Quest For Earth (13 page)

Stubborn or not, he doubted she would be able to manage the journey without his assistance. He took her hand and led her to the stairs, careful to measure his normally long stride against her shorter one.

At the landing, he leaned forward and pressed his ear against the heavy metal door. Satisfied no danger waited on the other side, he wrenched it open.

Chapter 9

Her ankle throbbed with a pain that streaked through her calf and up the back of her leg. Sluggish droplets of blood slid slickly down her leg from where the metal girder had sliced into her skin. The wound pulsed with a dull ache, causing nausea to burn in her belly. She could have used one of the pain meds in her satchel but had refrained and would continue to do so until she was assured of Bree and the crew's wellbeing.

Her teeth sank deep into her lower lip to stop the cries of distress bubbling in her throat, as she limped around the ruins beside the warrior. Overhead, the sky had darkened as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Maaka's grip, without pinching, was strong and firm about her upper arm. She did not doubt that flight, for the moment, would be useless.

Keep calm. An opportunity to escape will present itself.

She wished she had remained with the shuttle. But instead she had rushed off and landed herself with a fresh set of problems.

All those long cycles on Gazood and her brief sojourn as a prisoner of war of the Relics had fuelled her determination to be her own woman. Never again to be at the mercy of a male and his destructive preoccupation with war.

And never again to be a prisoner.

For deep inside, she feared she would not survive.

Her bony weary fatigue ebbed with the surge of desperation. At her side strutted another fine example of manhood in all his arrogance. The next chance she got, she would sink her dagger in so deep it would take the strength of ten warriors to drag it from his chest.

With a careless gesture she flicked back her hair. The movement captured his attention and even through the deep shadows, she could feel the heated force of his stare. She ruthlessly squashed the flutter in her belly.

How irritating.
She frowned and limped along the rubble strewn road, rubbish crunched underfoot above the sound of the gusting wind. Clouds parted and pale moonlight shone down over the landscape. The buildings rose high towards the sky on both sides of the road. To her critical eyes the ruined city looked even more battered and she hoped that Bree had found shelter. ‘I must find my friend immediately.'

‘My men have seen to her safety, there is no need to continue to doubt me.'

Sherise rolled her eyes. ‘The storm has caused great damage to your city. That wall to our right looks as if it will collapse at any time.'

He grunted.

‘There was no warning sounded as the … what did you call it? Oh yes, as the tornado approached. Do you not have such systems in place?'

The warrior flung an arm out in a wide encompassing sweep. ‘
We
do not,' he growled with heavy emphasis. ‘The Purideans have such technology. Not that they need it.'

Interesting.
Then if his race possessed little or no technology, what would they do in order to obtain it for themselves? Her pulse quickened. Was that why Maaka was so keen to keep her under his keen eyes? Perhaps he intended to trade her for knowledge or advanced weaponry to keep his people safe? ‘You mean, because they have the dome to protect them. But from what?'

He stopped and turned to stare behind them. She wondered what he could see. Whatever it was, it caused him a great deal of turmoil. Anger and frustration rolled off him, vibrating in pulsing reddish black waves in the air about his body.

‘They are my people's enemy. They reside in the Fortress, well-fed, with access to medicine and safe from the horrors of the Outworld.' He spun round and they resumed their trek. ‘They will soon learn what it is like to struggle every day of their lives.'

His snarled words resounded again and again through her mind.

I cannot believe it! To have travelled so far, only to land on a planet where war could erupt at any moment. Still, these people's problems are nothing to do with us. We will establish peaceful relations with the Board, repair our ship and then we will leave.

Her stomach cramped. Somehow she knew it would not be that simple. If the ship's damage was irreparable they would be stuck here on this primitive, ravaged rock. The members of the Board had spouted eager and conciliatory dialogue during the meeting. It had proved evasive, divulging very little information about the history of the past three hundred years and what exactly roamed the lands beyond their dome.

