Return of the Maca E-Book

Mari Collier

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Battle for Thalia is imminent.

The exiled Maca of Don is returning to his homeworld to destroy the Justine and Krepyon conquerors, and break the rule of the House of Sisters.

Things spiral out of control as the Sisterhood attempts to destroy all male Macas, and isolate the House of Don. With escalating conflicts, the Maca and his friends enter a battle to find a new life and free their people from the invaders.

After the battle for Thalia is over, the galaxy will never be the same again.

Leseprobe

Return of the Maca

Chronicles of the Maca IV

Mari Collier

Copyright (C) 2015 Mari Collier

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2019 by Next Chapter

Published 2019 by Next Chapter

Cover art by http://www.thecovercollection.com/

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

To the Reader: The lilting speech of the Thalians is not Scottish. Their words are similar, but do not necessarily mean the same thing. They use the letter T before words like is, was, would, were, etc. so that the sound is tis, twas, twould, twere. You is pronounced “ye,” and your as “yere.” All of these sounds are alien to our ears. Their speech is used once in a short section. To avoid confusion, I have kept the accents to a minimum and included a Glossary.

Chapter 1: The Kenning Woman Speaks

The Ab woman, Di, stood between the merchant stalls located close to the waterfront's walkways and piers in the city of Bretta. Her massive fists were clenched and her eyes a vacant stare. The wind tore at her long, thick, chestnut-brown hair. Her short, brown kirtle flapped against the muscled thighs. Her body quivered while her mouth drew in and blew out air in short, quick gasps. At first some in the crowd had jostled against her, but others backed away, unsure of what held that magnificent Thalian body enthralled. Soon members of the Sisterhood in their black warrior uniforms, Abs in their brown garments, the Tris of Betron in their light green summer outfits, and Krepyons (derogatorily called Kreppies) in their green uniforms gathered around her. A sturdy man child of about five held onto her left leg and looked upward. He was shaking her leg to draw her attention, but nothing could break her concentration. Finally she turned to the crowd, her eyes cleared, and she pointed to the people directly in front of her.

“Thalians, Abs, Tris, people of the Houses, and Krepyons listen to me. I am the Kenning Woman, and I have a message.” Her voice was as strong as her body, and it rolled over the crowd.

“Llewellyn, Maca of Don, will return. With him comes his laddie, the blind-eyed Laird of Don. Together they will restore Don and their House will be alive with new people. The false prophet will be destroyed. Beauty, Counselor of the Realm, will be forced to honor her debt to him.”

Her voice rose as she pointed a finger at one from each group standing before her. “The Tris will supplant the Abs, and the Sisterhood is doomed.

“Ye Krepyons will rue the day ye stripped Thalia of her wealth for ye will be crushed like the chalk from the cliffs of your planet. The Justines will rule no more, and LouElla will be avenged!”

She stooped, picked up the wee laddie and strode through the hissing Abs, the growling Kreppies, and the smiling Tris, her long legs eating away at the tarmac. A desire to hide and sleep overrode any desire to explain away her outburst. What madness had possessed her? There was no Kenning Woman for the broken land of Thalia; none for almost eighty years. She was Di, the magnificent Ab, once the Handmaiden to Martin. Now she had damned Martin as the False Prophet and there would be retribution from that bitter, aging man. She hugged Wee Da closer.

“Ye must go to the Laird of Don when he comes,” she whispered to him. “He will be your fither and your protector.”

Di knew she must find Is. He would guard them while she slept. She unlimbered her legs and began to run. She disappeared from view among the broken storefronts of what once was the proud city of Bretta on the continent of Betron.

She found Is in the old inner district as he returned from a day of scrounging. He was dirty, unkempt, but unbowed. Since Martin had decreed he was not acceptable to the other Abs until he proved he would do the menial tasks of Abs during the work season, he was denied the rations and the safety of Martin's House of Abs. The House of Ishner still managed to get supply packets through to him and his condemned younger sister, but he had given the last packet to his renamed sister, Il, who was allowed to remain with Martin. The Handmaiden claimed she would protect Il, but Is wondered if that were possible. At least his sister had a place to sleep, but she was having difficulty adjusting to the life of an Ab, the loss of her name, and the security of the House of Ishner.

His bag was slung over his shoulder and he was congratulating himself on his take when Di ran up to him.

“We must hide. I spoke the vision.” Her light brown eyes were wide with distress.

Is gaped at her. “Ye did nay.” Horror was in his voice.

“Aye, and I named Martin as the False Prophet. Take my Wee Da and hide him.”

Wee Da, however, had a firm grasp around his mother's neck, and she could not remove him. Is shook his head.

“Nay, we'll go to this new place I've found. Quickly.” He turned and sped up the broken street with Di loping behind.

They were in a part of Bretta once lined with small craft shops and Tri housing overhead. Before the Justines had enforced their rule with Krepyon guards, Tris and members of Thalia's Houses would fly in on their flivs, the four-seat vehicles of Thalia, and park at the padports for a fee on a celebration day or to shop. The rounded buildings of concrete and Ayranian alloys were deserted; the padports vacant. The remaining Tris had left this area for the waterfront where food was distributed. In the back of one building, Is had found a door that opened. For over one hundred years the owners never returned to lock it, nor was it likely that they would return now. The three disappeared within and Is blocked the doorway with a carved statue of a wild elbenor raised on hindquarters showing fangs below the snarling lips.

“Come, we'll go upstairs. The furnishings are quite good. Ye can rest there and Wee Da can play. I'll prepare the meal.”

Di bounded up the steps. “Will they nay see the light up here?”

“I've blocked off the windows, and I've been outside at night to verify that nay light escapes. We are safe as long as Martin's minions nay ken where I rest.”

Di spied the long couch and then the hall leading to the still furnished sleeping areas.

“Dear Gar, a real bed. Is, tis perfect.” She swept into one sleeping room and set Da on the bed, pulled off her brown, ankle boots, and collapsed.

