Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“I left a Hallan or two behind. They’ll pass the message along that he, Frances, well, he can come to you.”
As surely as this planet they call Earth will rotate to make us suffer under the sun for another unpleasant day, Katur never fails.
“Well done,” I tell him, reaching across the table to slap my kin on his shoulder.
“Now what?” he asks.
I grin. “Now, we wait.”
And I shall prepare.
*
It takes countless passes of the sun and moon before the male his followers call Frances finally makes himself known. I wouldn’t go as far as expressing appreciation at the fact that he comes alone with no one to protect him and hands bare of weapons, but I do take notice. Arriving at the very end of the long road we carved into the land, he’s still greeted by an army of Hallans poised with staffs of burning tips that direct him to where I wait.
I keenly watch the human male’s gaze sweep from side to side, careful not to look behind him at the line of Hallans forcing him forward. He finds the sight waiting for him at the gate, and the seconds seem to suspend into minutes the longer he stares up at the possible fate awaiting him.
Resting in the throne made of molted human weapons just before the gate, my backdrop is a wall of pikes topped with decapitated heads of his kind. Every single one stares back with only one eye, a ghastly scene amongst the glow of high bonfires behind the gates.
It amuses me how each head has its own expression. Horror after horror, face after face.
His head will be the next to join my collection should today not go the right way.
“Quite … interesting decorations,” the human male mutters.
I smirk. The guards at his side glance my way, waiting to see if I’m unhappy that Frances spoke before he could be properly introduced as he came to the foot of my altar.
“The sight of them should make my intentions here very clear,” I reply in the language I know he understands.
“The sight of them tells me you have a chip on your shoulder, actually.”
The translator in my ear doesn’t catch the turn of phrase he uses as something I understand, but when Frances raises one thick, gray eyebrow high and points at his own brown eyes—just one—I understand. But it’s how he says it, without judgment or condemnation in his tone, that earns him another few minutes before me.
Alive, anyway.
“Yes,” I say, then, “there is a point I am making there.”
He nods, but his passive expression makes it hard to read the action as anything other than a respectful acceptance of the facts laid before him.
There is a small chance I may find it slightly more bearable to converse with this human male. He lacks the initial air of arrogance and self-importance that almost every other one I’ve come in contact with seemed to have in abundance.
I enjoyed draining it out of them.
“Frances, is it?” I ask.
Before the human can reply, the guard at his right steps forward with a bow, reminding us all in that moment that we still have customs to maintain.
“Waliz Halun, I declare the arrival of Frances Heartforth, leader of the group they call The Opposition.”
I eye the older gentleman as the line of Hallans behind him begins to disperse. His very small world gets a lot larger as they create an aisle of sorts on either side.
“What can you tell me of your … Is it a party?” I ask.
“Of sorts,” Frances replies.
He wears a garb not unlike what the general was wearing when we finally found his body. Less metals and patches on the chest and arm, but it tells me that he has high ranking in The New Order of Earth.
A concern for me.
“We were gearing up for our next move when your people made an untimely arrival, and we had to change plans. I still intend to overtake The New Order and overthrow the control they’ve had over us, should the opportunity present itself, but I’ve been a bit distracted as of late.”
“Fascinating,” I say.
“What part?”
“That you're so intent on saving something here and I need but one more thing on this planet before I can finally leave it behind. I was liking something about you. Careful it doesn’t lessen the longer you talk.”
He’s quite a few paces away from me, but that doesn’t stop me from seeing his throat bobs with a swallow or the way his gaze darts back to the rows of head-topped pikes.
“I hear you’re looking for a woman,” Frances says, then.
I arch a brow. “What of it?”
“Interestingly enough, I am, too.”
“Looking for a woman.”
It isn’t even a question, and yet it still sounds unsure.
“Yes, a young woman. Luna. My daughter.” Suddenly, the male before me seems to stand a little straighter, as if more weight has come to rest upon his shoulders. I know the feeling, but I doubt his reasons are in any way similar to mine. He clears his throat, and admits, “I’ve been on her trail for weeks. They moved her when the shit went down, and chances are, given what The New Order has made known they want from you, and what having my daughter means to them, there’s a good chance the woman you’re looking for might be in the very same place as my daughter.”