Preview: Alliance of Serpents
Volume II of The Fourth Dimension
Kindel wiped his fingerprints away with a soft cloth, leaving the golden amulet to shine with renewed beauty and luster. The three jewels embedded in each corner sparkled against the light of his eyes, though the absence of the lephadorite itself left a wide vacant notch in the center. If anything happens to that stone, I'll have each and every one of their heads severed with a dull blade. Releasing it to their possession had been quite a chore; it was not easy to let go of the thing. But what was done was done, and all he could do was wait for results. Scientists were never known for their speed, but Kindel had ordered that the lephadorite project take precedence over any and all other experiments and research that may have been underway.
He dropped the cloth on his desk and examined the amulet again, searching for any cracks or imperfections in the colored jewels. Any change in weight or molecular composure could affect the lephadorite's reaction. Everything had to be just so. It was a test of perfection for Kindel—luckily for him, he'd always been a perfectionist—and he did not want to imagine the consequences he'd face for abusing the power within that little rock. If Barrine isn't careful with that thing, he may wind up killing us all. What kind of experiments were they performing? Did they take him seriously when he told them the lephadorite was unstable and unpredictable?
The visitor alert toned from the door. "You may enter," he said, his eyes remaining fixed on the amulet.
The door slid open to admit Scimitar and Kalibur with their prisoner in tow. How they'd managed to nab this one was beyond Kindel, though the bloodstains on the man's vest likely had something to do with it. He was unshackled—Kalibur's report had stated he'd come willingly—but a crude bandage was taped around his shoulder, and he walked with the sort of lethargic exhaustion Thorus would expect from a man who'd just come from battle. Still, despite the glaze over his eyes and the slump of his shoulders, Sartan Truce wore an arrogant grin over his golden beard. Scimitar and Kalibur moved to Kindel's side of the desk, leaving him standing just inside the doorway. Thorus never took his eyes from the amulet.
Several moments passed before Truce spoke. "Aren't you even going to welcome me?"
"I have little time for nonsense, Sartan." Kindel made his voice as casual as he could. While it was true that he wanted to know what the kyrosen had been up to that had drawn Aldoric's attention away from the Armada, it was never a good idea to give a prisoner any idea of the importance of his knowledge. A man as crafty as Sartan Truce would use any leverage he could manage to find to his advantage.
"Oh, you'll find time, I assure you." Truce suddenly stood up straight. The man was full of pride, just like his father.
"The last time I found time for you, I drove the kyrosen to near extinction," Kindel responded, running his finger along the amulet's golden chain. "At least, that's what I remember."
Truce shrugged—he shrugged!—at the suggestion. "You didn't do us any favors, if that's what you're getting at."
"Regardless of who did what or how it was done, we find ourselves face to face today," Kindel tried not to grit his teeth. Showing anger would not prompt the man to reveal anything. "What is it that is so important for you to demand an audience with me tonight?"
Truce casually walked over to the various artifacts displayed on the cabinets along the wall. It was clear in his eyes that he was trying not to show the pain his body was in, but he wasn't fooling anyone, Kindel least of all. "Aratus Truce no longer leads the kyrosen. I do."
"Yes, I'm aware of that," Kindel said, lifting the cloth to polish the back of the amulet.
Sartan paused a moment before continuing. "I assumed as much. At any rate, as you may or may not know, my father and I never saw eye to eye on the direction of the kyrosen. We are, by nature, rogues; we wander the galaxy in search of a place to call home. When our battles with your Armada drove us near the brink of annihilation—I'm not ashamed to admit that's what you did—my father chose the technologically inept planet of Terranias as our new home. He thought that we could rebuild there and start fresh. None of us really felt—"
"Is there a point to this history lesson?" Kindel cut in, still avoiding eye contact.
Sartan picked up a small wooden statue of a man kneeling with a pike in his hands. It was an artifact Kindel had picked up on Merioun several years back. "My father was a fool, and I'll be the first to say it." Truce said, almost laughing as he did. "His barbarian ego got us into the mess we're in, but now that I am in control, I have employed a bit more intelligent and, dare I say, crafty approach."
"Good for you," Thorus made the remark sound condescending. He stood and moved toward the viewport, carrying the amulet with him. "What does that have to do with me?"
"Nice stuff you've got here." Kindel eyed him through the reflection in the glass. Truce's hand moved toward the long artifact that Thorus kept covered with a cloth. "What's under the rag—"
Snarling, Kindel whirled with an extended hand, and burst of wind threw Truce's body into the wall beside the door. The Mage's eyes bulged for a minute—the impact could not have felt good with his body in the shape it was in—before the arrogant smile returned. Kindel took one firm step forward. "Either tell me why you are here, or I'll instruct my assistants to make sure you eat every meal for the rest of your life through your—"
"I need your help," Truce said simply. He left a few moments of silence for the words to sink in, and when Kindel released the hold that kept him plastered to the wall, Sartan walked to the desk and slammed his hands down. "I have something you want, and you have something I want. I propose an exchange, one that will easily profit you more in the end."