“I must rest. Wee Da, be good for Is.” She closed her eyes.

Is set his bag down and looked at the child. Wee Da regarded him with a smile and started to run. Is shrugged and ran after him. He did nay mind watching the wee one, although he kenned it was Troyner's get. At present Troyner, Maca of Troy, stood in the docket before the Council of the Realm. Is doubted if Troyner could fend off the Sisterhood much longer. They would bar Troyner from House and make him Ab. Damn the Sisterhood and their strict obedience to the rule of the Justines and the Kreppies. Only once had a Justine died on Thalia since the war ended and that had been in Ayran, deep in the mines, a dangerous place in the best of times.

Di woke with shadow light enfolding her and Wee Da patting her cheek and saying, “Mither, tis sus.”

She sat up and her vision of the bulky Maca of Don and his handsome, hard-faced laddie with the strange grey, blind eyes faded. She hugged Wee Da and sniffed. The smell of food and the burning of oil came from the front area. She pulled on her boots, swung Da onto her hip, and walked out into the front.

Is had devised some sort of lamp from a slender-necked ceramic vase by filling it with oil and inserting a wick twisted from an old mat. A golden flame from the wick wedged into the vase stood above the neck. The improvised light cast a glow over the table. At least there was bread and a spread for it made from onions and some sort of shriveled red vegetable or fruit.

Is smiled at her. “I sorrow that there tis nay milk for Da, but I had nay anticipated guests.”

“Tis all right, Is, he still drinks from me. Tis there a working lav here or must I go outside?”

“Tis best to go outside. I'll help with the door and the guarding.”

As they went down the stairs, he asked, “Did ye sleep well?”

“Aye, but I dreamt the vision. It will return. The Sisterhood will come for me.” She turned to him.

“If they take me, ye must see that Da gets to the Laird of Don when he arrives. The Sisterhood canna hurt Da then.”

“Ye worry too much. They will ignore ye.”

“Nay, they are already angered. Twice I have almost been House, and the Sisters have noticed. Ayranians hate me for luring their Maca into my arms. They believe I coaxed her into a life as an Ab as the Handmaiden to Martin. The Sisterhood found out I was safe with Troyner of Troy. They mean to control his House and see him reduced to Ab or dead. My time with Rocella of Rurhran does nay count for Rocella would nay defy her Maca.”

“The Sisterhood goes after any Maca that tis male. It has nay to do with ye.” Is held the door for her and they went outside. Di handed Da to Is before scooting around the corner of another building.

Chapter 2: A Reprieve

Is' assurances about the Sisterhood proved correct. They scorned the Kenning Woman's words from a vision. What the Counselor of the Realm found annoying was the green clad Kreppie screeching at her about the Maca of Don returning prophesy given in a public place. Beauty wore her official Counselor of the Realm white uniform and listened patiently. The Kreppie's greenish cheek scales were almost jiggling by the time he screamed at her, “You will arrest that woman and send her to Ayran!”

“We will nay give credence to her words.” Beauty sat straight in her rounded chair, glaring down at the official. “If we send her to Ayran, Jolene will smack her bottom, put her to bed, and shower her with gifts from House. That tis nay punishment.”

“You forget. This Ab is responsible for the Maca of Ayran defecting to the Abs and to Martin.”

“I have nay forgotten. Ye and the Justines approved it as fulfilling the old prophesy that Ayran would become Abs. As for the former Maca, she was always whining about the old religion. Di did nay persuade her. All Di wished was to become House and she thought Jaylene would grant it for the love of her body.” Beauty practically spat words at him.

“The Ab must be made an example of for others to see.” The Krepyon put his hands on the desk and leaned towards her.

“I demand to see the Guardian of the Realm.”

“My mither, the Guardian, grows eld and she tis resting right now. She will awaken within the hour.” Beauty smiled at him. “I will, of course, discuss this with the Great Betta and will defer to her wisdom.”

The Krepyon, appointed envoy and administrator of Thalia, glared at her. He knew full well that Beauty ran the day-to-day functions of Thalia. Beauty, he thought with abhorrence, was a complete misnomer. The woman stood at least six-foot four and was muscled from head to toe, plus she possessed but two skimpy mammary glands. Thalians had a strange concept of beauty, He shuddered. His policy would be carried out.

“That woman must be silenced!”

“I agree with ye, Coordinator Balen. She must be silenced, but not by making a spectacle of her. If she does nay spout those words again, they will be forgotten and go nay further than Betron.” The woman will die, she thought. The words about her long-ago betrayal must nay be repeated.

“Do you believe that?” Coordinator Balen pounded at the desk. “The Abs will sign for work duty by the end of this cycle. They'll carry it to every continent on Thalia. She must be confined.”

Beauty sank against the back of the chair and smiled. “Coordinator Balen, I promise if she speaks again, she will be silenced, but nay by condemnation. There are other ways.” She leaned forward.

“Consider how ridiculous her words are. It has been over one hundred and twenty years since they left. The Maca of Don is dead.”

“We have no proof of that. The Justines do not believe that one of their own has been lost out there. When Ricca returns, he will tell us how he disposed of Llewellyn.”

Beauty looked at him. Stupid Kreppies. Always they credited the Justines with Gar like powers. She made her voice all innocence.

“We believe they've disappeared into space. Even if they return and the Maca tis with them, he canna have a laddie. He tis a mutant and there tis nay seed, or so the Justine teachings go.”

Balen's face whitened with horror. “You doubt the Justines? I'll report you.”

“I? I doubt the teachings of the Justines? Ye must be mad. I used Justine teachings to remind ye of the foolishness of her words.”

“The Tris and Abs of Thalia give too much credence to the words of the Kenning Woman.”

Beauty straightened, her hands grasping the chair's arms, her eyes becoming brown agate, her voice rising in protest.

“There tis nay Kenning Woman! She tis a fraud.”

