Mercenary, page 28
part #2 of Heart's Desire Soul Destroyed Series
“So beautiful. Such a pity. Still.” He sucked the blood off his finger, sighing in appreciation. “So delicious. I look forward to drinking your blood, eating your flesh. You know,” he continued confidingly, “they do say torture tenderises the meat. Adrenaline, you know.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “We know that to be true.” Abruptly pushing to his feet, he gestured to his companions. “No time to waste.”
His followers approached her eagerly, yet warily, and she tensed.
“Tut-tut, this will never do.” He shook his head. “You never learn, but I suggest you come quietly or your little friend here will be minus an ear. Do you understand, warrior?”
“Touch her and I’ll kill you.”
He laughed in genuine amusement. “Brave words but look here.” He clicked his fingers and one of the females dropped to her knees beside Mara, withdrawing a knife from the pouch at her side. “Just to show that we mean business-”
“No!” Mara tried to scramble away but the female grinned and grabbed her hair, raising the knife in her other hand.
“Stop!” Reya jerked helplessly against the manacles.
The figure held his hand up and the female stilled. “Yes?”
“I’ll come quietly.”
“I thought you would.” Another snap of the fingers made the female stand reluctantly. “Playtime later, my sister. For now, assist this lovely lady to the central cavern. It is time for her to meet the bringers of justice. Later, she will feed us.”
They approached her again and she waited, watching while the chains above her were unlocked from the wall though her wrists remained manacled. A male stood on either side of her, grasping her arms, while the female pointed the dagger at Mara.
Reya could fight, but she knew Mara would be dead before she could get to her. For now, she had to go along with whatever they had planned for her.
Just the thought alone had a chill running down her spine, but she remained stoic.
“Bring the girl.” The cloaked figure gestured.
“You were to leave her if I came quietly,” Reya objected.
“She won’t be harmed, but comes merely as a precaution.” The cloaked figure wagged a finger playfully. “Keep behaving yourself and all will go well with her... for now.”
Reya was hauled upright then jerked along behind the cloaked figure, the chain between her ankles ensuring small steps. Mara followed, visibly shrinking from the touch of her captors. They were led up a passage that inclined upwards and opened out into a cavern.
The view was stomach churning.
The stench was just as bad.
Short figures turned from their various activities to stare at Reya and Mara, then they started growling and gnashing their teeth like rabid hounds.
Rabid hounds that had just had their prey step into their midst.
~*~
Maverk stared at the ruins of Yennan before kicking a lump of crumbling plaster in frustrated fury. “Nothing! Absolutely bloody nothing!”
Turning around slowly, Sinya regarded the ruins of the once small but thriving settlement. “So it seems. The last of my crew now return, let’s hear what they say.”
Maverk watched the space pirates advance from the ruins. They were a dangerous-looking and colourful lot. All wore the same attire as their captain only their shirts were a bright array of colours - bright reds, blues, greens, yellows and purples.
Sourly he thought that they stuck out a mile away. “Good thing you fight in space and not on land. Your men don’t exactly blend into the background.”
With pride Sinya gazed at his crew. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it.”
“Where’s your brother?”
“Safe in the ship.”
“I don’t see much of him. Is he shy?”
“You could say that. Ephim! See anything?”
A barrel-chested pirate with a grey beard shook his head. “Nothing. The place is deserted.”
Maverk rubbed a hand over his shaggy hair. “We should search again.”
“We’ve searched four times,” Sinya stated. “There is nothing and no one here.”
“There must be something.” Eyes blazing, Maverk swung around to face the smaller man. “There is no sign of Reya between here and Eros. She has to be out here.”
Sinya held his hands up appeasingly. “We’ll search the surrounding areas again, but there is nothing at these ruins.”
“Bloody hell!” Another savage kick connected with the wall, resulting in his boot going right through the plaster this time.
Sinya and Ephim exchanged looks.
The remainder of the crew returned with grim faces. There was no sign of the Reeka warrior.
“Let’s go,” Sinya sighed.
A thin, gangly man with a doleful face said conversationally, “I wish the ship were nearer.”
“Don’t be such a lazy bastard, Franc,” Ephim said.
“Not laziness. Self-preservation.” He pointed.
Everyone followed the direction of his finger and froze. On the slopes not far from away stood a large group of tall figures dressed in cloaks and face-concealing veils, all of them holding old-fashioned lasers. They stood still and silent against the burning backdrop of the sky.
“Visitors.” Maverk narrowed his eyes.
Sinya drew his laser. “Friend or foe?”
“I guess we’ll find out.” Maverk saw one of the figures break rank and start down the slope. “Don’t fire yet.”
“But be prepared.” Sinya gestured to Ephim. “Spread the word to be ready to fire. People go missing out here and I don’t intend for us to be amongst them.”
The lead figure drew closer, six companions following. They halted before the giant trader and the pirates.
“Whom do you seek?” The voice of the leader was low, raspy and male.
Unable to see past the dark veil covering the face, Maverk’s skin prickled uneasily. “A friend who was headed this way some days past.”
“Did you find him?”
“What business is it of yours? Who are you?”
“If you value your lives, you will all leave.”
