Shattered Destiny (3 page)

“Something wrong?” Keera asked, smiling a sideways grin that said she knew the answer.

“He yelled at me! As if it what occurred between me and the…the…
brute
were my fault.” Gwen crossed her arms and glared at Feeror, who sat opposite from the pair, using a whet stone to hone a small knife.

“He was just trying to get you to stop moping.” Keera looked at Gwen from behind a curtain of red curls. “Seems to have worked.”

“Well, that's
hardly
the point, now is it?” Gwen said.

“Well, what is it then? The Volgons have not even looked our way since the incident, and if I remember correctly, you almost killed him! So I would say you came out on top,” Keera retorted.

Gwen tried to come up with a response and found that she couldn't.
I guess I did win that particular fight. But it doesn't make things better.
She found herself wanting to try to explain to Keera how much Feeror's words and disgusted looks had cut her to the quick, opening many wounds she thought healed for good.

“I don't pretend to know how his words made you feel, but I know they made me want to strangle him. It must have been a hundred times worse for you.” Keera held Gwen's hands. “I know I have not known you very long, only a few short years. But in that time I have gotten to know you. And you are stronger than
that.
” She jerked her head in the direction of the big Volgon. “You are stronger than any of them! And if you let his words affect you, you are not half the person I know you to be.” Keera's blue eyes met Gwen's brown ones.

Gwen found her eyes filling with tears of gratitude.
She understands more than I give her credit for.
She hugged the girl, feeling better than she had since emerging from the portal.

The smell of cooking meat soon filled the cave with its savory aroma. The Volgons sat hunched over the fire. They would breathe deeply from time to time, their eyes closing in ecstasy.

“Do you not have meat where you come from?” Gwen's voice was only a little shaky but she refused to look away when Seelyr's blue eyes met her own.

“We have animals we consume, but they are a rare treat. We eat gruel that is designed to contain the correct amount of nutrients to sustain life,” Seelyr said.

“Why are animals such a rare treat? Can you not simply go and hunt them?” Gwen asked, confused.

Seelyr shook her head. “You do not understand little one…” She put up her hand at Gwen's angry look. “I did not mean it a slight to you. I use it as a term of one who is young. Our world is very different from yours, I fear.” She turned to the fire.

“I would like to know of your world. You'll get the chance to see mine first-hand on the morrow.” Gwen replied. She found herself
strangely drawn to these strong, fierce, angry and resolute people, despite their obvious discomfort in her presence.

None of the males would even look at her, and each time she spoke, they flinched and clenched their fists. Gwen gritted her teeth, determined to get them talking.

It was Moylir who spoke. “Our world was not always like it is now. Our race used to live on the surface of Volgon, in great stone cities that shone in the morning sun. We were a peaceful race, engrossed in art and music and sculpture. My sire once told me that our ancestors were sculptors who were given the great honor of creating the adornments that topped the tombs of our leaders.” Moylir stopped for a moment, lost in thought.

“I do not recall how the fighting started. There was some insult, some breach of protocol, some courtesy not met. No one even remembers the reason for it all.” Moylir stopped speaking and stared at Gwen, her brown eyes haunted. “Isn't that the worst part? We have been fighting our enemies for over a thousand revolutions of our planet, and no one can even recall what started it all.” She shook her head ruefully and continued. “The Gorkons inhabit a planet close to ours. The attacks came slowly at first, then quickened to such intensity that the very air shook with the force of their weapons. Many of our people were killed in the initial onslaught. Our once great cities fell into ruin, smashed beyond recognition.

“The Volgons tried to flee to the depths of space, but the Gorkons destroyed every ship that made it off the planet. My people were losing hope. One of the Viceroys managed to forge a tentative peace with the Gorkons, but it did not last. Some of the most brilliant inventors turned their thoughts to creating weapons and shields. These helped my people fight back, and resist the enemy's onslaughts.

“Then the Gorkons unleashed something terrible.” Moylir swallowed audibly. “They somehow created a weapon that stripped our planet of all plant life. Everything shriveled and died within a few seasons. It took a little longer for the animals to die off.

“Viceroy Vyr was instrumental in saving our race. He ordered the inventors and builders to begin excavating. Once our colonies had been dug, work began on the food generators, air generators,
shield bunkers, everything that allowed my people to survive.

“Our people soon moved underground for good. We were protected from the violence that was occurring above ground. The Gorkons continued their attacks, going so far as to send landing parties to seek us out. Their plan was to destroy us to the last child. We were safely hidden behind our invisibility shields. We attacked on the move, using the sweepers to search for signs of the enemy, and then sending Volgons out to kill them.”

Moylir met Gwen's eyes. “Life on my world is harsh, little one. There are barely enough resources to keep the healthy ones alive. The only animals that survived are the melgor. If not for the food generators, we would all have starved long ago. Resources are precious. This is why they cannot be wasted on the weak or the sick.” Moylir looked to Seelyr.

Gwen did not miss the look. “Someone was taken and killed, someone close to you.” She looked at Seelyr.

“My pup was born sick. He…he was….” She looked to Feeror, pain evident on her face.

“The pup was sacrificed so that we could perfect a weapon that would allow us to kill our enemy and leave our own people unharmed. The pup was going to be incinerated anyway. His death helped Feeror to figure out the final modification on the sound weapon,” Kyron stated.

Seelyr turned back to the fire.

“Is that true? You killed a baby on purpose? Used it in some experiment?” Kaelin glared at the Volgons, her hands shaking.

“We had no choice. Food and water can only be given to those that can fight, that can contribute to the safety and continuity of the colony. These rules have allowed the strong to survive and pass on that strength to the next generation. If we wasted resources on the weak, the Gorkons would find us easy prey. We cannot allow that to happen,” Voilor spoke softly, yet with conviction. “And the pup was not used just in some
experiment
. The sound weapon had to be tested on a Volgon. It was better to test it on one who was slated to die anyway than on someone strong.”

