Lamar, as they watched the Rumigan hover in the air, dodging green lasers. Soon they circled around and centered themselves in front of the Neroan ship, the Rumigan's front cabin aimed directly at theirs, only suspended hundreds of feet in the air.

Lamar looked up from his post at a computer, and watched the large window intently.

And then the image of the smaller ship started to grow bigger in their window. Bigger and bigger and bigger ...

The young cadet shook his head in frustration and fear. "Sir, the computer can't get a lock."

Brody didn't respond to the cadet as he and Lamar witnessed the Rumigan nose-dive right at them.

Lamar's expression was complete confusion. "They're charging."

Brody turned quickly, "What?! Why?"

Lamar shook his head. "I don't know. Our shield is 100% front. We won't feel a thing."

The Neroan soldiers on board continued to frantically gain a lock on the small ship. Brody and Lamar stood side by side in front of the window, watching as the Rumigan continued their descent. 

As an after thought, Brody near whispered, "But ... they aren't even shooting."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The cabin in the Rumigan began to shake with the force of the decent, and soon the lasers missed them completely.

"Alec ... Alec! Pull up! PULL UP!" Will yelled.

"Retract thrusters!" Alec said suddenly, and Will was quick to comply.

The ship slowed and allowed Alec just enough time to change direction without stalling, pulling the controls up and guiding the Rumigan into the sky, away from the Neroan ship.

"Thrust, full throttle!"

Once again, Will thrust forward, shooting the Rumigan into the air. 

"Did you see that?" Alec asked breathlessly, as his hands firmly gripped the control bar, attempting to keep its direction steady.

Will nodded.

"We missed them by inches."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Everyone in the Neroan cabin ducked as the ship shook. The Rumigan had nearly grazed the top of the larger ship as they changed direction, and the pressure had caused their cabin to shake violently.

Brody took over the controls and slowly, the ship turned in the direction that the smaller ship was retreating.

"Engage, damn it! Engage!" Lamar ordered the gunners in front of him, watching as Brody moved the ship to face the withdrawing Rumigan.

Green lasers once again littered the air.

Lamar had been so sure they would have fired at them as they charged ...

"Sir, we have incoming."

Lamar turned to a young cadet behind him, with a questioning look in his eyes. The Rumigan ships didn't carry torpedoes. He turned to the window in front of him and searched the sky.

"No," Lamar said, as he saw purple blast heading their way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Almost there."

"Adjust shield to rear dock, 100%," Alec ordered. Will responded again.

Clouds passed them in a haze. William could feel the pull of gravity giving away as they began to enter space, and he was just about to let himself believe that they had successfully escaped.

And suddenly, they both saw it ... the purple image up ahead. It was almost like a lavender blemish in the clear blue-black sky. It hurtled at them, growing larger in the view window, passing stars and planets. 

No, Will thought, realizing he had just moved their defense shield to the back of their ship to protect against the Midori blasts. If it hit them, and it was looking like it would, they would be destroyed. But he didn't even know what 'it' was.  

When they were about to prepare for a direct hit, the purple haze engulfed them, guiding them, wrapping them in the plum-colored cloud. No harm came to the Rumigan, instead Alec and Will registered the thrusters' power reaching unchartable strength, and the small ship hurtled through space at an alarming rate.

Just as quickly as it caught them, it left, flying ... plunging to the Neroan ship.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

All felt and heard the impact and explosion as the purple cloud hit the Midori directly.



Providence Ch. 10



Zamora – Hebrew; Praised

Part 10

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The purple cloud hovered above the green wreckage that had once been the Midori. The particles swayed up and down in the air, smaller parts of a larger whole, seemingly inspecting the ship, confirming its obliteration.

The dirt settled onto the ground once again, having been flung into the air from the collision of the purple weapon. All was silent at the crash site. 

Seemingly, their mission was a success.

A hum was heard, and the particles of the cloud separated suddenly in all directions as each speck went to examine the wreckage. Some entered holes of metal; others surrounded the bodies of the Neroan officers confirming their status. 

Their job was simple, but sensitive. They would not return to the source until their mission was successfully completed. A detailed inventory was necessary.

The once serene landscape was now a compost of debris, the dirt littered with metal and wiring and bodies … and pieces of bodies. 

One plum dot hung above a lone forearm in the dirt, red blood oozing from the open wound located at the elbow. After reading the limbs condition, the small ‘soldier’ went about searching for the body the appendage had come from.

Several others purple dots entered sections of the ship, panels of metal lining the brown dirt. Wires and tubing hung from the once intact ship, and each dot read the latent, deceased status of the Midori. 

The specks of cloud were disbursed until each piece of the wreckage had been covered. The remaining unneeded cloud lingered in the air, waiting for the return of their counterparts.

One speck hung above a body that was partially covered by a metal panel. He lay face down in the dirt, his legs covered by the panel.

Suddenly the man groaned in pain, his breath causing a stir of dust.

The purple dot reacted violently. An energy pulse was emitted, blue veins shooting through the small fleck of plum. The pulse shot through the Neroan guard, and soon his heartbeat ceased, the violent attack of the energy ending his life. 

The purple speck read his lifeless condition, and quaintly retreated to its source.

As each lavender particle became satisfied, one by one they returned to the whole. 

The purple cloud grew bigger in size and strength as the smaller pieces formed the larger weapon.

The particles grew closer together, merging and binding together for their journey across the galaxy. Soon no one particle could be seen, and the collective purple cloud shot through the sky toward the planet and master that had sent them.

Surely she would be pleased with their success.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“What just happened?” Will whispered harshly, suddenly out of breath from the tumultuous ordeal.

He couldn’t have seen what his eyes were telling him he saw. He was going crazy. It was the adrenaline that had been running through his veins. It was the fact that he hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours. Or eaten in nearly that long. It was the stress of the situation, and his eyes were playing tricks on him. 

That had to be it.

He slowly loosened his death-like grip on his armrest of the co-pilot seat. His ramrod back eventually softened slightly in posture, as he slowly allowed himself to believe that they were safe. Will’s chest heaved as he took in much-needed oxygen. White streaks of stars flew past the window of the cabin as the autopilot guided the Rumigan through space on its course to Cantu.

Will turned to his left slowly, and saw Alec react much the same. 

He was shaking his head in disbelief.

“I don’t know,” Alec said as he licked his dry lips, and ran a shaky hand through his brown hair. “What was that?”

Their eyes met at the question, but neither had an answer.

Will brought his hands up to rub his eyes, and said, “I thought for sure we were dead.”

Alec nodded absently.

Movement from the surveillance scanner in front of them cut off their discussion. The computer gave them an up-to-date report of the ships condition.

“That can’t be right,” Will said skeptically.

Alec leaned forward in his seat with his elbows on his knees, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He reached for the control panel, and pushed several buttons instructing the Rumigan computer to compose a more detailed analysis of the ship.

The image of the scanner broke slightly as the new breakdown of the ship’s status was presented.

“What the hell,” Will argued. “We took a direct hit. That can’t be right.”

Alec stayed silent and shook his head in amazement. 

So much of this mission had already been unbelievable and implausible. 

Cyrus had attacked the sacred Festival killing the Kind and Queen. Koen and Isabel had successfully escaped his clutches. So far they had effectively eluded Cyrus, because as of that moment, the Rumigan was soaring through space toward their destination at several hundred miles an hour faster than the ship was physically capable. The Rumigan computer, stating that their ship was in perfect condition, even though he was certain they had taken a direct hit just minutes previous from the Midori, was reporting no damage. The Neroan ship had obviously been destroyed from the purple anomaly that had just passed them in space.

Alec had to shake his head to clear the confusion-induced fog. And he had thought his life as an underground protector had been mysterious…

“Apparently, our ship is at 100%.” Alec turned to look at Will, who had the same disbelieving, but nonetheless grateful, look on his face. “I guess … maybe we should take what we can get. I’m not going to argue.”

“Yeah,” Will said as he continued to stare at the hologram of the status report. Not possible, he thought silently. It’s just not possible. 

His vision began to blur from an unexpected bout of claustrophobia. He absolutely had to get away from the cabin as quickly as possible. 

Will moved to unbuckle from his seat, “I’m … um, I’m going to go check on the … on them. So … yeah.” He managed to get out his destination despite nervously stumbling over his words. He motioned with his hand towards the rear of the ship, and then departed the cabin.

His heart was still racing, and he attempted rather unsuccessfully to quiet it. His shoulders were still stiff with emotion and confusion and a lingering state of anticipation. It was as if his mind just couldn’t accept the fact that they had gotten away that easily. 

Not easily, he thought. That successfully. 

The Midori had been destroyed. 

By a purple cloud.

Not possible.

The disbelieving thoughts echoed like a mantra in his clouded mind.

He waited for his vision to clear, his thoughts to slow, his disbelief to taper. He bent at the waist, supporting his weight with his hands on his knees, and took several deep breaths. 

It didn’t help much.

He straightened, and reached up with his left hand to scratch the back of his head, a nervous habit since his childhood. His hazel eyes were downcast, staring blindly at his feet as he took one step after another. 

Will silently traveled down the corridor leading to the cargo bay where he expected to find Koen and Nic, and the rest of the survivors. The corridor was dim where he walked. The lights were still on ahead of him, but he couldn’t see anybody. 

He briefly wondered if anyone had been hurt from the impact of movement of the ship. Alec’s driving, while incredibly useful, had been somewhat nauseating. It was quite possible that someone may have been hurt in their escape.

He entered the cargo bay slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the bright lights above him. He ducked his head at the entrance, stepping through the door-less entry.

He let his eyes scan the room, and gratefully took in the health of everyone inside. 

It seemed as though everyone was uninjured. Rylie was dispersing water to the occupants. Devlin, Bo, and Nic were talking candidly about their escape, Nic animatedly describing what he had seen. Mabyn was standing next to Nic, clutching his pants tightly. Isabel stood close to her, softly stroking her hair as she drank water from the canister in her hand.

Koen. Where’s Koen? Will thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Aevarian field that held the wreckage of the Midori was a maze of metal, wire, and bodies. The suns of the system beat down in their midday assault. Small ground animals scurried about finally emerging from their hiding places, sensing the previous commotion was over.

A green and brown lizard crawled several steps, nearing a large panel of silver-green metal. His long tongue darted out, capturing a fly from a small plant.

Suddenly the panel moved, and the lizard fearfully darted away.

A hand materialized from the shadows beneath the metal board. A forearm, an elbow, bicep, and then a shoulder. 

The arm struggled to move the panel, and after several seconds it slid and a haggard, near-death face could be seen.

Lamar.

He coughed violently, and his fatigued, coarse voice called out, “Brody?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It’s official. I am insane.

Koen gave himself a sardonic snort, shook his head, and squeezed his arms tighter around his legs. He was huddled in the far corner of the cargo bay, secluded from the group behind several large crates. He had withdrawn shortly after Devlin had deemed it safe, after they broke Aevar’s atmosphere and set their course to Cantu.

Isabel had been quick to seek out Nic, delivering a very scared Mabyn to her hero. But at the same time, he noticed how Isabel was careful to never let the small girl out of her sight. He supposed it was more for her own piece of mind than for Mabyn’s, but the little girl did nothing to inhibit Isabel’s affection. If nothing else, she reveled in it. Both of them did.

But Koen took this in with cloudy vision, and a heavy conscience. 

Those men were dead … because of him. They had been there to protect him, guard him. They had never asked for that job or position. They hadn’t masked their fear of the task either. Koen had seen the worried looks they shared with each other. His heart mirrored them. And now his heart was breaking for them.

He wanted to cry, but he didn’t have any more tears to shed.

He wanted to curse, but his voice was broken in his leaden chest.

He wanted to die …

He didn’t want to think about death ever again, but there it was, thrown in his face. The Festival and his parents, the men from the cave lying broken in the dirt, the blood and carnage … even the Midori. Death was everywhere. He had to forcibly remind himself that it was war. It was expected to suffer casualties in times like this. 

For so long, his entire life, he had been sheltered, protected, privileged from the atrocities of life. 

He wished he could go back. His chest constricted, as his arms tightened around his up-drawn legs. Everything was so wrong, so empty, so bleak. 

And he had thought his life before the Festival was depressing. This was a wake-up call he wanted to give back.

He wanted to awaken from his nightmare. He wanted to open his eyes, shake the sleep from his mind, and give his mother a good morning kiss on her porcelain cheek. He wanted to find that it had all been a dream. If he could only have a second chance…

That wasn’t so much to ask for, was it? Another try at life? He would be everything he had rejected – he would be the good son and Prince and brother and friend he had never been. He wanted that good life. If he could just start over, he would prove that he was good. 

No, not just good … justified, respectable, worthy.

Honorable.

He could hear Devlin, Bo, and Nic talking in hushed but energetic voices. He knew, without seeing, that Isabel was still doting over Mabyn, and Rylie was certainly taking care of anyone who needed it. So far no one had noticed his self induced absence and seclusion, and thank God for that. He couldn’t take any sociality right now. He had too many things on his mind.

Taking priority was that voice…

She wouldn’t stop talking. At first he had tried to ignore it, figuring it was just a figment of his imagination, perhaps his mother’s voice conjured up in his frayed psyche. He wanted to hear her voice again, so he did.

But it was more than that.

This voice, this … impression that he carried in his mind somehow soothed him. How or why, he didn’t know. If nothing else, he should be scared out of his mind. 

Like he had said before, he was insane. Certifiable. Which wasn’t a shock considering all that he had been through, all that he had lost.

But for some reason, he had stopped pushing the voice away, and had listened. 

In the cave, when he had first listened to her voice … it had disturbed him. She had spoken of his secrets that he had held tightly in his heart, locking it deep inside him. Things that he had never told anyone. Not his mother, or his father, or Isabel … not even Will. No one knew.

But she did. 

He didn’t know how it was possible. And soon after, he stopped caring. The fact that someone knew him – knew his heart and still cared for him – was a miracle that he had never dared wish for. But there it was, or rather, there she was, in his mind offering solace. And after everything that had happened to him and the people he loved in the past forty-eight hours, he was helpless to reject it.

Perhaps that had been the reason he had rejected his prior life with such gusto and passion and grit. He rejected his family, his friends, his intentions, his priorities, his obligations … and for the longest time he assumed it was because he didn’t want them. But now he knew better. Now that he had lost everything, it was all so clear. What is it they say about hindsight always being 20/20?

That was him now. Everything was so clear. Painfully so. 

He had had the world. He once had everything in his grasp, and like a fool he had let it slip away.

Koen thought of his mother, Deva, who had loved him despite his tendencies of stubbornness and stupidity. She had loved him wholeheartedly, and had proved it several times over. She never wavered, never delayed or hesitated. And she had asked so little of him. He was … had been … her first born. A son that she had wanted to continue the family lineage on the throne. 

But it was because of her love that he had resented her. He let a broken sob escape his throat at the realization. He had hated her. But his reasoning was so pitifully inadequate and remorseful and … embarrassing.

He didn’t want her love, because he had thought he didn’t deserve it.

No, he had known he didn’t deserve it. He was a sorry excuse for a son or a brother or a Prince. He was never good enough. Never worthy enough. She had been too good for him, and he had thrown her unconditional love back in her face.

He had done the same with everyone in his life. Will, Isabel, his father. He had kept them all at arms length. 

And where had it gotten him? Look at where he was now. His tear-filled eyes took in his surroundings: a cold, metal floor lined with years of dirt and filth. Heavy cargo crates filled with supplies that would sustain the survivors until they reached Cantu. A musty, stale smell hung in the air from months, maybe years, of the Rumigan lying dormant at the hangar. Here he was, Koen – crowned Prince of Aevar – lying in his own self-pity.

It had appeared he hadn’t changed much. He was still a sorry excuse for a man. Now that he realized what he had done, he was wallowing in his shame, unmoving.

And then he heard the voice again. It was like a calming conscience in his weary brain, soothing him. Suddenly he no longer felt his humiliation, he felt a peace … deep in his very soul. All because of this voice, that for all he knew, he had created for his own selfish benefit.

He let out a deep, somnolent sigh, willing the voice to be right; that what she said to him was really true. He wanted to believe so badly.

Koen lifted his head startled when the overhead lighting hit his eyes, as Will shifted a crate to expose Koen to the survivors.

“Jesus Koen, what the hell happened to you?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He managed to extract himself from the large metal panel. His chest heaved painfully from the impact and explosion of the Midori. He didn’t know how he had survived. He didn’t care. He had a mission, and it certainly wasn’t over yet.

“Brody?” he called out again, worried that he had lost his brother. No response came, except for the silence of the nature.

He stood unsteadily, leaning on his knees as a bout of nausea hit him. He vomited at his feet.

Lamar fell to his knees roughly. His lungs burned from the fires and smoke that billowed from parts of their ship that was scattered around him.

His skin broke out in a fatigued sweat, his skin going deathly white. If he wasn’t mistaken, he was quite near death. Close to joining his brother, he assumed.

“Brody?” His plea for his brother was louder, more acute, more desperate.

A rattle was heard to his right, and he turned as quickly as his shaky body allowed, and crawled to the source of the noise.

His pushed several cumbersome objects out of his way, slowly nearing a green door leaning slightly to the right.

A large shadow was cast underneath it, and Lamar struggled to move the door even an inch. His weakened condition didn’t grant him with any strength to speak of.

Lamar bent low, his mouth near the ground, and spoke, “Hello? Is anyone there?” He was out of breath quickly, because of the physical ordeal. Or perhaps it was the anticipation of finding another survivor. Either way his blood was boiling.

