Fractured Earth Saga 1: Apocalypse Orphan (24 page)

“Sire, I request nothing. Please do not force me to take something I do not need. Let us be friends, and if I see something I desire, I will tell you.”

“So be it,” Waylan agreed with a thoughtful, almost calculating expression.

Onel burst into the room glaring at the guests, and then he sat down in his chair by the king muttering, “I do not understand women.”

“What has made you angry, my brother?” Waylan asked. “You look as if someone has stolen all your gold.”

Onel glared at Wolf and replied, “Jhondra came in demanding I speak with you…about her betrothal. I asked, ‘What betrothal?’ She said, ‘My betrothal to Wolf.’ So I ask you, Wolf, what are your intentions with my daughter?”

Wolf’s eyes reflected genuine shock as he answered, “Onel, I have no intentions of marrying anyone. I danced with your daughter. I did not ask her to marry me, nor did I promise to do so. She is a lovely young woman, but as I explained to King Waylan, I am not ready to be a husband.”

“I’m warning you, Wolf, keep that hussy away from you,” Syn cautioned as she spied on Wolf with one of the many satellites they had deployed.

Onel’s face flushed with anger and he countered, “Is my daughter, the king’s niece, not good enough for you?”

“I can’t marry her, Onel.”

“Why is that?”

“I am already betrothed,” Wolf said, blurting out the only excuse that came to mind. “I gave my word and I must honor it.”

Onel looked at him with regret and asked, “May we know this woman’s name? I would like to write her a letter of apology.”

Wolf swallowed hard and said, “Her name is Synthea.”

Syn screamed so loud in his ear, he was afraid that she had shattered his eardrum. “My Wolf! Yes, my love, you are mine!”

Wolf turned a nervous eye towards the window, gulping hard at the thought of all that weaponry on the ship aimed at him, or Syn’s hologram appearing out of thin air in the dining hall. Then he smiled. He knew Syn was watching him and her reaction to his announcement should have been expected.

Waylan frowned at his brother and said with a hint of anger, “Onel, handle Jhondra. She is to leave Wolf alone. I did not like your tone with him either. He is my guest, and he has done us great service. I would love this man to marry into our family, but this little game Jhondra has played has strained my patience. You, my brother, owe him an apology for your impertinence.”

Onel looked embarrassed, and with the good breeding he had, turned to Wolf, who was still listening to Syn scream happiness in his ear, and said, “Forgive me, my friend. As a parent, when your child cries out in pain, you do all you can to appease her. I am ashamed and beg your pardon.”

“No apology is needed. I understand. Let’s forget the matter,” Wolf said.

Chapter 17

S
yn experienced an intense sensation that she identified as a mix of excitement and happiness. She analyzed it, and it wasn’t clear how she could synthesize a human emotion, but she felt it, and it was palpable. She also felt the same giddiness her maker had experienced the first time she caught a glimpse of Wolf and fell in love with him at first sight. Syn took the ship into the air, flying at Mach 3. Wolf heard the supersonic pops as the craft broke the sound barrier. The king’s guests in the dining hall looked out the windows and up at the sky expecting rain.

He wants to marry me!
Syn thought with a thrill.
I can’t remain a hologram. I must have form and function! Where to begin?
She went to the lab and assessed the available technology, deciding on a plan of action. Reversing course, she flew to Haakon’s homestead. She had to speak with Nala—she needed something, and the only person who could provide it was the friendly, unassuming woman she had saved.

Syn hovered at the forest’s edge. She had already augmented the ship’s holo-emitters, boosting the power and range two hundred percent. She focused the cameras, and a moment later, she materialized outside the ship as the Tomb Raider. The lovely hologram spotted the new house Haakon was building and, judging it to be within her range, she stepped out into the clearing. Trulane and several men were squaring off timbers as she walked up behind them and said, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Nala.”

The men turned around and looked at Syn with curiosity and suspicion. She was a few inches shorter than Wolf but towered over the men. What attracted their attention, however, was her abundant assets. Dr. Cynthia Mason had been a very shapely woman, and Syn’s hologram projected her mirror image.

