Alliance of Serpents (32 page)

Thorus' voice exploded over the intercom like
a thunderclap, startling Petreit so that the pile of papers in his
hand nearly spilled across the floor. "Captain Tiras, this is
Admiral Thorus." He didn't sound frantic or even worried, but he
was clearly furious about something. "Transmit the orders to the
rest of the bloody fleet to retreat and rendezvous at the nearest
planet. I don't care what it is." His voice rolled like the
crashing of a mighty tidal wave. "Just get us out of here. I am
returning to my office, and I am not to be disturbed by
anyone
for
any
reason. Failure to comply will result
in
harsh
penalties. I hope I've made myself clear." There
was a shift in the tone of his voice at the end of the message that
set butterflies loose in Petreit's stomach. Certainly his anger was
due to the massive losses the Armada had sustained, but Kindel
rarely lost his composure under pressure. And in the few times that
Petreit could recollect where the admiral had allowed his temper to
slip, he hadn't come anywhere close to the furious anger that his
voice now held.

"Lieutenant Petreit, report to my office at
once!" Kindel's booming order nearly made Petreit lose control of
his facilities. The last thing the soldier wanted to do was face
Kindel while he was in such a vile mood. Better to be sent out
alone in a starfighter to take on the entire Aeden fleet.

"You heard him, Soldier!" Tiras shouted,
pointing toward the lift. "Get moving!"

Petreit's teeth chattered as he made for the
lift, face whiter than the paperwork he'd been studying. His brain
desperately worked to find some way to excuse himself from the
meeting, but there was rarely a good reason to ignore a summons
from a superior commander. Especially when that commander happened
to be Kindel Thorus.

He was standing outside Kindel's office
before he knew it, finger quivering with fear as he pressed the
visitor alert button. The door slid open almost instantly,
revealing the face of a man whose jaw was so set with anger that he
looked as though he might explode in a rage of madness at any
moment. He stood in front of his desk with his arms crossed and
teeth bared little more than five paces away from the entrance.
Narrow eyes locked onto Petreit as soon as the door opened, and
Kindel was questioning him before he'd even gotten a foot into the
room.

"Have you discovered the origin of the
lephadorite yet, Lieutenant?" he nearly snarled.

There was no right answer to that question,
Petreit knew. None that he could give, anyway. "Uh . . . I'm afraid
not, Sir." Kindel's face darkened. "That is, you see, every lead
that I came up with brought me back to the same conclusion. The
Lifestone theory, I mean."

"You've learned nothing more?" The admiral's
disgust mixed with rage in his voice, creating a tone that almost
sent Petreit scrambling away in a frightened panic. "What in blazes
have you been doing all of this time?"

Horrified, Petreit heard himself begin to
make excuses. "You see, with the battle and all, it has been
impossible to really focus on research. I mean, because we are all
needed to help recover and—"

Kindel seemed to lose control of his temper
for a moment as he clenched his fists and let out something between
a growl and a scream. Then, with Petreit's eyes nearly doubling in
size, he raised an open palm. "I have been too lenient with my
soldiers," he sneered, shaking his head. "But that will soon be
remedied."

The lieutenant collapsed to his knees, no
longer concerned with which words tumbled through his lips. "No,
Sir! Wait, I'll do anything! Let me show you that I can—"

"Yours will be the first of many sacrifices
today!" Kindel shouted over him. "The universe will learn not to
incite the anger of Kindel Thorus!"

Petreit's pleading wail was muted by the
sound of the blast that burst from Kindel's hand. Blue light
drowned his vision, bombarding his body in a searing pain like none
he'd ever experienced. Flames incinerated his clothes instantly,
burning through his flesh as though coming from within. How could a
commanding officer do this to his own soldier? For centuries,
Kindel Thorus claimed to pursue peace and harmony for the galaxy.
How could this kind of senseless murder further that agenda? Why
had Petreit, even after seeing fellow soldiers meet a similar fate,
continued to follow the Vezulian Armada?

For Lieutenant Petreit, those questions would
never be answered.