They were reduced to glaring at each other when Betta entered the room. Her white hair glistened, and the white, full length over-gown hid her aging body from view.

“Ye both are nay thinking.” She looked at the two. “I had the troller on so I have heard your words. Beauty tis correct. If the woman holds her tongue, all will be forgotten. If she speaks again, we will deal with her and she will die, but nay as a condemned in Ayran. There are other ways.” She went to the other side of the desk and sat.

“Now, tis there anything else?”

Balen looked dubious. “Won't a death of such a young, healthy Ab be suspicious?”

Betta gazed at him complacently. “The old prophesy from the last Kenning Woman said, 'the new Kenning Woman would stumble.' She will stumble.” Betta smiled at them both.

Chapter 3: The Stumble

Is returned the next afternoon when he finished trading some of yesterday's scavenged finds. His bag was partially filled with food. He was confident they would survive until Signing Day. His Guardian should send another packet then. He had sent an urgent plea for two packets and hoped that Ishmalisa would heed him. It was fortunate that the seasons were warming, and he no longer risked freezing outside. He knew he was strong enough to work, but how he longed for his fishing vessel.

Wee Da met him at the top of the stairs with a bellow and ran straight at him intent on continuing the wrestling match of the morning. Is swung him upward and grinned at Di.

“Does he nay tire?”

Di smiled and stopped her pacing. “Of course, he does nay. What did ye find out?” She needed air. She wanted exercise. Confinement was more wearying than work or working out.

“They are nay looking for ye. I was correct. They dinna care what ye said as long as ye nay say it again.”

“How can ye be sure?”

“One of the Sisterhood's low ranking patrollers was kind enough to pull me aside and suggest that ye nay drink so heavily of the brew that loosens your head and your tongue. They nay wish to hear such words from ye again.”

Di heaved a sigh. “I dinna wish to speak such words, but when the vision comes it tis hard to ignore.” She made a slight face and shrugged her shoulders.

“Signing time tis soon. I'll choose Ayran. Nay there care what I say, and till then, we will enjoy our time together.” A smile lifted her cheeks.

The days grew warmer, and the Houses began to assemble in Betron for the monthly meeting of the Council, and the day when Abs signed up for any agricultural or menial work offered by each House. The discussion of wages wagged every tongue. To show their good will, the Houses sent extra provisions for Martin to distribute. Ishmalisa had sent the extra packets, and Is felt his strength returning. He and Di strolled among the booths decorated with each House's colors and looked at the posted work. Abs refused all schooling, but so many of the Tris had voluntarily joined the Abs to procure food that someone was always available to read when the crowd gathered around each screen displaying the work list. The former Tris and life-long Abs pretended to ignore those condemned to servitude from the Houses, but found it difficult not to give way or bow.

The Abs ignored Is as he was too apt to incur Martin's wrath; a situation that could dramatically decrease their food allotments. Di pushed the people away from the posted work assignments and smiled at him.

“Read aloud, Is, so that all may hear.”

As she turned, she saw the breadth of Llewellyn, Maca of Don, and his face was stern. Behind him stood his laddie, the blind-eyed one, his grey eyes like slate glaring at a hostile world, and in his hands was a Justine sprayer. She saw Llewellyn point at her and heard him roar, “Speak.”

Unable to disobey, she turned to the crowd and raised her arms. “People of Thalia listen to me. I am the Kenning Woman appointed by Gar. Llewellyn, Maca of Don, is returning with his blind-eyed laddie to free Thalia and complete the revenge of LouElla.” Her arms dropped down and she swayed back and forth not hearing the gasps and the laughter rippling through the crowd. There had been no prolonged vision, but the words had flown from her mouth.

Is scooped up Wee Da and put his free arm around Di, pulling her back, away from the crowd, guiding her toward the back streets. It was time to hide again. Their progress was interrupted by the Lad of Don, his dark, blue hat sat jauntily on his head hiding the graying hair, and he smelled of the brew he had been drinking. He stood well over six feet, had the straight even features of Don, and he still possessed the body of a Thalian warrior. His withered right arm was held against his side, but he raised his left hand to halt them.

“If ye run in the streets with your wee one and your companion, they will find ye.”

Is trusted this man of Don, one of the last of the surviving warriors from the Justine War. As the last of the House of Don, Lamar should have been Guardian of Don. His laddie or lassie would have become the next Maca, but the Justines had taken his seed when they withered his arm. Now he passed his time talking with old friends or drinking the Rurhran brew offerings from the Houses. Is had not spoken with him since being condemned to the life of an Ab.

“Lamar, can ye think of where we should go? There will be Army and Betron Enforcers looking to drag her before the Council.”

“Ye should nay go back where ye were lodged.” He used his left arm to point over towards the unused streets. “They ken where ye were hid. I heard that from my Counselor.

“Ye,” and he pointed at Is, “should take the wee laddie to the Handmaiden. She will care for him, and then ye may stay at the Ab compound or wander the streets. If they ask about this one, ye can truthfully say she ran off.

“And ye,” he turned and smiled at Di, “will come with me. We will saunter back towards the port and find a friend of mine.”

“Nay!” Di snapped at him, her brown eyes determined.

“I am still a bit of a strategist.” Lamar favored them with a smile and ran his left hand down his chest. “They will nay look for ye so close to the official gathering.”

“Mayhap he tis right, Di. If the Sisterhood kens where we lodge, there tis nay safety there. They will nay look for ye in House.”

“Aye,” Lamar broke in. “They will think ye are cowering like a Kreppie in some back alley.” He smiled inwardly with satisfaction as Di snapped her head up, kissed Da, and handed him to Is.

“How long am I to hide?”

“Nay, long. My friend will arrange a way to transport ye elsewhere and get the message back to the Handmaiden for your wee one.”

Di took a deep breath. “Let's go.”

Lamar used his left hand to grasp her arm and they walked back towards the port, Di walking nearest the buildings.

