The Tale of the Blood Diamond (10 page)

On both sides of the table sat a small cluster of the huge, hairy creatures: Lyalts. Lyalts had a striking similarity to the Earth’s grizzly bear, only their features were more pronounced, their eyes a bit brighter and larger, and of course, they could speak, communicate, and had a thriving community. They were the underdogs, and it took quite a bit of finagling to get them there, but their involvement was crucial, especially with Xzion involved in the fold…

“I will not drag out this meeting.” Jatorn stood from his seat and placed his palms on the table. He briefly considered his reflection in its shimmering surface. “I’ve called you here because I believe, with your collaboration, we will be able to obtain the resources from Earth that we wish to possess. Dewsar.” He smiled pleasantly at the slender Morphitian a few feet away from him to his left. The man’s large, navy blue eyes met his own. “You are a skilled master,” Jatorn praised. “We need your skills to outwit our focus targets. Your ability to morph into various creatures and images is truly…” he waved a hand as he sought the right word, “astounding. You are one of the best out of all your people.” He nodded, as if realizing it was true for the first time as well. Dewsar’s expression never changed. Everyone remained quiet while Jatorn glanced around the room, sizing up the bizarre crew of misfits.

“Bosi.” He pointed to the Chief Lyalt. Bosi lifted his soulful, deep black eyes, the irises imbedded in thick tufts of briskly, slightly damp dark brown fur. His wet ebony nose glistened under the lights, covered in a sheen of saliva from his ever-licking lengthy tongue. His thin black lips drooped downward and quivered. “Bosi, thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I know you hesitate to engage in conversations of this nature, but I believe your people need this as much as we do.”

There was a stilted silence. Bosi cleared his throat. The deep, rumbling sound was reminiscent of a voracious animal on the prowl for a much needed meal.

“Jatorn, you stated us being here is important. You said the Earthlings were a threat to us, and that through their resources, their soil, we could have a much needed food source, rich in vital vitamins and nutrients that are not as plentiful on Sartor. Matter of fact, they are hard to come by anywhere, anymore. Zarkstorm has some — but our digestive systems cannot tolerate their vegetation. We went to them many years ago for assistance, only to discover the residue from the foliage seeps into their soil, tainting it for our own needs. It didn’t work out. That is the only reason I’m here,” he said solemnly, clasping his long, black-clawed hands together.

Jatorn nodded, and pointed at Bosi. “Your planet, Sartor, has been depleted, this is true. We’ve all suffered over the centuries from the sun’s rays in one way or another. Some of us become queasy, just a mild stomach ache.” He released a weak laugh as he shrugged his shoulders. “Some are like the Zarkstormians…they actually overheat and perish. Their high-probing, the computerized brains fry right up like meat in a fiery pan!” He laughed louder, causing many of his constituents to join in the raucous banter. “For you, Bosi, and your people, it dried up your land. When I said the Earthlings were a threat to you, I meant it.” His eyes narrowed on the beast as he watched him sit straight back in his chair, his big body threatening to break the damned thing in a hundred pieces. “The Earthlings have what you
need
, and they won’t give it to you without a fight.”

“We can find other ways versus coming in contact with the Earthlings,” Bosi said matter-of-factly, reaching over the table and eloquently picking up a small glass of vibrant, golden liquid. The huge, burly beast took a sip, and then set it down just as softly as he’d lifted it in his massive paw. The beast was inconceivably strong, yet could maneuver his burly limbs in a delicate manner when required.

“With all due respect, that is a foolish notion. The Earthlings have a history of not giving things to those in need despite their own abundance and waste of natural, vital resources. If you believe the words you utter, you will die, Bosi. You will be responsible for the lives of all your people, who will be annihilated and worse of all…” Jatorn arched a blond brow. “We both know you can’t live with that on your conscience. What a horrendous sort of legacy…”

A long arm rose in the air. A tall, shadowy figure emerged from the recesses of the room, his head covered in a thick, black robe with multiple layers, wrinkles and places to stash away sunken dreams and melted happy emotions drunk from the souls of plenty. A bony gray hand pushed forward as Jatorn stared into the ghastly light blue eyes that glowed like sapphires. He wished he could pluck them out, put them in a jar, and enjoy them for years to come…