Finally, summoning his last piece of strength, the door lifted several inches from the brown dirt. 

The suns’ light shown brightly in the eyes of the second survivor.

A harsh whisper was heard.

“Lamar?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Koen could feel eyes on his back. They were all watching him, curious as to why he had hidden from them in the cargo bay, and then had dismissed their alarm. The last several hours of travel had left them to idol conversation, offering plenty of time for prodding questions that Koen simply didn’t have the strength to answer.

What was he supposed to say? That he was a new man now, but at the expense of what, and whom? That he had been reliving the last twenty years of his life with new eyes, and was utterly devastated at his foolishness? That he wanted to give his life to save his mother and father, Mabyn’s parents, countless other casualties, those two men that had died for him – men whose names he hadn’t even had the nerve to learn?

That he wasn’t worthy of their loyalty, or the crown or throne … if they were ever successful in defeating Cyrus and reclaiming Aevar in the first place?

No, he would leave it alone. He would stand there in his place, waiting for Alec and Will to deem their landing on Cantu safe. He would continue in his Destiny – whatever it may be – and never question or battle his Fate. Koen would be the good man that he should have been all along, and everyone who was curiously gazing at him would soon forget and forgive his reckless and peculiar behavior.

They all felt the Rumigan roughly settle in the sand, on the dune planet of Cantu. They could hear Will’s brusque voice, and Alec’s quiet replies, as the two men made their way down the corridor to the cargo bay.

Isabel turned, keeping one worried eye on her brother, toward Will. She wanted to get out of the ship as soon as possible. She wanted to take a deep breathe of clean, fresh, desert air. The old air in the Rumigan was wreaking havoc on her resolve, and she desperately didn’t want to loose it in front of Mabyn.

“We’re here,” Will said softly. He didn’t quite meet anyone’s eye, still unsettled by the events that had led them here in the first place.

Rylie began passing out blankets, to guard everyone from the harsh suns and desert heat. None would be prepared for it, and any shield they could put up against the harsh temperatures would be a blessing.




Providence Ch. 10



Mabyn clung tightly to Isabel and Nic, each on her sides. She didn’t want to let Nic out of her sight, but she didn’t want to let go of Isabel either. Nic had held her for a long time, telling her stories of Aevar and the palace and playing with Will and Koen. Isabel had stroked her hair as she had fallen asleep in Nic’s arms. She missed the soft, candid conversation between the two older individuals.

Devlin and Bo stood together waiting for their orders from Will, laser guns in hand.

“Stay close together,” Will said. “Right now, we’re in a hangar at a closed port. If Cyrus sends any men to Cantu, they shouldn’t find our ship. We’ll head for the village to our east. Hopefully we can get some supplies, meet up with any allies that might be stationed here.” He scanned the weary group who he could guess was half-listening to him at best. “Ready?”

He took the mumbled reply as a ‘yes,’ and pushed the release for the gate above his head. Slowly, the heavy door lowered, and as the pressure lock broke, the heat of the desert hit them nearly stealing their breath from their lungs.

Will squinted his eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the intense light.

Slowly he made his way down the gate, and soon his boots hit the heavy, Cantu sand. He had only been to Cantu once, several years ago, and the sight of the pure golden sand, and clear blue sky moved something in him. He wasn’t sure what, but he knew that this desolate planet held something new for them. Surely he hadn’t been wrong in choosing Cantu. Cyrus would never look for them here … he hoped. And even if he did, there was a very good chance that they would not be found. Cantu might not be big, but it was certainly advantageous, offering a sentiment of anonymity.

He turned to the gate, waiting and watching as the survivors hesitantly left the small ship.

They were all so tired, achy, bleary-eyed. They mindlessly followed Will from the hangar, across the dune desert. Rylie was second, right after Will. Bo and Devlin followed close behind her, scanning the horizon for anything oppressive. Koen walked with a somber, but nonetheless obeisant, tone and timbre. Isabel, Mabyn, and Nic brought up the rear.

They could see the village ahead, its image wavering in the horizon like a mirage. The heat kicked up off the sand, sending heat waves through the air. The searing oxygen burned their lungs with each breath they took.

After several minutes of trudging through the desert, Mabyn tired considerably, and silently requested to be held, raising her arms. She had first thought to ask Nic, but he had the gun in his hand and a bag across his shoulder. There wasn’t any room for her.

She then turned to Isabel, and with a smile the older woman embraced her, rubbing soothingly on her back. Mabyn snuggled into Isabel as far as she could, closing her eyes under the blanket.

“She alright?” Nic asked with a low voice, his eyes still scanning the horizon for any activity.

“I think so. She’s just tired and cranky.” 

Nic nodded his head, and tried unsuccessfully to hide the smile on his face and the chuckle under his breath.

“What?” Isabel asked.

Nic shook his head, avoiding answering the question.

“What?” Isabel asked again, completely interested in knowing why Nic was grinning like a fool. Not that being a fool was ever out of character for him.

“Nothing, it’s just …” he ventured a look and Isabel. “Tired and cranky … that reminds me of you at that age.”

Isabel’s blank look reluctantly turned humorous, a small smile forcing its way onto her face despite her protests. “Funny guy.”

He shrugged. “I try.”

He continued to quietly chuckle. 

“It’s not funny,” Isabel persisted, releasing her full-blown smile adorn her beautiful features.

She shook her head as he continued to laugh to himself, reveling in the companionable banter. Seeing that she wasn’t mad, he good-heartedly nudged her shoulder with his.

It wasn’t long before they reached the small village. 

“Will,” Isabel said. She waited for him to glance back at her. “What village is this?”

“Zamora.”

The name meant little to the survivors as they neared the village. It had just been a question, idol conversation to end the silence. 

That conversation died abruptly when they entered the gates of Zamora.

“What the …”

Nic’s question was cut short, when they caught sight of the village. Or what remained of it.

Everything was barren, and empty. Buildings and carts were shells and remnants of a once thriving community, tables were overturned, and doors were left open. 

There was a deadly silence all around them. 

The soft wind blew through the city, running through the buildings as if they were not there. Tablecloths on display carts hung in the breeze, faded from the sun and weather.

William brought the group to a halt halfway through the city. They turned in every direction, searching for any sign of life. Anything that would indicate that the planet they had retreated to was not a wasteland. Certainly they had not given up one for another.

“Devlin? Bo?” Will asked uncertainly to the two active soldiers. They were privy to the combat knowledge that William had always listened to with half-interest. How he was kicking himself now. 

They both shook their head.

“I dunno,” Devlin answered.

“I thought Cantu was in the peace agreement,” Bo said as he turned to inspect the dormant city.

“What do you mean?” Will asked. Koen listened with keen interest from behind Nic.

“Cyrus and King Eamon, at the council meeting, made that formal agreement … which apparently meant nothing but shit, pardon my language.” His voice rose as he reported his knowledge of the events that had lead up to their predicament. He had only overheard the two dirty politicians talking in a corridor one day. Now, he tried to recall everything he had heard.

“Yeah?” Will prodded.

“One of the conditions to peace was that Cyrus obtain control over Cantu. Why he wanted it, I don’t know. Turns out there were a lot of thing we didn’t know about the bastard. But the agreement was made, and Cantu’s immediate care was signed over to Cyrus by King Eamon, may he rest in peace,” he added under his breath.

Will shook his head from disbelief and confusion. “So what did the dictating knave do, eliminate every living soul on the planet?”

No one had an answer.

“HELLO!” Nic bellowed with his hands cupped around his mouth; his voice echoed off the clay buildings. Everyone jumped at the intrusion.

“Nic! Shut. Up,” Will ordered.

“What?” he retorted. “There’s no one here. It’s a fucking wasteland!” he said loudly, letting the silence break with his booming, comical voice.

“Nic, please,” Isabel said softly. Mabyn shifted under the blanket.

“Oh come on. Look around you. We are completely alone here. If there were someone here, we would have seen them by now. It’s kind of funny if you think about it,” he said, turning from Isabel to Will. “Our fearless leader here delivered us from a battle field to a fuckin’ desert.”

His sardonic laugh amused no one.

Least of all the two guards located just behind them, edging closer with every second.



Providence Ch. 11



Part 11: Payton – English; Village of the Warrior

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

If there was ever a time that Dominic wanted to take back everything he had said, now was definitely the time.

He struggled to open his eyes, disillusioned with the fog of confusion in his brain. What had happened? One moment he had been screaming at Will, and then the next he was lying face down in the desert. His head hurt, and he could feel dried blood down his jaw and ear. 

They were all on their knees, hands locked above their heads, eyeing the two guards that had taken them into captivity just moments ago. No one had seen them coming, all too preoccupied with Nic's belligerently defiant speech, and now he was eating his words ... literally. The gag the one blonde woman had put in his mouth was anything but comfortable.

The two women were several feet away, talking candidly, but no one was able to hear a word. They were careful to keep their voices down.

There had been plenty of times in his past where the need to redo a certain moment in time had arisen, and most were because of something he had said or did. He had a serious impulse control problem. And that was putting it mildly.

What Nic really wanted to do was go back five minutes in time and undo what he had just done. They had come so far. Cantu was supposed to be the place that they were to seek refuge, not be taken prisoner minutes after landing. Somehow, by the grace of ... whoever ... they had actually escaped Cyrus's men, and had landed on Cantu safely. The final part of their plan might have worked, too, if it hadn't been for Nic's big mouth and attitude. 

After lifting himself from the sand, leaning heavily on his left leg, Nic turned slightly to his right, taking in Rylie, Bo, and Devlin's position. All three were every bit upset and sore towards him. Devlin and Bo wouldn't even look at him, even though he was certain they could feel his eyes on them. Rylie didn't look at much of anything but the supplies just to her right. 

He caught movement out of his right eye and followed it, seeing Alec behind him. He only met the man's eyes briefly, and then Alec returned to his attempt at loosening the rope around his wrists.

Nic turned straight, and could see Koen just ahead of him. His posture was the same as all the others, sitting on his heels with his hands behind his head, tied with rope. 

Will was to Koen's right, and from what Nic could tell, was trying to make out what the two women were saying. 

Isabel was to Nic's left, with Mabyn close by. And that's when he felt it. Oh God, he thought. Mabyn. He hadn't had much of a chance to worry about her before through the haze of being knocked on the head and coming to in a cloud of confusion and pain, lying face down in the sand. He knew he had only been out for a few minutes. But in those minutes, he could see that Mabyn had been tied also. Her hands were bound but they were on her lap, not behind her head. She was crying silent tears, more out of fear than anything else, Nic hoped anyway. 

She huddled near Isabel, who was valiantly trying to smile at the child and speak softly to her, having not being gagged like him. He noted that none of the others were gagged, and rightfully so. No one else had been as stupid as he had, leading an enemy right to them.

Isabel turned then towards him. She cast a look in his direction, but it wasn't anger or resentment. It was worse. Disappointment. She slowly shook her head, her golden blonde hair hanging slightly in the soft, desert breeze, and then turned her attention back to Mabyn. 

He sighed heavily. He would do anything to make the situation right. This was the last thing he wanted for any of them, especially for Mabyn ... and Koen and Isabel and William. Hell, for any of the survivors. They were like a family now, banding together to try and survive another day. And in that one reckless moment no more than ten minutes ago, he had crashed and burned all of their hopes of survival. He felt like the idiotic teenager who stole the keys from his parents and ended up crashing the hovercraft into a parked ship, which by the way, he had done ... twice. 

He wasn't even sure why he had lost his cool so easily, or why he had a history of it. When he was younger, he would frequently find himself being punished for something he did or said, and later he couldn't understand why he had acted or said the things he did. It was as if his mouth would say the words, and his brain struggled to keep up. He never thought the bad habit would turn out to be so destructive. He never thought that it would possible mean his death. Not to mention everyone around him.

Yet again, his mouth had gotten not only him, but also everyone around him, in trouble. God help him if they did somehow get out of this. There was no telling what they would do to him. He was quite certain he would prefer death to Will's brand of punishment.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"What's goin' on?" Mabyn asked quietly.

"I'm not sure sweetie." Isabel had absolutely no idea how she was suppose to explain to a ten year old how much trouble they were all in, or why they were in it, or how they were going to get out of it. One thing was for sure ... she wasn't going to offer any information. She didn't want to have to openly lie to the frightened girl in front of her. That, and she was going to kill Nic as soon as the opportunity arose. Okay, so two things were for sure.

She had actually been surprised when the woman soldier with the longer hair and green-blue eyes who had tied her and Mabyn up had been quite social with the little girl, asking questions and giving a small smile. It had almost seemed as if the woman took no pleasure in her task. But Mabyn had been too scared to say much of anything. When the woman had asked if Isabel was Mabyn's mother, all Mabyn could do was stare with big, teary eyes and tuck herself further into Isabel's tunic.

It had been that question, and not Nic's unbelievably impossible stupidity, that had rocked Isabel more than anything. She had never thought that anyone would assume that Isabel was Mabyn's mother. They looked alike, she supposed. Their eyes were the same color, and they did appear to have similar facial structure. Their mouths and lips were alike, and Mabyn's height at a young age was also an indicator. Not to mention that Mabyn had been plastered to Isabel's side since their introduction back on Aevar.

But their attitudes and personalities were like day and night. Where Isabel had confidence to spare, Mabyn was timid and uncertain. She supposed that wasn't entirely true. Her confidence was almost always a façade of some sort, whether it was to hide her insecurity or to intimidate any surrounding individuals. But in all fairness, anyone in the position of a captive would be scared, and Isabel's attempt at maintaining her confidence and hiding her fear was wearing thin. The only reason her resolve hadn't broken yet was because of Mabyn ... and the fact that she was quite certain she could single-handedly take out the guard on the right.

"Well ... what are they doin'?" She hoped Isabel wouldn't get mad at her for asking so many questions. But she was really scared. Seeing Nic lying asleep in the sand with blood coming out of his ear was probably the most frightening thing she had ever seen. If Isabel hadn't tried to soothe her, she would have screamed and cried ... like what she did back home during the bombings, before Nic had found her. After her mom had put her behind the counter of the shop to hide, and had never come back. After she had gone out looking for her mom, and instead found so many bodies on the ground. Her mom's body being one of them.

Now that Nic was awake, she felt better. For a while, she was afraid he would never wake up, like her mom. But he was looking at her now, with big eyes. It looked like he was trying to say something, but there was a piece of white cloth in his mouth, and all of his words were muffled.

She waited for Isabel to answer, trying to keep one eye on her, one on Nic, and one on the two women talking just a few feet away. Her head hurt trying to see everything.

Isabel shook her head hating the fact that she had to answer a question she didn't know the answer to. Her patience with the two guards was wearing thinner by the second. "I'm sorry sweetie. I just don't know. But we'll be okay. I promise, Mabyn. I'll make sure nothing happens to you."

Mabyn didn't say much of anything after that. Instead, snuggling into the older woman, she closed her eyes, wishing that Isabel could put her arms around her like she had in the cave.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So, what are we gonna do now?" she asked offhandedly. 

"How the hell should I know? I've never taken prisoners before. You're the soldier."

"Oh, that's rich. Blame the one with five weeks training. For the record, I never made it out of basic; those masochistic assholes burned down the village before I could take the final test."

Payton sighed heavily. "Come on Cora. You're better at this than me. We were just supposed to scout. Aron didn't say anything about prisoners or interrogation. We're not trained for it."

"No shit. Just give me a minute," Cora said. Her short blonde hair was plastered to her pale face from the heat and sweat. Her bandana hung in the wind, tied around her forehead, and the long red tales hung low on her back. Her clothes were dirty and torn and tight on her thin body, signs of struggle and battle, signs of a soldier hard at work. Despite her warrior appearance, the laser gun in her hand had only been fired once outside of training. Once, since the Neroan soldiers overtook their small planet and raided the villages and ports. She was saving her firepower for the revenge she so desperately wanted. 

At first, she had assumed, along with Payton, that the small group of people in front of her was Neroan. No other visitors had entered the planet since the formal agreement made weeks before. She didn't know why King Eamon had agreed to give Cantu to Cyrus. And frankly, she didn't care anymore. She had survived extended, countless weeks hidden in caves with the other refugees. She was a small part of a larger whole on Cantu. If it hadn't been for Aron, Cora was very sure she would have been dead long ago, despite her brief stint as a soldier.

"Tell ya what," she started. "We ask them where they're from. Try and get some information out of them." When she saw Payton give her a skeptical look, "Court, look. They have a kid with 'em. Do you really thing Neroan soldiers would travel with a kid?" She shook her head at her own question. "It doesn't make any sense. I really don't think they're here to hurt us. Remember what the one loudmouth said? They didn't know that Cantu had been raided. They can't be Neroan."

"Yeah," Payton said, pondering Cora's words. "So, who do we talk to?"

Cora thought for a moment. "The loudmouth called that big fella 'fearless leader.' I guess he's the one we should try first." Without looking behind her towards the survivors, she added, "He's been staring at us for the past fifteen minutes. He obviously wants some information."

Payton looked over Cora's shoulder to the one they were talking about, and sure enough ... he was eyeing them keenly. She shot Cora a surprised look, "How do you do that?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Spending years in my mom's shop. You have to grow eyes in the back of your head to catch the shoplifters. Ready?" she asked, knowing that Payton was anything but.

"Yeah. But, um ... you do most of the talkin', all right? You know ... good cop, bad cop."

"Yeah, okay. I like being bad anyways," Cora agreed with a wink.