Di was as tall as Lamar and they matched each other's step as they made their way to what was left of the shops in Bretta. Lamar propelled her into a brew hall reserved for House members and their highest ranking retainers. The few patrons gave a guarded look and ignored them, although later the gossip would spread that Lamar was bedding outside of his marriage vows for they had seen him guide an Ab woman into the hallway towards the lift.

Inside the lift Di closed her eyes and expelled a huge gust of air. She had not dared to breathe while walking across the floor with so many eyes flicking toward her and then snapping back to their companions as though she did not exist. In truth, House members never really looked at Abs anyway. The thought stirred something in her being. Why was this prominent House member helping her? Was it because she had predicted that Don would be restored and he was grateful? The door slid open for them.

“The lift tis safer than the stairs. We are going to the second room to your right.” Lamar leaned his head in that direction as they stepped from the lift. “Hurry now.”

Di matched his steps, but once again her mind nagged at her. How did he so conveniently have this room waiting? Had there truly been time enough? The door opened at his touch and he stepped in, nodding his head in approval.

“Aye, Rollie was right. This tis a good place. The windows are lightly tinted. Ye can see the street below, but others canna see ye. I suggest ye nay look too oft or someone might catch your shadow and realize ye are hiding here.”

Di stepped into the room. “Do ye mean Rollie, Counselor of Rurhran?”

Lamar looked at her. “Who else would I mean? I shall be back in less than an hour with the arrangements.”

He smiled at her and ran his left hand up over the muscles on her arm. “Ye have a magnificent warrior's body.” He bowed his head and stepped outside and turned as he put his palm on the keypad. His eyes softened as he looked at her.

“Tis almost a pity.” And the door slid shut.

Di looked around the room. She realized this was a trap, and she needed a way out. The furniture was soft and round, ready to accommodate those who wished to relax or engage in a bedding away from prying eyes. She pushed some of the heavy, ornate golden chairs against the door. Rurhran's color was gold; at least Lamar had not lied about that, but why, why? Did Lamar nay wish Don to be restored? She finally settled on the round solid, molded table as the only weapon available.

She turned the table over and leaned all her weight down on the leg: it held, the rim of the table coming up from the floor. She had less than an hour. How long would it take to break the window reinforced with protective metals from Ayran? Di lifted the table and aimed one of the legs directly at the center of the window, then rammed it into the metal infused glass. Nothing. Again and again she rammed the leg against the window, sweat started to gather in beads on her forehead and body, and time lost its meaning. Suddenly there was a crinkling noise, overridden by a burning smell. She whirled to face the door and realized the Sisters must have been given permission to up the charge in their stunners, or else it was Kreppies that were after her. Fear put strength into the next ramming and the window started to crack into fine glazed pieces.

Blue flame licked at the side of the table and she flung the table back towards them. Di jumped up and through the window, using her left shoulder to break through the last of the glass. Too late she remembered she was on the second floor and there was nay time to tuck and roll to correct her landing.

Chapter 4: The Handmaiden

Is held the squirming Da and started towards the Ab compound, his thoughts bitter at the turn of events. He had walked less than a mile when he met the Handmaiden hurrying towards the backstreets and hailed her.

The Handmaiden turned her dumpy figure, fully encased in a brown robe, and let out a gasp at the sight of them.

“Did they get her already?”

“Nay.” He stepped closer to her so his words would nay carry. “She has gone with Lamar, Lad of Don, to another place. I am to give Da to ye.” Is tried to hand Da to her, but she refused to take him.

“Where did they go?”

“I dinna. Lamar said that a friend was waiting and that betwixt them they would send her elsewhere.”

“Folly!” came out of the Handmaiden's heavy face. She was barely one hundred years of age, but she resembled the Ayran Abs rather than the Ayran Warriors with her dumpy body and face set with small black eyes. Her thin black hair was covered by a brown scarf. “Which way did they go?”

“Towards the port. Lamar was certain they would nay look for her there.”

The Handmaiden lifted her long robe in both hands and ran towards the port.

Is shrugged and followed as Da bellowed in his ear, “I want Mither.”

They were almost to the main section where the rounded shops were two or three stories high when they heard the breaking glass. Is stopped to look up and his heart hammered in his chest. Di hurdled out of the second floor of the building in front of them and dropped to the cement, landing on her left side. A wild keening noise erupted from the Handmaiden's throat and she rushed to the fallen woman. Two of the Sisterhood looked down from the broken window and then disappeared.

Is hurried to where the Handmaiden stood disrobing herself.

“Help me move her onto this,” she hissed at him. Then clad in her thong and strap and still keening, she knelt beside Di.

“Ye have killed my beloved! Ye are wicked, wicked! Oh, my magnificent Di, my love,” and her wails grew louder. A crowd of Abs and Tris began to encircle them, hoping to catch more of the drama. Di's left arm was bloody and immobile. Blood was coming from her left side, her left leg horribly bent, and blood flowed from her nose and mouth.

The Handmaiden looked up at him. “Quickly, I must wrap her. The world should nay see her like this.” There was desperation in her voice, and Is knelt, not sure what the Handmaiden was planning.

He stood Da beside them and asked. “Won't we hurt her more?”

“Ye canna hurt the dead, and even had she lived, there tis nay medical for Abs.” The Handmaiden glared at him and put her hands under Di's shoulders. Is put his hands under her hips, feeling the familiar rounding wrenched at his stomach and he closed his eyes.

“Lift,” commanded the Handmaiden.

Together they moved Di's body onto her robe, and the Handmaiden used her belt to tie the gown around the inert body. Is wanted to believe he'd heard a moan when they moved her, but he could nay see if her eyes were closed or open.

The Handmaiden bent lower and ran her hand over both eyes. “There, I have closed her lids,” she announced to the world as two of the black clad Sisters burst through, moving the crowd back.

The sight of the Handmaiden stopped them, and they glanced at the predominantly Ab crowd. They kenned that any move against the Handmaiden would ensure a riot.

