The Awakened: A Wandering Stars Novel Read online

  Two men in military fatigues. One driving, the other in the back pointing an automatic weapon at the third man…the prisoner.

  The jeep was moving at roughly forty miles an hour when it hit the spike strip. A loud pop cut through the roar of the motor as the tires shredded instantly. The jeep skidded on the wet asphalt as the driver struggled to maintain control, coming to a stop directly in front of the men waiting in the trees.

  The timing was perfect, exactly as planned. The team leader brought the stock of his silenced weapon to his cheek and peered through the scope. When the crosshairs were centered on the side of the driver’s head he squeezed the trigger. The gun coughed a three-round burst and the driver’s head pitched violently to the side, throwing him over the driver-side door.

  The other soldier in the rear of the vehicle reacted quickly, jumping to a stance and spinning toward the trees, firing wildly into the jungle.

  The group fired in unison, and the soldier in the jeep fell backward with several hits to his midsection. It was over just as suddenly as it had begun. The team moved out of the trees and fanned out, surrounding the vehicle.

  “Come on out,” the team leader said in the friendliest voice he could muster. But there was no reply. “Come on…you’re safe now,” he repeated. Slowly, he approached the back of the jeep and peered over the tailgate.

  A man cowered in the back, keeping his head down.

  “Can you understand me?” the leader asked, but the blank look in the other man’s eyes told him the answer. Instead, he waved for the captive to get out of the jeep.

  Cautiously, the man rose up on his knees and looked around. He seemed to be assessing the situation. Finally, he got to his feet and moved to the back of the jeep.

  The team leader moved back, allowing the man to crawl out of the vehicle, inspecting him as he waited. He appeared to be in his late thirties, with a muscular build and Mediterranean features. He was dressed like he had just walked off a movie set, wearing a black toga, short cropped pants, and leather sandals that laced up his calves. His chest was protected by some sort of primitive armor that looked like leather. This guy’s definitely not a local. “We’re going to the helicopter now,” he said, pointing over the man’s shoulder.

  The man turned to watch the rest of the team make their way back along the road. He appeared reluctant, but finally started moving with the team leader following close behind. When they rounded a bend in the road, the captive turned around with a look of intense fear in his eyes.

  “Afraid of flying?” he asked. “You’ll be fine.” The group leader pointed again, indicating that the man should follow the other soldiers who were already climbing into the chopper.

  The captive appeared frightened of the machine, but eventually moved forward, limping on a badly injured foot. One of the crew members leaned out and offered him a hand, which he cautiously accepted.

  When everyone was aboard and seated, the chopper lifted off the ground and began to move back in the direction from which they had come. The team leader looked over at the man and saw that his eyes were closed and his head was back against the seat. His skin looked pale and it was obvious that he was getting motion sick. He reached over and touched the man’s leg to get his attention.

  When the man opened his eyes, the team leader pointed two fingers at his own eyes, then pointed out the window. “Keep your eyes open and watch the trees.”

  The other man seemed to understand.

  As everyone watched the passing jungle, the team leader inspected the strange man whose rescue was the objective for this mission. Whoever he was, he was definitely a long way from home.

  Chapter 2

  The sound of lapping waves was faint and peaceful, at first. But eventually it caused something in Bahari’s mind to take notice. He awoke with a jerk. He was sitting at the stern of his cargo ship and the rudder handle was an arm’s reach away, swaying back and forth in unison with the ocean swells. He grabbed the handle and steadied it, cursing himself for his carelessness.

  He looked out across the deck of the ship, laden with cargo, and could not see much farther than the bow. A thick fog had rolled in while he slept, reducing visibility to almost nothing. The mainsail was full with a breeze coming from the northwest. Bahari took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to calm himself; sound was his only navigational tool now. Then he heard it again, the sound of waves breaking off the port bow. Leaning to the side, he pulled on the rudder until the boat slowly began to turn starboard and away from the shoreline. He had obviously drifted off course while he slept and immediately felt guilty for endangering the lives of his crew who were asleep below deck.