Kindel stopped short, struggling to keep his face smooth. Had he let his emotions show, his jaw would have been on the floor. How could Truce have possibly learned about the lephadorite? What in the world could he possibly offer that would be more profitable? The man had certainly grabbed his attention. Still, Kindel fought to keep himself composed. No leverage. "What . . . do you want?"
The answer was not what he'd expected, not even close. "Ships."
"Ships?"
Truce nodded. "That's right, ships. You have an entire army of ships at your disposal. I am trying to get the kyrosen off of Terranias and back into space where we belong."
Kindel nearly exploded into laughter right in Sartan's face. "The kyrosen were a thorn in my side for a good portion of two decades, and now you want me to help you get them back on their feet?"
"I am prepared to make concessions," Sartan said, standing upright. "Even though we'll be using them, they will still be your ships. You will retain ownership, and will even be able to track us if you wish. You'll know where we are and where we are headed at all times. And you can give us the ships with the weakest plating, if you wish, so that we can be easily destroyed if you feel we've betrayed you."
Kindel couldn't believe what he was hearing. There had to be a catch; only a great fool would take his enemy's word at face value. "Are you trying to tell me that the kyrosen wish to join with the Vezulian Armada?"
Now Sartan openly laughed. "No, don't be absurd. We simply want to make a trade."
"And what is it that you want to trade?"
The next words out of Truce's mouth nearly made Kindel roll his eyes. "The perfect warrior."
Thorus wasted no time in shaking his head. "Absolutely not. Out of the question." He returned his gaze to the viewport, eyes shifting toward the tiny spec of a ship floating near the far side of the planet. The Refuge.
"Wait a minute. Think about it. The Armada is on an endless quest to strengthen itself, correct? You seek ways to grow in power so that you can defeat any enemy that steps in your way, right? Well this, Thorus, would transform each and every one of your men's children into the ultimate fighting machines."
"I'm not interested in—" He glanced back in dis
gust. "Did you say children?"
"I realize it doesn't sound like there is much potential, but after seeing the thing work with my own eyes, I am truly convinced that this weapon will change the face of battle as we know it, and whoever possesses it will be the most feared and respected entity across the universe."
Kindel pursed his lips in a wry smile before returning his attention to the Refuge. "Then why would you want to hand such an item over to me? Why not use it on me and be rid of me?"
"As I said before," Truce began, his boots clopping across the floor as he moved to Thorus' side, "I am not interested in power. I am simply trying to pull my people back from the edge of extinction, and I'll do whatever it takes to give them the chance to rebuild."
"And how do I know you won't turn on me once you have rebuilt?"
"It will be years before that happens." Sartan's voice sounded almost sad. "But if it will make you feel better, I'll sign whatever treaties or agreements you wish to prevent the kyrosen from waging war on the Armada."
It was a tempting deal, Kindel admitted to himself. But he was not foolish enough to trust the kyrosen any more than he trusted the Aeden Alliance. "Have you brought this weapon with you to prove your claims?"
Sartan opened his mouth . . . and closed it again. He raised a finger and directed Kindel's eyes to the Refuge. "It was stolen. They have it."
The idea of Aldoric possessing such a weapon sent a chill down Kindel's spine. Still, it could all be some sort of trap laid by Truce and Aldoric to draw Kindel into a winless battle. There were interesting possibilities on both sides of the argument, but Kindel refused to allow himself to trust Sartan Truce. "I assume that means you want my help to recover it. How am I to know I won't find a trap waiting for me over there? I know the planet has held Aldoric's attention for quite some time, and I'm not entirely convinced that you and he haven't been plotting against me."
"If I may, Master?" Scimitar's raspy voice broke in. "We tracked Aldoric to the fortress of one of the kingdoms of this planet. It was there that he battled the kyrosen, and it was there that Truce sustained the injuries he has. I can confirm that the two are not allied."
"Did either of you witness this weapon he speaks of?"
The two ninjas shook their heads. "Once we found Aldoric, we tracked him closely. But when they entered the fortress, we remained hidden outside. You instructed us not to engage in battle, and we followed those orders."
"I also ordered you not to take any prisoners," Kindel muttered. Not that it was a loss to have the leader of the kyrosen in custody. He looked back at Truce, then at the Refuge. There was a great deal of risk in trusting anything Truce said. He'd shown no proof for any of his claims, giving Kindel every reason to believe that it was all a bluff. But if, by some chance, this alleged weapon did exist, then leaving it in anyone else's hands could prove to be disastrous. It couldn't hurt to look into the matter; it would give Kindel legitimate reason to put a close eye on Aldoric's activities and an even closer eye on Truce and the kyrosen. After all, if the weapon was truly in Aldoric's hands . . . "I shall consider your proposal, Sartan. For now, you will be confined to a prison cell until I can decide what to do with you." He glanced at Scimitar and Kalibur. "Escort him to a cell, and see that his injuries are properly treated."
They responded in unison. "As you wish, my Lord."
Truce kept his head turned and his eyes on Kindel until the door closed behind the three. Thorus looked back at the Refuge and shook his head. "What are you up to, brother?"
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Special thanks to my family for all of their support, and to my beautiful Laura Crump for never giving up on me. Most of all, thank you God for giving me the opportunities to get my ideas onto paper.
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The adventure continues in Alliance of Serpents, Volume II of The Fourth Dimension!
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