“All we need to do is make sure she does nay speak again,” said the one with the rank of Sargent.

The Handmaiden looked up at them. “I have already closed her eyes, and the blood has stopped flowing.”

Is looked down at Di. How had the Handmaiden worked that miracle? He listened to her words.

“Since she tis Ab, she tis my responsibility. This Ab,” and she waved her hand at Is, “will help me move her to the compound. The burning will be in the morn. Please, request that the Byre Berm be open. Ye may bring word to Martin this eve about the time of the burning tomorrow.”

She turned back to Is. “Put the laddie on your shoulders, and we will carry her home.”

Is picked up the wailing child and whispered to him, and then set him on his shoulders. Wee Da continued to cry, but hung on to his hair. Is nodded at the Hand Maiden, and together they lifted Di and began the long walk to the Ab compound. Inside he was shaking. It would not have surprised him if the Sisters had arrested him and sent him to the mines of Ayran. In his mind, he blessed the Handmaiden for his salvation from that indignity.

The sun still beat its rays against the world when they staggered in, their burden sagging badly. The few Abs that were there stared at them and then broke into fierce whispers.

“She's dead.”

“The Kenning Woman has been punished.”

“Gar took her.”

“Nay, it was the Sisterhood.”

“The Sisterhood hated her.”

The Handmaiden led the way through the chattering Abs to the Healing Quarter, and one of the male Abs pulled open the door for them, stood back respectfully, and closed the door after they entered the hall.

“We'll take her to the back room. There tis already one dead woman there.” She stalked through the first room with its crude stools and tables and brushed aside the curtain. They laid Di on one of the tables that lined the room, and Is removed Da from his shoulders, his chest heaving from the walk. The Handmaiden's dumpy figure belied her strength as she was breathing normally.

In the middle of the room was another table already occupied by an older, dead Ab woman. She was skinny, wrinkled, and her open mouth gave the observer a view of missing and broken teeth while her unclosed eyes looked up at the dingy ceiling.

“Help me move this table over to the middle of the room,” commanded the Handmaiden. Both of them ignored the squalls from Da. Once the table was beside the other one, the Handmaiden picked up Da and whispered to him.

“Your mither can nay hear ye. Ye must remember how much she loved ye. Now kiss her one last time.”

She held Da down to Di's face, and he tried pulling her hair to wake her while screaming, “Mither.”

The Handmaiden pulled him away and gave him back to Is. “Take him to my laddie, and tell Pi to put Da with Ka. They are close enough to the same age and may console each other. Then have Pi bring me another robe. I'll nay be able to wear that one again.” She motioned to the table where Di lay wrapped in her gown.

Is nodded and was about to leave when the curtain was swept open by Martin's staff of authority, and the brown-robed Martin entered the room. His grey hair was mostly gone, but what was left fell in wispy lengths to his shoulders. He cultivated a beard, but his attempt was thwarted by the nature of Thalians. The beard, like his hair, was sparse and grey. It fell in strands from his cheeks and chin giving him a grimed, striped appearance.

The Handmaiden pointed at the opening. “Ye may nay enter here. I have work to do and am nay clothed.”

“The Sisterhood wishes assurance that the false Kenning Woman has died ere they deliver tomorrow's food allotment. I must verify this.”

“Ye just did. Use your nose as tis the stink of death that dwells here. Ye may tell them their treachery has killed the magnificent Di. Now go away as tending the dead tis my province.” Tears were rolling down both sides of her face, but her voice did not waver.

Martin twitched his long beak of a nose, glanced at the table and saw no movement. He noted the yellow pallor of the face that comes from losing too much blood and saw the pooled, thick blood and the death stains spread on the robe. He shrugged, nodded at her, and walked out.

The Handmaiden's shoulders slumped, but she had two more orders for Is. “Once ye have given Da to Pi, ye are to find Ki. She tis supposed to be here helping with her mither or her brither. Ye must also find the Ab sea captain, Bi, who sails from Don this eve. Ke's casket goes with his sailing, and I must have her ready. They will nay need Di's body until tomorrow. Bi was here, but has probably gone with Ki to some swill room. Now go.”

She turned away from him and picked up a bucket of water and some strips of cloth. The bucket she placed on the floor next to one of the tables and the cloths on the table. She then began to clean the dead.

Is held the crying Da and stepped out of that dimly lit room; relief then sorrow swept over his face. The eating hour was approaching and more Abs were in the compound, but they had lost interest now that death was accomplished. He carried Da through the empty rooms to where the younger laddies had their sleeping quarters, and found the thirteen-year-old Pi holding ten-year old Ka in his arms. Pi was fairly tall for someone of Ayran descent. His upper was body slender, but he had the wide hips and heavy thighs of Ayran. Is handed Da to him.

“Ye are to put him with Ka so that they may console each other over the loss of their mithers. Once ye have them calmed down, ye are to take your mither a clean robe as she has nay on but her strap and thong.”

Sadness shadowed Pi's dark eyes as he reached for the wailing Da and put him next to Ka. Ka was red-eyed, but had stopped crying some time ago. He put his arms around Da, and they clung to each other. After a few minutes, Pi decided it was safe to leave and entered the small, neat room he shared with his mother. He took the spare robe from the hook and hurried to the Healing Quarters. Since Abs were never given medical treatment, Pi thought of it as the Death Quarter. He took a deep breath and entered.

“Make sure that curtain tis locked in place.”

His mother's voice brooked no questions, and he used the tags at the bottom and top to keep it from blowing or being pulled aside. He turned to greet his mother and saw the position of the box for Ke and the tears streaking down his mother's face. His eyes widened and his mouth opened in a big O.