Gwen was saddened at the idea that these people had suffered so much. It was hard to imagine Astra being torn apart, towns and
cities destroyed, nothing to eat except what came out of some machine, being forced to choose between feeding those who were strong or those who were weak.

“My world has abundant food. We don't need to destroy those that are not born perfect,” Gwen said. “There are many things that those who are of less-than-perfect physical stature can do. If they have power, like we do, they can become the Mystic of a village or perhaps even serve one of the Patriarchs. Many dwarfs travel with menageries and the like, performing for the public to earn their way. On my world, people can become merchants, captains of vessels that sail the open ocean, or homesteaders who buy a plot of land and settle down to raise a family.”

The Volgons stared at Gwen, their faces immovable masks of stone. Feeror nodded grudgingly. “Perhaps you are right. We come from different worlds, each of which has shaped who we are. But it is hard to change overnight. Physical perfection and the need to stay strong enough to fight is who we are.”

Brok, announcing that the steaks were done, interrupted any more talk. Since they had no plates or silverware, they had to make do with their hands. The Volgons picked up the steaks and began to devour the meat, barely noticing their singed fingers. The juices dripped down their chins, and they made animalistic noises of pleasure. The Astrans were less vocal, but no less messy. By the time each had eaten two steaks, except for the Volgons, who managed to eat three, all were covered in steak juice. The only sound was the slurping of fingers being sucked clean.

With their bellies full and their bodies warmed by the fire, the Chosen found it difficult to keep their eyes open. Jon stared into the coals, watching them change colors as the air hit them, seeming almost to breathe.

“I don't understand the need for this fire. We could have eaten the meat raw, and the temperature is not cold enough to warrant its use for heat,” Kyron said. He absently brushed long brown hair out of his face.

Jon made a face. “We don't eat raw meat. We always cook it. And setting a fire is just something you do when you are out-of-doors. It's comforting. It helps to keep animals at bay as well.”

“It seems such a waste. There are plenty of us to keep watch, so there is no need to use it for protection,” Kyron insisted.

“Do you not use fire on Volgon?” Saemus could not imagine sleeping outside without the comfort and heat of a campfire.

“We use a few torches, but only in the hallways that lead down into the colony. Volgons have good eyesight, and we do not need a lot of light to see by. Once inside the Colony, we have artificial light.”

Gwen looked at Kyron, baffled. “Is that like an oil lamp?”

“No. We do not use oil. I am not sure I have the words to explain it to you. But we have devices that make light,” Kyron said.

“I think that is enough talk for one night. We make for Enisae at sun-up,” Master Brok said.

“Will we go home after that?” Kaelin asked quietly.

“I don't think so, child.”

“Why not?” Kaelin sat up, visibly distraught.

Brok sighed. “Because, child, we do not know how long we have been gone. It might have been years. We do not have a good excuse for why we have been gone. And what of them?” He indicated the Volgons, still sitting in the nude. “How do we explain the strangers? If someone questions them too closely, it will be hard to deny that they are not from this world. It is a risk we cannot take.”

Kaelin lay back down, fuming.
How can he expect us to simply travel to Enisae and not go home? I want to see my family.
Kaelin fell into a troubled sleep with tears drying on her cheeks.

ASTRA

BROK HAD THEM UP
before first light. The Astran Chosen groaned at the early hour, but their Volgon comrades did not appear to even notice. They were wide awake.

“On our world, we cannot afford to be lethargic. Such careless behavior would result in injury or death,” Voilor said in answer to one of Keera's typical sarcastic remarks.

“I am surprised you even sleep at all,” the fiery red-head mumbled as she wiped sleep from her eyes.

The group ate a cold breakfast of meat and a few berries. There was a chill in the air that spoke of the coming of autumn. The Volgons did not appear to be affected by the cold, even without clothing. Or if they were, they did not voice a complaint. Before they exited the cave, Brok had the Astrans render the nude Volgons invisible.

Brok led the group. Gerok, the Volgon Guardian, and his Chosen were stunned at the beauty of the landscape before them. The morning sun was shining through the branches of the aspen groves, and the slight breeze made the most delightful music as it blew through the leaves. Birds chirped merrily, and nectar bees and butterflies lazily drifted on the wind currents.

The Volgons stared about them in amazement, wanting to look everywhere at once. Seelyr and Moylir giggled and laughed at the site of the fat, orange nectar bees flying from flower to flower to flower. They even picked several blooms until Brok put a stop to it.

“Need I remind you that it is not customary on this world to see flowers moving through the air of their own accord?” Brok glared at the invisible space where the laughter had come from. “Nor are voices coming from thin air. Please try to keep your exclamations silent until we can get you some clothing. We will soon be reaching farmsteads, and that means that we could be coming into contact with people.”

The Volgons tried to remain silent, but every now and again, one of them would see another sight that would bring an exclamation. The Volgons would whisper questions about the wondrous things they saw and the Astrans would whisper answers, enjoying the excitement of their fellow Chosen. It was as if they were seeing their own world for the first time, through the eyes of the Volgons. The warriors could smell the
life
of this planet, and they found it intoxicating. They ran through the tall grass, oblivious of their bare feet, running until they felt their lungs would burst.

Brok opened his mouth to chastise them again, but he didn't have the heart. He had felt much the same when he had first arrived on Astra. He could not imagine how different this world must be from their war-torn planet. At least his home world of Gentra was alive with sound, color, warmth, and life. He felt a rush of sympathy for the Volgons and hoped that the war between them and their Gorkon enemies might end one day, so that they could live on the surface of their planet once more and make it bloom once more.