Reunification (32 page)

But then one of the dwarves unexpectedly
puts down the crate he was lifting and turns to face Kona. His
partner, who lifts the backside of the crate, stares at him in
shock and says, with a thick dwarfish accent that even my universal
translator has a hard time deciphering, “Rok, what are you doing?
Do you expect me to lift this damn crate myself?”

“
No,” says the dwarf
named Rok, shaking his head. He looks at Kona and folds his arms
over his chest. “I'm just sick of Kona bossing us around like this.
You're treating us like pebbles, even though we're working our
hardest.”

“
Do you think I care?”
says Kona in exasperation. “Or do you not realize that we have a
strict deadline to meet?”

“
I just think I'm tired
of working for you,” says Rok. He begins listing his grievances off
his fingers. “First, you're demanding and unappreciative of our
hard work. Second, you never pay us well enough to put up with your
crap. And third—”

Kona raises her right hand before Rok can
finish complaining and the ring on her middle finger glows red.
While I am not a Delanian witch or wizard myself, I have done
enough research to know that a glowing skyras ring means that it is
in use.

As soon as the ring finishes glowing, Rok
stops speaking. He stares blankly at nothing for a few seconds, as
if something has caught his attention. I look to see what he's
staring at, but I see nothing but the floor.

Then Rok begins to hyperventilate and back
up. He is so terrified by whatever he sees that he trips over his
own feet and falls on his behind, but he keeps crawling away even
then. I still see nothing coming after him; his fellow dwarves are
simply staring at him in confusion, while Kona watches with an
amused expression on her face.

Then Rok begins screaming, “Get away from
me, you beast! Get away, or I'll—”

He doesn't finish his sentence because he
then curls into a ball and begins sobbing and kicking at whatever
he thinks he sees. He grabs at his long beard and pulls at it,
screaming something almost incomprehensible about how the thing
wants his beard. One of his fellow dwarves looks away in disgust,
but the others continue to watch and stare as if this was the most
horrifying thing they have seen in their lives.

I feel no horror at this sight, but I
notice Sir Alart's heart rate increase and his sweat going down his
temple. I know enough about Sir Alart to know that he dislikes
criminals, but apparently he has enough empathy left in him to feel
disgusted by this display of horror.

The spectacle is over as quickly as it
began. Rok now lays on the floor, panting like he has run ten miles
in a minute, while his fellow dwarves stand around and look at each
other uneasily, none of them making eye contact with their fallen
friend.

Kona, on the other hand, appears to be the
only organic being in the warehouse to be entirely unaffected by
Rok's morbid display of fear. Mobile Database records indicate that
Kona has a severe lack of empathy, indicating possible sociopathy,
though Xeeonite criminal psychologists disagree.

“
What are you idiots
staring at?” Kona snaps at her other minions, who start when they
hear her voice. “Get back to work. Rok will be all right in a few
minutes. He just needs to take some time to remember why
I'm
the boss and
he
isn't.”

Her other minions do not even hesitate to
resume working. In fact, they work harder and more efficiently than
before, hauling their crates into the Portal quicker than they did
earlier. I have never thought that fear is be a great motivator
before, but perhaps that is another thing about organic beings that
I don't understand.

Then Alart nudges me and I look at him. He
holds his communicator up and says, “Think it's time to
attack?”

I nod. “Yes. We will take advantage of
Kona having taken out one of her own men for us. It should make it
easier for us to defeat the rest.”

“
All right,” said Alart.
He raises his communicator up to his mouth and speaks into it, but
in a very low tone so neither Kona nor her minions below can hear
us. “Everyone in position, attack now.”

We wait for a response from everyone;
however, there is no answer, not even from one of the Knights. That
is odd. The plan is for everyone to attack as soon as Alart orders
them to. That no one responds at all makes no sense.

“
Men?” Alart repeats
into the communicator, the worry in his voice rising with the
tension in his body. “Sir Yaron? Sir Gako? Is anyone there? Hello?
Lady Waya?”

Again, there is no response. The
communicator is as silent as if it has been turned off, but I know
it is active because the green glowing light that signals its
activation is on.

Alart looks at me in worry. “What's going
on? J997, do you know what the problem is?”