“Jatorn,” came the odd voice, one that was married to many tones, both feminine and masculine, all speaking at once. The voice vibrated the room. A clusterfuck of confusion all embodied in the one entity. It was Vex, the President of the Morphicians. No one knew how old the bastard was; all they knew was that he was the king of walking nightmares and had a propensity to enjoy inflicting torture and pain on others. He feasted upon it, enjoyed their pleading like it was a freshly slaughtered sacrifice thrown in front of a pack of demons. “We know your nature, Jatorn.” There was a smile in the statement, though the man’s face could not be seen…only those unforgettable, glowing light blue orbs he called eyes. “You are a pawn shop of sorts.” Vex shrugged. “Only, once a customer comes into your sights, it doesn’t much matter if they wish to sell or not… They
will
release the precious merchandise.”

“What is your point, Vex?” Jatorn crossed his arms, doing little to hide his annoyance. Everyone feared Vex, except him.

“My dear.” An eerie chuckle escaped the confines of the dark mass known as his mouth. “My point is that, if you state to us, you want our help…” Vex turned towards Bosi and then slowly towards the other Yuledrakes in the room. “Then we know it comes with a catch. What is in it for us?”

“Vex,” Jatorn huffed. “You and your people have been getting your jollies from torturing the humans since the very beginning of their dismal, silly, pathetic existence. Surely, now that you are being invited to treat their planet as a playground, you will want to enjoy the folly and fruits of your labor. Furthermore, I request your expertise. I need the brawn and power of the Lyalts, and I need your illusion manifestation skills, particularly
yours
and the fine team you’ve assembled in order to address the humans, to get them under control. They are easy to kill; that is not my intention, however.”

“What is your intention, Jatorn?” Bosi spoke up.

Jatorn shot the mammoth bear a glance. “I want to
use
them, make them work their land. I need someone to mine the resources, one being an item of beauty they call diamonds. The deepest concentrations of such treasures are located in a place they call Russia. Another location is where their civilization was harvested, an area of their world called Africa. In a smaller region of Africa, there are several sections, broken up into what they call countries. We need their labor to obtain these precious jewels, but first, we have to deal with a country called America. I will get into that later in the discussion.” He flipped his hand impatiently. “I’ve gotten a bit off track. Yes.” He offered a crooked smile. “Labor… It sure as hell won’t be Yuledrakes. We don’t work. We think, we take, we conquer.” He tapped his index finger against his sunken, prominent temple.

“We don’t want these diamonds you speak of. We know what they are; mind altering hallucinogens. They benefit us not. My people wish to have nothing to do with the Earthlings.” Bosi stood from his seat, his chair scooting behind him in a soft whisper of leather released, and happily, from the seven hundred pound prison of Bosi’s body. “However, with a joint venture, we could get what we need, and retreat. What you do with them is of no concern to me.” Bosi paused, his dark eyes growing darker. “I do not wish to necessarily see them expire. All life has purpose, but I know any discussions with you regarding such a matter would fall on deaf ears.”

Jatorn hated the way Bosi spoke. He’d hated it for years. The stinking beast was so smug, so self-righteous, and matter of fact, it made his pale skin crawl. The good-intentioned words dripped out of the black, spit-webbed mouth of a disgusting, foul creature that looked as if all he could do was grunt and gurgle and run from anything that resembled water and soap. He ate dirt for God’s sake, graveled on the ground for nourishment like a pig in slop, but this was one of the few races in the universe, besides themselves, that could withstand Zarkstormian mind control. Furthermore, the Zarkstormian laser eyes took a lengthy time to cut the hairy bastards down. 

Vex was too sneaky to be particularly trusted, but his people also had a rare gift against the Zarkstormians that he so desperately needed to utilize during this mission: the ability to completely disappear and not be detected, even by those damn warrior, laser red eyes. For decades, the Zarkstormians visited Earth, rousing his people’s curiosity, but he was the one that finally decided to take action once his peer, Xzion, had been spotted moonlighting in a place called Baltimore a wee bit too long. The Morphitians had released that information; more proof as to why they were so valuable. They were expert intelligence finders; it was part of their job after all. The more one knew about a species and their fears, the easier it was to manipulate and torture them with their own anxieties and punish them with thwarted desires.

