Moments later, Vanbrook, Raivyn, and Hrake were tearing out of Gred’s main gate once again, this time on the backs of three massive desert hounds. The hounds galloped along a river bank and then up the hill, eating up the ground at unbelievable speeds. Soon the trio of riders had crested the valley and were looking down the other side of the hill. They brought the hounds to a stop and surveyed the area.
“There!” said Raivyn, pointing to a shimmer heading towards a forest of short, broadly trunked trees and dense, shrubby undergrowth.
The riders urged their mounts onward, pushing down the hill on the sure-footed hounds and quickly making it to the trees.
“Tie the hounds to a tree,” said Hrake, hoping off his mount. “They’re no good in the forest unless there’s a wide trail.”
Raivyn and Vanbrook obeyed and charged into the trees. A bullet crashed into a tree trunk by Vanbrook’s head and he pulled back, trying to hide from the gunfire while pulling his saber and revolver.
A blade slashed out from the undergrowth and Vanbrook parried it instinctively. He locked eyes with his foe. He knew the hateful blue glare all too well.
“Darvik,” he growled.
The mortal enemies traded thrust and parry, each making the best of the difficult terrain they found themselves in. Darvik lost his footing and Vanbrook lashed out with a vicious but undisciplined swing that tore through the vegetation but was easily dodged. Vanbrook had to step back to avoid tripping over a root and Darvik found time to recover his footing.
“Why?” asked Vanbrook through gritted teeth.
Darvik sighed, a tired and sorrowful look crossing his face. His visage quickly hardened into a scowl, and he lunged, trying to take Vanbrook by surprise. Vanbrook leapt to the side, nimbly avoiding the blade and the vegetation.
As their duel raged on, Hrake and Raivyn found themselves pinned down by another attacker. Pistol rounds smacked into the trees all around them as they tried to take cover and determine where the shots were coming from. Hrake fired his rifle into the brush and heard a pained scream.
Although at the same disadvantage as Darvik given the terrain, Vanbrook had gained the upper hand by adapting more quickly to the rough ground. He had committed the location of the tallest roots to memory and incorporated them into his movements, maintaining solid footing while forcing Darvik to constantly adjust his footing. Finally, Darvik stepped back to parry a sudden lunge, and found himself falling onto his back. Vanbrook was over him in a heartbeat,the tip of his blade pressed against his throat.
Raivyn looked over in horror, but Vanbrook held his blade steady. Hrake kept his rifle trained on the brush where occasional pistol shots still erupted.
"You're going to die, Darvik," said Vanbrook.
Darvik looked at him questioningly, then realization dawned on his face. "Oh, it's still all about our old vendetta for you. About Wilbis."
Vanbrook looked on menacingly, the point of his saber slowly pressing down.
"I found something… more," said Darvik, holding up his tattooed forearm.
Vanbrook huffed indignantly. "Stand up, Darvik, I'm taking you in.”
The thrumming sound of a hovercraft sounded alongside the crunch and snap of vegetation being run over. Everyone looked up to see a stout Talpidarian crashing through the brush in an antique hovercraft.
“Get in, idiots!” he cried, crouching below the steering wheel for cover. Cevla leapt into the backseat holding her upper arm with the opposite hand, reddened skin visible where Hrake’s rifle had grazed her.
Rentra drove straight towards Vanbrook, forcing him to dive out of the way and giving Darvik a chance to dive into the hovercraft.
The two parties continued to trade fire, but the hovercraft quickly made its way out of the forest, leaving them behind.
"To the hounds!" shouted Raivyn.
They raced back to their mounts and gave chase, but the hovercraft had gained a considerable lead and outpaced them.
"Rec, it's Van," shouted Vanbrook into his comm. "Can the Gladius get out here!? We need to chase down some fugitives."
"Sorry, Van," answered Reclan. "I'm working on cracking the magnetic lock devices the assassins put on the doors."
"Assassins?" asked Vanbrook. "Who'd they kill?"
"Just Trar-Brak, as far as we know," answered Reclan. "Roughed up some soldiers."