They turned to the small group in front of them, and neared whom they assumed was the leader. Cora displayed her laser gun in her hands, and a smirk on her face, clearly unfazed by the man's hostile behavior towards them.

"You willin' to talk?" she asked him offhandedly.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked ardently, without preamble. Koen shook his head.

Cora gave Payton a look, and then turned to Will and said, "Look buddy. You are on our planet. We ask the questions. First, who are you and why are you here?"

"Untie us first, and then we'll answer your questions."

Cora and Will eyed each other, a silent stand off, both unwilling to give in. 

Everyone was very aware that the "negotiations" that were taking place were very important to their survival. If Will didn't handle the situation sensitively, they could all end up dead. The nine survivors were on their knees in front of two women with trigger-happy fingers. Needless to say, their hearts were beating a little faster than normal. Koen couldn't speak for everyone, but he didn't have high hopes, considering he knew first hand what Will's bargaining skills were like. 

Cora was very interested to hear where exactly they were from, but wasn't too excited about untying any of them, especially this bigmouthed lunatic that was treating her like shit. Granted, she tied his rope a little tighter than anyone else. But could anyone blame her? She could just tell he needed to be put in his place, and she had him right where she wanted him ... on his knees. 

Finally, Cora shook her head, "Nah, I don't think so. I don't know who you are. How can I trust you?"

"Look lady, you attacked us..."

"Attacked?! I think you got that a little twisted around. We are defending our planet. If there was any attacking it was weeks ago when Cyrus came and raided the place."

Bo spoke up. "Cyrus did this?" Cora tore her livid gaze from Will and nodded. "Why?"

"How the fuck should I know? He's a fucking tyrant. Why does he do anything?"

Will interceded, "Well we're not with Cyrus, alright? We left our planet to escape him."

Cora's eyes got big. "So you are from Nero." She turned to Payton, "I knew it. It's a good fucking thing I brought that rope, to tie you motherfu–"

"Could you watch the language please?" Isabel interjected hotly, motioning the best she could to Mabyn, who hid her face in Isabel's clothing.

Payton was started by the woman's interruption, but was quick to agree. "Oh! Yeah, um ... well, is she okay?"

"No she's not okay! Her hands are tied."

Payton turned close to Cora and, after looking away from the group and putting her mouth close to Cora's ear, she asked, "Maybe we could untie the girl?"

Cora considered the request and announced, "Alright, here's the deal. You tell us everything and we'll untie the girl."

Will was quick to answer, "You untie the women, and we'll answer your questions."

No one in the Aevar camp disputed the sexist implications. They were eager for any step closer to freedom, and waited with baited breath to see how the hotheaded blonde would respond. 

Cora considered it for a second, weighing her options, and then nodded to Payton. 

She all but ran to Mabyn, and gently took her bound hands in her own. When the small girl fought her efforts, she spoke, "Hon, I need your hands."

Mabyn peered from behind the cloth of Isabel's tunic, and saw the gleam of the knife in the woman's hand. She struggled to escape the woman in front of her, but when Payton held fast, Mabyn was forced to use the only other means of escape she had. She screamed ... loudly.

Payton and Isabel jumped at its intensity, and the others turned quickly to its source, surprised that such a small person could make such a big sound.

"Jesus Christ, she's loud," Cora muttered.

"Mabyn! Mabyn, shhh. It's okay. She's going to cut the rope. Just the rope sweetie," Isabel tried to sooth.

Mabyn stopped struggling and screaming long enough to consider Isabel's words. She did want to be untied, but the knife scared her. Everything was scaring her and she didn't know who to trust or what to do. She wasn't sure what to believe. 

She frantically searched around her for an exit, and her eyes landed on Nic. His eyes were still big, but they had something else ... something she couldn't name. And then he nodded. He wanted her to let the woman with the knife near her. Sighing heavily, and half expecting the knife to cut her anyway, Mabyn held out her hands, and closed her eyes waiting for the inevitable.

But it never came, except for the sweet release of her wrists from the rope.

She looked up surprised, and then returned to her buried position in Isabel's side.

Payton gave a lasting look to Mabyn, and then stood to cut Isabel free. Once she was released, Isabel hugged Mabyn close, grateful to have the privilege once again.

Koen turned and gave his sister a small smile, thankful that both her and Mabyn were uninjured.

"Alright, now talk. Who are you?"

Will turned to Cora, and with a heavy, exaggerated sigh, replied, "First of all, we're not from Nero, we're from Aevar." At Payton's surprised gasp and Cora's stunned silent response, he continued. "Yeah, hothead. Aevar. You just took the Prince and Princess of Aevar into custody."

And with that, Cora waltzed up to Will, and promptly smacked him across his face, effectively wiping the smug expression clean off it.

"You arrogance asshole. If you don't start giving me the truth, I'll tie them back up and I guarantee you, I won't be so sympathetic."

Will shook his head from the impact, slightly dizzy and completely dumbfounded. Damn, he thought. "We are from Aevar. We're all that's left of the royal assembly." He could feel the blood from his mouth drip down his chin. Damn, she hit hard.

Payton shook her head, now standing behind Cora after cutting Rylie loose. "No. The royal family's dead. We heard."

Will's head, along with the other survivors watching, shot up in alarm. "What? When?"

Cora nodded. "When Cyrus took over, he said Aevar was finished. That he had killed the royal family. What? Are you saying it's not true?"

"No, it's not," Koen spoke quietly. When he felt all eyes on him, he continued. "I'm Koen, and the woman with Mabyn is my sister Isabel. Of Aevar."

Cora was skeptical. If the man was who he said he was, then it would be the happiest day for the refugees on Cantu in weeks. If he was a liar, then he deserved to be killed. Impersonating a member of the royal family, even when they were suspected dead, was a crime punishable by death.

Her eyes never left Koen as she neared him. He seemed to be telling the truth; no telltale signs of dishonesty were apparent. He maintained eye contact, his voice didn't waiver, and none of the group disagreed. If anything, they hung on her response, waiting to see if she would believe him. And she wanted to. It would mean so much to everyone back at the base if the crown Prince of Aevar made an appearance. But if he was lying...

She stood just inches from him now, leaning so that her face was a breath away from his. She pulled her knife suddenly, and the blade gleamed in the bright sunlight. But his eyes never left hers. He wasn't going to back down. He couldn't. Koen had to save Isabel and the others. He would give his life, if he needed to, to save those around him. Despite that, he couldn't help his throat bobbing with shuddering anticipation.

Will struggled against his restraints and Payton was quick to aim her laser gun directly at him, daring him to make any move at all. He backed down and waited, along with everyone else. What would she do?

Isabel saw the knife, and pulled Mabyn closer to her, hiding the girl's eyes with her hand. "Oh Jesus," she cursed under her breath, and prayed that more blood wouldn't be shed so soon.

Cora raised the blade, and it nearly grazed his throat in the process. His jaw clenched in anticipation, but still his intent gaze never wavered. He watched as the knife disappeared behind his head, and he could do nothing but await the cut along his throat that was fast approaching.




Providence Ch. 11



And then suddenly his hands were free as the knife cut the rope with one swipe.

He expelled a breath he wasn't even aware he had been holding, and his eyes flew up to hers to silently inquire why.

Her voice was low and harsh. "If I find out you lied to me ... I'll kill you myself."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"It's not too much further," Payton said over her shoulder to the group of survivors following her lead back to the cave.

The final sun was beginning to set in the horizon, allowing the heat to pass. Long shadows of the group were cast along the sand as the made their way across the desert.

Cora hung in back, watching the Aevarian group carefully, obviously still skeptical of their intentions. They had said they had come to Cantu for refuge, and eventually revenge, of Cyrus. She could understand their reasoning, but their story wasn't all that believable. Surviving Cyrus's initial attack in the first place? A Rumigan outrunning two Midori ships? A purple cloud destroying their enemy and hurtling the Rumigan through the galaxy? Yeah right.

"You know, you can put the gun down," Will said over his shoulder to Cora.

"Or I could shoot you and be done with it."

That smirk was back on his face as he turned to her and said, "Oh I see. You're back there to check out my bod?"

"You wish."

He shook his head, exasperated already with the woman that just didn't seem to quite. "You know, we're not here to hurt you. We're here to help. You don't need to watch us like a hawk."

"Maybe I do. You know, after the attack on Cantu ... after they raided Zamora, and killed my father ... yeah, I think I deserve to be a little wary of any 'visitors.' "

Will stunned quiet after her confession, not knowing what to say. So he didn't say anything.

There was something about this Cora person that intrigued him. She was feisty, and smart, and damn stubborn. And okay, beautiful too. A soldier with attitude to spare, and she was pointing her gun at his back. Not at the group ... at him. What did he do to piss her off? All he did was defend his friends against her very certain wrath. He assumed he could just breathe and she would be livid. And damn if it didn't turn him on just a little bit.

They neared the cave, a large outcropping of boulders next to a substantial wall of rock scaling over one hundred feet tall. The opening to the cave was small; a scout would probably miss it if he weren't looking for it. It was tucked behind one large boulder, and the shadows of the rocks hit the black opening in the wall.

Cora and Payton had given them zero details of what to expect, and for all they knew they were walking into another trap. But their options were running out, and accepting any help was a relief. 

Payton entered first, squeezing through the opening between the boulder and the wall. Next was Isabel, followed by Nic who was now carrying a sleeping Mabyn. Rylie and Alec were next. Bo and Devlin ushered Koen inside.

Lastly, William and Cora. 

He stepped aside at the last minute, genuinely offering, "Ladies first?" Cora eyed him carefully, and then entered waited for him to cross the threshold of their refuge. 

It was dark inside, and Will's eyes took a minute to focus to the dim lighting provided with mounted torches. As Payton led the group, they passed guards who eyed the newcomers warily. Everyone was silent as they traveled further and further, and William noticed that, the further they traveled, the smaller the tunnel grew. When they had first entered, the cave had been some twenty feet tall. Now, the ceiling of the tunnel they traveled nearly scraped his head.

When he turned to Cora and asked the silent question, she responded, "It's not too much further."

With that she slung her gun over her shoulder, relinquishing her watch on the reclusive man named William, and prepared for the extensive explaining her and Payton were sure to undertake.

The tunnel finally opened into the larger cave. It was filled with light, large torches burning in every corner. Dozens of people were scattered, carving or whittling or cooking or cleaning. Koen hadn't expected so many survivors. But then, Payton had said that Cyrus had not been out so much for blood as he had been for supplies and resources. What little Cantu had had to offer, Cyrus had taken. 

Koen was still curious how Cyrus had kept the raid on Cantu a secret from the other planets in the Rylan system, or at the very least Aevar. He was certain that if his father had caught wind of Cyrus's actions, Eamon would have renounced the agreement and taken action against him. 

Aevar had never heard anything of the attack on Cantu or its people. But it was dangerous to play the 'what if' game, and so Koen quietly let the issue go.

He felt a strange kinship with the survivors, some of which were now looking at him with interest, while others remained oblivious to their presence. Koen looked at the ragged faces of children, women, and men who had sought refuge in the cave on the small dune planet. Some younger than Mabyn, some nearing the final days of their natural life.

They approached another large tunnel, and as they turned to enter it, movement to his right caught his eye. There was a group of young boys and girls with swords in hand, taking instruction from a woman. They followed her movement exactly. When she lifted her sword, so did they. When she took a step, so did they. When she swung at an invisible enemy, so did they. The woman's movements were precise, and calculated. She was sure of herself, her confidence radiated from her being.

She turned towards him and he caught her face, and he sucked in a surprised breath. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. The low light in the cave gave her skin a rich, bronze color. Her hair was a cascade of chocolate brown waves that fell to the middle of her back. Her large brown eyes were expressive but guarded, as if she held secrets deep inside her. 

Something about her called to him ... to his soul. It was as if he recognized her, and as they entered the tunnel and she disappeared from his view, he swore that he would find her again.

He had to. 



Providence Ch. 12



Leanna – English; Graceful Willow

Part 12

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She cuddled closer to him as they walked, resting her chin on his left shoulder, eyeing the dark cave and the homely Cantu survivors inhabiting it. It was all so new and different, and a little scary. Having Nic awake and holding her was helping, but Mabyn couldn't seem to put her fears completely to rest. It was a tangible thing in her chest, a tight ball of fright, nearly choking her at times. 

Ever since the last cave they were in, and what happened there, she had felt unsure about the people around her. She didn't know the people around her, the other survivors from Aevar; she didn't trust them and she knew they didn't trust her. Most of the time they ignored her, except for Isabel and Nic. She felt so alone, even with so many people around her.

Mabyn kept Isabel in her view as she eyed the new people they passed. Some were old, with gray hair and wrinkled faces. Some were young like her, with unruly hair and wild eyes. Many of them would stop what they were doing, and look at her with a perusing gaze that unnerved her. She would hide herself in Nic's shoulder until they passed, and then her eyes would peek out to gaze at her surroundings again.

She eyed the dark brownish-red clay walls that hugged the light from the torches. The shadows bounced and danced as they walked by. The ball of fear wasn't going away, though. It slowly grew with each step they took that led them further into the cave. 

She felt Nic hug her close, sensing her anxiety.

"You scared me," she whispered.

He nodded.

"I'm sorry," he replied, while rubbing her back. He knew what she was referring to, and God ... he was sorry. So sorry. 

She pulled back to look at him. Her brows furrows slightly, in a determined look as she said, "It won't happen again, right?"

He looked down at the little girl in his arms, who was clinging to him in fear and comfort, and there were no words to reassure her. Her big brown eyes searched for any sign of confirmation that he would never let something like the day's activities happen again. All she wanted was to hear those simple words, "It won't happen again." And he couldn't bring himself to say it. Of course he wanted to put her fears at ease, but he didn't want to lie either. And he would have to do one to fulfill the other. 

Dominic had never felt more out of place, more inadequate in this new role as 'father,' than at that moment. How was he to console Mabyn when he couldn't even bolster his own confidence? He had had no previous experience as a role model, and never once questioned his activities or motives before. Nic had never had to worry about his image. He had always been known as the amicable companion, never contributing serious or profound sentiment. He lived simply to enjoy life.

But now, he couldn't. And he hadn't realized it before. He had assumed that Mabyn would enjoy his company, and he would enjoy hers. But she wanted so much more. She wanted a dad ... she wanted a home. Could he give her that? Did she really want him to? 

Why me? he thought. Surely Mabyn didn't want an irresponsible soldier as a surrogate father? There must by someone better out there, someone more suitable to care for her. He didn't know the first thing about parenting ... obviously. He had made an ass out of himself, had put the entire group in jeopardy, and had subjected this little wisp of a girl – who was clinging to him like he was a lifeline – to harm and pain. He could very well be carrying her to her death, wherever they were going.

Dominic chose not to answer her question. He didn't want to lie to her, because he honestly didn't know what was going to happen, and he definitely couldn't change anything now that everyone in the small group probably wanted him dead. 

Except for Mabyn, though. She still wanted him. If she didn't, she wouldn't be nearly suffocating him with her need to hug him close. 

Her firm grip around him was actually comforting them both. He hadn't realized how much he needed her before now. Sure, he had hated the fact that he had to leave her in the cave on Aevar to go to the base. And he had waited quite impatiently to hold her again, to confirm that she was all right when they had finally gotten underway in space. Worrying about someone other than himself was something completely new to him. It was stressful, and heartbreaking, and wonderful all at once. He had never felt anything like it before ... and realized he didn't want to live without it again.

The fact that someone cared that much about him did amazing things to him. Not to mention the fact that it was completely unsolicited and innocent. Mabyn just wanted someone to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. And all he wanted was to give that to her. If only, he thought.

After several moments of waiting for an answer and not receiving one, she gave up with a sad sigh. Her eyes swept around them and caught the red blood that had fallen from his ear, and had dried, resting on his jaw. The ball of fear grew again, doubling in size.

Her small finger came up to lightly touch the blood on his jaw and neck. "You're hurt," she said quietly.

Nic sighed heavily, and shook his head. "I'm okay now."

She nodded, and then leaned in to give his boo-boo a quick peck with her lips. "All better," she murmured quietly. She missed his pained expression, wishing everything really was 'all better.'

The scary woman who had yelled and hit Dominic before was walking behind him now, in full view for Mabyn. She didn't like the woman ... Cora. She was loud and scary and impulsive. 

Mabyn leaned closer, in a whisper of secrecy. "Are they bad?" she asked. 

Nic thought for a moment. 

"I don't think so," he answered honestly. When he read her skeptical look, he continued, "We have to trust them, Mabyn. It'll be okay. They won't hurt you." He leaned closer, whispering just for her to hear, "I won't let them."

She nodded, seemingly content with his explanation, and closed her eyes as she laid her head on his shoulder.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"How's she doing?"

The voice to his left startled him, and he turned quickly to its source. Isabel.

He couldn't tell by her face if she was still upset with him. Assuming she was, but taking her initiating conversation as a good sign, he responded, "Yeah, she'll be alright. I think everything's catching up with her, ya know?"

She nodded, and sat down next to him.

No one else had said a word to Nic since his little speech in the desert, before Cora and Payton knocked him unconscious and tied everyone up. They simply ignored him, which Isabel could tell was a harsher punishment for Nic than actually yelling at him. He was always the center of attention, social and personable. Being publicly isolated was torture.

She eyed the room that they were now waiting in. It was large, with a lofty cave ceiling. Torches adorned the walls, much like the tunnels that they had traveled to get there. There were rugs on the floor, and a table with chairs around it. It seemed to be a private room, maybe a den or office of some kind. Payton and Cora had left shortly after bringing them here, and had told them to wait. They were bringing someone to question them. Who, Isabel didn't know. Hopefully it was someone that could explain why that Cora person was so God damn intolerable.

