The Necklace Page 11

“I agree with the King,” the strong voice of Kefar sounded.

  Kefar, son of Feehen, came from a long line of senators.

  For almost as long as a son of Kamis had sat on the throne, a descendant of Feehen had been in the senate managing the province of Nylis.

  Well-respected, as well as very popular, Kefar’s support carried a lot of weight. After his pronouncement, Tylan saw several senators nodding their head in agreement.

  The restless energy surging inside settled. “Make it known publicly that I wish to personally speak with the leader of the Dissidents.” Tylan paused, making sure he had their complete attention. “Ra’ul himself.”

  Waving a hand in dismissal, he waited as the Eritrean Senate left the hall. Moments later, his senses flared as he detected his chief advisor entering the room.

  “Come closer, Cowan. Don’t hide in the shadows.”

  “Forgive my impudence, my Lord. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  Tylan turned, greeting his friend with a smile and a nod, encouraging Cowan to sit by glancing toward the seat nearest him.

  “Come. We’ll worry about impudence another time. And speaking of which, I thought I told you to address me as Tylan when we’re alone.”

  “As you wish, my Lord.”

  “Impudent wretch,” Tylan said, shaking his head and grinning at his best friend.

  Cowan, son of Matan, was his chief and most trusted advisor. They’d been friends since childhood. Tylan had always trusted in the tall, dark-skinned Eritrean. When he had assumed the throne, after his father’s untimely death, he looked to no other but Cowan as his right-hand man.

  All chief advisors to the royal family were mind-melded for absolute trust and reliance. The advisor could never be disloyal. Rarely, though, did Tylan ever have to use the bond to discern Cowan’s thoughts or feelings. His friend never hesitated to voice his opinion.

  “The meeting went well. I gather,” Cowan muttered, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

  Tylan grimaced. “As well as can be expected when dealing with politicians.”

  Cowan cleared his throat, walking around the table to sit in a chair near Tylan. “Do you think it wise to meet with the Dissident leader?”

  “Wise,” Tylan snorted. “Nothing about this situation is wise. I have a shadow army threatening my kingdom and a room full of useless bureaucrats questioning my decisions. Meeting with the Dissident leader is the least of my concerns.”

  Rising from his seat, he walked toward a pile of rumble in the council room.

  A propulsion discharge had created a large hole in the ceiling, causing large pieces of rock to fall to the ground. Kicking a small stone away from his foot, Tylan sent it flying across the room, embedding it in the opposite wall.

  “My Lord, perhaps you should contact the Committee.”

  “The Committee?” Tylan breathed. “What for?”

  “One of the surviving warriors from Liacin swears not all the fighters were Eritrean. He claims to have seen some shift during battle.”

  “Shift into what?” Tylan questioned warily.

  “He doesn’t remember, and I probed his mind to be sure. He is telling the truth.”

  Cowan’s news slammed into his chest with the force of a ten-knot gale. Turning away, he stared at the colorful murals lining the senate halls, anger singeing his senses.

  Impenetrable layers of water and plasma protected each of the seven provinces, no one could get inside the barriers without first having knowledge of the entry point locations. Or without having help. All of the gateways were defended by warriors—a shifter inside the borders meant extreme trouble.

  Tylan sighed, wiping a weary hand across his brow as he digested the information.

  Eritreans could shift, but only in the water. On land or in the confines of the protected city provinces, they had to rely on their strength, speed, and mental acuity. If the warrior had seen someone shift, even if he didn’t remember what it was, then it was some other being, and not an Eritrean.

  Squeezing the bridge of this nose, Tylan searched for the answers to the intrigues plaguing his mind, his gaze wandering across the vibrant mural illustrating over ten thousand years of his realm’s peace and prosperity.

  Closing his eyes, he thought back to the evolution of his kingdom.

  Eon’s ago, most of Eritrea existed above the surface, the people moving freely between the land and the water. Though, they were essentially mammals, it wasn’t a necessity to breathe air. Their society, along with that of the newly developing Homo erectus, existed side by side, peacefully, for millennia.

