Shadows Bear No Names (The Blackened Prophecy Book 1) (8 page)

Chapter TWELVE

A BRILLIANT WHITE LIGHT

Ga’an stood in a dense fog, the cold, sticky touch of the mist on his skin. The heavy smoke danced before his eyes like a veil. His clothes were covered in dust and sand. Ga’an realized he was sitting on desert soil.
Not dead perhaps.

He tried to stand up, only to fall on his knees, the pain reminding him of his injuries.
Definitely alive.
The last thing he remembered was diving into the Baeal gate and
Mira
exploding.
Not an explosion,
he corrected himself,
but a brilliant, white light.

He saw a metal rod nearby that looked very much like one of
Mira
’s handrails and reached for it. He took another shot at standing up, this time with his newly found cane.
All right, now what
. Every direction was the same; sand and rocks for a few meters and then the wall like mist. He picked left—it seemed as good as any.

His pace was slow and he was hungry. Every now and then, he bumped into a bush or some rubble, but mostly it was just sand. Ga’an felt an incline under his feet. It wasn’t a stiff climb but his leg throbbed with the effort. He was gaining altitude.
Good
.
Perhaps I will clear this damned mist.

He thought he walked for another hour or two before he glimpsed the sun. Abruptly, he came to the top of a hill and the mist cleared as if he’d emerged from water. The sudden brightness hurt his eyes. He blocked the sunlight with his hand and looked around.

It was a desert planet.
Moon
he corrected himself, seeing the big green sphere in the sky. The dense fog that had trapped him extended for kilometers in every direction, and beyond was sand.
Endless sand
, Ga’an smiled bitterly. He turned and noticed a familiar sight; the half-torn wreck, smoking in the distance. “
Mira
,” he whispered.

Ga’an wondered how he’d ended up so far from the ship and how he was still in one piece.
Mira
looked awful; sand buried almost all of her bow. Half of its hull remained in the open, torn apart, and he saw the interior of the stern decks. A dense, black smoke covered the back of the ship, coming from somewhere down in the mist. The super-titan was missing more than two-thirds of its rear fuselage, still looking like a huge monument hidden deep in the mist. He looked back at the sky and tried to remember the location of
Mira
. If he ended up needing to go back, finding
Mira
would be difficult without some reference or another high vantage point. He couldn’t find any; everything was mist and sand.

“What else,” he murmured, turning to see more of the moon. A huge mountain formation stood in the distance with a canyon dividing it. Ga’an thought he saw tiny beams of sunlight reflecting from the canyon.

He needed to find water and food. He could either try to go back to his ship, or toward the mountain formation hoping to find shelter and water.
A settlement, perhaps
. A voice in the back of his head warned him of bumping into aliens—
Maybe you are the alien—
or worse, Baeal, but he ignored it and fixed his stare on the mountain. Maybe he was on one of the far-reach colonies.
Mountain it is. Easier to spot.

Ga’an dove back into the mist, focusing on his steps. If he missed one, he might break a leg and that would be his demise.

He kept as straight a course as he could toward the mountain.
There is still strength left in this body.
He knew only too well he would eventually need to nourish. The hunger gave him headaches and he became careless in his steps, more than once tripping over scattered rocks.

Ga’an was focused on his breathing when he heard the whispers close behind him. Without hesitation, he turned and swung the metal rod he’d been leaning on.

Nothing.
He’d hit only air. His nose picked a distinct smell but couldn’t address it.
It must be the hunger.

He turned back to figure out how much he’d diverted from his course, looking at his footprints. Making an educated guess, he picked a direction and started walking again, hoping he wouldn’t end up going in circles.

Then he heard the whispers again, much closer this time. Ga’an stopped and listened to the silence, not even risking another breath.
There it is again
. Listening closely, he thought he heard several different voices carried through the mist.
The smell again…

His soldier’s instincts took over and he took a wide stance, readying the metal rod in his hands. His muscles stiffened, eyes searching for threats through the mist.

Something jumped out of the dense fog. Her eyes—she looked like a person and a female, although much smaller in size than him—were red and her mouth bloodied. She made feral noises, growling and locking her stare with Ga’an’s.