Chapter 5: The Justine Refuge

The Captain of Flight looked at those seated around the command center. His Director of Flight was to his right, her mouth in a straight line, and her muscles rigid. His Second in Command was to his left. The rest of the command staff was his Second's various blood kin into the third generation. All but one were descendants of the Captain's own dear Earth counselor, Anna. They numbered nine; six men and three women. Red O'Neal was seated at his Director's right. Red twas related to his Second in Command through their biological Justine fither. O'Neal's title was Captain, although he had requested Commodore, a notion rejected by the others.

“It tis decided then, when we make contact we twill take out any space craft at the Justine Refuge.”

“I'd rather be able to utilize any space craft that is at the Justine Refuge.” O'Neal wanted another vessel and conquest was one way of securing it.

“Nay!” Both the Captain of Flight and the Director spoke at once.

The Second in Command interrupted. “Be patient, Red, y'all will get your own ship for trading. It's not worth the risk. Why bring it up? We need to take them out at the first strike. Then and only then will they be willing to listen to a bunch of mutants demanding a new treaty in the galaxy.” A faint scar pulled the right side of his mouth higher as he gave a quick smile. “Papa and Grandmère are correct.”

“I do have one suggestion.” The only completely grey-haired member spoke out. “You three,” she pointed to the three at the command console, “are better at maneuvering and firing than the rest of us. I believe until we make contact that one, or all three of you, should bed down in here. If we are surprised or need to attack, we can wake you instantly.”

“Agreed.” The Director of Flight stood. “We twill bring in the bedding now.”

* * *

Lamar, his counselor Beatrice, Lass of Betron, and Tamar, laddie of Betron, the sixteen-year-old they were raising, were seated at one of the gold and cream booths in the Justine Refuge lounge. Like Lamar, Beatrice's hair had grayed. They had been sent here to give Rennie, Lady of Rurhran, and her counselor, Rhodan, laddie of Rurhran a long needed break from their stint as envoys to the Justine League. This provided the Justines the opportunity to have Lamar where they could observe him while their one remaining Golden One had scheduled maintenance in its bio level.

While the Brendons performed the needed agricultural tasks, a Krepyon craft patrolled the surrounding space. Both Krepyons and Brendons where overseen by a Justine.

No meetings were scheduled, but the Justines required all Thalians and Brendons to be present and visible during the daylight hours. Tamar had appeared for the midday meal. He was allowed to study with the one Justine youth and sessions were over for the day. Like his appointed Guardians, he was clad in the Thalian skin-fitting, dark blue of the House of Don. His dark brown hair was cut short. His eyes were the lighter brown of Troy. His mither, Belinda, Lass of Betron, Counselor of Army, had decided she did nay wish to raise any child; particularly a male child since she had wed Beauty.

The Thalians had greeted each other warmly by hugging, laying their head on the shoulders, and making a tsk sound in the ear. So far, the Justines had not forbidden the ritual, but the Kreppies would frown.

An excited Krepyon voice came over the com. “We have made contact with Ricca's Golden One. It is not known at this time if Toma is aboard. We will…”

An explosion in the background was heard and the com went silent.

The Justines, Krepyons, Brendons, and Thalians gathered for the meal sat in stunned silence. What had happened? The Thalians held hands, worry briefly appearing on their faces, then hidden. Llewellyn, their Maca of Don, had been with Ricca. Had he been marooned or would he be returning?

Three Kreppies followed the one Justine up into the control tower.

“He tis trying to contact the Golden One,” Lamar whispered. “If that twas an attack, they had best man their remaining Golden One or any attacker will destroy us.”

Beatrice nodded and she gripped his right thigh rather than his useless hand. The Kreppies would kill them if they suspected them of being in league with an unknown assailant.

The Justines' practice of permitting the Kreppies to patrol while the crew of the Golden One rested was a dangerous tactic in Lamar's mind. To him, all Kreppies were treacherous.

A Golden One appeared on the scan screen. It was high in the northern sky above the Justine created biosphere, and the com returned to life.

“If your Golden One shows any signs of lifting, we'll blast it into dust. We are here to discuss a treaty, but will not tolerate an attack.” It was a male baritone voice with an unknown accent. The words were in the Thalian language.

“We need to know who you are and why you attacked our ally.” The Justine's voice filled the spaces.

“Go to hell.” The voice was flat. “Do you wish to talk or not?”

Lamar and Beatrice noticed other Justines flying to their grounded spaceship. The Justines in the lounge area had already left. A bolt of golden light hit the space near the Golden One. The ensuing explosion flipped one of the Justine's four-seater Scouts and dust and rock debris flew into the artificial sunlight. Kreppies were running to assist the Justines and then stopped. What if they fired again?

“We need to speak with Ricca or Toma.”

Another voice came through the com. “Tis tired I am of this dilly-dallying. Ye had yere chance. Do ye sit at a treaty session with us or nay? If nay, yere Refuge tis nay more.”

The voice of Bolly, the Justine in the tower, responded. “Your words are Thalian. Who are you?”

“I am Llewellyn, Maca of Don.”

A ripple of murmurs swept through the scale-faced Kreppies. The Thalians fought to keep joy from their faces.

“Llewellyn, do you realize we have your elder Lamar and his counselor Beatrice here? They will die if you do not surrender immediately.”

There was a longer pause than normal transmission time.

“They are Thalians and my heart twill break, but if ye dinna negotiate with us, ye are nay more.”

“Before we answer you, tell us where Toma and Ricca are.”

“Toma tis aboard. He twas most helpful on the journey. Ricca twas a fool and tried to impose his will on the beings of the planet where Toma was trapped. The beings there killed him. Beat him to death with clubs. They are fierce opponents.”

The Justine paused before speaking.

“May we see Toma at the controls?”

There was another silence.

“The consensus tis that ye may see Toma, but he tis nay at the controls. Nay may ye speak with him till we have landed.”

The scan came alive with a Justine facing a screen in a Golden One's crew quarters. He inclined his head and the scan went blank.

“We need a moment to confer. Will you grant that?”

“Aye, that we twill give.”

