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Mestor answered the challenge with a roar of his own, meeting the T’yrdo head on, dodging the stinger strikes. Now that the T’yrdo were actively defending themselves, the simple one-two deadly blows the Monticore had been dealing turned into a life or death fight. The V’Saar’s fighting prowess had not been exaggerated and if Mestor did not do something soon, his warriors would start falling.

  “Captain Hesperos, cover me!” Mestor ordered before running toward the middle of the room, using carcasses as springboards, leaping over the ring of wounded and dead to face the remaining S’aae.

  “Mestor, wait!” Azaes yelled but he did not have a spare moment to explain.

  The S’aae was paying more attention to the V’Saar around Zian, click-clacking commands Mestor’s translator could not decipher. The S’aae was injured, but Mestor knew better than to treat it as anything less than a formidable opponent.

  In a couple of quick breaths, Mestor took in the bug’s injuries, searching for every wound he could exploit. There were many punctures to its carapace. One of its four arms dangled uselessly at its side. The stinger barely held on by a couple of clear sinew-like threads. One of the back legs was injured, causing the S’aae to favor the limb.

  He had not realized the bug had noticed his presence until it was almost too late. Swinging his sonic sword, he swiped at the injured leg as the S’aae turned. His sword caught on the body shell, slicing but not wounding the bug enough to matter. Quicker than he anticipated, the S’aae attacked. He had never fought against a being with more than two arms, much less one that could stand on only two of its four legs, presenting six limbs that were just as dangerous as fighting three separate foes. The S’aae towered over him, as tall as any Giante, making Mestor feel like a youngling in height.

  Three of the bug’s arms caught Mestor, holding him with his biceps pinned to his sides. The two front legs clawed and raked at his exoskeleton. The readout on his faceplate started giving red error lines that he ignored. He was not an idiot. The battlemech’s integrity had been compromised or soon would be. If he did not free himself, his entrails would join that of the V’Saar carcasses.

  His hunter’s sight turned berserker red and he roared, flexing his body, bulking up his muscles. The hiss-click of warning was guttural, primitive. His personal guard heard him and added their voices. Soon all the Monticore responded, their feral replies feeding Mestor’s frenzy as he swung and kicked the V’Saar’s limbs.

  The S’aae lost its grip on one of Mestor’s arms. Contorting his body, Mestor wrapped his hands around the V’Saar’s lame limb and twisted with all his might, the effort ripping a growl from him. Just when he thought he would not have enough strength to break the partial hold the V’Saar had on him, a loud crack sounded. The bug screamed as the hard, outer casing of its limb split. That three-fingered hand released Mestor and he dangled from the V’Saar’s useless, damaged arm. As he jerked and swayed in the air, the motion pulled painfully on his shoulder, and he hoped it would not dislocate from what he would do next.

  Using his feet again, Mestor kicked off of the S’aae’s front two legs that had been clawing at his suit. He ignored the pain in his arm as he turned on the next swing, bringing his tail around. The exoskeleton’s spiked ball on the tip smashed into the bug’s injured leg and then the spikes caught and became imbedded in the underbelly. The bug screamed in agony and anger, grasping at the hand Mestor used to hold onto the V’Saar’s broken arm.

  “Again!” Mestor bellowed, hearing Sohm’lan’s voice ringing in his ears, urging him to finish this.

  He ignored the V’Saar’s attempts to make him release his hold and continued to put force into his swing. Staring determinedly into the three pairs of unblinking black eyes, his feet crashed into the S’aae’s front legs to loosen his tail. Its cruel, oblong face twisted on the thin neck in a challenge that only spurred Mestor on. Suspended and swinging in a wide arc, he battered the carapace with his tail with each swing. Unexpectedly, the barbs caught and became imbedded in the V’Saar’s carapace again. He found himself stretched between where he held the S’aae’s broken arm and where his tail was lodged. He would have released the S’aae’s limb and allowed himself to fall, but the V’Saar covered his hand, keeping him from freeing himself.

  Mestor scrabbled at his belt with his free hand for the energy pistol he carried to use on the humans. The charge would only skitter off the V’Saar’s protective armor, if it was intact, but its carapace was covered in cracks and punctures. If he could jam the nose in the wound of the broken arm he clung to, the V’Saar would release him.

  The bug clacked its jaws together, a look of hunger passing over its face before it lowered its head to the hole in the exoskeleton where Mestor’s scales felt exposed. He had no doubt the bug intended to taste him. Change of plans. As soon as the S’aae was close, he stuck the energy pistol in one of its eyes and pulled the trigger.

  The resulting screech of pain was horrendous. Mestor wondered if his ears were bleeding from the sound before the noise was abruptly cut off. The S’aae threw him with enough force that he flew across the room and crashed face first into the wall. His faceplate cracked, one corner breaking away completely. His own scream of agony was drowned out the V’Saar’s pained shriek. He landed on a jumble of tables and benches. The thick, jagged bar of a table leg pierced a damaged section of exoskeleton, penetrating his upper thigh. He was no stranger to pain but having a limb skewered would make any elite warrior writhe in agony.

