Death Drop (3 page)

“I’m ready, Shendo.”

The Mewlatai slid a huge paw into the folds of his jacket and produced a shiny, metallic device shaped like a small pistol with an elongated opening along the top of the barrel and two cylindrical, clear vials filled with a green solution. Blangaris carefully inserted the first vial into the delivery mechanism. Talfus and Malo both flinched as a small hiss of compressed air signaled that the instrument was armed and ready to deliver its contents.

“It’s most effective when the Serum is injected directly into the heart,” Blangaris said as he placed the device just below Talfus’ ribs on the right side of his body; exactly over the beating muscle.

The Mewlatai gave his most menacing grin as the perplexed look returned to Talfus’ flushed, blue face yet again. Blangaris closed his burning eyes, lifting his head to the sky and turning it slightly to one side. He stood perfectly still and seemed to be listening to a distant call only he was able to pick out over the howl of the gathering storm. Eyes still closed, he broke from his reverie as he sniffed the air heavily.

“I can hear your heart beating, master Waadi. I can smell every ounce of sweet blood that courses through its pulsing chambers. I can feel your being radiating from its warm center as it sends your life force out to the farthest reaches of your body and back again…This will all be over soon.”

Talfus couldn’t tell whether the Mewlatai was referring to their rendezvous and the smuggling of the Serum or to the beating of his heart, and the uncertainty gripped him in a vise of terror that he could not escape. Just before he could lurch away, the Mewlatai pulled the trigger on the delivery device. The green fluid rushed into Talfus’ veins, and fear threatened to suffocate the last breath of sanity that whispered through his chaotic mind.

“You will feel…uncomfortable at first. But it will pass,” Blangaris said coldly. Only his eyes moved, as their intense gaze followed the jerking movements of the Waadi soldier in front of him.

A sharp pain stabbed at Talfus’ heart, and he clutched his torso. Malo swayed back and forth in confusion; an uncontrollable song of dread and dismay moaned from his lips like a death wail.

Talfus staggered on his feet. His heart thrashed against his flank like a trapped beast hurling itself at the bars of its cage. Salty tears stung his eyes as he frantically tried to view the readout on the mind-scanner. Then, suddenly, just as quickly as it had wracked his helpless body, the pain subsided. In its stead was a warm, tingling sensation that pulsated outward from his chest and softly caressed the ends of his webbed fingers and toes. Talfus took a deep breath to steady his nerves and straightened the lead wires running from his temples as he grasped the small, glowing screen and waited for the readout to verify that he was now immune to the powers of the Durax.

Malo stopped swaying and stepped closer to confirm his friend’s recovery when the Mewlatai interrupted his advance.

“He’ll soon be released from all of his pain. Your time has come, master Moxen.” Blangaris spoke coolly as he loaded the second glowing tube of Serum into the delivery device.

Malo stiffened as the Mewlatai moved in on him. The Moxen’s primal instincts told him something was wrong, and before the cold, silver injector could find its mark, a scintilla of something flittered past his nostrils. The smell consumed all of his senses and raged through his body like wild fire across a windswept prairie. Malo didn’t see Talfus clutch his throat and crumple to his knees; nor did he witness his friend writhing on the ground as his body convulsed violently just a few feet from where he was standing. Even before Malo’s simple mind could comprehend what his keen senses had uncovered, his battle hammer was speeding toward the spot where the Mewlatai stood wielding his deadly concoction. A putrid stench of rot and decay poisoned his sinuses and seared his throat, its foul vapor saturating every molecule in his body. It was the miserable, filthy smell of millions of decomposing bodies; it was the smell of annihilation. Malo had caught the scent of the Durax!

His battle hammer landed with a mighty crack and the stone beneath crumbled into large pieces of debris and dust. The blow would have obliterated any living thing in its destructive path, but there was only a large indentation in the ground where the Mewlatai had been standing. Malo frantically swung his weapon through the air, searching for his mark. Frothy, white foam coated his lips and glistened in his chin fur as his fearsome battle cries threatened to quell the crashing thunder with each mighty swing of his hammer. He detected a slight movement behind him. Malo summoned all of his strength and sent the hammer to crush the vision into a quivering, bloody mass of flesh and broken bones.