*******

The corridors of the prison level were
relatively quiet compared to the rest of the ship. The hum of the
engines and dull whirring of the climate control systems were
occasionally broken by distant clatters and clangs where early
repairs were already underway and bodies were being exhumed from
areas where furniture and equipment had buried them during the
battle. Rumor had it that an overheard report to Captain Tiras had
assessed the damage to the
Black Eagle
to be quite
extensive, and the overall impact to the Vezulian Armada to be
nearly disastrous. It wasn't that the Alliance had been stronger or
more skilled; they simply summoned enough reinforcements to
overwhelm the Armada. To everyone's shock, they'd allowed the
Vezulian fleet to withdraw without putting up a fuss. Probably
Damien's work. That soft spot of his that led him to show mercy on
his opponents would come back to haunt him one day.

Vultrel exhaled heavily has he passed through
the rows of empty cells. His chest throbbed with every breath,
thanks to Kitreena. The last time he'd looked in a mirror, half of
his face had been a swollen shade of purple, though one of the
nurses in the infirmary had run an odd blue light over it and told
him that the treatment would heal him up in a day or so. Odd
medical practices these people had. It was a wonder they hadn't
learned how to resurrect the dead. He ran his fingers through his
hair and winced as pain rolled across his chest like a galloping
horse. Damien's girl packed a mean punch.

No doubt Kindel had been disappointed that
Vultrel was unable to lure Arus away from the Aeden Alliance.
Whether or not that was really necessary anymore was a question
that Vultrel had been grappling with since waking. True, the
implant would be better utilized by Thorus, and the benefits to
Arus would be great, but he could no longer question whether or not
the Alliance could properly protect him. Arus himself had been
greatly underestimated, it seemed. The big news going around the
ship was that both Scimitar and Kalibur had been injured, something
that had never happened before. Some of the Vezulian soldiers had
even complimented Vultrel on his own abilities. He wasn't surprised
by that, however, as nonstop training for a week against both of
Kindel's assistants had taught him a great deal. And as soon as he
healed, he intended to resume that training.
Do we really need
to pursue this quest to capture Arus?

Of course,
he answered himself
silently.
If the Armada doesn't go after him, the Kyrosen
will.
Better for Kindel Thorus to get his hands on the implant
than Truce. Kindel had a much more ideal vision for the universe,
one without pillagers or conquerors. Truce simply wanted money and
power to propel the Kyrosen back to their former glory.
I won't
let you see it happen, Truce. That dream ends for you tod—

He stopped short at the sight in front of
him. The door to Sartan Truce's cell was half-open, and he was
nowhere to be seen. Vultrel slipped inside and took a look around,
searching for what, he wasn't sure. The bed was cleanly made; the
floor was spotless. Upon inspection of the lock, there were no
signs of tampering that would've suggested an escape. Nothing
indicated a struggle; in fact, his cell now looked like all the
other empty cells of the prison.

"He's gone," a woman's voice came from
behind. Vultrel looked back to see the Belvid woman, sitting
serenely on the bed in her own cell. "He left during the
battle."

"How?" Vultrel asked, closing the door behind
him as he exited. "How did he get out?"

"One of his comrades came and released him,"
she said, her blue lips twisting in disgust. "He dismissed the two
guards with the authority of Kindel Thorus, and they obeyed without
question. Curious that Kindel would suddenly decide to trust the
man."

Kindel Thorus had ordered the release of
Sartan Truce? Highly unlikely, though if it were true, it had to
relate to Arus; it was the only thing that even made a remote
amount of sense. "Did either of them say anything?"

She shook her head, flowing locks of maroon
swaying as she moved. "I am but a lowly prisoner. They had no
reason to speak with me."

"No, I don't mean that. I wanted to know if
you may have overheard anything that would explain this."

"Just that the battle had taken a turn for
the worst, and that no one could get in contact with Kindel
Thorus," she told him.

If Truce was released by one of his own men
at a time when Kindel was unreachable, then it was likely that he
didn't know that the Mage was free. Truce could be lurking about
anywhere, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike. The
very thought made Vultrel shudder. He looked back at the Belvid for
a moment, and her head jerked up as if something on his face had
caught her interest. Standing, she walked to the cell door and
reached her hands through the bars. "Your eyes," she murmured
softly. "Let me see them."