  Before he could grit his teeth and free himself from the rod, he was grabbed from behind and jerked off the pile of junk. He bellowed again, his voice turning hoarse. He had lost the pistol as well as his sonic sword, not that either would have helped him while he was being held face down on the bloody floor. The layer of viscus goo seeped into the broken section of his faceplate and he held his breath against the putrid stench as he bucked, trying to get out from underneath the S’aae. With his tail free, he used it to continually bash the bug’s side, grinding his teeth with every earsplitting shriek the bug made.

  Suddenly the V’Saar crushed him to the point that he could not even use his tail. “Enough of this playing,” the S’aae chittered. “You are boring me.”

  Mestor’s witty reply was stolen when the V’Saar clawed into the weakened sides of the exoskeleton, sadistically digging its claws through the metal to get to Mestor’s more vulnerable scales and muscle. He cried out, trying to move away but was unable to go anywhere. He was so damned tired of screaming.

  “It is time for you to die just as your people will perish under the rule of my Queen.” The glee in V’Saar’s choppy voice was followed by the audible clack of mandibles, making him envision the V’Saar taking his head off with only the power of its jaw.

  “You first,” Mestor rasped. “Unlock, Thrax.” He needed the suit’s onboard computer.

  “Thrax online, Warlord Mestor.” The voice was slightly garbled and the crack in his visor distorted the read out, but he only needed the suit to do one thing for him before it completely failed.

  Momentarily, he lost his breath as the V’Saar dug deep. “Remove… safety protocol B.R.A. Authorization code—Poseidon’s balls,” he wheezed, trying to buck as the V’Saar pierced the battlemech.

  “Authorization code denied. Please try again,” Thrax replied in an unwavering voice.

  Instead of wounding Mestor’s side, the V’Saar wiggled a hand under him, deadly claws digging into the scales of Mestor’s belly before it pulled.

  Mestor’s brain stalled, searing pain scrambling his thoughts until he forced the pain away long enough to shout, “E8R3VK!”

  “Authorization code accepted.”

  He flexed his barbs within the suit praying to Poseidon that despite the damage, the spinal controls were still online. The action used the last of the suit’s power supply to activate the poison spikes. Several consecutive audible thunks sounded behind him. The immensely satisfying sound was followed by a squelch when the battlemech’s metal spikes s
uddenly extended, impaling and releasing his poison into the V’Saar. The bug’s claws were still piercing Mestor’s abdomen and when its hand flexed, he bellowed until the massive weight of the bug forced all the air from his lungs. After several heartbeats, the V’Saar stopped moving, not that it mattered much when black spots swam in Mestor’s vision. He thought it was ironic that he would die from asphyxiation and not from the wounds he received.

  The bug jostled and Mestor gasped for breath, not caring that V’Saar blood flooded his mouth. He spit, his saliva washing over his tongue, washing away the bitter taste. The S’aae lifted again and someone called Mestor’s name. The bug’s dead weight dropped on him once more. He wanted to yell in frustration but said nothing since air was in short supply. The next time the body was lifted, Mestor was able to get his arms under himself and raise his head. He wiped V’Saar blood from his faceplate to see a row of battlemech boots. With the power supply of his suit depleted, he could not retract the exoskeleton’s spikes, forcing the Monticore to lift the massive bug off the barbs before he could be freed.

  He closed his eyes, fighting the burning agony of his wounds. When he opened them again, there was a set of green leather boots, the color of the uniforms made with gerrho’sauridae hide. The person knelt in the goo-covered floor, then Azaes’ face came into view. His concerned expression sharpened when he met Mestor’s eyes. He thrust his hand out when Azaes attempted to wiggle underneath the carcass to get to him.

  “What do you think you are doing?” Mestor’s bellow came out in a pained rasp. “Poseidon only knows what properties or poisons this V’Saar blood has and you are not wearing any protection.”

  Azaes, the fool, ignored him, clasping his outstretched hand.

  “Medic! Hold on, brother. Stay with me,” Azaes panted, his eyes blinking rapidly.

  He was just fine, and he opened his mouth to lay into Azaes with scathing curses when his sight dimmed.

  “Medic!” Azaes screamed, their twin bond quivering with panic.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sohm’lan

  * * *

  Sohm’lan stood at the top of the ramp, the highest place where he could overlook the plain that reached to the edge of the trees. The field spread out before him was filled with tall grass tipped with pink tufts. The scene was only blemished by the swath of bent and broken foliage where the Valuzial had run across from the trees. The jungle bordered two sides of what would become the battlefield. The pass to Haven city was behind them and to the left was the shore of the sea.

  Princess Athena had taken the Fal’Amoric through the pass, racing against time to reach the safety of the capital city. They were fortunate the Valuzial had sensed the Fal’Amoric’s presence and came to their aid. For extra protection, Zeus had sent the troop of Orion with Princess Athena. Zeus remained behind to guard the mountain pass from the Terrens and the V’Saar headed their way.

