Planet Heist (The Dunham Archives Book 1) (25 page)

In a few moments, three strapping, massive men stood in front of us.

“Interns,” Daran said quietly, or rather what seemed quiet above the noise.

Each of the men was more than a foot taller than me – even in my heels – and they had very imposing presences.

“You three need to go up to the sparring level and get to work on repairing the win-dow!” Daran exclaimed, and the trio rushed off.

“Well, Miss Dunham, I don’t mean to rush you out, but I’ve got a lot of work to do.” Daran told me nicely.

“It’s fine.” I smiled, “I’ve got my own people to train.”

I rushed back upstairs with a last grin at Daran.

When I reached the weapons room, Iesleen was already waiting for me.

“So, you think I’m ready for
weapons
?” She said the word as if it was something she had been waiting for her entire life.

“Yes,” I told her, “you have much more fighting potential than Ross. It’s necessary that at least one of you can take a few Intergalactic Police Officers. I personally think Ross will be better with telekinesis and guns, since he’s great with mental stuff. You, on the other hand, are extremely graceful and coordinated. So you, much like myself, will be good with a blade. The thing is, swords and daggers take more work to wield properly than a gun. Guns are just lock and load and shoot, while swords take finesse and skill. Daggers take even more work since you have to be quick on your feet and lithe in your movements. But, I know you can handle it.”

She nodded, grimly determined.

“The most important thing is weapon choice. I prefer this,” I removed my personal dagger from its sheath on my back. “My mother gave it to me on my thirteenth birthday, and I’ve used it ever since. It’s a long dagger, which gives me an advantage in a fight.”

I looked at the dagger almost lovingly. The silver hilt was wrapped in leather, the only part of the hilt that showed was the black diamond protruding from the end. The blade was long and extremely sharp silver, engraved with the family crest.

“Your weapon has to become an extension of you. It has to fit naturally into your hand, so naturally you
want
to fight with it. Not too heavy or too light. Try a few out.” I urged.

She walked along the racks of swords and daggers, hefted a few but set each of them down. After a few tries, she looked at me helplessly.

“What do you weigh – one thirty, one forty?” I asked.

She nodded, confused.

“That means you should have a sword that’s eight or nine pounds. Or, if you wanted, a dagger that’s three or four.” I lifted up a bronze sword and handed it to her.

“That’s definitely closer.” She said, “But not it.”

“Another thing is, I can’t choose for you. You’ve got to find one that matches not only your weight, but your personality and fighting style. You’re more graceful than me – less of a brutal killing machine and more of a jungle cat type. So, choose something thin and deadly.” I advised.

She tried a few more – three beautiful models, each especially carved – but put each down sadly.

After a few minutes, though, she came across the one that was obviously hers.

She unsheathed it from a beautiful black leather casing, and she immediately smiled. It was brilliant Stygian iron, the kind that’s so silver it’s almost white. The blade itself was thin like a fencing Foil, but much stronger. It seemed to glisten the moment Iesleen touched it. The hilt was black iron with a brilliant ikielie, a priceless neon yellow gem, protruding from the bottom. Four flat half moons curved around the blade, creating a small circle around the bottom of the blade.

“The gem at the bottom,” I began, “they say its magic. I read somewhere that any blade holding one instantly tripled the strength of its wielder.”

She gaped at it, “I feel more…empowered, somehow. This is it.”

I nodded, beaming, “Shall we fight?”

She nodded fervently.

“To make it more fair, I’ll grab a sword, too.” I picked up on of the heavier, more powerful swords and pointed it at her, “I’ll go easy on you.”

“I’m sure I can hold up.” She replied confidently.

“At least I warned you.” I shrugged, “Ground rules: no direct stabbing, or at least nothing that could kill. No throat slitting or heart, or hearts, in my case, puncturing. Never kill your training instructor.”

She nodded.

“Alright. I’ll start,”

I started with a light wave at her legs. She jumped up and gracefully tried to lungs at my stomach. That was her fatal mistake. I disarmed her weapon by sticking the blade of my sword to the hilt of hers and twisting it out of her hands.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Iesleen asked, almost awed. She picked up her sword and smiled.

“Yeah,” I preformed the move again, slower, and explained it to her.

She nodded, “I want to start this time.”

She took me by surprise and hit the side of my arm with the flat of her blade. I was momentarily distracted, and she smacked in my collarbone with the hilt of her sword. I returned by putting a long cut down her left arm. She grimaced and whirled around, sidetracking me. In a gracefully terrifying arc, she sliced from my collarbone down to my navel. I gasped back in shock, but then steeled myself. My sword made crushing contact with hers high in the air, and I pushed Iesleen back until she was up against the wall. I disarmed her again, this time hitting her hand with the hilt of my sword so hard that she dropped her weapon. I held the end of my sword to her neck and she took a deep breath.

Sweat gleamed on her face and shoulders and her breaths came in short bursts.

“Had enough?” I smirked.

I waited for her to nod, but she just smiled.

“Never.”

I healed her arm quickly, and partially healed the wound on my chest, leaving a long, jagged scar. It was a ghastly scar, but I had no desire to get rid of it. Unlike many, I take pride in my scars, bearing as many killer battle wounds as possible while still remaining appealing to look at.

We fought again.

She struck with a blow that would’ve killed me, had I neglected to dodge, by jabbing towards my stomach with surprising strength. I swiftly countered by utilizing one of the most necessary skills in life – pressure points. She spun around, and I grabbed her arms, restraining her. I hit the hilt of my sword to the hollow of her head (where the neck meets the head) and she immediately collapsed on the ground.