Isabel attempted to get comfortable while sitting at the edge of the room on the floor, near Dominic and Mabyn, who was now sleeping in his lap with her head resting on his shoulder. 

The others were at the table or scattered around the room. 

William was seated at the table stoned faced, as usual. 

Koen was next to him, preoccupied with his own thoughts as he was staring off into space, as usual. 

Bo and Devlin were quietly talking about weapons she assumed, if their motioning to the laser guns in their hands was any indication. They stuck together, as usual.

Rylie was in a far corner organizing their survival gear and supplies, as usual. 

Alec helping her, offering his abilities and services anywhere he could, as usual.

Mabyn sought comfort where she could get it, as usual. 

And poor Nic was bearing the brunt of the imposed rejection. She felt compelled to end it soon ... now.

"Yeah, I can imagine how hard this all must be for her," Isabel said, while lifting her hand to lightly stroke the small girl's hair, who was seemingly asleep in Nic's arms.

Dominic nodded.

He glanced down at the small girl snoozing lightly, and then up to Isabel. Their eyes met, and his throat tightened in repentance. He wanted to make it right with her, considering she was the only one even looking at him, much less talking to him. And it was the way she was looking at him ... with expectant eyes, waiting for him to say something. An explanation, a plea of forgiveness, a promise that it would never happen again. 

Once again, he was a deer caught in headlights. He had never had to explain himself to anyone before. He was never expected to, not that he would if it had been. But now, not only did he feel obligated to, but he wanted to. He wanted to explain and plead and promise. He felt compelled to say something ... anything, and all that came out was a pitiful, "I'm sorry."

Isabel looked at him for a moment, gauging his sincerity, and then nodded, saying, "Good."

Nic smiled self-consciously, wondering if that was all she was going to say. Surely Princess Isabel had more to say than 'Good.'

"You were just saying what everyone was thinking," she said offhandedly, chalking up the incident as extraneous ... much to Nic's surprise. But to Isabel, he had apologized and that should be enough ... at least for her. He was making it up now, holding and comforting Mabyn. 

It still astounded her how different he was now. It had been years since they had spent any amount of time together when they were Mabyn's age, when she and Koen, William, and Nic would play in the Palace courtyard and garden for hours. Back when they still remembered what it was like to be young and carefree and innocent. 

In her opinion, Dominic was forgiven ... as long as he kept Mabyn in mind. If he didn't realize how much he affected her, he should now. Isabel suspected he had had an affinity of affection to Mabyn as Mabyn had for him, but he didn't realize it, or at least acknowledge it. But now it was painfully clear ... she needed him, he needed her. And it seemed as though he wasn't going to split when things got rough. Thank God for small miracles.

"Well, that's the problem," he said. "I always say what I think. Or say without thinking. My mouth gets away from me, and I get in trouble."

She nodded.

"Yeah ... but everyone has their bad habits, right?" She gave a sideways glance in his direction, with a small smile. "No one's perfect."

His eyebrows rose. "No one?" he asked.

She laughed, and rolled her eyes.

"No one. Not even me."

Astounded, Nic asked, "Is the Princess Isabel admitting that she has flaws?"

She shook her head in mockery, ignoring his question.

"Well," he continued. "I better go check for flying pigs."

"Ha, ha. Very funny," she said. "Just for that ... I'm not telling you what they are." She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin flippantly, with a twinkle in her eye.

Shifting Mabyn up further on his chest to maintain a comfortable position, Nic asked, "Oh, please ... you have to tell me what these so-called 'bad habits' are. You can't just leave me hanging."

Her toothy grin emblazed her face. "You don't wanna know."

"Oh ... yes I do," he nodded emphatically.

She sighed dramatically.

"Fine ... but I swear, if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will kill you."

"Noted," he said quickly, listening intently. He scooted over closer to her.

"Well ..." she started. Isabel hoped he or anyone else couldn't tell she was blushing. It didn't matter what or who she was, talking about this kind of thing with anyone was embarrassing. Not to mention the fact that she was ... flirting, with Nic no less. 

"I guess my biggest flaw is that ..."

Her words hung in the air, and Nic watched her intently as she struggled to find the words.

"Yeah?" he prompted.

She glanced around the group cautiously, and Dominic followed her lead, making sure no one was overhearing. 

Isabel motioned with her index finger for him to lean in, and when he was mere inches from her she whispered, "I bite my nails."

He rolled his eyes and groaned dramatically. "Oh come on. You've got something better than that!"

She laughed.

"Nope," she said. "That's about it."

"Pitiful."

"What about you? Surely you have more flaws than over-speaking."

"Oh yeah," he said laughingly. "I got plenty of them."

"Well?" she encouraged.

Getting comfortable in his seat on the floor, he said, "Alright." He brought his right hand up, keeping his left on Mabyn. "One," he said, extending his index finger. "I'm short."

"You are not short," Isabel interrupted.

"Believe me, I am. Two – I have an affinity of making an ass out of myself in whatever way possible."

She laughed good-humoredly. 

"Three, I'm ... not smart," he ventured hesitantly. 'Stupid' was just too harsh of a word, even for him to say.

She turned to him, with a questioning look. "What?"

His shoulders sagged, suddenly wishing he didn't have to explain himself. "Oh come on. You of all people should know I'm not the brightest crayon in the box."

Isabel sobered, reading how serious Nic was. She lowered her voice, asking gently, "What are you talking about?"

He shrugged. "Don't you remember grade school, when we had that same tutor, Dr. Chasting?" He stared off in front of him, avoiding her eyes. 

"Oh Nic, you can't take anything he said to heart. He was a prick. Everyone hated him."

Nic nodded. 

"Yeah, but he was right."

"No. He wasn't."

He chanced a look at her, and she continued.

"I remember what he used to say to you in front of the class. He was always making an example of you, and everyone would laugh. And you would try and play it off." She shook her head in the memory, and frowned sadly when he nodded. "But you know what else I remember? I remember that it would take all my self-control not to say something to him. To put him in his place. He was an awful, awful man who took pleasure in belittling children. Just because you struggled a little bit in math doesn't mean you're stupid."

He eyed her thoughtfully. Dominic could tell she was telling the truth; she wasn't laying it on thick just for his benefit. It wasn't her style. She was being completely honest with him. He always knew how caring she was, even when she didn't. She had just become an expert at hiding it. But in that moment, he felt like he was ten years old again, hopelessly and completely infatuated with her.

And he had the distinct desire to kiss her.

He nodded, taking a serrated breath. 

"Okay, now that I've bared my soul, what about you?" he ventured quietly. 

She dropped her eyes, self-consciously, and nodded.

"Yeah, I ... I have a few insecurities myself." She played with her clothing nervously.

He shifted so that they were now shoulder-to-shoulder, eye-to-eye, breath-to-breath.

"Well?"

"I guess ... I'm afraid."

"Afraid? Of what?"

She brought her eyes up to his, hoping that she wouldn't find a condescending look, and relieved when all she found was sympathy.

"Of everything," she answered softly.

He thought for a moment. "Besides our present situation," he said, motioning to the room and condition they were in, "what could you possibly be afraid of?"

She shrugged heavily.

"You know me Nic. I'm not like other girls. I never was. Like you said, I'm a Princess. I don't have a normal life or normal concerns. I never have." She hung her head as she said softly, "But I'm still a girl, just like any other. And I get scared ... of getting hurt."

He shifted Mabyn to his right side so that he could sling his left arm over Isabel's shoulder.

"Have you been? Hurt, I mean."

She shook her head.

"No. I made sure I didn't."

Her meaning clicked. "Oh yeah. Ice Princess," he said under his breath, reminiscently. 

She turned to him, with a questioning look in her eye. "The who?"

He laughed nervously. "Well, that's what everyone called you back in the day. Ice Princess. 'Cause, you know ... you were so ... cold." He shrugged helplessly, hoping she wouldn't get the wrong idea, or mad.

All she did was roll her eyes.

"I guess I deserve that."

She of all people knew how she was, and she had to admit she was cold. But she had to be. She had to be strong and independent. She had to be the resilient Princess and withstand public criticism and speculation. Isabel was always fending off unwanted attention from men who only wanted her because of her title – not because of who she was, but what she was. She had to make sure that no one broke her or scarred her. She had to protect her heart.

And until now, she was perfectly fine with that life. Keeping insignificant, trivial friendships and relationships was a sensible cover. No one could say she was isolated; she surrounded herself with people. Not that any of them had meant anything to her. Not that I meant anything to them, she thought. She enjoyed the anonymity among her 'friends.' They didn't know her, and she wanted it that way. She had to protect herself ... protect her heart.

But in the end, she was beginning to see that she had missed out on so much, and she hadn't even known. She not only kept the hurt away, but kept the joy away too.

Not that there was a whole lot of joy going on now, what with the royal survivors of Aevar holed up in a cave on the dune planet of Cantu, awaiting their impending doom. 

But she was finding a little joy sitting here, in Dominic's arm, with Mabyn quietly sleeping. His eyes were so kind. That was one thing she had to give him – he was so damn lovable. Even after the 'incident,' she couldn't help but want to be around him. He was always so comical and friendly. If nothing else, he was such a great friend, loyal and reliable. 

"No, you don't deserve it. You deserve a lot better, Isabel."

She looked at him with an inspecting look. Was he for real? She still wasn't sure.

"Oh no?" she asked. "Third grade. Remember the Leanna incident?"

"Leanna incident?"

She nodded self-deprecatingly. 

"She was new and wanted to be my friend ... to the point of giving me gifts and doing my homework for me." When she saw him nod to go on – still clueless, she continued, "I spread the rumor that she had –"

"That she had lice, and no one talked to her for a month."

She nodded again.

"You remember," she said, more as a statement than a question.

"Yeah. So ... she didn't have lice?"

"Nope."

"Huh," he said, stunned silent. 

"Like I said," Isabel continued. "Ice Princess."

"Well, you had your reasons," he reasoned.

She gave him a, incredulous look. "I was a bitch."

He laughed.

"Yeah, well. We all have our moments."



Providence Ch. 13



Ben – Hebrew; Son

Part 13

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Their footsteps were hard and relentless against the clay and stone tunnel floor. Both young women turned several corners, headed to a large office that held their leader. They walked in silence, leaving each to her own thoughts. Cora’s eyes were a rigid green. Her shoulders were held back, giving her an air of confidence. Payton walked beside her somewhat withdrawn and disconnected, in deep thought.

“So, what do we tell Aron?” Payton asked as she curled a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear.

“The truth.”

Payton rolled her eyes at Cora’s bluntness. Of course they were going to tell him the truth. It never crossed her mind to tell him any differently. For everything that Aron had done for the citizens of Cantu, Aron deserved nothing but complete respect, honesty, and loyalty. Payton had been more than willing to put forth her efforts and support when Aron had asked for volunteers. She was still wondering, though, why she had to be partnered with Cora.

She chanced a look out of the corner of her eye at Cora. The girl was raw. So much anger and resentment, and she was only eighteen years only. She made Payton nervous … more so than she would like to admit. Half the time she was rationalizing their situation, attempting to talk Cora down from a dangerous decision that could mean their death or worse. They were so different it was frightening.

She hadn’t necessarily been surprised when Cora knocked Dominic out before they had even a chance to announce their position to the small group, or gave them a chance to surrender. Nor had she been surprised with Cora’s response to the group’s claim that they were Aevar royalty. She herself had doubted their claim. But violence was always her last resort. The opposite was Cora, who had a reputation of shooting first and asking questions later. Payton had learned quickly that, with Cora, nothing was certain. Except of course her loyalty. If she was nothing else, she was an outstanding partner and friend. Even despite the fact that to date she had probably taken ten years off of Payton’s life.

“Yes I know that,” she said. “But, how are we going to tell him? He’ll want details, Cora.”

“What’s your point?” Cora asked off-handedly. She had too many things on her mind to give Payton’s idle questions any real thought.

“Well, for starters, how about why we were in Zamora in the first place? Then there’s the fact that you injured a member of their party. Cora, how exactly do you plan to explain our discovery, analysis, detainment, briefing, and transportation of the royal survivors of Aevar?” She illustrated each point by counting them off on her fingers. When Cora continued to walk without responding, she ventured, “Are you going to tell him that you nearly gave the one a concussion?”

“If he asks.”

“ 'If he asks'. Fine, whatever.”

Cora sighed. “Payton, there is some information you do not offer. If they ask, you answer truthfully. But you do not offer it. You’re a soldier. There is protocol for everything, especially scouting missions. You get an assignment. You’re briefed on your objective. You fulfill that mission to the highest standard you can. Any and all question come later, when there’s actually time to think them through.”

Payton nodded, considering her point.

“I may have acted rashly back there. But it was in good faith that I had to protect the survivors of Cantu. For all we know that group back there is nothing more than a faction of Neroan soldiers trying to infiltrate our headquarters. While that might be very unlikely, I still needed to establish the fact that they are under our control. That we are in charge.”

“So I guess arguing with William ‘til you were blue in the face was just a job perk?”

Cora smiled at Payton’s joke. “Something like that.”

They turned a corner, and entered the last tunnel leading to Aron’s main office.

“Cora, do you think they’re telling the truth? Do you think they’re from Aevar?”

Cora stopped walking in the middle of the tunnel. Their short trek to Aron’s office was almost over, and she was quite anxious to see how Aron would respond to news that a man claiming to be the Prince of Aevar had landed on Cantu. But Payton’s uncertainty was palpable. She had never really questioned or argued with Cora before, at least, as far as Cora could remember. Payton was a steady, reliable partner, offering what she had and never complaining about what she didn’t.

The fact that she was questioning right now startled Cora slightly. But more so, it balanced her. For the first time her partner was not accepting Cora’s answer. She wanted a detailed analysis, she wanted proof, she wanted justification. Payton wanted to be an active player in their missions … in their partnership.

About damn time, she thought.

“I don’t know. That’s not really for me to decide.”

“What do you think will happen to them if Aron says they aren’t?”

Cora thought for a minute, considering Payton’s question. In all likelihood, Aron would have them executed. After all, it was acceptable given the conditions. But Cora found herself silently asking if it would really be justified. There had already been so many deaths. Would a few more really matter? 

“If they are lying, they are supposed to be executed.”

“I know,” Payton whispered. “But do you think he’ll do it?”

After slight hesitation, Cora shook her head. “No, I don’t think he would. That’s not the kind of leader Aron is. He’s not a tyrant. He’s not Cyrus. If he thinks they’re lying, he’ll probably incarcerate them; use them as leverage or something. They just don’t seem the type, ya know? They don’t come off as dangerous assassins. And, take into consideration they have a nine-year-old child with them …” she drifted off.

“Yeah,” Payton nodded. “What do you think happened to them? Why are they here?”

“William said they were escaping Cyrus,” Cora offered weakly. She honestly had no clue. Who in their right mind would want to come to Cantu? Especially now?

Suddenly agitated and nervous, Payton suggested, “Maybe after the raid, Cyrus hit Aevar.”

Cora nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“The Festival would have been recently, right?”

Cora nodded, following her reasoning. “Yeah, and everyone on Aevar is there. And this year, Cyrus was invited.”

“Perfect opportunity,” Payton mumbled.

“But the King and Queen aren’t with them.”

“So, they’re either still on Aevar or …”

“Or they’re dead.”

The two soldiers stared at each other. Both had honestly thought that their lives couldn’t have gotten much worse after the raid of Cantu. Seems that Fate had it in for the small dune planet.

“Oh God,” Payton said under her breath, dropping her head and closing her eyes at the revelation. 

Cora put one hand on her partner’s shoulder in support. “Payton, listen. We don’t know anything yet. This could all just be a big misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding?” she questioned, raising her sorrowful eyes to Cora’s. “What is there to misunderstand, Cora? It makes perfect sense. Cyrus wouldn’t stop after he had Cantu. He didn’t stop. He went straight on to Aevar.”

Cora didn’t really have anything to say. She knew that Payton was probably right. In all likelihood, the King and the Queen were dead. If they had been alive, they would have accompanied the Aevar group and their children to Cantu. 

Sighing slightly and having no words to comfort her partner, Cora motioned to the door with her head. “Come on. Aron’s waiting.”

Payton nodded trying to relinquish the jumbled emotions now racing through her system. 

Cora knocked twice, two hard raps on the heavy door, and waited.

The wooden door opened slightly, and the two women were met by a face of a young boy. His eyes were blue and his face was tanned. He was probably no more than twelve, but looked several years older because of his height.

“Yes?”

“Reporting to Aron, mission status.”

The boy nodded and stepped back slightly, opening the door for the two soldiers to enter. Cora’s gun was still slung across her shoulders and back, and Payton had done the same. They each stood side by side in the large room in front of a desk that held a flame lamp. The light was low in the room, but had just enough that Aron could read reports well enough. 

Aron looked up from his papers and smiled. 

“What have you got for me girls? Good news, I hope.”

Payton and Cora exchanged a look, which did not go unnoticed by Aron.

“I guess that depends, sir.”

Aron’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern “How so?”

“We took prisoners.”

Aron’s brows went from crumpled to grazing his hairline quickly. “Prisoners? Neroan?”

“No sir. They said they were Aevarian.”

He leaned back in his chair slightly, taking in the information. Aevarian prisoners. That just didn’t sound right. 

