Shattered Destiny (26 page)

“We will stay four days, no longer. After that, we must return to Gentra.” Forka hated to leave. Since being back, he had taken up the mantle of General again. It felt good being back among these people. It felt
right.

“What can we do to help?” Saemus asked.

“We need to cut timber, and fast. I only hope the saws were saved from the fire.” Forka ordered the male Chosen to follow him. The Protectors kept a secret stash of tools and other useful materials hidden in the floor of the bunkhouse. The saws, hammers, synthetic rope, and other things were invaluable. The only way to get more
was to dig through the ruins of the old cities and pray something of use would be found. Forka knew it was only a matter of time before Sawbones would be heading to old Denver with a cart. He would spend days digging and come back with a cartload of tools. Many of the other Jhinn would travel further south and north to those cities. It was dangerous but necessary. They did not have the means to forge the metal used in the tools.

“At least Widow Foster still has her tubs,” Robert said as they passed by the ruins of the bathhouse. Widow Foster and her children were hauling burned wood out of the house, and the boys were knocking down the wood that was still standing. Most of the buildings had been too damaged to salvage. They would have to be rebuilt from scratch.

“Thank God for small favors.” Forka knew he would be wanting to enjoy a hot bath before too long.
The last one didn't go so well.

Forka glanced at Sloan. He had slowly begun to come out of his guilt-induced shell since they had begun their interplanetary adventure. Much of that was due to the red-headed Astran girl. Forka was glad that she had begun to put cracks in the man's thick armor. No one could live their life without making a few mistakes.
Sloan and I have made some bad ones.

It was heartbreaking to watch the Protectors taking away pieces of the bunkhouse. The building had sheltered them for so long. It seemed wrong that it was being torn apart. Anger swelled in Forka.
Why didn't I kill Samson and Wild Bill when I had the chance?
He wished to see their blood flow as payment for what they had done to the Jhinn encampment.

Robert and Brad made directly for the spot where their stash was located. Forka sent up a silent prayer. He breathed a sigh of relief when the men began taking out saws, hammers, nails, synthetic rope, even some sharp blades.
At least some of the Protectors will be armed.
He ran a hand over his own black-handled blade, wishing again that it had tasted the blood of the enemy leaders.

The Volgons looked at the materials with some confusion. They did not use items such as these. To them, they looked like what they were: primitive. The Astrans had at least seen most of the tools and could use them. Forka sent them to cut trees for a barricade. He
knew it would be hard to use the wood for that rather than to begin rebuilding homes, but the first order of business was the camp's defenses.
The next thing we need is more watchtowers.

Forka turned at a neigh that sounded from behind. “And here you are, eating. Again.”

No Name stared at him placidly, chewing a mouthful of green grass.

“That reminds me. I need to see to getting food for these people.” Forka went in search of some of the best hunters among the Jhinn. They were useful to the enemy and were rarely killed when they were taken. Any who could show a useful skill were often spared death.

“What is this?” He came upon several women using rocks to crush wheat.

They looked to the General, unsure of what he was asking. “We are crushing wheat to make bread,” one said hesitantly.

Forka shook his head. “No, I know what you are
doing.
Where did you get the wheat?”

“We had it hidden under the house. Lots of us did.”

Forka shook his head and laughed. He laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. The women stared at him as though he had grown a second head. They didn't say anything, afraid that their General had taken a bad case of brain sickness.

“Don't you see? The enemy has completely and utterly failed! They thought they were destroying the Jhinn by burning the buildings and killing the livestock. But as long as
you
live, the Jhinn will survive.” Forka patted the women on their cheeks as he walked passed them. He could hear their hurried whispering as he walked away but he didn't care. His face broke out into a huge grin as he noticed people carting armloads of valuables they had stored in hidden places beneath their floors.

He had assumed that the fires had destroyed anything stored under the Jhinn homes, which was why he hadn't bothered looking when they had first arrived.
Just goes to show their General doesn't know everything.