  Tylan always liked to think that in time the two emerging species might have grown together in harmony. But, unfortunately, that was never to be. Within a thousand years, a giant meteor fell to earth, destroying any chances for peace. Once the dust and debris cleared, several new species evolved, the arrival of the dominant and deadly beings a cornerstone in the turning of the universe.

  Lycans, who were quite dangerous with their heightened senses and super strength, combined of course with their ability to transform into their dominant wolf or wolfen form at will, appeared first.

  The Vampires came next, equally dangerous with their retractable fangs. They were not quite as strong as the Lycans, though they did have the ability to shift into mist or fog, giving them the advantage of hiding, and attacking, from almost anywhere. They also, Tylan remembered distastefully, drank the blood of humans and one another as the staple of their diet, although he had heard rumors they could consume “normal” food when need be.

  Hunters, who Tylan knew very little about, were a mysterious species, appearing shortly after the Lycans and the Vampires. He didn’t know what they did, where they mainly lived, or any special characteristics, but if legend could be believed, they were very dangerous.

  The last species to appear was the human, though lacking most of the supernatural qualities of the other species; humans were never short of cunning, or the ability to procreate. They spread across the earth, taking over most of the territories with sheer force of numbers.

  Eritrea had been saved from the swarming mass because humans could not survive underwater. Yet, unfortunately for his society, the meteoric catastrophe sank every single province of the sprawling kingdom to the depths of the ocean.

  Although parts of their society were water-based, the essential need for supplies always brought them to the surface eventually.

  The Dark Age, indeed a perilous time for many Eritreans, saw numerous battles and skirmishes with the other species of earth over food and territorial rights. Their numbers dwindling under the onset of constant strife and death, it was not until the monks of Nylis found the secret of harvesting xerilon, a metal found in the deep recesses of the ocean, that life began to change for the better.

  Utilizing the abundant mineral as a boundless energy source, they were able to supply power to the seven newly formed provinces, while covering the cities with a protected dome of heat, xerilon metal, plasma, and water.

  The impenetrable shield guarded against the density of the ocean, created a barrier allowing the production of oxygen, and kept them invisible from view.

  Eritrea, and the Eritreans, descended fully into the ocean, his people beginning to develop a basic distrust of the species who dwelt on the surface.

  Over time, as the provinces and the people improved on their way of life, the creation of new technology continued, freeing most of the society from the need to perform everyday, mundane tasks. Common pleasures in art and literature began, moving hand in hand with the development of their mental acuity.

  Working to increase the instinctual powers of their race, as well as their civilized attributes, Eritrea became a powerful and peaceful society, withdrawn from the rest of world.

  The last known conflict had been five thousand years ago, during the Syrillian war of the fifth age. A terrible struggle between the Lycans and Vampires that dragged all of Earth’s sentient populous in the middle, even the peace lovi
ng and isolated Eritreans.

  The treaty of Assain ended the thousand-year fight, creating the Committee of Syrus, a coalition of the various races.

  It was agreed then and there that all members would abide by a consensus vote, with the first order of business being to limit the amount of Homo sapiens aware of the other species’ existence. The vast numbers of the humans made them a distinct threat, increasing the likelihood of another brutal war. Humans, of course, were included on the committee, but they agreed with their non-human counterparts.

  For five thousand years, the different species lived apart in relative peace. But, Tylan considered warily, if what Cowan said was true, another conflict could be brewing.

  “It’s possible the Dissidents have become bolder than I have given them credit for. Send word to the Committee and arrange a meeting. I would like to hear what they have to say about this.”

  “As you will, my Lord.”

  “Has there been any word from your sister?”

  “No. And it’s been over three months, Sire. I am very … concerned.”