“What were they doing here? On Cantu?”

Another look was exchanged between the two women. 

Neither could tell if Aron would actually believe the story. Not that they had made it up; it was, in fact, very real. Cora found herself thinking how ironic it was that the most unbelievable stories were often times the most factual.

Payton spoke, her voice low and muffled by her anxiety. “They said they were escaping Cyrus.”

Aron’s facial expression didn’t change, but behind his eyes the wheels were spinning quite rapidly. Cyrus? Aevar? Refugees? It couldn’t be … could it?

“How many are there?” His voice was tight with adrenaline. But it wasn’t the fearful adrenaline. This sensation running through his body was from anticipation – expectant, nervous adrenaline. It was the type that heated his blood, and sped his heart in preparation for something that he had anticipated for quite some time. Years in fact.

“Nine all together.”

“Nine. Are they well? Any injuries?”

Cora hesitated.

“Well, one may have a slight concussion.”

Payton grinned internally. So Cora followed her own advice. Good to know, she noted. She might not have wanted to admit to that, and she hadn’t given Aron the full account of how Dominic got the ‘slight concussion.’ But she didn’t withhold information either. She was just answering Aron’s questions. In her own way, of course.

Aron nodded. Only one injury for evading Cyrus and his men was pretty good considering the extent of damage Cyrus did on Cantu. If their dune planet was any indication, Cyrus must have torn Aevar apart. Aron found himself thinking about Aevar for the first time in years. If the prophecy was finally being fulfilled, the King was dead. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that fact. If it was true, if the survivors were who they said they were, Aron had lost his best friend to a tyrant. But in Eamon’s death, Cyrus would ultimately be conquered. Eamon’s death was a catalyst for extraordinarily things to come. Aron could only hope that his death would not be in vain.

“Where are they now?”

“The office on the east wing.”

Aron stood from his chair.

“Ben?”

The boy from before entered the room from a side door that led to an adjacent, smaller room.

“I’m going to the east wing. Would you go and have Elizabeth meet me there, please?”

The boy nodded and ran off quickly.

Aron was a jumble of nerves. He hadn’t expected this to happen so … unexpectedly. He knew these events would transpire. He had known for eighteen, almost nineteen years. But over the course of time, the full implication of the prophecy had lost its impact. He had focused his energy on raising and training Elizabeth. And then recently, he had organized the survivors of Cantu. The fact that he could forget the impending death of the King of Aevar unsettled him.

“What are you going to do?” Payton asked quietly.

Aron brought his eyes up to the young women in front of them. In a voice that he hoped was reassuring, he said, “Question them. And you’re coming with me.”

Cora nodded and turned to follow Aron as he exited the office. Payton did the same soon after.

To the three, the walk to the east wing seemed to take forever. Every step felt light and eager, but they couldn’t seem to walk fast enough. Their patience was wearing thin: Payton and Cora anxious to see Aron’s reaction to the prisoners, Aron hopeful that all he had done over the years was enough.

They rounded the final corner, and saw Liz waiting for them outside the door. She looked up as she heard their footsteps, and cast a questioning glance at Aron, and then at Cora.

Aron answered her before she could voice her question. “Cora and Payton took prisoners today. I wanted you to be here while I interrogate them.” She nodded without complaint or question.

Cora and Payton retrieved their weapons from their backs and aimed them at the door and the unseen figures on the other side. Cora nodded at Payton, who unlocked the door and opened it slowly. Cora entered first doing a quick sweep of the room to assure that no one had a weapon drawn in preparation. Satisfied, she stepped aside and Payton, Aron, and finally Liz entered. Payton and Cora kept their weapons handy, but downcast.

The nine Antarians looked up at the sound of the lock disengaging and the door opening.

Aron took a visual inventory of the group. Eight adults, and one child. All awake and alert, and staring at him as if trying to determine if he were an enemy or ally.

He put a tentative but welcoming smile on his face, and said, “Hello. I apologize for your wait. I came as soon as I was told you were here.” He couldn’t tell who was who with any certainty. But he had a pretty good idea that the Prince was the young man withdrawn from the group, leaning against the wall. The young man that held piercing eyes at Elizabeth. The young man that hadn’t lifted his gaze from her since she entered the room.

“Cora and Payton tell me you’re from Aevar. Is this true?”

Will stepped forward. “Yes. We came here hoping to escape Cyrus.”

Aron smiled. “And instead you were met with Cora. Not a fair trade, is it?” Cora enthusiastically rolled her eyes.

Aron’s joking eased the tension in the room considerably, most shoulders sagging in relief that he was welcoming them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She’s beautiful.

Those were the only two words Koen could think in the few minutes since the mystery woman had entered the room. He was captivated and enthralled. She was intriguing and inspiring. She was everything he had hoped for and thought possible, and he hadn’t event talked to her yet.

It wasn’t just her physical beauty that entranced him, though. Yes, she was gorgeous. Dark, chocolate brown hair hanging low on her back in straight silky waves. Big, expressive brown eyes that she kept guarded, but held so much promise at the same time. Her thin waist and small stature were in direct conflict with her physical strength, he could tell. She seemed very strong. At least strong enough to wield the four-foot blade that she kept slung across her back. 

Her physical beauty was only outdone by her presence, her authority … her aura. She was beautiful, inside and out. She may have been a soldier or warrior, but her heart was pure. She was untainted, even when her planet had been overrun and destroyed. She held no malice. Even now, looking at the new inhabitants of their secret cave, she was not planning on killing them, secretly formulating an attack. She instead studied them. She brought her eyes from one member to the next, reading them with her eyes, determining if they were friend or foe.

His heart stilled when her eyes fell on his. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. All he saw were the large, brown eyes staring directly into his golden ones. The voices around him drifted off into a muffled blur, and he seemed to have his own silent conversation with the woman across the room. He wanted to fall into her, to know her, to learn everything about her there was to know. He didn’t even know her name, and yet he felt as though he knew her intimately, without exchanging any words.

And then the moment was broken when her eyes left his and landed on Isabel.

His lungs burned with the need for oxygen, and he hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath for quite so long. It had been so easy for her to move on, to not be stirred or absorbed by the connection that they had shared in those few moments. He had been moved beyond thought, and she had felt nothing. How stupid he must be to think she would feel anything for him. He chastised himself for jumping to conclusions. He didn’t know anything yet. Be Koen vowed that he would … and soon.

The voices of the room began to filter back into his consciousness as he became aware of his surroundings.

“Let me introduce myself.” He extended a hand to Will. “My name is Aron.” Koen’s eyes flew to the older man now standing in front of Will.

Will shook his hand affably. “William. It’s good to meet you.” 

Aron nodded and turned to his right. “I’m assuming you’ve already met Cora and Payton.”

Everyone nodded, and Will smirked. Cora glared.

Turning to his left, he put a hand on Liz’s shoulder, and said, “And this is Elizabeth. Another soldier in our camp.”

Will nodded and then turned to his group. He began listing each member pointing as he went. “This is Bo and Devlin, Rylie, Alec, that’s Nic and Mabyn there, Isabel, and finally …”

Without another word, Aron stepped forward, and offered a hand to Koen. “It’s an honor to meet you, Prince Koen.”

Everything went still at Aron’s words. Will had not said anything to Aron about Koen being the crowned Prince of Aevar. He had just known. How was that possible? Had he once been to Aevar and had seen them in a Festival or other occasion? Why hadn’t he said anything before? Why did the name Aron seem so familiar?

Koen’s gaze never left Aron’s as he lifted his hand to Aron’s.

“Same to you, Aron. How long has it been?”

“Too long. You were two years old when I left.”

“Eighteen years is a long time,” Koen said absently. “Father spoke of you often.”

Aron closed his eyes and lowered his head, nodding absently. 

Everyone in the room except the two engaged in conversation was stunned silent. These two men had practically never met, and yet they knew each other quite well. It seemed impossible, and yet just another item on the list of recent impossibilities.

Aron asked the question that had been plaguing him since Cora and Payton had informed him of their Aevarian guests. “It was the Festival, wasn’t it?”

Koen nodded.

With a regretful voice, Aron spoke. “We have much to talk about. But, I’m sure you are all hungry and tired, yes?”

When everyone agreed, Aron turned to Payton and instructed her to have sleeping quarters prepared and meals delivered. She left quickly.

Aron spun to address the entire room. “I’m sure you have many questions and quite a story to tell, but you need to rest. Cora and Elizabeth will see you to your rooms.”

He left soon after, and the group of eleven left the office.

Minutes later, they entered the south wing that was primarily used as a dormitory. 

Cora stopped at one door on the right side of the passageway, and opened it. There were two bunks, a small table, and a lamp illuminating the room. The beds were already made and there was a small bowl of fruit and a plate of breads and cheeses waiting. She instructed Bo and Devlin as they entered the room that the next meal would be served in six hours in the dining hall, located in the north wing. “Just follow the herd,” she said.

Liz stopped soon after on the left, and opened the door to a similar room. Rylie and Alec entered and Liz gave them similar instructions about dinner. Both were too tired to question the sleeping arrangement, and were asleep before Liz closed the door behind them.

Cora offered the next room to Isabel, who was holding a sleeping Mabyn. 




Providence Ch. 13



Isabel turned to Nic. “Do you want to stay with her? She’ll want you when she wakes up. I can take the next room if you want.”

Dominic hesitated before saying, “Well, there’s two beds. How ‘bout you take one with Mabyn, and I take the other one? She’ll want you, too.”

Isabel nodded, both grateful and self-conscious. Sharing a room with Nic? What does that mean? she couldn’t help but think.

At the same time, Liz opened the door to the final room. Will entered quickly without a word and claimed a bed. 

Koen hesitated before entering. She was right in front of him now. He towered over her, but Koen had the distinct confidence that she could break his arm or knock him unconscious with a blink of an eye. The knowledge was unusually inviting. Such a strong woman would usually dissuade a man in his romantic efforts. But for Koen, it was more perplexing than unsettling. She was an enigma, and he wanted nothing more than to piece her puzzle together.

Her eyes were averted, but he could tell it was not out of fear or intimidation. But out of duty and obedience. Out of rank. He had been exposed as a Prince, and she was averting her gaze out of respect. And he wanted none of it.

“Elizabeth?” he ventured quietly.

“Yes, sire?” she asked. He cringed at the term. 

He lifted his right hand and placed his right index finger below her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his. Her eyes were wide with surprise and expectation, and he had to actively fight the desire to run his thumb over her soft cheek and full lips.

“Please,” he said. “Call me Koen.”



Providence Ch. 14



Part 14

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The door shut behind him with a soft thud and the hallway was filled with silence. Cora nodded goodbye and left silently towards her room.

The empty hall was filled with soft light from torches that hung from the walls. No one was out walking the tunnels in the south wing, either sleeping or out training. All was quiet. Except of course for Liz.

She turned slightly from the door, staring off into space for several moments. Her mind was jumbled with questions and emotions, something that, over the years, she had learned to impede. No, her mind was anything but quiet.

She had never felt so unsettled in all her life. One moment she was teaching a sword class to new recruits, and the next she’s confronted with the Prince of Aevar, who – if she wasn’t mistaken – had hit on her.

Liz supposed she should be flattered. After all, Koen was certainly a handsome, suave, charismatic man who was known throughout the Rylan system as being youthfully attractive and engaging. He certainly had won over Aron quickly. It had taken all of thirty seconds for them to get friendly and reacquainted. 

That had not been the most surprising event, however. 

Liz had investigated the small group of visitors when she had first entered the room. Needless to say, she had not been entirely convinced that they were who they had claimed to be, so she had examined them; she had read them without their knowledge. Perhaps it was unorthodox for her to use her powers without consent. But few things had been ordinary lately, and Liz had felt obligated to protect Aron and the other Cantu survivors.

She had used their eyes to read them. Liz rarely ever used such a tactic; it always opened such a strong connection. But she couldn’t very well have gone up to each individual in the room and touch them. And as she had hoped, all of the Aevarians had been oblivious to the test and truthful about their origins. She had seen their hardships, their escape, their pain. Flashes of screams and guns, blood and carnage. 

Liz had spent several extra minutes with the little girl, making sure that she would sleep easier that night. She was certain that the memory of her dead mother would haunt the girl’s dreams, and Liz planted pleasant, somnolent thoughts and soon Mabyn had fallen asleep. She really was a beautiful child, and Liz had felt compelled to help her transition into the new planet, even if the little girl never knew.

Everyone had passed the ‘test’ that Liz had administered. Some images were haunting, some were peaceful, some were lovely and some were anything but. 

She could feel their relief when Aron had accepted them. 

She could feel their hope at a fresh start and a possible retaliation against Cyrus sometime in the future. They wanted Cyrus dead, which was fine with her. 

She could feel their exhaustion and vulnerability from their ordeal. 

And she had felt the emotions of the Prince. 

Liz wasn’t entirely certain what all of them were. So many of them were completely foreign, having never felt anything close to those nameless passions. Liz was a soldier, a trained killer. She was in control, confident, and calculating. She was everything that Aron had trained her to be.

And with one look into the Prince, her walls had crumbled around her.

Liz swallowed hard, and walked slowly to her room. Her sandals made silent steps on the clay and rock floor.

He she was strong and fearless, which was not an incorrect assessment. 

She was strong, Liz wasn’t afraid to admit it. She had worked endless hours on her physical and mental strength: running, yoga, lifting, and meditation. She trained with several different weapons. Laser guns, blades and swords, even chemicals and explosives. Liz knew the ins and outs of every weapon to her disposal, and then some. She knew twelve different ways to kill a man with her bare hands, and could probably create twelve more if she had to, or wanted to. She wasn’t afraid to fight or battle. The life of a soldier wasn’t what she lived for, but it was what she had prepared for. And she was more than good at it.

He thought that she was inspiring. 

She hadn’t been sure what he had meant by that when the thought had fluttered past his mind. 

Inspiring. It could have meant so many different things. Maybe he thought of her as exciting, which she supposed she was, in a way. Her life was anything but ordinary, she knew that much. She had learned very quickly that the life of a warrior was not stable or fixed. Growing up, Aron and she had frequently been on the defensive. The surrounding communities ostracized them when any knowledge or even speculation of Aron as a prophet arose. Hunters and politicians alike were pursuing them; Cyrus had a bounty on a prophet’s head. They hid from detection, moving from town to town, seeking refuge in the desert, savoring their anonymity when they could maintain it.

Perhaps he had thought her moving or … rousing. She wasn’t sure what she would ‘rouse’ in him, but she suspected from his pleasant thoughts that it was something good. Liz herself had found him quite interesting, in fact. He was so open, so clear and exposed. He had not shied away from her test. 

Perhaps that had been the part that had unsettled her most. Everyone else had been unaware of her investigations. She was able to get in, uncover information that she needed to clear her doubts, and then leave undetected before moving on to the next. 

Yet he knew and welcomed it. 

The deep connection was solidifying and liquefying at the same time. Solidifying her confidence in their innocence, and liquefying her resolve to keep them at arms length. 

Liz absently nodded to a young man who passed her in the hall, too troubled by her emotions to even notice who he was.

She had never wanted attachments, but the Prince had all but silently begged her to … what? She still didn’t know. But she had a very strong feeling that he wanted her, for something. And she couldn’t help but wish she could be that person for him. Whatever he needed, she was finding herself willing to give. 

The inner battle was deafening. She wanted something she couldn’t have.

He thought she was beautiful.

Liz swallowed hard again, and turned a corner.

She still wasn’t sure how or where to place that. 

Beautiful. Her? Elizabeth? The few times she had ever questioned her physical appearance were cut short and always unanswered. For the most part she had never cared, only when she had caught the eye of an attractive boy in a market did she ever give any thought of how she looked. It was never an issue. But the Prince had not only thought she was pretty or attractive, he thought she was beautiful.

Beautiful. Her mind still couldn’t comprehend even the word, let alone the implication.

For the first time in years, she was nervous. And despite all of the confusing emotions coursing through her now, and all the underlying insecurity she had, there was one thing she was sure of. She hated being nervous.

It made her question and hesitate. Liz wasn’t allowed either of those luxuries, and yet here she was, totally uncertain and questioning who she was and what she could or should do.

She had always known what her purpose was: to protect the citizens of Rylan and Aevar, to battle the evil that corrupted it, and one day to restore the system. Aron had told her about the doomed oracle and the unfulfilled prophecy. The Prince, Shaun, that had died at the hands of Cyrus’s malevolent hands. Cyrus had forced Shaun into the awakening, and the boy had died. He had told her that Shaun was never the oracle, even though he was considered one by the remaining prophets. Cyrus had mistakenly chosen him, leaving the prophecy from so many years ago unfinished, waiting for closure. Until, Aron said, she had been born. 

He told her she was that oracle. 

And she believed him. 

Aron had fed her the story, and even though it wasn’t until her awakening did she understand or believe, she had always wanted to believe him. It had always seemed so romantic and idealistic, that she could be the one to save Aevar.

She could still remember Aron’s words from so long ago.

Fate foretold that a soul would possess strength unknown to mankind.

The oracle would be resourceful, wise, and the ultimate weapon against all evil in our galaxy. 

This soul would be unconquerable, and because of this power, he would make peace on his warring world.

Aron had told her she was that oracle, and she had believed it; to her very bones she had believed she was the one that would fight against the evil corrupting Rylan.

Until now, Liz had never questioned her role. She had accepted it and had done everything in her power to fulfill the prophecy. Her training, her study, everything she had done was in preparation of things to come.

But after meeting the Prince, she found herself wanting more. Wanting something for herself. Maybe … someone for herself.