Grim faced Kreppie guards appeared at the table occupied by the Thalians. Their long stunners were laid across their left arms.

Finally, Bolly spoke again. “What kind of treaty are you requesting?”

Llewellyn's broad face appeared on the screen. “We wish a new treaty for all in this galaxy; including the Brendons. I assume they have an envoy at your Refuge.” His pronunciation implied refuge was a dirty word.

Kreppies and Justines could be heard taking a deep breath.

“If ye dinna agree to a treaty, this place, yere Golden One, all twill be blasted away. We then continue to the Kreppie's planet and destroy most of what tis there. Thalia twill be free.”

The Justines conferred with mindspeak before Bolly spoke.

“You are a Thalian Maca. Will you agree to a challenge to fight one of us? The winner will then dictate the terms.”

“It twould give me great pleasure. We twill use a Krepyon ship to land. The Golden One remains aloft. If the person manning the controls sees or hears any betrayal of yere words, this place and the Kreppie planet twill be gone.”

“Toma would not betray us like this. What have you done to him?”

“Toma twill accompany us when we land. He has agreed to immediately leave the field. We have done nay to him.

“Are we cleared for passage through the biosphere?”

“Where did you acquire the Krepyon craft?”

“Ye equivocate. Do we land or nay?” The voice had grown stern.

“Very well, you are permitted to land.”

Kalen, eldest of the Justines, approached the Thalian and Brendon tables.

“All of you are to march behind us. The Krepyons will be your guard. You should be there when Llewellyn loses. No talking.”

The Kreppies motioned with their stunners, and all rose to begin their walk. The Brendons' faces were worried. They marched behind the heavier, taller Thalians. Their green hair had begun to turn to the red of old age. They would soon return to their families to be properly buried in the earth to replenish it. Would they not be allowed to complete their final life task?

Lamar noticed the Justine remaining in the tower. Did he plan to fire at the Golden One from the tower controls? How could his younger fight a Justine? Llewellyn was a mutant. A mutant twould nay be able to stop the mind control of a Justine.

The Kreppie craft left the Golden One and a pulse of energy came from the tower. An answering golden bolt from the Golden One met the pulse in the air. The blast rocked the ground and Justines, the two Brendon envoys, the Thalians, and the Krepyons fell. Dust rose and filtered downward in the golden light. A second, slender bolt demolished the upper portion of the tower, leaving a jagged line of concrete, silicon, titanium ribs, and insulating electronic slurry creeping down the outer golden walls. The fallen beings looked around and rose as the Krepyon craft wobbled to a landing.

'They have killed Bolly. Who can be at the controls if Ricca or Toma are not there?' A group mindspeak by the Justines tried to make sense of what they had just witnessed.

The Krepyons were scrambling to retrieve their weapons as the Thalians were on their feet and towered over the Krepyons. Beatrice was positioned on Lamar's right side, Tamar on Lamar's left.

“They've killed a Justine.” Lamar muttered to Beatrice. “Be ready to die.” His voice faded away as the Krepyon craft's opening panel slid upward to half-position and the landing platform edged out.

“Something tis wrong with that craft.” Beatrice tried to keep her voice low.

“No talking,” commanded the Krepyon behind Beatrice as he nudged her back with his stunner.

Three people appeared on the ramp. The man in the middle was Toma, red hair, copper eyes with golden bands around the pupil and extremely slender: a typical, tall Justine in appearance. It was the other two that made the watching group look in amazement.

The man and woman were the same height: six feet. Both had red hair and were heavier than the Justine, but they matched steps with Toma as they walked down the ramp. It was the woman who caused mouths to drop. Her mammary glands were large by any known planetary standard; yet her body was slender, the green clothes clinging to her, and her mid-calf shoes had high heels. They were carrying what looked like Krepyon stunners. It wasn't until they were closer that the watchers realized the two had Justine eyes.

The next four caused Beatrice to take a huge, gasping breath and tears began flowing down Lamar's face. Tamar looked in wonderment. To his teenage eyes, two were Thalians; huge, muscled bodies and dark, straight hair. The male had to be Llewellyn, Maca of Don, but who was the older woman dressed in black?

On Llewellyn's left side walked a slender (to the Thalians' eyes), wide shouldered man wearing a kineman's hat like they wore on the continents of Don and Rurhran. His trousers were a heavy material in blue, the shirt Thalian blue, and strange boots were on his feet. His gait was slightly rolling, but nay a Thalian's. The other man looked Justine: tall, extremely slender, but his red hair was thinning. Behind them came a motley group of twenty beings, mostly men but some women, dressed in a wide variety of clothes, hats or hair bands, and boots. All of them carried weapons that resembled long, primitive forms of stunners.

As the group approached, Toma gave a curt nod to his parents and used mindspeak.

'My parents, you are thanked for greeting me, but I must go to the Reflection Room. I have been too long among these primitive beings.'

Kalen and Malen exchanged glances and the group tried to speak to Toma, but his mind interrupted their mindspeak.

'You must forgive me, but three of these creatures are from my spermatozoa. One is their descendent; the others are adventurers from their planet. These beings will take what they want. All of them are capable of violence and you will be unable to enter any of their minds.' He walked away.

“Who tis my opponent?” Llewellyn's voice rumbled out over the assembled beings.

The Justines shifted their gaze. As one, they raised their index finger and pointed at the Thalian woman. A sudden orange burst sprayed the ground in front of the Justines and they stared at the man wearing the kineman's hat.

“Stay out of her mind. She's the only one that cannot protect herself.” It was the strangely accented voice heard on the com.

Stunned silence settled over the group. How could any of these beings defy a Justine? An indignant Krepyon standing guard on the left end of the Justine group raised his stunner and died from the man's stunner's orange beam hitting and dissolving him.

As a group, the Justines turned their mind on the man beside Llewellyn, but Kalen fell, writhing in agony.

“Stop, Lorenz, he tis yere biological elder fither.”

