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“Mikol…and Florin,” his voice broke on the name, “have both gone to war. And there are no assurances either of them will make it back. And all they have to remember us are the last words we spoke to them.”
Kalen blinked up at the ceiling, trying to hold back the tears that wanted to stream down his face. “Dartan, what have I done? Oh god, what have we both done?”
Chapter Sixteen
On the planet of Loros
Mikol was feeling jittery.It was almost too quiet, and something simply didn't feel right.He tried to shake it off as just his imagination, but he’d been in enough situations over the years to develop a sixth sense, as his omak would call it, and he’d learned to trust it. In a tense situation, especially at night, and especially when a commander had to worry about other men's safety, imagination could get the better of him. The fear factor could get multiplied, until things that really weren't there were manifested, and the things he imagined he heard were all in his mind.Squinting at the dark, he reassured himself there was nothing to see. A chill ran down his spine, but he told himself it had to be only nerves.
The words of his nobyo Kalen kept ringing in his ears, though. Words liketreachery, andmurder. Had those been only the ravings of an angry, arrogant young prince, who resented his uncle taking his place, or were there kernels of truth in them?
The Tygerian force had traveled to Loros in record time. Mikol left his ship in a small, fast cruiser, admonishing his crew to be vigilant and stay cloaked. He took Florin and a small number of guards with him and landed at the city port nearest the palace. As expected, Lord Nerol and some of his council members met him there, and he ushered Mikol and his men to his private shuttlecraft to fly them over the scene of the latest attack.
The area was in a section of the city that Nerol called Milopov, some ten kilometers from the palace and most important government buildings. Sirens were still blaring across the area of the city that had been attacked as they flew overhead. There were still distant sounds of explosions filling the air as missles were intercepted by Lorian defense systems and destroyed. Nerol explained that the missiles had come too quickly in the initial attack for all of them to be intercepted. The damage they’d caused was indeed massive. Nineteen high rise apartment buildings had been hit, killing over six hundred people, including many children and other noncombatants. The attacks had sparked many fires, which rapidly spread to an area hospital and some shopping areas in the city.
It was a vast, grim scene and Mikol was silent as they flew over the devastation below.
“The attack came without warning,” Nerol was saying. “We employed our defensive systems right away and managed to contain the damage to just this area, but we fear they’ll return.”
“What can you tell me about the attacking forces?”
“Not too much, I’m afraid. Their ships had cloaking devices, and they were on us before we realized anything was wrong. We think it was only a raid, carried out by an advance force. Their technology is not like anything we’ve ever seen before.”
“How so?”
“It was so odd. You’d need to see for yourself, and fortunately we were able to shoot down one of their smaller craft. I’ve had the wreckage removed and placed inside my private compound on the western outskirts of the city. I didn’t want to alarm the populace any more than they already are, and I thought perhaps you might want to inspect them. They’re quite strange—they have a new kind of weaponry, from what I could tell.”
“Take us there.”
“Of course,” he replied, and moved forward to speak to his pilot. Florin, who had accompanied Mikol along with several guards, gave Mikol a long look and spoke to him in Tygerian. “What do you make of all this?” he asked.
Mikol answered him in the same language. “Remains to be seen. Our scans showed damage to the planet is not as extensive as Nerol indicated. The area we flew over was bad, but it’s the only one we’ve seen so far. Why would the Pton suddenly break off a successful attack? It doesn’t make sense. This is the first I’ve heard of any new weaponry and so far, our reports on the Pton and their capabilities have been extensive. We have no reason to believe they haven’t been accurate. The Pton are formidable, but not more than we are.”
“We need to see this wreckage, I think.”
Mikol nodded, but he was wary of Lord Nerol after all Kalen had said about him. He didn’t know if the man was a reliable witness or not, and he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling he’d had since almost the moment they’d arrived.
“Stay on your guard. I don’t have a good feeling about this. And send the ship a message about where we’re going.”
Florin nodded as Mikol thought about the situation. He felt uneasy and he’d learned not to discount that feeling. It could just be that he was too reminded of Kalen here on what used to be his home. Kalen had never been far from his mind since the moment he’d left him behind on Tygeria, his recriminations still ringing in his ears. But this felt like something more, and he reminded himself to remain vigilant.
Nerol sat back down beside them. “The pilot has set a new course, Your Highness. We should be there just after dark.”
Thirty minutes later, they landed on the private compound, as Nerol called it, just after the last rays of the sun sank over the horizon.They made their way to the door of the shuttle and the guards exited first as protocol dictated. Then Mikol and Florin, following Lord Nerol stepped outside into the cool night air.
“The wreckage is over here,” Nerol called over his shoulder and set out leading the way to what looked like a storage barn. Moonlight sparkled on the wires of the fencing around the compound, and Mikol noticed a curious layering of shadows all over the compound yard. The darkness was absolute. As the guards began moving toward the barn, there was a light popping noise, then a sizzle. Then the night seemed to explode with light and sound. Flares went off all around them and there was instant daylight. Florin tried to step in front of Prince Mikol, but before any of them could shift or run, men who looked like the pirates who had attacked them just a few weeks earlier were swarming toward them, at least twenty of them, first attacking the guards and then jumping on Mikol and bringing him down. They hit him over and over in the head and back of the neck with what felt like the butt of a disruptor, but he fought for consciousness.
He tried again to shift, but the darkness was overcoming him. He cried out as another blow came crashing down on his temple, and then he knew no more.
****
Tygeria
The first news Kalen received of the crisis taking place on Loros was when a sudden and insistent knock came on his door far too early in the morning to be anything good. He had scrambled from bed, thrown on his robe and gone to the door on shaky legs, only to see a tall, handsome Tygerian in uniform dripping with medals standing in the doorway. Two men Kalen recognized as palace guards were standing behind him.
“Your Highness,” he said, with a short bow. “My name is General Haggoz. We met at your wedding.”
“Yes, of course. Is something wrong, sir? Is it…Mikol?”