As she neared her door, Liz stopped, her hand hovering just above the door handle. 

She was being tested, she realized. The Prince was Fate’s test, to see if she could really withstand all that Fate would throw at her in the years to come. She had tested the Prince, and all along the Prince had been testing her.

Rage flamed through her.

The war had begun, and the Prince was a chink in her carefully laid plans. And she would be damned if he succeeded.

The door slammed loudly behind her in a deadening crack.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel deferred sleep as long as she could, and kept guard over Mabyn. She lay on her left side, her left hand propped under her head, with Mabyn sleeping on her stomach, her long, dark hair covering some of her face. Isabel stroked the little girl’s hair and rubbed her back gently whenever she seemed to need it. Surprisingly however, Mabyn seemed to be in a very peaceful sleep. 

Isabel wished she could find the same. But she knew that once she closed her eyes, there would be no peace, only nightmare. She wouldn’t see the elegant balls and handsome courtesans that pursued her, she would see Cyrus’s evil smile as Eamon slumped to the stage floor and her mother following soon after. Instead of reliving her birthday celebrations and family holidays, she would relive the terror she had felt as they escaped Aevar.

When she was awake she could think of other things, keep her mind busy on repetitive, tedious tasks. She could busy herself with Mabyn; she could make herself not think about it. 

When she was asleep, she couldn’t control her mind. And the vision of her dead parents surfaced.

She shivered in the bed just thinking about the prospect of thinking about it.

Her eyes began to drift closed, and she shook her head and blinked hard to fight it.

She glanced over Mabyn at Nic’s bed, and he seemed to be sleeping as well, which didn’t surprise her considering his head injury. Nic had taken the physical abuse and then his punishment in stride. Isabel reminded herself to ask about a doctor for him. She didn’t think Mabyn could take another separation from him, no matter how slight.

She wondered what Aron had planned for them when they woke. Would he expect them to speak to the Cantu survivors? How would he address them? As Aevar survivors, or as royal survivors? As Prince and Princess? Or would he address Koen as King? 

Would he require their services for their stay on the secret base? Surely he expected Bo, Devlin, Will, and Dominic to help with training. Rylie would likely volunteer with the injured. Alec would help somewhere, Isabel was sure. What of Koen and her? What would their roles be? She didn’t know how to do much of anything useful, having had servants all her life. She didn’t know how to cook or clean. She could barely take care of Mabyn. She could barely take care of herself. 

Her eyes drifted closed again, and this time she was too tired to fight it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He moaned loudly from the pain thundering in his head as he roused from an exhaustion-induced sleep.

Nausea bubbled in his stomach. His eyes refused to focus on his surroundings. His skin burned with discomfort, and he couldn’t tell if it was deathly white or fire red. Either way, he would guess he was near death.

Lamar didn’t know where he was exactly, assuming a hospital of some sort. Perhaps one of the makeshift infirmaries that Cyrus had set up at several bases on Aevar.

He was still alive, and from what he could tell, so was Brody though he hadn’t woken in quite a while. Ever since the surgery yesterday, his brother remained in a coma-like state.

He turned his head to the right, his lazy eyes trying desperately to focus on his brother who lay lifeless beside him on a white cot, similar to his own.

Lamar blinked hard when the bright light from the ceiling hit his tired eyes. He decided to keep them closed. His headache wasn’t making matters any easier.

The sounds of the staff that tended to him and Brody buzzed softly in the distance, and Lamar hoped this respite wouldn’t further agitate the tyrant that waited for them at the palace.

A restless slumber claimed him soon after.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aron exited his room, walking swiftly to the dining hall. He hadn’t been able to sleep; he hadn’t even tried. There was far too much on his mind.

A sense of foreboding began to take hold of him. He hadn’t told Elizabeth everything. He kept silent about her true purpose, about the Prince’s role, about the prophecy he had gotten in the cave so long ago. 

He was trying to guide her indirectly, telling her what she needed to know, and allowing her the opportunity to make her own decisions and let Fate guide her in her life. He was not her warden, he was her protector. Aron hoped she would see it that way when she uncovered the truth. When she learned of the second prophecy. When she realized what her true purpose was.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hunger woke them. The nine Aevarians rose from bed after several hours of much needed sleep and filtered into the hallway. Most were rubbing their eyes or stretching their tired muscles. 

Isabel was completely disheveled and eager for a hot bath. Koen was eager to find Liz and continue their chat. Will was eager to piss off Cora some more. Devlin and Bo were eager to eat. Alec was eager to get back to bed. Rylie was eager to make herself useful. Nic was eager to keep Mabyn safe. Mabyn was eager to keep Nic in eye and earshot; she noted the dried blood that lingered on his ear and jaw.

Aron rounded the corner and approached the tired bunch with an eager smile.

“I’m glad you are all up. We have a lot to do today. Did you all sleep well?”

When he didn’t hear any complaints, he continued.

“I’m sure you’re all hungry. I’ll take you to the dining hall. Its this way.”

He turned and the Aevarians followed, unwilling to question or argue. They were too tired or hungry to think.

“Koen, may I speak with you?” Aron called over his shoulder. 

Koen shot a look at Isabel, who shot an equally questioning look at him. Neither of them had an answer. They didn’t even know what question they were asking each other.

He neared Aron, who strode a few steps in front of the group, and walked to the older man’s right. 

He was rather nervous actually. Surely Aron had big plans for him. Without a doubt, Aron would not only want, but also expect, Prince Koen of Aevar to make an impressive, poignant speech to the survivors of Cantu. Aron would want him to spark their fire of revenge and justice. He would want a heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, applause-rendering speech that frankly Koen just didn’t have. 

It wasn’t that Koen couldn’t muster enough emotion in him to speak truthfully or with no holds barred. He could muster plenty. He just didn’t have the persona, the guise or pretext … he didn’t have the mind-set. He wasn’t a speaker or a spokesman. He was just a man who had lived through extraordinary things.

He had literally lain in bed dreading the upcoming confrontation with the prophet. He had few if any intact memories of the older man, and what he did know were what his father had told him. All of it was good, but it did little to lessen Koen’s trepidation. He hated being in the public eye, the center of attention. And here he was, about to swallow his tongue he was so nervous.

“I’m sure you all have been through quite a lot since the Festival.”

Koen eyed Aron slightly, and nodded.

“And being forced into a life you never really wanted is very difficult. I won’t pretend to understand what it feels like. To have an entire planet, and now two, depending on you. To have to deal with the deaths of parents and loved ones. To have people who care about you so much … they’re willing to die for you.”

Aron turned to gaze behind him at the Aevarian group.

They followed blindly, knowing that they were being lead to a safe place. They didn’t question, they didn’t hesitate. It was instinctual that Koen be the leader, even though until now he had been anything but. While they were escaping, William had gone into survival mode, making decisions for the safety of Koen and Isabel and the group as a whole. Now that that was over, for the time being, it seemed that Koen was in charge. Needless to say, Koen was now choking on his tongue.

It didn’t matter how many pep talks he gave himself; he was still … scared.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that you have an incredible amount of responsibilities, Koen. With your father gone…” He drifted off, lost in memories, and knowing that Koen wouldn’t want to discuss the subject so soon after. “You’re not just a boy anymore. You’re a man. You’re not just a Prince. You’re a King.” He met Koen’s eyes. “You have people who need you to be a King now. They need you to be there for them. And they’ll be there for you.”

Koen nodded, somewhat unsettled. He knew all of these things. He knew he was a King, even though the way he attained the throne made him want to vomit. It was his throne, despite pretense or drama. It was his.

Not Cyrus’s.

“You were my father’s advisor.” 

He saw Aron nod. 

“He wasn’t much older than you when he was crowned King.”

Koen took a deep breath, and then asked, “What did you say to him when he took the throne?”

Aron smiled slightly at the memory. 

“I told him that the planet of Aevar was bigger than its people, bigger than him. It’s a planet of responsibility and privilege. It’s a planet that has people who would willingly die to protect and defend it. I told him to never forget that the throne is a risky place to sit. People will lie and betray and … and kill for it. I told him that as long as he never forgot the responsibility, the rewards would be never-ending.”



Providence Ch. 15



Part 15

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Koen sighed heavily in the dim light of the setting suns, wondering just what he had been thinking. He watched her walk away and asked himself not for the first time, did he really think it would be easy, swooning the ever-elusive Elizabeth?

His head hung heavily and he kicked at the sand, dejected yet again but still finding some determination within him, the pool of hope not yet dry even after days of depletion and rejection and embarrassment. 

His first attempt had been completely heart felt and hopeful, and Liz had left him slack-jawed standing in front of a group when she didn’t even answer him. He wasn’t even sure if she heard his request to go for a walk. She simply acted like he wasn’t there, and then walked away while he was in mid sentence.

His second attempt had turned out no better. When he mentioned joining her sword class her eyes had lit with a fire of rage, and her only reply had been, “Burn in hell.” Big words, he had thought with a secret smile, from such a tiny woman.

Even so, he would not stop. The third time, he had inadvertently found her source of anger. He hadn’t been sure why she was so angry with him. He had barely talked with her and yet she showed hostility and resentment towards him. 

He had asked an innocent question one afternoon, genuinely curious, inquiring about her childhood and family. She had turned livid. Her eyes had been wild and her voice low but tight as she responded, “Believe me, Your Highness, you needn't worry about such lowly subjects as my family. Us peasants can care for ourselves. Why don’t you go ask Ben over there to refill your drink? I’m sure it needs refreshing after your hard day of lounging on your throne.” She had stormed off, leaving Koen silent and William furious, who had witnessed the heated exchange.

It had been four days since that encounter, giving Koen plenty of time to contemplate her meaning and convincing William to not say anything to Aron about Elizabeth.

“Koen, how can you ask me to not say anything?! It was completely inappropriate! You ask her a simple question and she blows up in your face. Who is she to-?”

“Will, don’t. I don’t want to cause any problems. Jesus, we just got here and I’m already making enemies.” When he saw Will relent slightly, he continued, “We need Aron. And Aron is very close with Elizabeth. We need to keep as many allies right now as we can.”

And with that explanation, Will had been convinced. Yes, Koen had played on his friend’s natural tendency of protector and warrior, but it had worked. Will was at bay, and Koen was left with the impossible task of convincing the one person who was in every way inconvincible.

He was completely surprised that she assumed he was using his status as a romantic influence. He had never thought for a moment that he was somehow entitled to her or any other because of his title. Whether he was a King or a Prince or a defunct adolescent, he didn’t want special treatment. But he also didn’t want anyone to think they didn’t have a choice when it came to what he wanted. Growing up, he had felt suffocated by his parents’ constant hovering and discipline and demands. The only thing Koen wanted was Elizabeth. He needed her, more than he needed air to breathe. And the stress of her refusal was choking, to say the least.

The only respite he ever found from her steadfast refusal was the distraction that Aron showed him. The past couple of days had been blatantly hectic: introductions, announcements, meetings, training; it seemed to never end. 

All of the members of the Aevarian group had thrived in the new environment. Mabyn had found new friends and a sparkle in her eye. Dominic and William were organizing the small army that Aron had formed. Bo and Devlin helped train new and existing recruits every night. Alec offered his intelligence training, attempting to contact Aevarian allies. Rylie had successfully organized the treatment center that had been started. Even Isabel blossomed whom he had been convinced would rather eat mud than wash laundry or prepare meals. But he knew without her telling him, she enjoyed the regularity, the security of routine and habit. It wasn’t necessarily the work she took pleasure in; it was the distraction she enjoyed.

And Koen had established himself as the ‘King’ of Aevar, even despite his protests to formally take the position. Aron had introduced him to the hungry audience in the dining hall that first morning on Cantu and after a brief pause, the awed crowd had cheered and applauded louder than any audience Koen had ever stood before. It was hard for him to believe that anyone would actually want him to be King, considering his past sentiments on the position.

The people of Cantu sent him gifts daily, bowed as he passed them, waited on him hand and foot. It didn’t matter how many times he thanked them for their kindness or requested a moment alone or relinquished them of their duty. Even if he wasn’t a King in his eyes, to them he was. He was their King.

But his heart wasn’t in it. It just didn’t feel right, not yet anyway. He didn’t want to be King until he could rule his planet on his planet, until he took it back and had Cyrus’s head. And if he allowed himself to be completely honest, he didn’t want to rule alone either.

Liz disappeared into the cave entrance, and Koen was left contemplating his next move. This time she had not only refused his proposal of a private dinner outright, she had insisted quite vulgarly to ‘leave her the hell alone and mind his own fucking business.’

Hmmm, Koen thought. It was obviously going to take some deep persuasion. It didn’t matter how many times she said no, or how gracelessly she said it, he wasn’t giving up. Not on her … never would he give up on Liz.

But his persistence didn’t lessen his hurt each time she did say no. Each day he would build his courage, psyching himself up with mental pep talks, convincing himself that they belonged together and it was only a matter of time until she realized it. That this time she would accept an invitation to gaze at the stars or spend the day watching after the children or sit with him in the dining hall for breakfast, or lunch, or dinner … or dessert. He would feel the brief spark of hope deep inside him and his chest would constrict with its intensity. It was the same feeling he felt when he and Liz first met the week before. In those moments, the task of persuasion didn’t seem so daunting. She had convinced him with just a look, and now it was his turn to convince her.

But how he was going to convince her was something he just couldn’t figure out. He rubbed his hand over his tired face. Convincing Elizabeth was the most exhausting mission he had ever attempted. Hopefully he wouldn’t loose too much sleep tonight contemplating his next move. If and when he finally cracked her steely resolve, he wanted all of his strength to bask in the glow of success.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A new day brought yet another routine of chores, duties, and missions. 

Despite her initial hesitance at domestic work, Isabel had gotten quite good at her kitchen duties. She had asked Aron to put her to work, and the only position available besides indolent monarch was cook. She couldn’t sit idly for another day; it only allowed her mind to wander. Isabel needed a distraction and no matter what it was, even scrubbing pans and sweeping floors, she did it wholeheartedly. 

She had excelled quickly. So quickly that she was getting bored while she worked. So bored that her mind would wander and she would think of things that she preferred not to think about.

So instead, she decided to accompany Rylie to the treatment center, learning how to clean wounds, set a broken bone, and give CPR. Needless to say, it had been a tad daunting at first. Rylie was confident and sure, and Isabel’s had shook with her nervousness.

“Now, you want to make sure that you close the nostrils and breathe quickly into their mouth, sealing your lips to theirs.”

Isabel faltered at the statement and gave Rylie an incredulous look. Seal your lips? What the fu-?

“Don’t worry, Isabel. You’ll be fine.” Rylie could tell that the young woman wanted to learn. But she could also tell that she wasn’t comfortable yet. Not by a long shot. Isabel just needed to relax and take a baby step into the world of medicine and health care. The best medical doctors on Aevar had trained Rylie. Isabel had just learned how to take someone’s temperature. Patience, she told herself not for the first time. Patience.

Isabel shook her head. “No. No, I … I don’t think so. I am so not cut out for this.” She took a look around her. Scalpels, syringes, white hospital cots, and several recuperating victims gazing intently at the beautiful Princess. This was not good. “No, I think I’m just going to go back to the kitchen where I won’t make a complete fool out of myself and possibly kill someone.” 

A worried look passed between two young men lying next to each other on their cots. She wasn’t going to treat them, was she?

She turned to leave as quickly as possible, when Rylie’s voice stopped her.

“Isabel, wait!”

Isabel slowed at the entrance, wanting so much to stay but needing to leave just the same. She thought she could do it. She thought that she could help someone besides cooking potatoes or washing their sheets. She wanted to know how to really help someone. She wanted to know that, if she ever had to, she could save someone … like she wished she could have at the Festival.

But this … this was so much more than she thought it would be. So much harder than anything she was ready for.

“Isabel, look. I know it’s a lot. But, we’ll take it slow. You’ve already learned a lot today. Tomorrow you can come back, and we’ll try something new. I’ll teach you how to take a blood pressure. But we’ll take it one step at a time. Okay?”

She saw Isabel consider her proposal. She knew Isabel wanted to learn. She was just scared. And rightfully so, Rylie thought. Who wouldn’t be intimidated after witnessing her parents’ death?

Isabel turned to Rylie, both hesitant and hopeful at the same time. She looked into Rylie’s blue-gray eyes uncertainly. “Do you really think I can do it? I just … I don’t want to embarrass myself. I don’t want to waste your time. I don’t want to screw up or …” hurt someone, she finished silently. She shuttered at the thought.

“You’ll be fine. I promise, we won’t do any invasive surgery techniques until you’ve mastered nosebleeds.”

The attempt at a joke brought a brief smile to Isabel’s face, and she nodded her assent. “Tomorrow?” she asked.

“Tomorrow.” Rylie watched her exit the large room, and let out a deep breath. Patience.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cora carelessly dropped her gun on the table and wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. Damn it was hot out there. Both suns had risen by the time she and Payton returned from guard duty. After returning, her partner had left to bathe and get a few hours sleep. Cora had gone to the large public commons area, intent on winding down before returning to her room. She wasn’t much for solitude.

She reached for her bag to retrieve her notebook, when a shadow loomed overhead.

She sighed without looking up and asked, “What do you want?”

A low chuckle was heard, “What? No hello?”

“William, I really don’t have time or patience for your rudimentary attempt at conversation. Tell me what you want, or leave.” She opened her notebook, and went about searching for a pencil in her tattered bag.