As he looked at the people of the camp he knew that they were going to be fine. They would rebuild, they would replant, they
would search the plains for livestock that may have survived the raids, and they would gather more tools from the cities.

And they would survive.

EARTH

THE NEXT FOUR DAYS
passed much too quickly as the Chosen helped the Jhinn rebuild. By the last day, buildings had grown from the ashes of former homes and the Jhinn looked ten years younger as they fed on their stores of bread and dried vegetables. The Chosen poured themselves into helping the Jhinn, trying to keep their minds off the impending trip through the portal.

The day of the journey back to the portal dawned cloudy, with just a slight drizzle. The Protectors had tried to send the group with horses.

“We can't take them where we're going.” Forka had been unwilling to say more.

Sloan and Brad stood silent, disproving. They had wanted to come clean to the Jhinn about their journey. They felt it only fair to prepare them for the coming threat.

“We don't know when the Mekans will land here, if they even do at all. What is the use of scaring them to death, forcing them to look over their shoulders each and every day waiting for a threat they can't hope to fight? Best to leave them in ignorance and hope we can stop the Mekans before they get here.” Forka did not budge in this decision.

Keera rolled her eyes. “You are as bad as Kaelin and Brad!”

Gwen arched an eyebrow. “Or you and Sloan?”

The two girls shared a giggle and a quick hug. It was strange to feel happiness and contentment in the midst of fear and apprehension. Gwen was glad they all seemed to have someone.

“Kinda feel sorry for the boys though,” Keera said, glancing at Saemus and Jon.

“They don't seem to mind.”

“They wouldn't know what to do with a woman if one fell in their lap!”

Gwen snorted laughter.

“Something funny?” Saemus gave the girls a bland look. He did not need to know what they were talking about to feel certain that they were not speaking kindly of the menfolk. It was a tone he had gotten used to over the years.

Their banter was cut short by Forka giving the order to move out. The Chosen and the last two Guardians walked slowly through the throngs of people coming to say their good-byes. There was much hand shaking, hugging, and back-slapping.

Forka had to force back his tears when he passed the makeshift corral they'd made for the horses they'd brought back from the Horde and Cowboy camp. No Name was pacing back and forth, shaking her head, and pawing at the ground.

If I go to her, I will never leave.
Forka stared into her liquid brown eyes, wishing for the hundredth time that he didn't have this duty hanging over his head. His despair was overwhelming. He was tired of duty, tired of traveling, tired of worrying, just
tired.
The stress was beginning to wear him down.
How much longer until I fall over dead?

Thoughts of his old friend simply added to the agony. For so many years, he and the other three Guardians had only had each other to lean on, talk to, and confide in. Their lives had been torn apart when they'd been summoned to the home of the prophets that fateful day. Forka could remember his mother floating in the doorway, the chromatophores in her skin changing color rapidly. His father had tried to look in control, soothing his mother and his littermates, but the rapidly changing colors in his bell had betrayed his feelings.

Their training had been arduous and lonely. One would have thought that the endless hours spent poring over scrolls and staring at clunky computer terminals, their inner workings protected against the salt water by thick polymer, would fill the days, but it only made the Elected more aware of their isolation. They were not allowed to
speak to any save the servants and the few acolytes that the Masters would send with scrolls. The young Elected simply did what they were told. It was too ingrained in Gentrans to obey the Masters in all things. Forka, Mirka, Gerok, and Brok had felt it a great honor to be raised to the level of Elected, even though they had no special sight for future events.

The Elected continued to follow the orders of the Masters, taking multiple trips through the portals to their planets, learning how to adapt and blend in. They suffered in silence when the Masters refused their requests to see their families. All day they were bombarded with talk of their role in guiding and protecting the Chosen, the absolute need for secrecy, the danger the Mekans posed, and the uncertainty of when they would arrive in the galaxy.

Forka was surprised at his sudden rebellious desire to stay behind and let the others deal with the threat.
I have been on Earth too long.
No sane Gentran would dare defy the Masters. And yet here he was, contemplating doing just that.