If anything, she'd expected a very simple race living out here and yet Maaka, although his weapons were far from advanced, neither spoke nor acted as if he was primitive. His confident bearing, the power in his gaze and his easy speech all indicated he was a man of considerable intellect.

Maaka considered the people living inside the dome as his enemy, although she hadn't noticed an army or other signs of military action by the Purideans. But judging by the Board's lack of veracity with Sherise and her team, they considered him theirs as well.

Who was in the right? Did it really matter? Ruefully she acknowledged that it would matter a great deal if her crew and passengers were stuck here, in this time, this place.

Her heart plummeted to the tips of her boots.
I don't want my people dragged into a military confrontation or even to become embroiled in their politics. We must stay impartial. But to keep everyone alive, I may well have to become involved to some extent.

It was imperative she obtain more information about this world. She cleared her throat and pondered his words. She had to admit the idea of being pampered and safe inside the dome was seductive. So much better than hauling her bruised and aching body down a rutted path, hunted by monstrous flesh-eating flying creatures.
And let's not forget whatever made those hauntingly scratching footsteps, that was hunting my friend.

She shuddered. The grip on her arm tightened. Sherise closed her mind to the brooding presence stalking beside her. She refused to remember the strength and warmth of his hard body as he pressed against her.

That way lay only folly. There was no place in her life for a dalliance with someone who could end up being her enemy. And who, if all went according to plan, she would soon leave behind. ‘So, Maaka, tell me about your people. Are your numbers many? Where do you live?'

‘What a cunning little female you are; I am impressed.'

To her horror, he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Rid yourself, immediately, of the notion I am trying to impress you!'

He laughed. A soft, dark sound that feathered along her nerve ends, causing her senses to quiver with restless energy.

‘Well? I am waiting,' she ground out.

‘Tsk, tsk. So many questions. Do not trouble yourself little one. The only thing you need to know is that I will keep you safe.'

‘I do not need you to keep me safe. As soon as my men arrive, I will be long gone from this misery.' Sherise swept a disparaging glance around the desolate land. She plodded along beside him, her head whirling with conjecture and half-formed thoughts. Despite their rapid pace, the bitter wind caused her outer extremities to become numb with cold. She flexed her fingers, willing the blood to flow faster.

With dismay, she registered the fatigue stealing back into her body and irrationally resented his steady gait which indicated an indefatigable warrior. If only she had half his physical strength. She sighed and wondered how much further they had to walk. Her legs trembled with effort and only sheer will power kept her upright.

Soon we will arrive.
The thought drifted through her mind and tears stung her eyes at how easily he brushed through her defences.

As if he knew how she hovered on the edge of exhaustion, he spoke in his soft, deep tones, ‘My race is not that numerous. Even with the Freebers, our allies, the Half-dead outnumber us.'

Three races then that roamed the wastelands. ‘Are they similar to you in appearance?'

‘The Freebers, yes, although they possess a trait we do not.' Maaka paused. Eventually he sighed and admitted, ‘The Half-dead are a race that knows nothing of mercy, kindness or love. Their sole instinct is to kill. They are more beast than man.'

‘And the Half-dead are your enemies, also? As well as the people living inside the dome?'

‘Correct.'

Still she persevered. ‘It sounds like everyone is at war.'

‘The Purideans have not launched a direct attack on us,' he admitted. ‘And why should they? All they need to do is sit back and wait until the Half-dead have over-run us.'

Sherise frowned. He hadn't said … ‘killed us'. ‘I fail to understand.'

‘How safe do you believe you and your friends will be behind the walls of the dome?' His voice was harsh. ‘Well? I imagine the Board welcomed you with open arms and a great show of warmth.'

Sherise flicked him a quick glance, unwilling to admit how close his words were to the truth.

‘We are not the only ones who thirst for technology and knowledge. With access to your ship, there will be nothing to stop them ruling all these lands.'

‘I saw no indication of an army, only peacekeepers.'

‘Of course not,' he scoffed. ‘They have no need for an army, not when they have the Half-dead doing their job for them. I wager my best sword you were told nothing of these creatures.'