Malo was a fierce warrior, but his efforts were no match for the lethal prowess of the Mewlatai. Before the flying hammer could reach the spot where Blangaris was standing, the Mewlatai met Malo’s lead arm with the strength of ten Moxen warriors. His powerful forearm thrust into Malo’s locked elbow with a sickening crunch as tendons and ligaments tore away from the joint and shredded into a thousand tiny sinews. Before Malo could howl out in pain, the Mewlatai clenched his nearest horn in a viselike grip and kicked Malo’s left knee in a lightning quick move that sent him sprawling, face first, to the ground.

Still gripping the horn, Blangaris pounced on Malo’s back, pinning him down.

“Why! WHY! Hoooaaaauuuummm!” Malo’s shrieks of despair sounded like the haunted wails of a million tortured souls crying out.

“Silence, you simpering child!” roared Blangaris as his gleaming teeth flashed just a hair’s breadth from a large, pulsating artery in Malo’s neck. “I doubt your simple mind can even begin to comprehend my motivation.” He growled and his hatred burned into Malo’s hide like a scorching ember pressed against his skin. “The friend of my enemy is my enemy! Well, master Moxen, you and your rabble of Dissenters have made an alliance with the wrong House. I will destroy the Serum. I will find its maker, and he will discover a new meaning of fury at the edge of my Kaiten. I will slash him to pieces until I no longer have the strength to wield my blade; then I will devour his flesh and savor every last blood-soaked morsel, knowing there’ll be nothing left of his treacherous soul to resurrect and his line of Houses has ended!” Blangaris lapped his blackened tongue over his lips and sucked in sharply through his teeth.

“And after I’ve eaten him, I’ll seek out his offspring and I will end their Houses. I’ll hunt down everyone he has ever cared about, and I will paint my sword with their glistening blood!” Blangaris’ breathing became erratic as he swelled with fury and panted his death plan. “I will destroy anyone who sides with his cause and align myself with all who stand against him. And after I’ve killed everything he has ever loved, I will raze his family temple to the ground and scatter its charred ashes to the furthest reaches of the universe. I will eradicate any trace of the House of Daelekon from the pages of history!”

“Why! WHY! HOOOAAAUUUMM!” Malo cried out again. The Mewlatai raised his arm abruptly, ready to bring it down on Malo’s neck; then he noticed the source of the Moxen’s anguish.

Malo had crashed to the ground directly facing the lifeless body of his only friend. Talfus’ eyes shimmered as dark-blue blood seeped from their corners and moistened his cheeks before falling to the ground and staining the cold, gray stone beneath his corpse. Malo stared helplessly into his friend’s dead features and strained to free his good arm to touch the outstretched fingers of Talfus’ webbed hand.

“Why kill fish man? HOOOOAAAUUMMMAAAAUUUM! Killed fish man…Malo kill you… KILL YOU!” Malo sobbed uncontrollably as he searched his will for the strength to make good on his promise.

“Perhaps you do understand loyalty and betrayal after all,” Blangaris snarled.

“But vengeance favors the mighty....”

The Mewlatai brought his elbow down on Malo’s neck with blinding speed and accuracy. In the split second following Blangaris’ final words, before he was swallowed by darkness, Malo noticed Talfus’ rifle lying on the ground just a few feet away. The little green transponder light wasn’t flashing, and Malo tried desperately to understand why back-up hadn’t shown up yet and why the Dissension lookouts had left them to die.

Chapter 5:
Enemies

B
langaris studied Malo’s contorted face as the Moxen tried to stir from his perilous slumber.

“You may wake and think yourself fortunate you didn’t die today. Trust me, master Moxen, you will die…and, unfortunately, it will most likely be at the hands of your friends.”

Blangaris inserted the Serum delivery mechanism into the thick fold of skin at the base of Malo’s neck and watched with cold indifference as the green fluid quickly drained from the clear vial and began its long journey through Malo’s unmoving form.

Blangaris slid the device into the folds of his jacket and turned toward the Zebulon star freighter. He seemed to move unhindered by his physical body, without rigidity. As he flowed like a black, stalking wind toward the elegant ship, he raised his arms, and his cloak returned to his body, shrouding him in complete darkness once again. The engines on the Zebulon spun to life almost as soon as he turned, and their initial high-pitched whine descended to a low purr barely perceptible over the din of the storm.