"More on that later, who can you send? The Halberd?" Vanbrook asked.
"The Halberd is taking on water, they'll take too long to get airborne. I'll get in touch with the Army," said Reclan. "They have a small transport here, the Sparrow, but it's gonna take a while."
"I don't know how much time they have," said Vanbrook.
The three riders pushed their hounds as hard as they could, but the hovercraft continued to pull away from them. Finally, the craft disappeared over a hill and, by the time they had reached the top, it had pulled into a ship.
Vanbrook pulled his mount to a stop and watched the ship rumble to life and take to the skies.
"Reclan, where's that Army transport?" he asked bitterly.
"They'll be off the ground any minute," she replied.
"Let them know their target is on the move," he said, watching the Koomite's ship disappear into the blue skies.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Vanbrook turned his hound around. "We're not doing any good here. We'll need to report all this anyway. Any clue who that psychic was?"
Raivyn's face darkened. "I'm pretty sure I know. An assassin by the name of Cevla. The witch hunters have been after her for years."
"Witch hunters?" asked Hrake.
"Officially, they're called the Republic Telepathic Services,” noted Vanbrook. “But their detractors prefer 'witch hunters.' In theory, they're there to guide psychics in ethical use of their abilities, but more often than not they're chasing down psychic criminals."
"We're lucky she'd been keeping a perception bubble up," said Raivyn, turning the subject back to Celva. "She must have been pretty drained by the time we caught up with them."
"Talon Squad, this is Sparrow," said a voice over the comms. "We're not seeing any evidence of a craft up here."
"I'm afraid you're a bit late, Sparrow," said Raivyn. "They've probably jumped already. They were clearly ready for a speedy exit."
"Sorry, folks," said the voice.
"I think they got the best of all us this time, Sparrow," said Vanbrook, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "We'll get 'em back soon enough."
***
The death of Fenyn, along with the Army pilot lost along with the shuttle, and the fact that assassins had infiltrated the Gladius had dampened the mood considerably among the Republic forces on Hruduk.
When the Wingspan touched down next to the Gladius, the Halberd, and the Sparrow, it was met by a perfunctory group of officers, but not with the fanfare that it might have been. Jasken sighed as he walked down the ramp and out into the drizzling rain, greeting King Hrynkak, Elder Shaman Rehkna, Marine Grepk, Captain Kesht, Sargent Hargen, and all six members of Talon Squad with a nod.
“King Hrynkak. Elder Shaman Rehkna,” he said. “Good to see you. How is Gred faring these days?”
“Very well, thanks to the Republic,” answered the King. “My father has been soundly defeated and it appears the Koomites are no longer supplying them with arms. Am I to understand you are only passing through?”
Jasken nodded. “Yes, we’re heading back out to the Cluster. We have friends there that need help, as well.”
“Come, let’s go to my palace,” Hrynkak replied. “We can discuss it over a warm drink.”
A short walk brought them back to the palace, and King Hrynkak led them to an ornate dining hall. The walls were typical of Hrudukite culture - stonework carved with geometric designs and inlaid with bronze and semi-precious stones. The group sat around a long wooden table.
“I hope it won’t be considered rude if I request a breakfast tea of some kind as a beverage,” said Jasken, nodding to the king. “I realize it’s evening here, but I’m afraid I’ve just started my day.”
“That is no trouble. A life lived in the heavens–the aether, you call it–is quite foreign to me, but I will gladly accommodate you,” said Hrynkak.
He turned to a servant and spoke to them in Hrudukite. Shortly thereafter, a parade of servants came in, placing an impressive spread of fruits and cheeses on the table, along with pitchers of wines and juices. A fragrant tea was set at Jasken’s seat.
“Thank you,” said Jasken in perfect Hrudukite. The servant smiled and nodded.
The hissing syllables took Vanbrook off guard, but he managed to keep himself from looking over at the Admiral too suddenly. Reclan shot him an amused look but he ignored her.