  That would be my luck! He envisioned the boat smashed into thousands of pieces, washing up onto the shoreline for miles. It sickened him to think of how hard he had worked to get where he was. One careless act could have ruined it all. But the feeling of guilt was quickly replaced by a sense of relief at waking up before anything went wrong.

  Bahari kept his south-westerly course for almost an hour, listening intently for the sound of waves. When they had faded to almost nothing, he felt confident that he had reached a safe distance from shore and turned the boat back to the south, resuming his course for Bastul. He could feel the pull of sleep dragging him down and knew that if he stayed in his seat he would only fall asleep again. After securing the rudder handle with a loop of rope and taking a drink from the waterskin stowed beneath his seat, he rose to his feet and walked across the deck, stretching his legs. His tunic was uncomfortably twisted and stuck to his body as if he had just come back from a swim in the ocean. He tried to peel it away from his skin and reposition it, but gave up after a while. He wished he could take it off altogether, but there were laws against that. Citizens of the Orudan Empire were not allowed to be seen wearing only a loincloth. Such dress was only appropriate for slaves, who must not feel a sense of camaraderie with their masters, even in something as seemingly insignificant as clothing.

  …although, it would be much more comfortable, especially in this warm, humid air.

  He meandered across the deck, walking around crates of fruit and olives, until he found himself standing at the bow of the ship. The fog was starting to thin.

  Bahari sat down on a wooden crate and watched the water as it passed by in small ripples. Immediately, his thoughts drifted toward his financial troubles. The growing season had been rough this year, and it meant that he wouldn’t be able to pay his debts unless he traveled to Nucotu, where he could get more money for his cargo, and bring back some valuable items on the return trip. But the return trip had been grueling so far—two straight days without sleep.

  That’s the problem with this line of work—too much time to think and worry. Maybe I’ll just have someone take over for me in the morning so I can get some sleep.

  Over the next hour, the fog lifted completely and the moon began to carve out the texture of the ocean with its dull light. Bahari rose from his position at the bow and walked back toward the stern, trying to keep from staying in one place too long; the threat of sleep was still heavy on his mind. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks. On the eastern horizon, a bank of low clouds was rolling away to the south, revealing nothing but ocean as far as the eye could see. There was no land in sight. He scanned the horizon, which was now clear for miles in every direction, but saw nothing. He started to panic as he retraced the night’s events in his mind.

  And then it hit him. “I missed the turn!” he said out loud. As soon as the thought came to him, everything made sense. Just after midnight he should have reached a section of the coastline that jogged sharply to the east. But he missed it and must have kept heading south, all the while moving farther away from the coast. When he awoke in the fog and heard the crashing waves, it was the western side of the reef which paralleled the coastline.

  Bahari glanced over the port side of the boat and searched the water for some sign of confirmation that he was right. It only took a few minutes before he could ma
ke out a sandbar reflecting the moonlight from shallow water, only fifty yards away on the port side. He slumped down into his chair and buried his face in his hands. He was going to have to turn around and sail back to the northern tip of the reef.

  I’ve just lost a whole day of travel. I’m not going to make my deadline! How can I explain this to Quartus? He’s going to think…

  Bahari’s thoughts trailed off as his eyes settled on something in the water to the south. A few hundred yards away, just off the starboard side of the bow was a void in the water that didn’t reflect the moonlight. At first he thought it might be a sandbar or a small island of rock, but after a few seconds it became clear that the void was moving toward him.

  He stooped and pulled out a small wooden box from underneath his bench seat. It contained a looking glass that he had purchased a few years ago. Lifting it to his eye, he scanned the water and found that the object was a ship, roughly the same size as his own. It was shaped strangely with a high bow and low, wide sails. Though it was difficult to tell at this distance, Bahari’s ocean-going experience told him that is was moving much quicker than his own vessel.