Will watched from his standing position as she ignored him. Thank God, he thought. He internally sighed, thankful that she still hadn’t caught on yet. He wasn’t trying to annoy her with his daily intrusions, constantly making his presence known, though it was a side benefit. And if she didn’t know, he sure as hell wasn’t going to offer the information. That would be way too embarrassing.

He pulled an apple from his pocket and took a bite, roughly sitting next to her on the small table. Will drew a pen from his coat, waving it in front of her face. 

She looked up at his sudden presence next to her fully intent on telling him to fuck off, when she saw the pen. Cora gave him an obstinate look, and took the pen, allowing him to reside in his seat until he pissed her off again. It was only a matter of time.

Without a thank you, she began making notes, writing any activity she or Payton had seen on their duty. Will gazed over her shoulder at the notebook and chewed on the fruit loudly.

She looked at him quickly, and he averted his gaze, taking another bite of the apple.

When she returned her focus to her notes, Will began to read over her shoulder again, with a small smile on his face. He was pissing her off pretty easily. Not that it ever took any great effort.

“What?!” she asked, already annoyed and finally fed up with his childish games. Didn’t take long, he thought. Not like it ever did. “What? What do you want?”

“Wha’s dat?” he asked, as he chewed on his apple. The words were muffled by his full mouth.

“A notebook.”

“Oh,” he responded absentmindedly, returning to his attention to his snack. He heard her sigh loudly, clearly annoyed.

Just when she was sure he had lost interest, “Whatcha writin’?”

She looked up and saw her gun just within arm’s reach. It was very tempting, but she summoned her control to not kill the bastard. Just because he was annoying as hell didn’t mean he deserved to die. Yet.

“Notes. I’m writing notes.”

He nodded. 

“Why?”

His chewing seemed to echo in her ears. Was he chewing that loud on purpose? “Every mission or rotation I make notes of what I saw.”

“Why?”

“Its procedure.” He stared at her and she knew he would only keep up the continued line of questioning. So she offered an explanation. “It gives me an idea of what to expect. A study guide of their habits, their movements. I don’t want to be surprised.”

He nodded, genuinely impressed and she caught his surprise. He hadn’t expected her to go the extra mile, which only angered her more. If there was anything she gave more than 100% at it was her job. Being a soldier was the only way she could think of to avenge her father’s death. Cora wanted to know everything she could when the time came to kill the bastard that murdered her father.

“Why?”

She was pulled out of her reverie at his question. “Why what?”

“Why are you so eager to kill someone?”

Her eyes grew large. Had he been reading her mind? There was an oddly comfortable silence, both of them reading the other. All pretense fell away at his observation. For once, they weren’t judging each other and the usual hostility evaporated. She asked herself if there was more to Will than met the eye. He asked himself how much longer he could lie to himself. He was in deeper than he wanted to admit.

He was a prisoner. A hostage. Ever since that ‘incident’ in the desert, he told himself. Ever since then, Cora had gotten underneath his skin, irritating the hell out of him. He felt the urge to protect her that rivaled, and even overwhelmed his need to protect Koen and Isabel. For some reason he felt the irrepressible need to keep her safe, which was nearly impossible considering she went on scouting missions every other day and took guard duty as often as possible. 

Will had kept an eye on her and a mental note of her schedule. When she returned from a mission he would check in, making his presence known and reassuring himself that she was all right. He had prayed that she wouldn’t find out and call him on it. He wasn’t sure what he would do if she ever did. He was sure his incredibly large, masculine ego couldn’t live through that embarrassment.

“I’m not,” Cora answered softly.

“No?”

She shook her head softly never loosing eye contact with him. Unconsciously, their faces drew closer together, their voices dropping to a low hum.

“No. I just want revenge.”

He studied her for a moment. “For your father,” he offered, already knowing her answer.

She nodded and dropped her gaze to her hands.

Will wasn’t sure where he was going with this, or if he was going anywhere. When he was around Cora, nothing was certain. And for once, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

“What will you do after that?”

She shrugged, and played with her sleeve. “I don’t know.”

“Will you stay on Cantu?”

She thought for a moment before she answered. “I’ll stay with Aron … until the war’s over. After that, I’m not sure. You?”

He grinned. “Same.”

She laughed quietly and blushed when she noticed he seemingly couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“How about that. We actually agree on something.”

“Yeah.”

She met his eyes again, and fell into them. For once he wasn’t arrogant or annoying or argumentative. He was just Will. The façade he usually wore crumbled. His dark brown eyes searched hers; her green eyes searched his. For once, she liked what she saw.

Something red came into view, and he successfully broke the mood as he took a large bite of his apple. 

He grinned with a full mouth of apple. “Good to know.” 

He stood from the bench and left a bewildered Cora in his wake. Will didn’t look back too afraid that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He ran an unsteady hand through his sandy brown hair. That had been close. More than five minutes in Cora’s presence was too much. He couldn’t let himself get that far gone again. It wasn’t safe.

He turned a corner and ran into a hard body. “Whoa.”

“Sorry,” the voice said. “Will.”

Will looked up to see his good friend. “Koen. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he absently said as he searched the faces of the crowd in the commons. When he didn’t see Liz anywhere, he asked, “Have you seen Nic? I was supposed to meet with him five minutes ago.”

“Uh, yeah. I saw him over on the west side,” he said and pointed in the direction for good measure.

“Thanks.”

Koen stealthily walked through the crowd, ignoring the intense gazes he received. He searched but he couldn’t find Dominic anywhere. He had looked at his room, had checked with Isabel, and now, he wasn't in the commons either. Nothing was going right today, and his shoulders sagged for not the first time that day. 

The commons was loud with activity, but over the noise he heard a sniffle. It caught his attention, and he waited to hear it again. He turned to his right following the noise, and found Mabyn sitting against a far wall alone.

Her knees were pulled up to her chest and her head was bowed low. Her hair hid most of her face and the low light in the corner obscured her form a bit. But there was no mistaking it was Mabyn. As he neared her he saw tear tracks on her cheeks. 

“Mabyn?” Koen stooped to kneel in front of her.

She looked up, startled than anyone had noticed her. She didn’t want to be noticed. She wanted to disappear.

When she didn’t respond, he continued, “Mabyn, what’s wrong?”

She looked down, not answering his question and tugged at her necklace that Isabel had made for her. The white shells and stones contrasted nicely to her dark skin. She felt more than saw Koen sit next to her on her left. Why was he here? Why wouldn’t he just leave?

Mabyn seemed so alone, and somehow hurt. Koen wasn’t sure how to comfort her. She obviously didn’t want him here … she wanted to be alone. Nic and Liz and everything else faded away as he focused on Mabyn and what she needed. He was trying desperately to keep that promise he made to himself so many nights ago. No matter what he had on his plate, Koen would always make time for the little girl that effortlessly stole the hearts of the Aevarians.

He tentatively put his arm around her shoulder, and then let it drift down to rub her back. She liked back rubs, he knew. Isabel had told him it always seemed to calm her. It worked now as he watched her shoulders relax and her breathing even. She closed her eyes and welcomed the comfort.




Providence Ch. 15



Several quiet minutes passed, each getting comfortable with the other being so close. While Koen had taken to Mabyn very quickly, Mabyn had been slow to open up to him just as she was with most everyone. Whenever he attempted conversation with her, she would look at him, study him, and then look away and never say a word. The fact that she welcomed his attempt at consoling her was an ego boost for Koen. He needed a victory today.

He lowered his voice, making sure no one would overhear. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” He tried not to laugh with delight when she scooted closer and leant into his embrace. He hugged her close.

Mabyn hesitated for only a minute, and then with a pain-filled sob whispered, “I miss my mommy.”



Providence Ch. 16



Kale – Hawaiian; Strong and Manly

Zurine – Spanish; White

Part 16

The air hung heavily in the small, crowded conference room. The small group, ten men and one woman, surrounding the large table was becoming weary. Hours on end every day for the past week, they would discuss, dispute, and debate about their militaristic options, and then depart without any resolution, only to start the process again the following morning.

Aron had invited Alec, Koen, and William to sit in the council. While William had taken the invitation enthusiastically, Koen had been reluctant at first. Summits and negotiations were not his particular cup of tea, neither was sitting in a stuffy room with overbearing, overgrown middle-aged men who loved to argue and hear themselves talk. But when he saw the woman seated to his right, the woman that had haunted him for the past few weeks, he found himself dragging Will to the conference room in eager delight.

Alec had wanted to offer them some kind of reprieve, a little good news in the sea of bad. He had had some success in contacting Aevar's allies. He had assumed that Juniper, Dagan, and Nero had combined forces in Cyrus's attack against Aevar, even though he had no confirmation.

So that had left Cantu and Aevar, where one was all but deserted and the other was nothing more than a battlefield. 

Alec had spoken with several of Aron's advisors, and they had concluded that gaining support from allies, while very dangerous, was imperative. But ‘who' to contact was almost as ridiculous as ‘how' they would help them. 

The questions rolled in his mind over and over. Who would they contact? How would they respond? Would they even come to Cantu to help?

Alec had wondered how far the news of the stricken Festival had gone, if the surrounding systems had heard … if they even cared.

He couldn't help second-guessing anything now. Never had he once faltered in his allegiance or pride in Aevar. And he still didn't. But what would stop anyone else from giving up? Circumstances were certainly conducive to it.

The communications equipment that he had been given access to were certainly lacking. While he had been original and inventive with his equipment in the safehouse on Aevar, he had needless to say been discouraged. Nothing was 100% operational and several items were outdated by more than five models or fifty years. Some of the pieces he didn't even recognize, which troubled him the most. How many more obstacles were out there waiting for them?

He had worked for countless days, organizing, rebuilding, contacting. Some successful, some not.

Alec had yet to offer his new and pertinent information in the heated conversation going on around him. Everyone present at the table was either frustrated or hungry or depressed. The combination didn't invite hospitable chitchat.

"Well, I say we get off of this damned planet. There's nothing here but sand and sun. We won't survive the war if Cyrus keeps cutting off supplies," one burly man heatedly offered. 

Alec had missed most of the conversation, but he caught on quickly. 

"We can't just leave. There are too many people to relocate."

"I'm not talking about relocating. I'm talking about saving our necks!" he countered.

A third man spoke up. "What are you suggesting? That we just leave the survivors to fend for themselves?!"

"That's exactly what I'm saying!"

"Enough!"

Aron spoke calmly, but steady enough that his authority had not been questioned. He had taken the position of moderator since the council, plus Alec, Koen, and William, had started to meet daily. Their arrival, while rejuvenating, had brought a handicap that Aron had not foreseen. Even the Prince of Aevar couldn't bring in food or water. The survivors were restless, and more mouths to feed meant less for everyone else.

"We're not leaving, and that's that."

The burly man huffed; his red face seemed to boil blood under his skin. Koen didn't know who he was and certainly didn't like him. He was the type of man who, when you saw passing by, made an effort to avoid. Koen wished he didn't have to sit in direct view of him.

"Well, we will need to find another alternative. What supplies Cyrus actually sends is small enough, but with the guards at the docks hoarding them … Kale's right. We won't last much longer this way."

"What do you suggest besides relocating?" another man asked him, giving a brooding Kale a stiff look. 

"I guess we could try to take the docks back. But if Cyrus hears of an uprising he'll send more guards to finish us off."

"I agree," Aron said. "We need to come up with a solution that doesn't risk everyone's life but at the same time doesn't give away our location."

Kale spoke again. "There is no solution. Cyrus's made sure of it. We can't contact any allies and even if we could they wouldn't help us. It's a suicide mission."

Alec decided to speak for the first time. "That's not true."

His blue eyes widened as every head turned in his direction.

"What do you mean Alec?" Aron asked quietly.

He hesitated swallowing passed the lump in his throat. "Well, I've been working on the communications equipment for the past few days. I was able to get a clear signal, and … and I contacted two allies."

A hushed murmur rumbled through the conference room. 

"And?" Aron prompted.

"My contacts at the planets Miya and Zurine both agreed to send reinforcements as soon as possible. Just one ship from each planet for now, with supplies and a few soldiers. After we establish a strong position, and they are able to relay information to their superiors, they've agreed to provide troops, supplies, and anything else we might need to fight Cyrus. They're spreading the word of Koen and Isabel's survival as we speak."

"So, they've heard of the Festival?"

Alec turned to his left, facing the man who had asked the question. "Yes, but they didn't know that the Prince and Princess survived. Cyrus had declared himself King of Aevar. They just assumed the royal family was dead."

"How soon will they be here?" another eager voice asked.

"Within a few days. The Zurine ship will take longer since they're so far away. I told them to land after night fall at the coordinates you gave me," Alec said, indicating Aron. "The Miyan ship will be here in less than forty-eight hours."

The questions continued, most now eager at the information Alec offered. They had been so hopeless for so long. They were like starving men getting their first drops of water.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Koen covertly watched Elizabeth from the corner of his eye, not really hearing the conversation. She sat to his right, obviously avoiding his gaze. 

[i]She always looks so beautiful, he thought. [i]Even now with her eyes dulled in exhaustion.

Liz had been up late training another sword class, and then had disappeared with Maria into the desert afterward. He didn't know why they had gone out so late, but he had worried that something might have happened to either one of them. With Maria's laser gun and Liz's sword, he was quite sure they each could handle themselves. But he still worried. 

She hadn't been in the commons or cafeteria much either. He knew she was avoiding him, and he began to wonder if there was more to it than just plain dislike. She seemed to despise him, when all he had done was go out of his way to be a friend. Of course he wanted more than friendship, but there was a starting point for every relationship and he didn't want it to end before it even began. If it ever did begin. 

They hadn't talked, or rather he hadn't talked to her, since the rejection in the desert three days ago. Suddenly spending time with Mabyn seemed more important than getting his heart trampled on.

After her sorrowful confession, he had made a concerted attempt to shower Mabyn with love and affection. He never wanted her to doubt her place among them, even though he instinctively knew she did anyway. 

They had talked, as well as a grown man and a little girl could, about their mothers' deaths. They formed a bond that day, alternating stories of love and loss. He knew what it was like to loose a mother, and she found comfort knowing she wasn't completely alone.

Koen hoped that one day she would be able to move on as best she could and live a happy life. Maybe with Nic, maybe with Isabel, maybe with another family somewhere. Maybe with him, he thought. He was only twenty, but a little girl deserved a good home and if push came to shove, he would take her in without a second thought. She deserved that much, a safe home with someone who loved her. And it certainly wasn't like she was a difficult child.

She had a fighting spirit. Even despite her grief, she smiled through her tears as she spoke of her mother. The bakery, the smells and delicious pastries, the bedtime stories, her mother's beautiful singing. They were memories that she would have the rest of her life.

Koen found himself wishing he had made more time for his mother and father. For so long he pushed them away. The Festival made him reevaluate his life, and what he wanted. He didn't want to be the immature twenty-something playboy that he was before. As he thought about it more each day, he knew what he wanted. 

He wanted to rule Aevar. The realization had shocked him quite significantly at first. Koen wanted to reclaim his planet, take the throne and rebuild his home to the splendor that it once was. He wanted to help Cantu and its people, and bring Cyrus to justice.

He wasn't doing it for himself. He wasn't doing it for Isabel or William. He wasn't even doing it for his parents, even though he knew they were smiling down on him.

It was refreshing. For once in his life he wanted to do the right thing for no other reason than to help people. It wasn't selfish, it wasn't narcissistic. It was almost as if the Festival had been a cleansing. The blood, carnage, and death were a means of transformation, and now all that lay before him was unsoiled and good and pure.

A new beginning, not only for him but for everyone involved as well. He only hoped that he could live up to their expectations.

Koen shook himself out of his reverie. He had been so preoccupied that he had missed most of the conference. He looked up to find Aron and Alec talking candidly now, while William conversed with other military personnel. Koen felt eyes on him and turned to his right, more out of habit than anything else, and found himself under deep scrutiny from the brown-eyed angel before him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She hadn't meant to do it. It just happened. One minute she was making a concerted effort to ignore the Prince and concentrate solely on the conference.

And the next his thoughts echoed in her mind unhidden and unwelcome.

Liz didn't even know how the connection sprang to life in the first place. She wasn't looking at him, she wasn't touching him.

But even more disturbing was not how, but why.

Why did the Prince affect her so much, when she wanted nothing more than to wash her hands of him?

She stopped her internal sermon short, suddenly thinking that that wasn't entirely true. 

Liz had to admit, he wasn't all bad. He did have some redeeming qualities, but for her liking and sanity, she preferred not to list them or acknowledge them in any way.

It was easier to bar him from her life and leave it at that. [i]But is it fair? her conscience kept asking her.

Ever since that confessional she had witnessed in the commons, she had questioned her feelings toward Koen. 

She hadn't meant to spy or overhear. Mabyn's voice had called to her over the dim of the midday crowd. Her sobs had echoed in Liz's heart. 

She had seen Koen hugging the little girl close, comforting her, encouraging a small smile to form on Mabyn's lips. Liz hadn't realized that a similar smile echoed on her own lips at that moment.

All of her preconceived notions of the man before her had seemed irrelevant. Yes, he was handsome and charming. Liz had heard of the Prince and his tendencies of fraternization and debauchery, and she had assumed that it had been true, and punished him for actions that he had not yet committed. 

But seeing him with Mabyn, she seriously questioned the gossip. He hadn't been a ladies' man or playboy. He had been a brother and father figure. Koen had been a ray of sunshine in Mabyn's gloomy mood.

Liz wondered if she was wrong, and had gone so far as to ask for Cora's council. 