The sudden request startled him. "What?
Why?"

"The eyes hold a great deal of insight into a
person's soul," she replied, reaching for his cheeks. "And yours .
. . trouble me."

I don't have time for this. I have to warn
Kindel about Truce.
"Maybe another time," he said curtly. "I
have important business to attend to at the moment."

A moment later, he wished he'd have stepped
backward. She forcefully gripped his face between her hands and
pulled him toward her. "It will only take a moment." Teal eyelids
lowered slightly as she focused on Vultrel with a penetrating stare
that made him feel like a child about to be scolded. "You have been
deceived," her voice was barely audible. "There is an enormous
confidence in your eyes, yet the truth is hidden away behind it.
You know what is right, yet you've nearly forced yourself to forget
it so that you can justify your actions. That arrogance in your
eyes has blinded you to what you know to be true, and it will lead
you down a dark and dangerous path."

Vultrel finally forced himself free, rubbing
his aching cheeks, particularly the left. Apparently that bruise
hadn't healed as quickly as the nurse had predicted. "Don't make
assumptions about me," he said in as firm a voice as he could
muster. "You don't know what you're talking about." Who was this
woman, a prisoner he'd met once and whose name he'd forgotten, to
tell him about the path he walked in life?

"Deny what you wish," she shrugged, returning
to her bed. "Even if you do not wish to see the truth, it will
still be there."

Rolling his eyes, he headed back the way he'd
come as fast as he could.
The truth I once believed in is dead.
The universe doesn't respect those ideals, and so a new truth must
be formed to overcome the destructive nature of society.
Not
that any of it mattered at the moment. The most pressing task was
to warn Kindel about Truce's escape.

The lift was inoperable due to the damage
incurred during the battle, leaving the emergency stairwell as the
only method of traversing between floors. The twisting tower of
stairs was dark and cold, illuminated only by the dim lights on the
dull grey walls. Unlike the rest of the corridors, there where no
carpets or viewports here, creating an incredibly isolating feeling
that compounded with each echoing stomp of Vultrel's boots. The
bruise on his chest ached with each leap and bound, but there was
no way that he was going to let Sartan Truce get the upper hand on
him again.

When he finally stumbled into the hall just
doors away from Kindel's personal room, his legs burned, and sweat
rolled down his cheeks. Using the back of his hand, he wiped his
forehead as he hit the visitor alert button. The doors didn't
budge. Again, he pushed the button, silently pleading for an
answer. No response came. Perhaps Kindel wasn't in his office?

The next option was the bridge, but Captain
Tiras and the rest of the crew were the only soldiers there, minus
one of the cartography officers. Tiras checked the prisoner logs
from one of the computer terminals, and the readout showed that
Kindel's authorization codes had been verified before Truce was
released. The man who had dismissed the guards before opening
Truce's cell had been Olock, who claimed he was simply following
Thorus' orders. There was no way to verify that, however, as Kindel
had apparently threatened anyone who disturbed him with a fate that
would make even the toughest man plead for death. That left Vultrel
with a very uneasy feeling in his stomach, but Captain Tiras was
more optimistic.

"Don't worry," he assured. "If the admiral's
authorization codes were verified with the guards, then he must
have ordered the release personally. He probably sent Truce over to
the
Falcon Mist
with the rest of the Kyrosen. I'd heard
rumors over the past several days that the Kyrosen were going to be
sent to battle ahead of Vezulian soldiers to minimize our own
losses going forward. Given what happened during our skirmish with
the Alliance, I can't say I disagree with the idea. My guess is
that this is a part of that restructuring plan."

The explanation didn't sit well with Vultrel
at all. The Kyrosen could've been reorganized without Truce, unless
they'd decided on a mutiny against Kindel and his orders. Perhaps
it was a diplomatic move to gain the Kyrosen's trust. Truce would
know his people's strengths and weaknesses well; maybe he was sent
to help assign soldiers based on their skills to ensure that their
talents were best utilized.