Ga’an sprung his stick without hesitation and hit the woman’s chest. The power of the blow crushed her and she fell to her knees. Not giving her the chance to recover, Ga’an thrust his weapon at her back. The metal punched through near her spine, all the way to her lungs, and the woman trembled violently, making guttural sounds and vomiting blood. In a few seconds, she lay dead.

Four more assailants appeared from the depths of the white cloud. How they found their way in this fog was beyond him but there they were. A bald male with a dirty face whispered hysterically, and the rest snarled at the Praetor and circled him.

They were a pack in hunt and he was the food. One of the attackers fixed its stare on his injured leg and gave what appeared like laughter. “Curses of the blood!” Ga’an muttered. He hoped to intimidate the pack and force them to retreat; he and they both realized he was an easy target.

Ga’an turned to face the alpha male, the bald one. He locked stares with the pack leader and teased him with the rod, waving it threateningly. The leader accepted the challenge and howled. With a swift move, Ga’an crouched and swung the rod above his head in a circular motion as the pack jumped. He caught the creatures off guard and heard the satisfying sound of metal on flesh. Ga’an didn’t wait for his attackers to recover but jumped back to his feet, ignoring the pain in his left leg. He slid the rod in his hand to use it as a javelin and with a swift throw, hit the pack leader in the chest, punching through his heart.

The alpha died on the spot, lifeless eyes staring at his own chest in disbelief. The death of their leader gave pause to the other three.

“Come and meet your maker!” Ga’an growled, but one of the assailants made a clicking sound with its tongue and they retreated into the mist as fast as they had appeared.

Ga’an kept on the defensive, ready to strike with his bare hands if need be. Nothing happened. The air became as still as it had been before the attack. He relaxed a bit and approached the dead male to pull out his walking stick. He inspected the man.
Eyes, hands, legs. We very much look alike, except for the height. You are too short to be a Nucteel.
He realized the bald figure wore clothes. They were more like torn pieces stuck to his body like patches, covered in dust and dirt.
I hope you are not the dominant species of this moon, friend.

The adrenalin wore off, reminding Ga’an of his hunger. His dizziness had worsened and he was perplexed by the chaos of trails on the sand his fight with the savage wildlings had left.
Wildlings
, he smiled at his thought.
You have no idea where you are and what they are. You are the alien, the wildling Praetor.
He took a deep breath, trying to remember his way.

“To hell with the ancestors!” he cursed, walking past the fallen body. They’d ripped him from the chance to die in glory, only to starve him to death in the middle of nowhere!

Focused on cursing his fate, Ga’an was caught off-guard when a dark man jumped out of the mist and toppled him. He frantically tried to throw the attacker from his back, but a blow to his stomach winded the seasoned warrior. Ga’an coughed violently, clawing the air for breath, but the attack was fierce. One of the females hit him hard in his stomach and now, the two female wildlings were gnawing his injured leg, biting it with their rotten fangs.

He kicked madly and landed a blow on one of the women, sending her flying, but the other sank her teeth further into his ankle. Ga’an screamed in agony and felt to his knees. The dark man still rode his back, trying to chew his neck. Ga’an knew it meant death if the wildling got his teeth in. A bang sounded and Ga’an felt the weight lighten. Warm blood soaked the back of his torn uniform. He took a quick glance and saw his assailant lying dead. Two more pops followed, cracking one female’s head open and spilling its contents over her body, then splitting the other female’s throat in two, washing the dry sand with red. Ga’an grimaced, watching the attacker fall off from his leg.

Another female figure emerged from the mist, holding a smoking weapon. She placed a boot on the woman she’d taken in the throat and fired another round, silencing the wildling’s grating groans. This woman was different; Ga’an immediately noticed the distinct movements of an intelligent female whereas the wildlings were, well, wild. Her style of dress was unfamiliar, but then, everything was alien so far.
Well, except the rocks and the sand.

The woman poked the dead one by one with her foot and made a disgusted sound when some of the remains stuck to her boot. Ga’an watched her come closer while still keeping out of Ga’an’s reach.

Smart.
“Thank you,” he said, bowing his head and hoping she would understand.

The woman held her stare on him behind her goggles, not moving a muscle.