“Is that a threat?” Sinya drawled.
“A promise, a warning. Take it as you will, but leave this doomed place.”
“I am getting heartily sick of riddles.” Maverk’s was in no mood for yet more of this shit. “If ‘tis a fight you are after, come on.”
Franc sighed. “Oh dear.”
The people behind the leader started to raise their weapons, the pirates immediately touching the triggers of their own lasers, ready to fire at a second’s notice.
“Stop.” The man rasped out the word softly. “No bloodshed here for it will only attract the skinners.”
Skinners? Maverk and Sinya exchanged glances.
“If your friend has not arrived, then he never will. No one does.”
“You’re here,” Sinya pointed out matter-of-factly. “What makes you so sure our friend isn’t?”
“Experience, pirate. Leave now while you can.”
Maverk’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t leave without her.”
“A woman?” The man’s head angled fractionally. “With hair like the setting sun?”
“You’ve seen her!” He started forward only to be brought up short by the warning whine of the lasers. “Where is she?”
“They will have her. They always get those they seek.”
“Just tell me who the hell ‘they’ are and I’ll find them and tear them apart!”
“You’ll die a horrible death, giant.”
“Then I’ll die looking for her.” His jaw clenched. “I’m not leaving her in this hellhole.”
The man regarded him steadily before turning to the one behind and speaking softly. The second figure nodded, answered in a female voice, and started back up the slope.
The man turned once again to him. “You are sure of this?”
“My life on it.”
“Your life probably will be on it,” he murmured, glancing around at the pirates before returning his attention to Maverk and Sinya. “We may be able to assist you after all.”
Maverk’s face lit up with hope.
“Don’t get too excited. It will depend on our leader.”
“Aren’t you the leader?” Sinya asked curiously. “And who are you, anyway?”
A shout came from the dune and a figure waved.
The man facing them reached up and drew the veil away from his face. “My name is Stellar.”
“Bloody hell!” Ephim gasped. “It’s a woman!”
Maverk just managed not to gape, not only because her eyes were an opaque pink, but from the voice he’d thought for sure it was a man. But then the woman took a tiny disc from her throat.
“Yes, a woman who has lost her child and seeks for him, the way a woman seeks for an adder. To hold, to kill,” was the chilling reply, definitely female now.
“Voice modifier,” Sinya stated.
Puzzled, Maverk began, “What-”
“Patience and all will be explained.” She watched the line of cloaked figures descending the sand dune. “We are the desert people, or what is left of us.”
“Left of you?” Cleared his throat nervously, Franc took a step back. “You have a sickness?”
Her laugh was as harsh and dry as the desert wind. “A sickness, yes, but not what you think. Once Isham is here, all will be explained.” The pink-eyed gaze switched to Maverk. “Then you will decide if you will continue your search or leave.”
Once descended, the desert people lowered their veils to reveal the same pink eyes on every man and woman. They all eyed the pirates warily. One of them broke rank and stepped up beside Stellar.
“My name is Isham.” The man introduced himself, his lined face harsh and unforgiving. “Your woman has been taken by the skinners. They also have another captive who is still alive, which is most unusual.”
“A young girl, curly black hair?” Sinya queried.
“That’s the one. She was tied to a post not three days past, a lure for the woman with the hair like the setting sun.”
“Reya,” Maverk whispered.
Isham’s eyes were pitilessly. “I would not bother seeking either of them. By now their skins will have been made into clothes. If they’re lucky.”
“What the hell else could happen to them?” Sinya demanded. “What could be worse than that?”
“To still be alive in their hands.”
Maverk fought the rising panic. “What are these ‘skinners’ and where the hell are they? Damn it, tell me!” Grabbing the front of Isham’s robe, he shook him. “Tell me!”
Lasers whined as they readied to fire, the desert people bristling with hostility, the pirates reacting in the same way at the threat of violence.
“Hold!” Stellar grabbed Maverk’s wrist. “The giant means no harm, my people. Everyone lower their weapons and we will explain to the visitors. Please.”
Releasing Isham’s robe, Maverk said stiffly, “I’m sorry. ‘Tis just that if things are as bad as you say we need to hurry.”
“They are worse,” Isham said. “No offence taken. Your actions are understandable.”
“My name is Sinya.” The lean space pirate introduced himself. “My friend is Maverk. It’s his wench we’re looking for.”
“Ah.” Isham contemplated Maverk and Sinya for several seconds. “Very well. It’s better if you know what you’re facing before we go further.
Knowing this was the only way to save Reya, the only hope they had, Maverk shoved down the urge to roar at the man to bloody hurry up. Folding his arms, he waited.
“The story is short and bloody.” Isham gestured to the nearby ruins. “We would do as well to make ourselves comfortable.”
Brown eyes widened incredulously. “Comfortable?”
“I am not young.” Walking over to a half-collapsed stone wall, he sat down upon it. “I need to sit even of you don’t.”
Weapons were re-holstered, but the desert people aligned themselves behind Isham while the pirates stood with their captain.
“Who are the skinners?” Moving forward, Maverk rested his boot on the wall and leant his forearm on his bent knee.