Thank Gar, thought Lamar. Llewellyn had finally issued an order and then he, like everyone else, realized that man must be one of the three that Toma had sired. All looked at him, but none could detect red hair, and the eyes, the eyes were blind and yet he saw. Was there an implant? Surely, that being could nay have downed a Justine with his mind, and how did Llewellyn ken? A kernel of disquiet grew in Lamar's gut.

Malen used mindspeak with the stranger. 'How can you deny your natural parentage?'

The man responded aloud. “My natural father is a vicious killer. He tried to murder us all. He succeeded in killing a six-month-old baby. This man, Llewellyn, rescued my mother and then me from the hell we'd been thrown into. He is my father and he has my allegiance.”

The grey eyes were slate. “You all have tried your tricks. Now which one takes up the challenge or do we end this now?”

A smile flitted across Llewellyn's face. “Tis his way, but he tis correct. Does one of ye fight or do we win by default?”

“I am Adrian and I have the task.”

Both men shed their upper garments. Llewellyn was in superb condition. Muscles ran from his neck to his ankles. The Justine was whip-hard, but easily weighed one hundred pounds less; however, the beings inhabiting the Justine Refuge expected him to win. No Thalian could fend off mind control.

The man beside Llewellyn spoke again.

“Remember, this is a physical fight. Both of you can use a mind block, but neither is permitted to enter the other's mind. If any Justine watching tries to interfere, Red, (he waved a hand at the first male to appear) will order his troopers to attack.”

Llewellyn went into a half crouch and the two began circling each other looking for an opening. The Justine shook his head, annoyed. He could not penetrate Llewellyn's mind block. Then a stab of pain hit him and he heard the words in his mind.

'I warned y'all. Don't try it again.'

And Llewellyn was at the Justine swinging his powerful fists, landing blows.

Adrian brought his mind into focus to control his muscles and nerves. His mind began to work in perfect unison with his body, sending blows and kicks at Llewellyn. The Justine meld of mind and body meant their physiques possessed strength far beyond their appearance, and their movements were rapid. Adrian's fists and kicks began to land, but Llewellyn continued connecting with his blows.

For ten minutes they fought, sometimes blocking, sometimes bringing blood. Both were bleeding from facial cuts. Adrian danced away, swung back in and landed a blow at the side of Llewellyn's head and tried to execute the same maneuver.

Llewellyn watched him move away and dove for his midsection. His weight brought Adrian to the ground. Llewellyn grasped Adrian's arm and leg and rose, swinging the man in an arc before tossing him to the ground.

Adrian's momentum made him do a slight spin on the tarmac, and then Llewellyn dropped his knees and weight onto the man's chest. Bones could be heard cracking. Llewellyn began to raise the man again for another toss.

“Enough. You may have your treaty. Let us heal our injured.”

Kalen spoke through whitened lips. “We will withdraw and you may assemble in the lounge. We'll speak over the com.”

“Ye will nay withdraw.” It was the Thalian woman with the group. “All of ye twill face us and ye twill hear our words and our terms.

“Captain O'Neal's troopers will disarm and guard the Kreppies.” She spat the words out. “The Brendons twill be seated with us. I am sure they have concerns for their planet that we dinna ken.”

Chapter 6: The Maca of Don

Llewellyn piloted the Kreppie ship towards the Maca of Don Compound in the city of Donnick. He ordered Jeremiah “Red” O'Neal commanding the Golden One to destroy the Kreppie ship rising from Thalia's surface and then three Thalian fighters trying to intercept him. His mission was to access the Maca's Tower and regain control of Don.

This was a confiscated Kreppie ship they had found in the underground research center and manufacturing plant of the Krepyons. They had destroyed everything but one of the two freight ships the Justines had granted the Kreppies. They had modified the seating arrangements ere they left, but it remained a tight fit for his six foot nine frame and corresponding bulk. His dark eyes were on the panel coordinates and he aimed for the padport within the walled compound. The crew behind him consisted of his mither, his laddie Lorenz, his elder Lamar (mither's brither), Beatrice, Margareatha (the lassie of his own, deceased counselor Anna), and four of the adventurers from Earth. They had gone over and over this plan from the time they left the Justine Refuge.

Beatrice had assured them his mither's prints had nay been erased from the security system. The Sisterhood wiped out her ability to change data when they were appointed to the Justine Refuge as envoys.

The landing was perfect and they deployed as practiced; Llewellyn leading the way and the others behind him. At the back double doors, he stepped aside, and his mither came forward, her eyes on the elaborately carved middle door section that hid the screen and placed her hand and fingertips in the panel to the right. In less than a second (to Llewellyn it seemed equal to the one hundred and forty years spent in exile) the doors swung open.

They ignored the lifts to the right and ran down the short hall into the main foyer, Llewellyn leading the way, his mither, his laddie, and Margareatha behind him.

Named Margareatha at birth and Rita by usage, she was part Justine and none here could stop her. As they ran into the foyer, she pointed her finger at the woman sitting at the reception area and commanded, “Lock the doors.”

Benna obeyed by clicking in the commands and then fell to the marble floor, moaning and holding her head. To Lettuce, the youngest Don Enforcer, the strange, heavy-topped frontal shaped being was a Justine gone mad. Lettuce had turned from the upper viewing screen and ran to the top of the stairs going down to the foyer. She snapped her weapon into position when a blow from the back sent her sprawling and the weapon dropped to the floor.

The Justine swept her cowl back and seated herself at the front desk. “Can anyone see in?” Her cold, copper eyes with the gold-circled pupils bored into Lettuce who was looking downward and then up towards the figure behind her.

Lettuce heard her Director, Leta, answering.

“Nay, nay can see,” quickly to avoid Benna's fate.

Lettuce tried to figure out why Leta had struck her when she saw Lamar standing in front of the hall from the walled courtyard. Then realization registered. It was nay Lamar. This man was younger and possessed a normal right arm. She groped for her weapon.