“You treat servants with respect, Admiral,” noted Hrynkak. “That is to your credit.”
“All sapients are worthy of respect,” said Jasken with a nod.
“Indeed,” said Hrynkak. “I wish my father saw that. Perhaps you would be sitting at his table instead of mine.”
“Hrynkak hates all change,” chided Rehkna.
“But I also see that it is inevitable,” said Hrynkak, not bothering to refute the claim. “Your people had space travel thrust upon them as well, I understand.”
“Yes,” answered Jasken. “By the Astralbian Empire. They did not come as allies, though. After years of oppression, Humanity was contacted by another oppressed people, the Talpidarians. A secret communication network was established, and we went from harnessing steam to traveling the stars in a matter of decades. The Talpidarians were not much more advanced than we were, but they had a knack for making mechanical and electrical devices that mimicked Astralbian biotechnology. An alliance of Humans and Talpidarians traveled out of Astralbian space, finding the Dromeans and Krauqians as we fled. As they were also under the Empire’s rule, we recruited a few of those willing to join our cause and eventually found Griffonia, where we established a headquarters and began fighting back.
“Once the Griffon Resistance proved too much for the Empire, they collapsed back to Astralbia Prime and started referring to themselves as a Kingdom. That was about three hundred years ago.
“Since then we have largely avoided Astralbia, pushing out the other direction as we explored. That’s a large part of why we didn’t discover Hruduk sooner; we had our back to you when we looked through our telescopes.
“Now I’m afraid that we’ve run right back into trouble with the Kingdom, which appears to be ramping up to declare itself an Empire once again. That’s why we have to defend Gateway. It’s the only known planet close enough to the rest of the Cluster to jump from, given our fuel, water, and shielding needs, and the Astralbian fleet appears to be heading in that direction. We’re going to have a full military fleet waiting in the wings, but we hope that our presence will be enough to dissuade the Astralbians from doing anything drastic.”
“It seems that it was the Progenitor's will that you arrived when you did,” said Hrynkak. "The failures of our gods, Rehkna's prophecy of a better way, and Hrake's witness of your arrival… Had you arrived three hundred years earlier, I do not know what kind of reception you may have received.
“Though I wish it were not so, I believe we will be a space-faring species within the decade. Some of our greatest smiths have been studying your crafts and are eager to try their hands at it. They have drawn up beautiful plans, and I have told them I will not stop them, so long as their experiments do not endanger the city.”
“These smiths are no joke,” said Sargent Hargen. “They picked my engineer’s brain for an afternoon and next thing you know they’re smelting iron.”
Hrynkak smiled. Though the speed at which they were adapting these dangerous new ideas frightened him, he was proud to hear his people’s skills lauded.
The conversation continued for another hour or so, but eventually Jasken stood up.
“Thank you for your hospitality, your majesty,” said the admiral. “But I’m afraid I really must get back to my ship. Talon Squad, feel free to spend one more night in the palace, but gather your things in the morning. By tomorrow I need you back on the Wingspan.”
A chorus of “yes, sirs” rang out and, after a few more pleasantries, the dinner party disbanded.
***
“It’s done, sir,” said Darvik. “Trar-Bak is dead.”
“Well done, Darvik,” answered Hoon-Kra over the ripmed comm. “Any other casualties?”
“No. Cevla’s arm was grazed. A couple Republic goons got knocked out. Other than that, no damage done.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll see you when you get back.”
Darvik ended the transmission. The ship was small, and they couldn’t afford to waste too much energy on communications.
“So you had history with that other duelist, huh?” asked Cevla. Her arm was bandaged and she was popping pain pills at an alarming rate.
“Yeah. Ugly history.”
“You really believe what you said?” asked the psychic, cocking her head to the side. “Finding something ‘more’ with the cult?”
“That’s why we’re here, right?” asked Darvik, annoyed.
Cevla shrugged. “Groups like this are a great way to lay low.”
“I need a drink,” said Darvik, not in the mood for theological debate.
Cevla smiled as he walked away. A true believer. She was surprised.