The sleek craft lifted clear of the ground, and the landing skids retreated silently into their dark recesses. A whiff of silt swirled around the motors as their vortex disturbed the sediment dusting the gray stone surrounding the ship and bit into the humid night air.

The Zebulon rose slowly at first, then ascended more quickly as Blangaris drew closer. The Mewlatai was not frightened by the possibility of being stranded on a desolate, mine-stripped planet and having to answer to the Dissension for murdering one of their best soldiers and seriously wounding another. He made no effort to quicken his pace as he moved silently toward the craft now hovering twenty feet above him and gaining altitude with each passing second.

Blangaris did not look up at the craft to see the starboard gull-wing door begin to close; his heightened sense of hearing could detect the faint sound of the compressed gas mechanism that controlled the portal. Without a single upward glance, the Mewlatai warrior launched himself into the air. He moved so fast it appeared as though the dying planet had cracked open and spat forth a streak of black lightning into the sky.

Thirty feet above the barren plateau, Blangaris gripped the exposed floor of the ship just below the closing gull-wing door. Without hesitation, he pulled himself upward and let loose his grip. With grace and agility unmatched by any other race, Blangaris somersaulted onto the deck of his star freighter, his large, padded paws silently kissing the surface. He remained in his crouched landing position as the portal slid to a close and the Zebulon rocketed into space.

Blangaris didn’t look to either side. There was no need. He knew that the deadly poison he was passing off as the Serum lay in canisters lashed to the deck and locked behind the airtight cargo door to his left. The twisted creatures responsible for spoiling the surprise attack on the Dissension and leaving him to die were just beyond the open cockpit portal to his right. He waited, silent and motionless in the darkness. The last traces of light scurried across the deck and retreated through the small viewing panes as the Zebulon hummed deeper and deeper into the abyss. Blangaris knew the hissing of his loathsome overseers would break the silence. As soon as they felt enough distance had been placed between them and the Mewlatai they thought they had left stranded on a desolate planet in a long-forgotten system, their pompous, black tongues would coat their lips with tales of their cunning and skill in defeating the sworn enemy of the Durax; tales that could not have been further from the truth.

Blangaris heard the indicator for the Zebulon’s auto-pilot sound the program’s engagement as the ship slowed considerably to reach its cruising speed.

“I have his sword! Honor and praise’ll be mine!” Blangaris heard sporadic speech interrupted by beleaguered breaths spill from the cockpit and echo around him.

“Quiet, Slaag!” another wretched voice said. “I’m not in the mood for your bragging; and besides, King Helekoth will want to know of his Mewlatai dog and what’s become of him. He’ll see into your mind. He’ll see through your tricks, eh?!”

Slaag let out a long hiss followed by several loud clicks.

“You’re a fool, Krex! The Mewlatai was supposed to give the poison and subdue the Dissension scum without alerting them to our presence. It’s obvious that despite his many so-called
skills
, he couldn’t deceive them! King Helekoth will see the Dissenter attacked without warning, and we had to abandon his pet to its fate lest we be overrun by Dissension reinforcements and the weapon discovered before it’s ready to be unleashed. The King will praise my quick thinking and thank me for saving this mission. He might even give me the Mewlatai’s ship for my service!”

Slaag’s already labored breathing was rasping up from his chest as it worked hard to push words through his airway. His black eyes glistened like obsidian spheres against the sickly white pallor of their sockets as they bored into Krex.

“What makes you think Helekoth will believe the Mewlatai failed, huh?” Krex spoke in a distinctly clearer and more even voice than his counterpart, and he stared back in a failed effort to match the intensity of Slaag’s look. “He’s never failed and Helekoth will see through your little game. He’ll see you left the cargo hold against orders. He’ll know that it was
you
who alerted the large one to our presence and triggered the Dissension attack. It was
you
who endangered the mission and you know it! It’s why you labor to speak to me with words instead of with
The Gift
. You don’t want Helekoth to hear into your mind!” Krex’s tone was taunting, and he grinned cruelly at the thought of watching Slaag die at the hands of their king.