“I am Prae—” he stopped and smiled bitterly. “I am Ga’an.”

His savior removed her goggles and the mask covering her mouth. Then she lowered her scarf, revealing her face. She had green eyes and her slightly protruding cheekbones gave her a hardened look. Her pose had a warrior’s stance. The way she’d shot her targets confirmed she was a soldier.

She said something to Ga’an but he didn’t understand. She pointed at his leg, and her voice was gentle, albeit alien to his ears.

“Ga’an.” he said, putting his hand on his chest. “Thank you.” He pointed at the bodies around them. The woman narrowed her eyes, not moving forward.

“Please.” Ga’an was tiring of the dialogue.
Monologue,
he corrected himself. He probably sounded like a caveman to this woman. He indicated the small pin on his collar, removed it gently and put it before her. “Please.” Ga’an took out an identical pin and attached it to his neck, nodding at her to do the same.

The woman pursed her lips. She holstered her pistol warily and placed the device on her neck after a moment of pause. Ga’an smiled and told her to wait with a hand gesture, awaiting the analyzer to work.

“Thank you,” he said, after a minute that felt like eternity. The words sounded different in his mouth but at least he could communicate now. The translation pins needed more time to analyze before one could learn more but everything he learnt from the connection was alien. It was overwhelming.
This has to do.
“You can remove the pin…Sarah Davis.”

“Yes, that’s my name. And you’re Ga’an, right?” His savior did as he suggested, giving back the device. “Ga’an…Ga’an…” she repeated his name a few times, trying to adjust to the sound of it.

“Yes. I owe you my existence, Sarah Davis.”

“Life,” Sarah corrected. “Twice.” she raised her fingers. “Those things are nasty and they usually hunt in larger packs.”

“Twice?” Ga’an asked.

“You can’t survive in the desert and I have a ride.”

“Do you have nourishment?” he continued. “And water?”

“Food.”

Ga’an narrowed his eyes. “F…Food.”

“Nourishment sounds…funny. Food is better. You shouldn’t be alone in the mist,” Sarah said. She pulled something from one of her packs and gave it to Ga’an. “Not the best processed chicken bar but it’ll do. Eat it.”

“Chicken.” Ga’an took the food from her and took a bite.

“You have to remove the packing!”

“Packing?” Ga’an looked at the food bar
.
“Packing!” He laughed after a moment’s pause and removed the package. “Like
haluf.
”

“No idea what that is but yeah, don’t eat the packing.”

“What is this…mist?” Ga’an asked, still uncomfortable with the language. He sniffed the chicken bar.
Funny.
He took a bite. “Chicken,” he repeated. It tasted interestingly familiar.
Nothing like haluf.
The translation device was meant for his people’s neural structure and it was the first time he’d experienced neural transfer from one mind to another.
From an unknown species’ mind.

“Chicken, yes. Here, take some water.”

Ga’an gladly accepted the flask Sarah gave and ate his meal in joy as she watched him.

“The fog, I’m not sure.” She looked around in distaste. “It’s rumored to be an old military experiment gone wrong decades ago,” she said. “It messes with your head if you stay too long in it. Here.” She took out a spare mask like the one she had. “Wear that.”

Ga’an put on the mask. He didn’t feel any changes in his breathing.
Perhaps it only affects her species. H-human.

“Some technology, that device of yours.”

Ga’an nodded in agreement. “It helps. Why are you alone in the mist?”

She smiled, and said “Wiseass,” then gestured Ga’an to follow her. “Come on, it’ll be dark soon.”

“A dreadful place,” Ga’an said, his voice booming under the mask. “Reminds me the dune seas of Sorhon.”

“It is,” Sarah agreed, “though I have no idea where
Sorhon is. This is Tarra and that green planet hovering above is Bunari.” She lifted her backpack and shook the sand off it. “Come, I’ll give you a ride to the Crater. We shouldn’t stay in the mist for long.”

“What is a Crater?”

“Probably the worst town you’ve ever been to.” She beckoned him to follow.

Sarah was using the trail she’d left with a small chain attached to her left boot to find her way back to her ride.
That is smart
. After walking for another ten minutes, her ride appeared from the mist, right in front of them.