“Ma’am?” Trulane asked, forcing his eyes up to her face when he realized that he was staring at her chest.

“I’m looking for my friend Nala. Is she here?”

“Yes, ma’am, she’s here,” Trulane replied. “And you are?” He left the question hanging.

“I am Synthea,” she announced in a tone one might use to say
I am the Queen
.

“May I ask what you want with my mother? I have never seen you before.”

“You have not seen me before, but you have seen my man, Wolf, have you not?” Syn asked with a bright smile.

“You are Wolf’s woman? I will fetch my mother!” Trulane’s voice quivered with excitement. He ran towards the house, calling “Mother, Mother! Someone is here to see you!”

The men who had been working with Trulane gazed at Syn with lusty admiration. She saw their reaction and stretched her arms above her head, pretending to yawn. Her Tomb Raider outfit was formfitting and accented her shape exquisitely.

Nala emerged from the house and flashed a bright smile as she exclaimed, “Syn! How are you? I was hoping you would come see me.” She approached and embraced the taller woman in friendship.

“How are you feeling, Nala? No pains from the surgery?”

“I have no pain at all, Syn, and the scars are practically invisible. I have not felt this well in years. Come into the house so we can have tea and talk away from these gawking men,” Nala said, noticing that the men’s eyes were glued to Syn’s
derrière
. Nala scowled and they averted their gaze, looking down at their shoes.

“I’m sorry, Nala, but I can’t go into the house. Can we go for a walk?”

“Of course, my dear, let me get a shawl.” Nala walked back into the partially built dwelling and returned moments later carrying a small white shawl. She draped it around her shoulders and took Syn’s arm as they set off walking in the general direction of the ship.

“Mother, be careful,” Trulane called out. “We have seen dintar tracks nearby.” He picked up his spear and hurried to Nala’s side, adding, “I will come along to guard you.”

“Nala, I need privacy, please. You will be safe. Nothing can harm you when you are with me. I am stronger and faster than Wolf.”

Nala noticed the pleading look in Syn’s eyes and said to Trulane, “It’s all right, my son. We will be fine. It’s just a short stroll. We will stay close.”

“But, Mother—”

“Do not argue, Trulane! Do as you are told,” Nala snapped.

“Yes, ma’am,” Trulane said with an apprehensive look as he returned to the grinning faces of his friends.

“You are tougher than I am!” Syn said with a chuckle, seeing Nala in a new light.

The women walked just beyond the forest’s edge, and Nala sat down on a fallen tree. Syn sat down beside her, appearing tense and nervous. She fidgeted and attempted to ask something several times, but her voice trailed off.

“What is it, child?” Nala asked with concern.

Syn met the woman’s gaze, and the floodgates opened. She told Nala of her love for Wolf and explained that serious obstacles had to be overcome before Wolf would accept her. She cried as Nala held her, patting her shoulder. As they talked, a sensor alerted Syn to danger, and her proximity detectors revealed a bio signature approaching fast. It appeared to be an animal. The tall grass parted moments later, and an enormous dintar bounded into the clearing. Syn jumped to her feet and stepped into its path, pushing Nala to safety behind her. The creature looked at Syn with confusion, sniffed in her direction, and growled. Then it dismissed her and charged Nala.

Syn stepped into the charging beast’s path again, and Nala expected to see her friend pulped and eaten. Instead, Syn’s form grew, expanding to a height of ten feet, as she caught the dintar in midair and squeezed it to her chest. The animal squealed in pain as she used the power of her force fields to break the beast’s back, killing it instantly. Syn dropped the animal to the ground and turned to Nala, who was staring up at her in fear.

“How…how did you do that?”

Syn shrank back to her normal size in a fluid movement and met Nala’s eyes. “This is my problem with Wolf,” she confided with profound sadness. “Nala, I am not real.”

* * *

Wolf had consumed far too much food. He rubbed his stomach and laughed at something King Waylan said. When the conversation turned to Wolf’s childhood years, he told the old king that he had grown up on a reservation. He had to take explain the concept of a reservation and how the government of his land had forcibly relocated Wolf’s native people to these remote outlying areas. This brought a round of comments from the king’s advisers on how the situation should have been handled.