She hadn't been sure if doing so made her look utterly desperate or completely stupid, but Cora had seemed to take her inquiries in stride and offered her typical offbeat responses that made Liz both laugh and think.

[i]"Look Liz, the main thing you have to ask yourself is, do you really want to not be with him?"

Her eyebrows scrunched in thought, and responded self-consciously, "I'm not sure. I'm definitely … attracted to him, but … there are just so many other things to consider. I mean, this is hardly the time to get involved with someone."

"True," Cora responded. 

She played with the sand in her hands, as her legs hung over the edge of a giant rock cliff. The view was incredible, brilliant stars, shimmering sand, dark blue sky, the moon casting more than enough light. Liz sat to her left with her legs crossed, leaning her elbows on her knees. 

"But all he's asked so far is friendship. Right? He hasn't implied anything more, has he?"

"No." Liz sighed heavily, and turned her eyes up to the star-laden sky. "He's been the perfect gentleman."

Cora looked at her in total confusion, "And you're complaining because…?"

Liz was silent for a moment, seriously considering Cora's question. Why was she complaining? Was it so wrong to want something that seemed so right? That could make her really, truly happy? After seeing Koen and Mabyn together, she seriously doubted her assumption that he was using his position as an influence. If that had been the case, he wouldn't have willingly comforted Mabyn. He would have handed her off to Isabel or Nic or someone else. It just didn't seem to fit anymore.

"I'm scared Cora. I … I've never been in a relationship before. Even if I said yes … I wouldn't know what to do or what to say. I hate that feeling," she said in a tiny voice. "The doubt and anxiety and…"

"Fear?"

Liz hung her head, and nodded slightly. She rubbed her forehead as a headache suddenly overcame her. Why was this so hard? Why was everything so hard?

"Its okay to be scared, Liz. Hell, I bet Koen is pissing himself, he's so scared."

When Liz gave her an incredulous look, she continued. "Come on Liz. You're not exactly the easiest person to approach. You're just a little intimidating," she said, illustrating her point by bringing her thumb and forefinger close together. "With the sword, and the ‘I'll Kick Your Ass' looks you give everyone, I'm surprised he even had the balls to approach you once."

Liz gave a small laugh. It was true, she had to admit. Now, what the hell was she going to do about it?

"What would you do, Cora?"

"What would I do? I'd play hard to get, but if you played any harder, Koen wouldn't know which end was up. I guess, if I were you … I'd just take baby steps. You know? A little bit at a time."

"Like what?" Liz asked.

"Well, for starters, you could be nice to him."

"Aw, where's the fun in that?"

The conversation had dissolved into laughter after that, and later Liz had mulled over Cora's Words of Wisdom.

Maybe Cora was right. Maybe she should give Koen a chance. Even having him as a friend would be better than nothing at all.

And now as she allowed her eyes to really drink Koen in for the first time, she found herself wanting more. For the second time in her life, she wanted something for herself. The first had been a friendship with Cora all those years ago in the small shop that Aimee owned, and it had had devastating results. She couldn't help but be a little hesitant.

But his eyes were so kind, his thoughts were pleasant, his aura was alluring, his mouth and lips so sensual and inviting, so unlike that of the hunter. 

And then his eyes met hers, and she nearly fainted.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I think that's all for today," Aron announced as that council came to an end, quickly ending Elizabeth and Koen's staring contest.

"We'll meet same time tomorrow. Alec," he said turning to the young man at his left. "I think I speak for everyone when I say, keep up the good work."

Everyone nodded in agreement, offering their wishes of luck and began to exit. 

Surprisingly the stuffy room seemed pleasant; no one had a hidden agenda. Everyone had a smile on his face, a ray of hope in their eyes. They were content in the knowledge that someone was going to help them, and soon.

Koen eventually returned his breathing to normal. [i]Her eyes, he thought. For once, her eyes hadn't been hostile. He stumbling as he gathered his things, suddenly unsure of himself. 

What had he done, or had he done anything, to turn her around? He wasn't sure, but was quite sure he would find out and continue doing it. Whatever it was, it had had a tremendous impact.

Instead of accusing and condescending, her eyes had been inquisitive and inviting and oh so tempting. It was as if she had been calling to him. He looked up at her as he stood from his chair, and heard the same call all over again. It never seemed to stop. When it came to Elizabeth, he was a goner. One taste of her soul and he was literally starving for more.

He neared the door to leave, with Will ahead of him. Koen noticed she lagged behind the crowd, meeting his gaze and then averting her eyes quickly. He watched as she looked to Aron and then back to her feet, and he realized her concern. She wasn't sure of how Aron would respond. 

He would keep it friendly, amicable, Koen decided. He had a feeling something was different, and if anything happened, he would make sure that an overprotective guardian didn't ruin it. Hopefully it wouldn't scare Liz away. He mentally crossed his fingers.

Koen reached the exit first, and with a deep, discrete breath, opened and held the door for Liz. She seemed uncertain at first, seemingly considering the friendly gesture. 

And then she looked at him with her deep brown, penetrating eyes. Just a few seconds passed, and a shy but beautiful grin spread across her face, along with a look of decision.

She looked to him as a friend, not a foe, as she said softly, "Thank you … Koen."



Providence Ch. 17



Lamar sat on his cot, the headache he had been suffering for weeks finally starting to ebb. His brother was not far away, sitting much the way that Lamar was, only instead of squinting in the light, Brody groaned with his pain every few minutes, swaying in a non-existent breeze.

The medical tent they had called home was now almost deserted. Most... no, all of the young cadets and soldiers that had been on their ship had perished.

All but them.

A strange wave of emotion had swept through Lamar when he was told that for the first time. An emotion he had never felt before. 

All dead, save for he and his brother. A painful death at that, most either severely burned or suffering internal injuries that were beyond the small medical staff's capabilities. 

What of their families? Lamar had thought. What of their wives and children and parents waiting for them back on Nero? 

Lamar had never had to answer to anyone save Cyrus. He had always executed his missions with his brother at his side, and returning to their quarters afterward with a sense of accomplishment and pride.

After the nurse had told them of the massacre and how no one else had lived, Lamar hadn't been able to look at himself in the mirror. He hadn't been able to speak for days, the unknown emotion welling so fiercely that his throat clogged and trapped his voice.

His eyes would burn every time he thought of the fatherless children crying into their mother's arms. His chest would swell and then drop with... that emotion that plagued him.

Lamar thought he might know what name to attach to it, but he was very reluctant. To feel it was one thing, but to admit it was quite another.

He wasn't ready for that yet. He wasn't sure if he ever would be.

A young cadet sidled up to them and asked the two brothers to follow him. And they did without a word. Not that they were burning with conversation. Brody and Lamar had remained uncharacteristically quiet over the weeks they recovered their injuries. No words could explain how they felt or grieved or mourned.

The young man guided them to the ship waiting outside the medical tent, and Lamar and Brody entered and were greeted with the smug expressions on the faces of the staff. They peered at them, criticizing and judging them. Seeing deep into them.

Lamar wondered if they saw the stain of the 'emotion' he was trying desperately to disguise inside himself.

Cyrus waited, an unreadable expression on his face, at the head of the small crowd. His stature was as it always had been: impressive, intimidating. 

Predictable. 

The young cadet mumbled words, "The brothers Lamar and Brody, sir," but Lamar wasn't listening. He stared at his feet in practiced reverence, although his mind raced. He had not forgotten their leader's parting words so many weeks ago. 

Even though he had tried.

He and Brody were to die if they failed their mission to retrieve the Prince. 

They had failed.

Dread crept up Lamar's back, but then dissipated quickly. 

This was meant to be his fate. This was what he deserved. The slow, painful death that was sure to meet them was what Lamar dutifully prepared himself for. 

It was meant. 

His heart and mind sagged in relief. A heavy weight seemed to metaphorically lift from his shoulders. He would pay. Perhaps the pain he endured would lessen the pain of the faceless people without a son or father or husband on his home planet.

"Follow me," Cyrus said in a low voice. They followed blindly. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brody tremble, whether from pain or fear Lamar wasn't sure. 

A long tunnel was trekked, low light hardly illuminating the shadows. Several doors were passed with armed guards standing outside them. 

Cyrus then stopped, turning slowly to the brothers. 

"I am sure you two think that what lies behind this door is your very painful death." 

When neither of them offered a surprised response, he smiled cynically. "No doubt, you would expect that. However, I am sparing you... for now."

This did result in their heads turning upward, and Brody's eyes bulging in shock, his jaw falling nearly to the fall.

He laughed openly at them. "The only reason you are to live is because your mission was not a total loss. Despite the fact that everyone on your ship died. There were two survivors, though. And not you two."

With that, he pressed his hand to the control panel, and the door slid open revealing two men lying on cots. 

The two men that had been brought down by darts in Lamar and Brody's feeble attempt to apprehend the Prince.

"These two men will give us the answers we want. And you two will get them... any way you can."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alec, among several other men, stood in the sand dunes waiting for the ship to arrive. Most were silent, some coughing in nervous restlessness. The stars twinkled overhead and the sky was a blue-black. Tonight was the night... the night the first relief ship would arrive.

It had been a day and a half since the Miyan ship had left their planet. Just hours ago they had notified Alec that they were nearing Cantu and would land within the hour. Aron had dispatched soldiers and other guards to help welcome the ship and bring in the supplies, all while watching for any of Cyrus's men.

They saw the lights of the ship stop in the darkened sky, slowly turn, and then descend at a snails pace. They're cloaking device had been activated, and to the untrained or unsuspecting eye, their lights looked like stars. But Alec was very trained, and turned to the soldiers around him and told them to get ready. Relief was on the way.

Soon the sand and air around them circulated, swirled, and spun in earnest, forcing most to look away and guard their eyes. 

Alec did not. He never noticed, as his heart counted the seconds that passed with each hard, thumping beat. He didn't hear the hum of the ship or the whistling wind. He didn't feel the cold of the night or the metal of the gun in his hand. He never spoke a word aloud. 

But he prayed. 

He prayed, for perhaps the first time in his life, for Fate to allow this one request. The survivors needed this more than they needed their next breath.

The guards settled on the near cliff stood watch, waiting for any enemy activity; their guns were cocked and their ammunition ready. There were five men with the specific job of carrying the supplies in quickly. Alec and two others were to take the captain of the ship and his crew in to talk to Aron, to welcome them and thank them.

The ship landed in the sand, and the sound of rushing air washed over them as the pressure stabilizer released. A fog of steam emitted from the lower cabin. The lights died and the desert grew quiet. The large access ramp began to lower slowly, and Alec's heart beat even faster in anticipation. 

It was too dark to discern facial characteristics, but Alec guessed the first man walking down the ramp was the captain, Marcus. 

Two others followed close behind him, and as Alec took a step forward, the rest of his team sprang into action. 

Controlled chaos ensued. The supplies were gathered quickly, Alec and the others guided the Miyan crew into the nearby cave. 

"Welcome," Alec said with sincerity. "I hope your entry wasn't too bad."

"No, fine. I doubt Cyrus's expecting many visitors on the dune planet," Marcus answered. "There were a few probes out searching the outer rim, but for the most part, it looks like all the activity is at Aevar."

"Well, that's good for now, I guess. Come on. Aron and the Royal Family have been waiting to meet with you."

Marcus nodded and motioned for his crew to follow. "How have they been? The Prince and Princess?"

"Better than expected, considering. They have adjusted well." He averted his eyes, and hoped that his words were something more than a little exaggerated. He hoped that his optimism would be genuine soon.

He hoped the Royal Family would heal quickly.

"Good, I was worried about them. Its gotta be rough, you know? Losing your family like that."

Alec nodded. "Yeah."

Soon they were winding their way through the tunnels toward the large conference room. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The wind gave a distant howl in her ears, no doubt from the ship that had landed just beyond the rise of the dunes behind her. No other movement caught her eye, however. No scurrying desert rodent or slithering reptile. The desert slept, even though Liz's mind continued to race with life.

She was sure Aron and the survivors expected her to attend the introductions and welcome ceremony. But she only wanted to sit alone in the quiet of night.

Liz had spent the last several days succumbing to her feelings towards the Prince. Just feeling, not fighting, for the first time in her life. 

And already she found herself falling faster and harder than she had intended. 

She shivered, but not from the cold. 

Koen had done everything known to man to accommodate her hesitancy. When she was reluctant to talk, he invited Cora to tag along. When she was hesitant to train with him as a student, he tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. 

It was laughable actually. The Prince of Aevar dressing, conversing, in every sense of the word acting like a commoner. He actually pulled it off quite nicely, though it was clear that no one would simply forget that he was a royal.

And he thought she didn't know about the covert glances he sent her when she wasn't looking. But she did. His eyes would practically burn her skin, and then pull away and hide when she glanced at him. It was exhilarating and confusing at the same time. 

And she wasn't at all sure how to act or say when he did look send those soul-searing looks her way. Cora had made several comments, all of which went in one ear and out the other. Cora had enough problems with Will hounding her ever five minutes. Liz didn't want to bother her friend with her own love problems as well.

Love?

Is that what she felt when he looked at her that way? That her stomach melted and her heart quickened and her skin tingled with his every move? That her tongue swelled in her mouth and her chest grew tight? Is that what all those wonderfully frightening reactions meant? That she was in love?

No, it couldn't be. She was a warrior, not a lovesick fool.

A warrior didn't love. A warrior didn't pine for a man's affections. A true warrior didn't daydream about a Prince and what he would say or do next.

Yet, there she was, doing that very thing. Sitting on a sand dune, staring at the stars, wishing that Prince Koen would sweep her off her feet and teach her about love.

Because she knew she had so much to learn, so very much. Would he find her naiveté unappealing? Would he change his mind and run to the next open, willing set of arms he could find? Would he–

"Liz?"

She turned to her left and found the object of her affection towering over her with an inquisitive expression on her face.

"What are you doing out here?"

Liz swallowed hard before answering. "Um... I just – I just needed some air."

"Oh," he said. "Do you... do you want me to leave?"

"No!" She cringed when she heard the desperation in her voice, and mentally shook her head. Warrior, yeah right. "Um, no, you can join me. You know, if – if you want." Her attempt at playing off his presence was pitiful.

Koen took his seat next to her and tried desperately not to stare. The light from the stars and moons made her skin glow and shimmer. Her eyes sparkled. 

"So..."

"So..."

The uncomfortable silence persisted until, "Oh, how's Mabyn doing?"

"She's doing good," he said with a nod. "She misses Dominic, though. But it can't be helped."

"Yeah. But I guess for a ten year old kid it doesn't make any sense."

"No," he shook his head with a sad smile on his face. "I tried explaining it to her. That Dominic and the other soldiers were off training and would be back in a week or so, but to a kid a week is a lifetime. Isabel helps some, but... it's not the same."

"I know how she feels." 

He turned to her. "Yeah?" 

She nodded, but kept her eyes on the stars. "Yeah. Not understanding anything. Being scared and alone. It's not a fun place for a kid to be." 

"Are you still?" he asked, with a great deal amount of hesitancy, not completely sure if he should dig that deep. "Scared and alone, I mean." 

Liz said with a quiet voice, "I'm not so much scared anymore. And... besides Aron, I've always been alone. We had to be." 

When he saw the sadness gloom over her features and her eyes cloud with emotion, Koen said quickly, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." 

"No, its okay. I guess I got use to it after a while. Moving every few months. Not having any friends or family. Never having any roots or links to anyone or anything. It's lonely but... when it's the only thing you know it's not so bad." 

She turned to look at him, finding him much closer than she had previously thought. "Its when you find out that there's so much more out there, that things get... difficult." 

"Like now," he said in a hushed voice. "You see family and relationships between people and... you wish you could have had that. Can have that." 

She nodded, because her throat was too tight to answer. Her skin was burning under his gaze again, only this time, she was looking at him too. He wasn't hiding his perusal. Koen was staring right at her... and she couldn't look away. 

"You're not alone anymore Liz." She sucked in a breath when her hand was enveloped in his. "You can have family now. You're not alone." 

His breath hit her cheeks in a light puff of warm air. When had their faces drawn so close together? Not that she wanted him to move away. She didn't want him moving at all. 

Their noses touched, and when her slight, breathy sigh escaped her lips, he finally lost the battle that he had been waging, and kissed her. A kiss that was more acquainting than anything. Their skin touched in a whisper of an embrace, and then separated just as quickly. 

His heart pounded in his chest, his pulse thundering in his ears. Koen forced his eyes open to look at her, and found her eyes still closed, still clinging to the new monumental moment between them. 

Who was he to deny her? He brought his lips to hers again, this time with more contact, more passion, more... everything. 

And just when he reached to pull her closer to him, she broke free and ran, leaving him panting in confusion. 

"Liz?" he said breathlessly. "Liz!" 

But she had already disappeared over the dune.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

And so the journey began: a lost and disillusioned Prince embracing his Destiny. 

A hardened warrior opening his heart for the first time. 

A Princess blossoming outside of her duty-imposed cocoon. 

And a once isolated woman trying to balance her heart with responsibility.

Aevar had fallen by the hands of Cyrus, just as Fate had predicted. The lush green forests and clear blue rivers were no more. Many thousands had suffered and died in the invasion. Many more questioned why such a thing would happen to such a good and prosperous planet. 

They knew not of the oracle that resided on the small dune planet. 

They knew not of the prophet who had spent years raising and training her into the strongest weapon known to man. 

They knew not of the survival of their Prince and Princess. 

They knew not of the small army assembling to avenge the King and Queen's death.