  Tylan drew his brows together. Walking toward Cowan, he clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Arrange a search party, enlist the aid of the Committee if you have to. But remember, your sister is very intelligent. I’m sure she’s fine.” Tylan gave Cowan’s shoulder a squeeze, before sitting down next to him. “What about the contingent of warriors? Have they arrived on the surface yet?”

  “No, your majesty. They should be arriving within the hour.”

  “What’s taking them so long?” he growled.

  “They encountered a thick jet stream on the way. It’s delaying their entrance to the surface.”

  Tylan shook his head, a sense of unease flooding his mind. “Prepare a transport immediately.”

  “My Lord, you must stay here. Already the news of the attack is spreading rapidly. If you leave, more chaos could ensue.”

  “No,” Tylan answered quickly. “Something is not right.” Frowning, he turned away from the destruction lying around him, facing Cowan rapidly. “Prepare the transport.”

  “But…”

  “Prepare the damn transport! Now!”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Move it faster!”

  “But, my Lord, we’re traveling near maximum speed. If we go any faster, we may be detected.

  “Warrior, if you don’t move this piece of shit faster, your body won’t be worth the ruble of the sale after it’s auctioned.” Tylan paused, rising to stand to his full height. “NOW MOVE IT!”

  “Yes, your majesty. Right now!”

  The vessel lurched forward with a burst of speed and Tylan stilled against the motion.

  Taking a seat in the rear of the cabin, his breaths were rapid and shallow as images of Marissa tormented his mind.

  Tightening his fist in frustration, he gritted, “I should’ve never left her, Cowan. Arvlin was too young for that kind of responsibility.”

  “My Lord, you did the right thing.”

  “She’s reckless. There’s no telling what’s happened.”

  “There’s nothing you could have done, my Lord.”

  Tylan stood, pacing around the limited space. “Will you stop being my advisor! I can’t even see her,” he yelled, his fist slamming against the xerilon steel guarding his personal transport. “I fear something terrible has happened.”

  “You do not know that, my Lord.”

  “I know,” Tylan growled, “if something has happened to her … I swear…” His voice trailed off, and he collapsed in a nearby seat.

  Calling on the warrior training his father and grandfather passed to him, Tylan attempted to halt the agitated emotion inside. Yet, every time he allowed his thoughts to rest, images of Marissa careened through his mind.

  Running a hand through his hair, he twisted the roots painfully. “All is not right,” he said despondently.

  “Relax Tylan, we’re almost there.”

  “Then we need to get there faster!”

  “I can sense your agitation, Tylan, you must calm yourself. You’ll be no good to her if can’t think straight.”

  The young warrior’s voice intruded. “We’re docking, sire. We’ll be on the surface in a few moments.”

  Tensing, Tylan called again on his training, composing his features. On the outside he may look calm, but inside his feelings were raging beyond his control.

  He was mad at Arvlin, mad at the land dwellers, but mainly he was mad at himself.

  “Cowan, as soon as we are on land, convene the warriors and have them ready to move at a moment’s notice.”

  Before Cowan could respond, the xerilon cruiser came to a halting stop. Tylan rose from his seat, striding toward the hatchway. Angrily, he hit the button to raise the door, listening with impatience as the transport depressurized. When the thin metal slid into the upper portions of the ship, loud screams echoed through his mind. The breadth of Marissa’s conscious assaulted him.

  Stumbling along the ramp leading from the ship, frantic with concern, he tried to reach into her mind, tried to halt the rioting emotions inside, but her mind was closed over with helpless fear and rage.

  I am coming, my love. Rest assured. I am coming.

  “They have her trapped … paraded in a cage. Get me to the institute at once,” he gritted, looking at Cowan with all the ferocity he could muster, though inside his heart melted with sadness for his mate.

  Cowan stared at him a moment, before dropping his eyes to the ground. “My Lord, I think you should wait. There will undoubtedly be guards posted to prevent her escape. The risk is too high.”

  Turning on Cowan rapidly, Tylan grabbed him by the scruff of his clothes. “I do not care about guards or risks, Cowan. I want her out of there now!”