According to Vex, initially, the dream derailers believed Xzion was there to cause them distress. However, once they realized they were not his target and he was doing as his predecessors had — killing Earthlings within a blink of his reddened eye — the Morphitians went along their merry, maniacal way. More importantly, they had the perfect skills to keep the humans in check and surely, they’d have a smorgasbord at their feet. The petrified screams of the Earthlings was music to a Morphician’s ears. Nightmares had a first name, and it was Vex. Jatorn had big issues, and needed a team to bring his dreams to fruition. The Morphicians had the power to mind-fuck the best of the best. It was a plan almost too perfect to believe. All Jatorn needed now was their agreement to participate.

The Yuledrakes had strength and aptitude. The Lyalts had power and stamina for a good paced fight. It was difficult, damn near impossible, to win a physical altercation with a warrior Zarkstormian; Jatorn didn’t kid himself. He knew his personal limitations. His people didn’t have what it took to get them under control should Zarkstormians come crawling to the Earthlings’ rescue. And, according to recent events, he had no doubt they would. Something was drawing them to Earth, and Xzion had stopped killing them cold turkey. That was so unlike a Zarkstormian Warrior… What was going on, Jatorn was not certain, but he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

“Bosi.” Jatorn grinned. “I know you mean well. I do. That’s what I’ve always admired about you. But you are right. I do not care about any humanitarian deeds. I only care about Yuledrakes’ needs and desires. It is my nature, and I do not profess to be anything other than what I am.” His fingers feathered the flowery fabric of his blouse. “However, with your assistance, your people will be sustained for the remainder of time and when I’m in complete control of Earth, their soil is yours to use. You can have as much as you need, anytime. It is compatible soil for your digestion needs. Not only that, you will have Yuledrake protection from invaders of your planet. Though Sartor doesn’t appeal to me…” He lifted his nose high in the air and grimaced. The thought of stepping foot on the filthy planet sickened him. “…It does to many others, and we would ensure you wouldn’t have to lift one finger to protect yourself, not even from the dragons.”

This was unheard of. The Yuledrakes were like the schoolyard bullies, everyone knew it. Jatorn took great pride in his reputation. Only, these schoolyard bullies were also chess club members and they wore shiny, pretty things, garnishing them attention and accolades. Quite aware of the Yuledrakes’ effect on others, they understood they were hated by many, but respected and envied by their share. They knew how to speak. They understood how to articulate their sentences in just a way to worm their little pale selves into the hearts of the most untrusting. Yuledrakes rarely offered their protection to others, but when they did, they stayed true to their word. Bosi would surely find this offer too tantalizing to pass up. The peace-loving man could once and for all put his paws away, and live in tranquility. He didn’t miss the glimmer in the monster's eyes.

“And what about us? Do we also receive this protection you offer? The Zarkstormians will be coming…” Vex’s voice shook the room, the warning thick and foreboding. Vex didn’t care much for the Zarkstormians, but he had a healthy fear of them, especially Xzion. The two had shared words and Xzion vowed to behead him if he saw him slithering around his planet again. Jatorn hadn’t disclosed the details, but he was certain the sly Morphitian had beefed up on plenty of information before his arrival. Why? Because that was what Morphitians did simply for sport.

“Yes, Vex. We will offer our protection to your planet as well.”

“For what duration?”

Jatorn smiled. One shyster could never trust another. Vex didn’t trust him as far as he could toss him, and he understood this. They had their underhandedness in common.

“For three spells…”

“Three hundred years? That’s it. What about the Lyalts? You gave them an eternity…”

“They will be risking their lives to assist us, going directly against the Zarkstormians. You will have no direct dealings with them, unless necessary. Not that your participation is not important, but you must understand the nature of the operation. Your job is to do what you do best: tease, torture and torment. You’ve been doing it for free. What is the difference now?” Jatorn sneered.