“
Without access to their
specific communicators, I cannot say for certain what the problem
is,” I explain in a low whisper. “Did you make sure that everyone's
communicator was on?”

“
I did,” says Alart in
annoyance. “I double-checked to make sure that everyone had their
communicators on. And yes, before you ask, I made sure they all
knew how to use them as well.”

“
I will try connecting
with them,” I say. “I know the frequency their radios are tuned to,
which is a frequency I have access to.”

I go silent, concentrating on connecting
to the Knights. Searching … searching … searching … connection
fails.

“
Hmm,” I say. “Perhaps
there is something in this warehouse that is blocking radio
signals. It is likely magical, whatever it is, because you
Delanians rarely use technology to achieve these kinds of
feats.”

“
Does that mean we're on
our own?” says Sir Alart. He swears. “Let's retreat. Head back out
onto the roof and try to contact everyone again. Maybe the roof is
somehow blocking the signal. We can do that because no one even
knows we're here yet, so we technically still have the element of
surprise on our—”

He is cut off when the catwalk we are on
shakes under our feet. We both grab the bars, but it is useless
because in the next moment, the catwalk falls out under our feet.
Sir Alart falls, but I try to activate the jets in my feet to keep
afloat, although as Sir Alart falls he grabs onto my ankles and we
both fall to the floor below.

Sir Alart hits the floor before I do, and
I land on top of him. Sir Alart groans under me, while I look
around in time to see Kona's dwarves surround us, drawing out their
weapons; small battle hammers, double-bladed axes, and bronze
knuckles. None of those weapons are very high-tech; however, there
are enough of those dwarves surrounding us that they do not need
high-tech weapons to kill us.

Sir Alart and I scramble to our feet,
drawing our own weapons out to defend ourselves, even though I run
the numbers and realize that we cannot defeat them all on our own.
We stand back-to-back, carefully watching the growling and
angry-looking dwarves who look more than ready to kill us.

Kona walks up at that moment, just outside
of the dwarf circle, holding up one of her rings, a blue one, which
glows softly in the dark warehouse.

“
Did you two honestly
believe I didn't expect you Knights to try to track me down?” asks
Kona in an amused voice. “Or that I wouldn't ruin your surprise by
using one of my rings to make the catwalk fall apart under you? I'm
not that much of an idiot, though I will admit that I didn't expect
you to have brought along one of those stupid J bots from Xeeo with
you.”

“
Did you also block off
our communicators?” asks Sir Alart, brandishing his silver-white
sword at the dwarves, though it only drives them back temporarily,
because they then return to their original positions, looking
angrier than ever.

“
That I did, Sir
Knight,” says Kona as she stops just outside of our circle of
dwarves. She raises all tens of her rings and flexes her fingers.
“It was a simple task, casting a spell that blocks all
communication between here and the outside, but sometimes the
simplest spells are the best, wouldn't you say?”

“
Miss Kona, you are
still under arrest,” I respond, resting my finger on the trigger of
my PRB. “You and every dwarf here are under arrest for the illegal
possession and smuggling of super speed drugs.”

“
J997, is that really
what we should be focusing on at the moment?” asks Sir Alart. “Not,
you know, figuring out how to survive against these criminals when
we're so badly outnumbered?”

“
Your Knight friend has
a good point,” says Kona. “We know that we are all going to jail if
we get caught. That's why I am going to have my men here take you
two apart piece by piece.”

She gestures at her dwarves and snaps,
“What are you idiots standing around wasting time for? Kill these
two and make it quick. We don't have time to waste killing these
fools, as fun as it would be to drag out their deaths.”

-

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HERE
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***

About the
Author

Timothy L. Cerepaka writes fantasy and
science-fiction stories as an indie author. He is the author of the
Prince Malock World fantasy novels, the Mages of Martir fantasy
novels, and the science-fantasy standalone
The Last Legend:
Glitch Apocalypse
. He lives in Texas.

Find links to the rest of his books at his
website
here
(http://www.timothylcerepaka.com/book-table/).

***

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank my uncle, James
Wilhite, for helping me get this manuscript into publishable shape.
I'd also like to thank the rest of my family for supporting me
while I wrote this novel. You guys rock.

***