  But that doesn’t make sense. It’s heading almost straight into the wind.

  It was obviously not an Orudan patrol, which Bahari could expect to encounter at regular intervals while sailing along the coast. This ship was bearing no flag or standard of any kind and—thanks to Bahari’s carelessness—they were nowhere near the coast. He stomped his foot on the deck.

  “Wake up,” he yelled to the crew underneath.

  There was no response.

  He stomped again and repeated himself several times before he heard grumblings from his crew.

  One of the men shouted a question in his native tongue.

  “I’m turning the boat around. Get ready to row.”

  He set down the looking glass and untied the rudder handle. Grabbing it with both hands, he set his feet in a wide stance and pulled with all his weight. The ship pitched slightly as it swung sluggishly to the starboard side. The sails began to droop and eventually went slack altogether as the ship came about to the north.

  Bahari stomped on the deck once again. “Row as hard as you can…we’ve got pirates behind us!”

  Sixteen long oars slid out of the boat from oval slots along each side of the hull, their blades landing with a splash in the water. The boat began to lurch forward like a wounded animal struggling to regain its footing. Bahari ran across the deck and began to take in the sails and secure them to the mast. He shot a quick glance behind and was startled by how much distance the other boat had already covered. He couldn’t understand how it could be moving so quickly into the wind. He hadn’t seen any oars, but even if they were rowing, it was impossible to move that fast.

  He secured the last of the sails and took his place back at the rudder. He doubted that the other boat was actually a pirate ship. The Orud patrol had cleared these waters of pirates years ago, but he couldn’t think of anything better to say. And there was something menacing about the other ship that told him they were in danger.

  All of a sudden, a scraping noise sounded from below and the boat began to lose speed. Bahari could hear the murmur of confusion from his crew as their rowing efforts were being hindered. He leaned on the rudder to move the ship away from the reef and instantly the scraping stopped. For a few minutes, the only sounds above the silence were the voices of his crew rowing in unison, bringing the ship back up to top speed. Bahari looked back and watched in amazement as the pursuing ship turned back toward their starboard side, cutting through the water with full sails.

  Abruptly, a crunch reverberated through the hull and the ship ground to a halt on the reef, pitching slightly to the port side. Bahari was thrown forward, landing awkwardly on the deck. He quickly grabbed the nearest crate and pulled himself back to his feet. The confused crew came up from below, cursing in their native language, wondering what was happening. But Bahari wasn’t paying them any attention; he was staring with dismay at the silent form of their pursuer, which had already closed the distance and was heading straight for their stranded boat. Within a few seconds it became clear that the menacing ship wasn’t going to stop.

  “Grab on to something,” he yelled, but before they were able to, the boat shuddered and rolled sharply to the starboard side, throwing everyone to the deck. The impact came sooner than Bahari expected and his confusion only worsened when he regained his footing and got his first good look at the other ship. He stared at a serpent’s head carved into the high prow only a few feet away from the port side of Bahari’s ship. The boat was a strange sight to behold; its mast and mainsail sat at a backward angle to the deck. The ship was completely black, including the sails and ropes. There was movement on deck, but the crew of the enemy boat was dressed in black as well, appearing as shifting shadows. The moonlight was insufficient for Bahari to see what the men were doing, but it took only a few seconds before grappling hooks came whistling over the railing to bite into the wooden deck. Bahari fought back the fear in his chest to voice his outrage at this attack.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he shouted into the night, but his question went unanswered. “How dare you attack a citizen of the Empire!”

  “Stay where you are or you will be shot.” The clear, low voice was commanding, leaving the impression that its owner was used to being obeyed. The sound of running footsteps was followed shortly by a line of archers assembling along the starboard side of the enemy ship. Two men slid a plank across the short distance between the two boats, and the man who gave the order stepped from the shadows into the moonlight.