No Name's whinny cut straight to his heart. He prayed to God to keep his friend safe and to watch over the Jhinn. If the Horde or the Cowboys attacked again, the Jhinn wouldn't stand a chance. There were not enough Protectors to fight off the enemy.

“We have to put our faith in God. He will look out for them.”

Forka snorted. “Robert, where was He when the Horde and the Cowboys destroyed the encampment?” He shook his head at Robert's attempt to interrupt. “There is no guarantee that He will protect them any more than there is a guarantee that we will all arrive on Gentra through the portal, or that we will beat the Mekans. But I will pray all the same.”

“Have you stopped to think about the events that happened here? As near as we can figure it, the Horde and the Cowboys arrived shortly after we left. According to you, you had no intention of leaving the encampment until the signs appeared, right? So -” Robert took a deep breath, ignoring the icy stare from his General. “Don't you see? If Tess hadn't been murdered, by one of our own no less, you would
never
have left early.

“Which means we would have been here when the enemy attacked.” Robert looked at Forka intently.

Forka opened his mouth to protest, then snapped it closed. His head was full of swirling thoughts taking him from the night of Tess’ death back to that fateful day in the cave when he had encountered Sloan's family after emerging from the portal.

“I have always said, everything happens for a reason,” Robert said quietly.

There was the possibility that if they had been in the encampment when the combined forces of the enemy had arrived, many of them would have been killed. “So how does this fit in with the deaths of the other Chosen that have happened since then?”

Robert shrugged. “I don't know. But perhaps the purpose of their deaths will come to light at a later date. After all, it wasn't until we came back here and found out about the enemy attack that the thought came to me about Tess’ death. But it is possible that all of the other deaths play some larger role that we can't fathom yet.”

“You are making my head hurt,” Forka grumbled. There was a part of him that still wanted to be angry at God for abandoning the Jhinn when they needed Him the most. He had never considered that Tess’ death, along with the deaths of other Chosen they had lost, was a part of some grand plan that mere mortals could never comprehend.

In a way, Forka was grateful to Robert for bringing up the possibility. It kept his mind from thinking of the Jhinn and his little mare. He spent the rest of the journey to the portal in quiet contemplation, trying to grasp the implications of what Robert had suggested, feeling inadequate to the task.
Maybe the Masters will have some answers for us.

Forka snorted aloud at the voice in his head. It spoke more from routine than any real belief that the prophets had written anything helpful. He had come to realize that perhaps the prophets and the Masters did not have all the answers after all. It came as a surprise that the thought didn't bother him more. Gentrans lived their lives by what the prophets wrote pertaining to the future.

I have been gone too long. I have seen a different way, a better way.
Living among the Jhinn had taught him that life could be lived without knowing what the future held. The people he had encountered on Earth did not have foresight. They had heart and
guts, and that was all they needed to fight for survival against the Horde and the Cowboys. They held onto their belief that they would be reunited with loved ones in the afterlife in Heaven.

Forka glanced at the Volgons. They seemed to have the same mindset as the Chosen from Earth. These fierce warriors lived in much the same manner, except that their weapons, and the weapons of the enemy, were such that they left permanent scars on their world and drove them underground. But both races knew what it was to fight, and to live under the heavy shadow of danger. And yet they plowed forward, never stopping, never giving up.

--The fear feelings are getting stronger. Can you not lower their noise? It is becoming quite painful.

Forka glared at the clone walking near-by. “No, we can't lower the noise. Can you tune it out?”

--That is not possible.

Forka laughed at the snorts and somewhat angry replies of the rest of the group at the telepath's communication and his own outburst. Keera seemed ready to claw their eyes out. Forka had never known a girl that threw such fierce temper tantrums.
Except Valery.

The clone managed to look embarrassed by the reactions of the group. The expression looked foreign on its normally expressionless face. --Why are these strange feelings aimed at me?