  “Think, Tylan,” Cowan muttered, his voice low and hushed. “If you rush in, if you allow the warriors to rush in, then all that you have sought for the last two hundred years will be for naught. And you still might not save her.”

  Blinking, Tylan stared at Cowan a few moments longer before releasing his crumpled shirt. “What would you suggest?” he questioned warily, though inside a larger part of him still yearned to act quickly, rashly.

  “Wait. Wait a few days to assess the threat.”

  “I don’t have a few days, Cowan. I need to get her out of there now,” he muttered, his jaw clenching tight in frustration.

  “Then at least wait a day or so. Let your anger calm before you act.”

  Tylan snarled, turning away and striding down the ramp. “Enough! I will be in the city of San Diego before the evening sets. I hear what you say, Cowan. But you are wrong. We must act now.”

  “As you will, my Lord.”

  Minutes later, a long, shiny black transport pulled along side the peer, dust rising from the wheels. A young, red-haired warrior moved quickly to open the backdoor of the limousine, holding it open for both him and Cowan.

  Climbing inside, Tylan settled against the plush burgundy interior, while his chief advisor settled beside him.

  They had only been in motion for a few moments before Cowan raised the partition separating them from the warrior driving the vehicle, erecting a powerful gyree to guard their thoughts.

  Leaning forward, Tylan massaged his thumbs against his temples, trying to stave off the torment in his mind … in Marissa’s mind. “Have you arranged the search party for your sister?”

  “Yes, my Lord, I’ve already tasked warriors to find her.”

  The overhead lights in the limousine flickered for a brief second, and he closed his eyes, trying to still the electricity of emotions blazing inside him. Looking toward the darkened windows he watched the scenery of the land dwellers whiz by.

  Beside him, Cowan cleared his throat cautiously, before saying, “What do you wish to do about the delaphin?”

  Tylan closed his eyes, breathing shallowly, the desires of his heart and the crown warred fiercely, at odds for the first time in his life. He didn’t really know what to
do.

  He could, possibly, save both Marissa and the delaphin, but the risks were innumerable, tantamount to openly revealing their existence to the humans. A part of him, the king inside, found that idea too horrible to consider. Yet another portion of his being, the man, could never consider abandoning his mate. Sighing, his elbows coming to rest on his knees, he considered his dwindling options.

  One consideration kept appearing in his mind, and he tried to banish it, unwilling to accept that possible course of action.

  “You could kill the delaphin, Tylan. I knew several warriors who can complete the task quietly and without causing suspicious. Of course, the death would have to be blamed on the humans, but it could be done. The people would feel the loss greatly, but in time, their anger would recede. Of the two options, it is the best.”

  “No, Cowan, I cannot bring myself to do that,” he sighed, shaking his head, realizing Cowan’s thoughts had followed his own disturbing idea.

  To kill a delaphin was tantamount to murdering one’s own family. The creatures had been instrumental in the forming of his kingdom millions of years ago, and still played a vital role today. He would have to find another way to rescue Marissa, without sacrificing the creature.

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tylan considered of his alternatives.

  What he desperately needed was stealth, someone who could get inside and subdue the guards and workers without raising an alarm. Although all of his warriors were adept at mind control, it would be impossible to direct everyone inside the building. If he had the powers of a vampire this would be an easy—

  Suddenly, the answer came to Tylan, and he drew back his shoulders, stiffening with anticipation. “Contact Gabriel. Tell him it is urgent.”

  “The half breed?!” Cowan growled. “What could he possibly know of this situation?”

  Turning, Tylan pinned Cowan in place with his gaze. “Do as I say. Contact him. Immediately.”

  “I will do as you say, my Lord. But as your advisor, and as a friend, I strongly recommend against this course of action. Involving that … animal is unwise. He is dangerous and untrustworthy.”

  “You do not know which course of action I am seeking to recommend against it, Cowan.”