  He was almost a full head taller than Bahari and emitted intimidation that was even visible in the body language of the men around him. Just like the other soldiers, the Commander was dressed completely in black. His long-sleeved tunic fell just above his thighs and was gathered at the waist by a leather belt which held a short sword at his left side. He wore black trousers that fell to his calves and boots that laced up his legs, just above the ankle. His chest was covered by a cuirass of boiled leather, with a cloak fastened at his shoulders and falling to the back of his legs. His manner of dress was strange to Bahari, whose only point of military reference was the Orudan soldiers in Bastul. These men were definitely not Orudan soldiers.

  Bahari looked over his shoulder and noticed that his crew had assembled in a huddled mass behind him, possibly expecting some measure of protection. He knew he was inadequate to protect them, but turned to give them the only thing he could—a word of encouragement. Before he was able to open his mouth, one of his men bolted across the ship, heading for the railing. He only made it a few steps before he pitched forward and fell to the deck with multiple arrows sprouting from his back.

  “I will not tell you again,” the Commander shouted.

  Bahari turned back and watched as the Commander strode arrogantly across the plank, dropping onto the deck with a short hop. Six other soldiers followed him, dressed similarly, but wearing leather helmets and lacking cloaks. Their swords gleamed with reflected moonlight.

  “Who is in charge here?” the Commander asked.

  “I am,” Bahari answered timidly. He made no effort to conceal himself, realizing that he was the only one on the ship that wasn’t a dark-skinned slave.

  The Commander walked over to Bahari. “Wrong,” he stated and grabbed him by the throat, pulling him close so that their faces were almost touching. “I am in charge.” He glanced over Bahari’s shoulder at the frightened crew. “Guard them,” he shouted.

  Immediately, the soldiers surrounded the slaves.

  The Commander pulled Bahari a few steps away from the commotion. “What are you doing in these waters?” he asked in a suddenly calm voice.

  “I…uh,” Bahari stammered for a few seconds, trying to remember what he was doing out here. “I am a merchant. I am delivering a shipment to Bastul from Nucotu.”

  The Commander eyed him suspiciously for a while before dec
iding that his story was true. Then a smile slowly crept across his face. “Well, isn’t that unfortunate. You took a wrong turn and now it has cost all of you your lives.” Still holding Bahari by the throat, he turned to the men guarding Bahari’s crew. “Kill them,” he commanded.

  Bahari began to struggle, but the Commander’s grip only tightened until it threatened to crush his windpipe. He could only watch helplessly as the soldiers began to hack their swords into the huddled group of slaves. One by one they began to drop to the deck, slipping on their own blood. One managed to break free of the soldiers and started to run, only to receive a slashing sword across his back. His feet immediately lost strength and he crumpled forward onto the deck.

  Rage flooded Bahari’s mind, overpowering his fear. He lashed out at the Commander, punching his clenched fist toward the man’s face. The Commander reflexively flinched and Bahari’s knuckles glanced off the bottom of his chin and struck his throat with a hollow crunch.

  Instantly, the grip on Bahari’s neck loosened and he was free from his captor.

  The Commander stumbled back, grabbing his throat and fighting for breath.

  Bahari saw his opportunity and took it. He lunged at the Commander, dropping his shoulder, and slammed into the tall man’s chest, driving him to the deck.

  Panic seized Bahari’s mind and he started running, without a purpose other than to get away from this madness. He saw the opening in the deck near the bow that led down to crew’s quarters and altered his course slightly, heading for the door. As he ran, he felt a quick puff of air from a passing arrow brush across the bridge of his nose. Somewhere to his left, he heard the dull thud of another bolt as it struck the deck. The doorway was now only a few steps away and Bahari jumped, headfirst, toward the concealing darkness. Suddenly, his left leg exploded with pain. He pulled his hands toward his face and tightened his body into a ball to prepare for the impact. His jump was a little short and he landed painfully on his left shoulder at the top step, tumbling down the short flight of stairs.