“The skinners are children of the desert, our children,” Stellar informed him bluntly.
“Of our genes, to be more precise,” Isham said.
“I don’t understand.”
“They were not born from our loins. They were an experiment that went horribly wrong. Very horribly wrong.”
“We misjudged the experiment,” Stellar added.
“What happened?” Sinya asked curiously.
“The wrath of God for daring to meddle with nature.” For the first time, Isham showed a flicker of regret before his features hardened.
“What happened?” Maverk prodded impatiently.
“Eighteen years ago these ruins were a settlement of the most brilliant minds in the Outlaw Sector. There were wars everywhere and a need for good mercenaries to fight. We are a peaceful people, scientists, not fighters.”
Stellar nodded. “We hired mercenaries to fight for us, to protect our settlement, our work, and us. But we grew tired of paying money of which we had very little. The last straw came when four of our women were raped by the very men employed to help us.”
“Desperate times,” Sinya muttered. “Happens to everyone, doesn’t it?”
Isham studied his hands, smoothing out the wrinkles on the backs. “We decided to create our own fighting force.”
“Your children?” Maverk felt sick at just the thought of anyone breeding children to kill.
“Not exactly. Babies conceived in special tubes, injected with a special blend of hormones, DNA and growth redundancy serum as they grew, to make them more aggressive than we ourselves were, to remain small so that they could move unsuspectingly through enemy ranks, infiltrate and kill if required.”
“Children as killers?” Maverk shook his head. “You bred them to become what, mini-mercenaries?”
“Yes.” Isham didn’t flinch. “But we realized our mistake when one day, twelve years to the day of their creation, we tried to discipline one of them for viciously beating one of our normal children. They turned on us savagely.” Isham frowned. “The children fled when we fought back, but it wasn’t the last we saw of them. It seems we succeeded too well in breeding our mini-mercenaries. They started to hunt us down and kill us off, slowly but surely, each killing more savage and horrendous than the last.”
Maverk felt sick. “How could you do that to your own flesh and blood? Even though conceived in tubes, they were still your children.”
Stellar gazed calmly at him. “We are a race of scientists. To others we may appear cold, but we had our reasons. Self-preservation at all costs.”
“And it cost us,” Isham said.
“Now you reap what you sow,” Sinya said.
“Correct. Only we never guessed what we’d reap. These children of hell stalk their prey, torture and skin them alive, eat parts of the body if not all of it.”
“Dear God,” Maverk whispered, appalled. “Reya!”
“Your warrior was one of the few to escape several years ago. We hired a group of mercenaries to come to the desert hunting an unknown enemy without a clue to their true nature. Many mercenaries had failed before, so this time we chose carefully, and the group she was in were the best.”
“You hired them? You brought them here?”
“What choice did we have?” Isham asked blandly. “We don’t know what happened that day. There were screams and sounds of laser blasts, as there always is. But there was something else that day, something more…” He gazed off into the distance, frowning. “None of us can remember properly. But something happened…” He gave himself a shake and looked back at Maverk. “Anyway, when everything went silent and we ventured out, all we found were the bodies of nineteen dead mercenaries staked out and skinned. Eleven of the mercenaries had vanished. At first we presumed they were taken, but word eventually came back that they’d escaped. Swiftest of foot survived, I suppose.”
“We picked them up.” Sinya’s tone was clipped. “We didn’t know what had happened. They never said.”
Aye, Reya was swift of foot. To have escaped the clutches of the devil’s spawn would require speed and stamina. But mercenaries running? These spawn had to be savage.
Maverk gestured to the group. “There are many of you. Why haven’t you found the children?”
“What you see now is just a third of what used to be. We are all that remain, and be sure, we do try to hunt them down, but they are wily in the ways of the desert, cunning like no living being I’ve seen.”
“And they’ve changed,” Isham added.
“Changed? Children get older, they grow up.”
“Not these.” Isham shook his head. “Or they’re not programmed to. They are supposed to stay small, young, innocent looking. But something happened that day. I think.” For a minute he looked lost.
That was as alien an expression to his face as the pink eyes.
Stellar laid her hand on his shoulder. “They have evolved, changing rapidly. Though still small like a child, they have developed into adults of a kind.”
“Of a kind,” Sinya echoed. “What, exactly, does that mean?”
“Their bodies are fighting the serum. They are adult now, but twisted.
“Twisted?”
“They are not like you and me. In some ways they still retain child-like ways.”
“Yeah,” Ephim grunted. “Because killing is child-like.”
Sinya glanced at him and Ephim shut up
“So what does that mean?” Maverk asked. “What happened that day that you don’t rem-” He stopped, feeling stupid. They didn’t remember, so how could they possibly explain?
Isham regarded him soberly. “It means that there is something so very much more wrong with them, something we think affected them though we don’t quite know how or what. Their eyes turned orange, they became more vicious.”
“How do you know all this?” Sinya asked. “If you can’t find them, then how-”
“We managed to capture one and study it.”
It. The word was like ashes on Maverk’s tongue. These bastards had bred killer children, altered their DNA and other things of which he had no idea, released them onto an unsuspecting area, and still they were nothing but ‘its’ to them.