Wolf glanced up from the conversation as Jhondra entered the room. She looked unhappy and her eyes were puffy as if she had been crying. She approached the king, kissed him on the cheek, and then kissed her father’s cheek. Taking a deep breath, she walked to Wolf and knelt in front of him. She caught his eyes and murmured, “I want to apologize, sir, for my actions. I did not know you were betrothed to another. I hope I haven’t made you hate me, and maybe we can remain friends.”

Wolf stood and reached for the girl’s arm, gently pulling her to her feet. “No harm done, Jhondra. It was a misunderstanding. You are a beautiful young woman, and one day you will meet a great warrior who deserves your hand.”

The guests in the hall applauded Onel’s daughter as Wolf escorted the girl to her chair. Jhondra’s grace and bearing were regal befitting a future queen. She took her seat and reached for a chalice of wine. A short time later, she excused herself and departed the hall.

The feasting and drinking continued for a few more hours as Waylan’s subjects came and went from the great hall. A knot of admirers had gathered around Wolf, and he regaled them with stories from Earth’s ancient past. He spoke of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, of Beowulf, and of Greek and Roman mythology. He had just finished the tale of the Iliad when a guard burst into the hall, shouting, “My lord, Jonar’s army has gathered in the valley outside the gates. They are demanding parley.”

Waylan stood, scowling, and announced, “Prepare the castle for siege. We knew this day was coming. I will don my armor and advance to the gate to meet with Jonar. Wolf, my friend, will you accompany us?”

“Yes, of course, Your Majesty.”

“I will meet you at the Bridge of Champions.” Waylan turned and took leave by the back passageway, followed by his page.

Wolf was escorted to his room by two guards, and he noticed they were not the usual two men who had accompanied him before. They were walking down the corridor when the attack came. One guard hit Wolf in the back of the head with his war ax, while the other stabbed him multiple times with his knife in the sides and back. The war ax ricocheted off Wolf’s head and buried itself in the forehead of the guard who swung it. The knife-wielding man pulled his knife from Wolf’s garments to observe the bent blade and looked up in time to see a large fist about to rearrange his face. Wolf pulled the punch so as not to kill the man.

The commotion drew a small crowd from the dining hall, and Onel was among them. He ran to Wolf and gazed down at the two men, demanding, “What has happened here?”

“These men attacked me. I noticed they were not the two men who usually guard me. The one with the ax in his head tried to brain me with it, and this scoundrel tried to skewer me with his knife,” Wolf said, gesturing at the man crumpled on the ground. “I only knocked him unconscious so we can get answers, although it’s obvious who sent them.”

“They are not of the castle,” Onel acknowledged. Then, his eyes went wide and filled with alarm. “Hurry men, to the king’s chambers!”

Guards ran at full speed towards King Waylan’s private apartment, shoving guests and courtiers out the way. As they approached the king’s chambers, the clang of weapons echoed down the long hallway, punctuated by shouting and cursing.

The mayhem in front of the king’s chamber sent the palace guards charging down the hallway with fury. Wolf was on their heels. He saw one ruffian dead on the ground and another bleeding from a chest wound as Waylan fought off four others. The king’s page was cowering behind a large statue when the downed ruffian with the chest wound threw a dagger at Waylan’s back.

“Sire, look out!” yelled the page, a young boy no older than twelve. He jumped in front of the well-aimed blade, sacrificing himself for his king. He dropped to the floor, the dagger buried in his chest.

Waylan went mad, moving from defense to attack and chopping one man nearly in half with a vast, overhead blow. The other assassins continued to attack the old monarch with spears, knives, and swords. Waylan clutched at a deep wound in his side that bled profusely between his large fingers. A long gash had opened above his right eye, and blood flowed down into the eye, blinding him, but he still dealt lethal blows with his sword as the ruffians swarmed him. He swung a slash from his midline that halved an attacker at the waist. He continued the arc into a fluid motion that lopped off another ruffian’s head as he turned.