I cracked my knuckles and waited.

It took a few seconds, but she came to, completely alert.

“How did you
do
that?” She gaped.

“There are four pressure points in your body that, with enough force, can knock a person unconscious or even kill them. I’ll show you. This,” I touched the place on her neck that I had just hit, “is called the gallbladder twenty point. It shuts down your gall-bladder and leads you to pass out. Here,” I pushed my index finger into the right side of her lower jaw, “is your stomach five point. It targets acid in your stomach. Right here,” I pressed the flat of my hands into the space one inch below the crease of her elbow, “is the lung five point. It makes you go weak in the knees and fall down. And my favorite is this.” I poked her behind the left ear – only lightly – and she looked woozy, “That’s the triple warmer seventeen point. Super powerful. If you remember these, you can take out anyone easily.” I told her quietly.

She grinned, “Brilliant.
Now
I’m quite finished. I need some rest.”

“Of course. I’ve got some research to do, anyways.” I said, and we headed downstairs together.

Ten minutes later, I sat at my desk, diligently pouring over the Prime Minister’s books on the Xeron.

The Xeron
, I read to myself the introduction,
is the most powerful of all police equipment
.
With everything from mind reading capabilities to hypnotic powers, it is coveted by many.
And, though it is so sought after, everything and anything is guarding it. I have worked with everyone in the Intergalactic Police Force to ensure that it will never be stolen.

I skipped ahead to the chapter on defenses.

Chapter Eight: Basic Protection

Though this information is strictly classified…

I sighed.

…there are a few things I can give away. The most simple of defenses is the fact that the Xeron itself is buried thousands of feet underground. On the highest levels are simple locks and trip wires to padlocks and complex puzzle keys. Lower down, every test gets harder. There are thousands of passwords that must be entered and loads of traps that lead downwards. My favorite trap is, of course, the great beast (the name of which even I do not know) living in the center of a massive pit. Lower down is…

I gave up, my concentration distracted by something that I just couldn’t place.

Of course, it was possible that my brain was rejecting the material because I simply wanted to keep it a surprise, but that’s unlikely.

I stuffed the books back under my desk and walked out of the room, briefly noticing Az Salus’s glistening sword in my bag. Then, thoughts of my brother sprang into my head. Running downstairs, I was practically tripping over my own feet to see him. Downstairs, Rowan was on the couch, rubbing his arm.

“Are you okay?” I whispered and scurried over to him.

He stood and grimaced, “Yeah, it’s just a little…”

He faltered and gasped. I helped him back to the couch.

“You really need to rest, Row.” I said sympathetically, “You lost a lot of blood.”

He smiled dolefully, “I don’t know if I really should’ve done it.”

I let my voice drop as low as possible, “I think it was really brave. Iesleen would’ve died if it’d been her. You’re amazing, and I know that everyone here now trusts you with their lives.”

He grinned and lay back, “I’ll be up and fighting by tomorrow.”

I smiled at him, and he laid hid head back to rest.

Ten minutes later, I was upstairs, thinking about Az’s sword. It glittered in my hand.

The sword was truly magnificent.

It was obviously made from Earthen materials – a silver blade with blood red rubies encrusted along the center. The hilt was pure black obsidian. For some reason, it was inscribed with Latin, which I couldn’t read. Silly little humans coming up with too many languages to keep up with. I had neglected learning Latin since no humans use it anyways.

There was one word, of course, that I recognized.

Lamina Zenda. Devovet, et destruit omne multis, et herba titulari hoc facere.

Zenda.

“Ross!” I yelled out, too impatient to go find him.

In about a minute, Ross ran into my room, looking alarmed.

“What?!” He was scared.

“It’s not a big deal. What do these words say?” I handed him in the blade.

He stared at it for a moment, carefully examining it, “’The Blade of…Zenda? She curses all and destroys many, and may the holder of this blade do the same.’ Sounds ominous, huh?”

The words seemed to resonate through my bones.

“So Zenda
is
controlling the police.” I whispered to myself in disbelief.

“Zenda…? Oh!” Ross exclaimed, “She’s the woman that the Prime Minister was talking about a week ago – who’s been threatening Saize and stuff. What does she have to do with us?”

I explained everything to Ross then, and told him to relay it to Iesleen. He rushed out, and I was left to fiddle with the sword.

Salus has said it could be collapsed and would go through a metal detector, which made no sense as the blade it obviously silver. It took me a while, but I determined that by pressing the rubies in a certain pattern, it would collapse down to the size of a pencil. Then, if you simply grabbed the hilt, it expanded.

Genius.

July 1
st
10:55 am

Dunham Mountain Lodge, Loco, Neolis

On the first day of July, three feet of snow fell. Staff were working around the clock to protect the house from any damage, repair the window, and clear off the snow. It was unusually windy, with gusts that almost knocked me down when I went outside. The clouds appeared as if the would engulf you as lighting shattered through the snow.

That was the first day Iesleen beat me.

Iesleen and I were covered in sweat after four hours of straight training. It was truly the first time I had worked hard enough against an opponent to sweat at all, and I was completely battered. But, after I took some water and cooled down a bit, I was raring to go again, and she was more than a match.

“Still ready to go, Dunham?” Iesleen taunted, “Because, if you’re not tough enough, I could just let you accept defeat and move on.” She jumped up and down, adrenaline pumping through her body.

I shook my head, “Only ready if you are, McDonnell. Of course, you’re looking a little tired, maybe we should stop.” I jibed sardonically.

“Whenever you’re ready to lose.” Iesleen smiled.