After unnecessary rough handling Kyele and Vee were in restraints with their arms twisted behind them. Hopefully, Bane and Jaron were hearing all of this and responded. Irzak was too close and would hear if Torkel attempted to speak. He didn’t want to lose the comm unless they searched him.
Meanwhile, Torkel could only wait for an opening. If they got on the Marenian vessel, their lives were forfeit.
One of the Marenians couldn’t contain his glee. “Lothar will be pleased.”
“Get him in restraints, Sundar.” Nikol stalked forward, his deep brown eyes on Torkel.
Sundar spoke from above Torkel’s shoulders. “We need to notify Lothar. Dead or alive was the orders. Together we can say the Jutak warrior fell beneath the hail of weapons fire.”
Kyele and Vee were led up the ramp. They didn’t resist, no doubt understanding their situation was precarious. Vee had two severe injuries, the latter of which Torkel didn’t fully know.
“You want to kill the Jutak Leader now?” Nikol questioned with an arch of his brow as if he was considering it.
From his kneeling position, Torkel kept his head up. The possibility of death always existed. He just never thought he’d have a Chosen and child to leave behind when it happened. But he did and Torkel would do anything to spare them the grief of his loss if possible.
“We could. Think of what it would do to their world, Nikol.” Eagerness flowed from Sundar’s every word.
Nikol drew near and Torkel was unceremoniously jerked to his feet by his arm. He stared eye to eye with the one who had become a nemesis and was potentially a blood relative.
Yanking his head back at an impossible angle, Nikol hissed in Torkel’s ear, “Have the security forces withdraw further back. To the main building. Unless you want to have mass casualties today, Jutak.”
Blood continued to drip into Torkel’s eyes. He blinked away the moisture and considered refusing, but the risk was too great. The security force here could end up caught in something that had nothing to do with them. This was all about Lothar’s personal attack against him.
Snarling, he spat the order to the soldiers. “Go back. Retreat to the main building on my command. Now!”
There was a hesitation for the span of a single heartbeat. Nikol lifted the laser in his hand and placed it at the side of Torkel’s head.
Weapons dropped instantly and with disgruntled murmurs, the dozen or so guards left. Once they were beyond visibility, the four Marenians remaining outside the transport cheered and raised their lasers in the air as they yelled and chanted.
“Die! Die! Die!”
Sundar picked up the chant calling for Torkel’s immediate death. Nikol took long enough to decide. Holding Torkel’s gaze, he grunted and said, “He’s worth more alive. We can threaten the Enotians.”
The men groaned. Nikol released his grip on Torkel and spun around. With a wave, he signaled the others. “Let’s go. Bring him along.”
They formed a semi-circle around Torkel and pushed him forward. Nikol was in the lead. Jeering and insults flew his way but he blocked them. One by one Torkel considered his options.
All too soon, he drew near the ramp. Two Marenians behind him prodded and poked him in the back. “Move. Hurry up.”
“Jutak warriors! Jutak warriors!”
The familiar call from his men coincided with the gruff-voiced Marenian orders. Torkel ducked away from the guards and swiped his leg out tripping one, then swung his fist and hit his opponent’s mid-section, then struck another blow to his face when he keeled over. Bane and Jaron stormed into the open from where they’d launched their ambush, ducking and dodging around the other shuttles and ships for cover.
The Marenian standing near him considered fighting before trotted backward, making his way with another up the ramp to escape in their transport. “Retreat! Kill the Jutak Leader!”
Mixed commands but there was no doubt Torkel was the target. He rolled to the left trying to avoid the exchange of weapon fire that suddenly exploded by his feet. Diving away from the ramp, Torkel tripped. His knees scraped hard along the ground as he skidded on his side, before coming to a stop. Something at his back prevented him from using the lowered landing gear of another transport to hide.
He glanced up and stared at the wrong end of a laser. Sunder’s lips curled upward. His growled words were rough but clear. “Goodbye and death at last, Jutak.”
“Sundar, cease! We take him alive!” Nikol leaped off the ramp and barreled directly toward them.
“Nooo!”
Torkel recognized Jaron’s shout. Nikol tackled Sundar and the laser blast sounded at Torkel’s ears. He hunched his shoulders, the blast so close the heat sizzled. The moment Torkel deemed it safe, he jumped to his feet. Bane and Jaron came up beside him at a full run. Jaron eyed him from head to toe for injury and blew out a breath when he found none.
Nikol pinned the other Marenian on the ground beneath him. He tapped the black collar at his throat. “Retreat necessary! Go! Go!”
Behind them, the engines rumbled to life. Nikol surged to his feet and fired point black at Sundar, who slumped to the ground with a gasp. Bane charged toward him and kicked the weapon from Nikol’s hand. The Marenian whipped out his knives from somewhere on his body, a blade in each hand.
Jaron came up on his other side, laser at the ready. “Don’t move!”
The Marenian vessel launched into the air and took off with an ear splitting whine. Laughing, Nikol let his weapons drop to the ground and held his arms out to his side. Torkel sensed a well of frustration behind the taunting grin he tossed their way. “Well. This wasn’t what I expected today.”
Neither did Torkel. Two of his men were on the vanishing transport and now in the hands of Marenians. What was he supposed to tell their Chosens when he returned home?
Chapter 18
The comm sounded on her private line. Only a select few, including her family had access to the code. Dismissing the guards to the outer room, Peshla rose in a long sinuous move and answered, expecting it to be one of her daughters.
“Where is our son, Peshla?”
The demand rapped out in an anger-laden tone. Her back went rod straight at the face on the visual display. Someone she never expected to reach out to her again. Blond hair cut short and close to his scalp, blue eyes blazing with fire. D’Lan.
Unwanted memories from a night long ago attempted to intrude. Ignoring his question, Peshla countered with one of her own. “How did you get this comm code?”
D’Lan slammed a palm down on a table in front of him, the sound causing her to jump. “You gave me your vow. It is all I asked of you.”
Livid fury punctuated every word. Shivers danced up her spine. Through the years she’d discovered he wasn’t one you wanted as an enemy. She’d made it a point to steer clear of any chance of crossing his path. As to his claim, there was only one vow she’d ever made him. Her pulse kicked up.
“My son,” she emphasized in her coldest tone, “lives among the Enotians he claims as family.”
Something which continually left a bitter taste in her mouth. V’hor, her only son, had turned his back on Peshla and his Serpine heritage to stay with his military brethren.
“You don’t know?” D’Lan’s brow creased, some of the rage in his tone easing. “I actually believe you. There was an attack on CV-8. Marenians raided the medical facility there.”