‘True.'

‘Nor, I wager, were you informed the Purideans, or the Pure as they call themselves, deliberately engineered the Half-dead and released them into the Outworld for the sheer hell of it all.'

Shocked, Sherise stumbled. Had she heard correctly?

‘How do you know this is what happened?'

He snorted. ‘Because both the Freebers and my race were engineered as well.'

By Cercis's cloak, I need to learn more about Maaka's people so I can judge what is real or merely the result of twisted prejudice and ill-informed rumour and fear. Should Maaka be speaking the truth, then such genetic engineering would have required highly developed technology and knowledge.
Perhaps the Purideans did have the wherewithal to repair the Quinnie and had deliberately refrained from offering assistance. And if that was the case, Sherise and her team would need to tread more warily than they had thought.

Maaka clicked his fingers and Sherise saw an animal trot out of the shadows. In the faint light, its eyes gleamed and she could see a large panting mouth full of glinting white sharp teeth.

‘What is that? Is that the Half-dead?' She pressed a hand to her racing heart, wondering whether she should run.

Maaka quickly lifted her into his arms and set off at a quick pace, seemingly unaffected by her weight.

How can I be so weak? I must be stronger. He could be taking me anywhere.
She winced at the feeble sound of her mumbled, ‘Put me down.' For a lady, it held little command and she wasn't surprised when he ignored her.

‘Shush, now. He will not hurt you. Not now that you are one with me.' He lengthened his stride. ‘The Half-dead are something else. Something you will not wish to meet. Close your eyes and sleep.'

And against her will, lulled by the strength of his arms and his quiet voice, she did.

***

Maaka looked to the stars to check the passage of time. Soon a new day would begin and with it, he hoped, a new chapter in his people's lives. He sidled out from beneath the furs, careful to ensure no draught of the cold night air would disturb his sleeping mate. With a soft, measured tread he crossed the roof to where his second-in-command waited.

Junta craned his neck, trying to see over Maaka's shoulder.

‘What news?' Maaka asked as he sent a silent command winging to the were-dog, which immediately retreated to the bed and sank onto its haunches, ears pricked for the slightest sound or movement.

‘Our men have brought the aliens and another female to our command post. They await below.' Junta frowned. ‘No loss of life yet, thank Leon, but some injuries are grave.'

‘And the flying machines?'

‘Remain where they landed. One appears to be damaged and the other is well guarded.'

Maaka paced a few feet before swinging back to face his friend. ‘I have need of your opinion.'

The other warrior shrugged. ‘It is possible the prophesy will soon come to pass. Our Elders cannot tell whether the change the Star People will bring means our days are numbered or whether our people will prevail.' He indicated the furs. ‘What of the woman? Is she the one who will save us?'

Tensing, Maaka picked up on his friend's interest and growled, ‘To me, she appears like any other.'

Junta snorted. ‘If you have taken her for your mate, then she is different.'

‘I never could fool you, my friend.' Maaka slapped the other on the shoulders and gave a grim smile. ‘She has courage and much sweetness of nature. How she could be the catalyst of change that the prophesy has foretold, I do not know. What I do know is we must do all we can to win the Star People to our cause; with their technology against us, we will fall.'

***

Warm and snug, Sherise stirred and stretched lazily, wallowing in the feel of soft fur against her body. Her eyes felt like they were covered with a layer of gritty sand and she blinked to reduce the discomfort. The storm had passed and sunlight of early morn streamed over the horizon, painting the desolate city with bands of gold.

Still foggy from her deep sleep, she glanced around what she surmised to be a rooftop. It took her a full minute to remember the previous evening's events.

Maaka! Where is he?

Oh, goddess Cercis, Bree! How could I have forgotten her?

Praying to Cercis her friend had survived the night and had found shelter, Sherise kicked the furs off her body and struggled to her feet. Immediately a shaft of pain reminded her of her injury. Biting back a cry, she collapsed back onto her makeshift bed and leaned over to examine her foot.