  It was unfortunate that Alpha gave birth before they could secure him and Dargon on the shuttle to Haven. Zeus would have remained behind to protect the pass with his men, just as any warlord would have done, but at least his mates and kits would have been safe. But as it was, the Monticore and soldiers were well aware that they not only guarded the pass but protected the most vulnerable of their kind, and they would do everything in their power, even lay down their lives, to make sure the enemy would not reach them.

  An ache started in Sohm’lan’s chest, and he rubbed at the area over his heart. He was honored to have been allowed to witness the birth of Zeus’s twins. They were so tiny and fragile. His thumb was twice the size of the little kits, their skin so translucent he could see tiny veins and the dark shadows of their organs.

  Unexpectedly, tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He had many secret concerns, but the one that had been topmost was his worry that Zeus would lose his kits and mates just as Sohm’lan had lost Niobe and their unborn youngling. Birthing was dangerous, more so when the offspring were of mixed species. He had barely remembered to breathe until Dargon, Alpha, and the kits were deemed in good health by the medic, Mayra. He promised himself that he would do whatever it took to ensure Zeus survived and returned to his mates and young.

  As he stood at the top of the shuttle bay ramp, he listened to the preparations that would turn one of the empty bays into triage. Mayra would be locked in with Zeus’s family, but the Oethra 7 had a second medic, the Chi-Lin psi healer, Madux. He had stayed behind, making his abilities available to the Mar’Sani wounded. Sohm’lan was impressed by the loyalty and dedication of the crew of the Oethra 7. They had all remained. The Orion would have as well if Zeus had not argued for the safety of the Fal’Amoric. Abechan and Axis would assist Madux. Otho, the L’Eema, was constantly chittering about beautiful explosions every time he ran past Sohm’lan. The two Ursids, Al’haska and Eh’Monak, would be operating the massive battlemechs. Sohm’lan’s soldiers needed all the help they could get to hold the pass. Especially since Haven could not send back up.

  He looked to the sky, disappointed they would not have air support, but he understood why. The second Terren ship had crashed on the other side of Haven and the V’Saar and Terrens who survived had been sighted heading toward that populace, and the protection of the city came first.

  Valespia’s ground troops, what they had at least, would be better off protecting the cities since they were ill-equipped to fight the V’Saar. Valespia was like Atlainticia. They patrolled space around the planet and their solar system because the dangers were without and not within. Their ground forces were peacekeepers and neither trained nor equipped to handle large-scale battles. No, it was better they kept to their cities behind the protective energy barriers rather than be placed before the V’Saar to be killed senselessly.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, though the sky was bright with the midday sun. Looking out, he could see distant clouds circling the area, their tops reaching high into the stratosphere. They were growing closer, more quickly than he thought possible. In less than an hour, the sky would be dark with the oncoming storm.

  Sohm’lan expected this development and as a precaution had issued lenses to the soldiers that would prevent them from being blinded by lightning. In the storms called by Zeus on Atlainticia, the witnesses had not been struck light blind or deafened by the lightning and thunder. It was as if Zeus shielded his people even as his emotions called down electricity. But the close call on Qestaire proved that Zeus’s control was lacking. Not that Sohm’lan could blame him for being stressed over his pregnant mate and now vulnerable kits. Sohm’lan would protect the soldiers where Zeus could not.

  With Zeus’s emotions running high, today there would be a storm that would be retold for generations. Soon Zeus’s heritage would be corrected from human to Fal’Amoric and the need to hide his ability would be unnecessary. The soldiers were briefed on what to expect and there were many, especially among the Monticore, who did not seem surprised, only sagely nodding their heads. All afternoon, he heard murmurs of ‘Lord of Thunder’ and he briefly wondered if most had already suspected, despite the Crown’s efforts, and they were taking their cue from their emperor by keeping the knowledge and/or suspicions to themselves.

  This was just one more reason why Zeus needed to be made aware of his abilities and taught how to control them. To date Zeus had never harmed anyone with the stormy displays. Sohm’lan trusted that today would be no different. Perhaps Valdor had found a tutor while visiting Valespia. Among the Council of Neighn members were the Variel of the planet Vito Aquanis. It was well known they had elemental abilities, though only when they were on their homeworld. The few Variel who ventured offworld did not have elemental abilities. There was a time when Valdor had wondered if Zeus was at least part Variel and had researched the planet. If Zeus carried the genetics of that species, then nothing of it showed in his appearance. Variel bipedal forms were very different, shaggy and beast-like in shape and stature.

  Something in the air caused his exposed scales to itch. Si
nce healing Mestor, he had increasingly become more sensitive to different energies. Mestor’s was warm and welcoming, eagerly beckoning Sohm’lan closer. Zeus’s energy clung close to his body, only expanding outward when a storm raged within the littlest prince. Star Eater’s rolled before him, regally announcing the Ancient’s impending arrival. This new energy was nothing like Sohm’lan had sensed so far. Mestor, Zeus, and Star Eater’s energies combined were only a fraction of what he felt coming in with each successive wave of the sea.

  He searched the distance over the choppy waters, expecting to see a gigantic hole ripped in the sky. There was nothing but darkening storm clouds. When he glanced at the waiting soldiers—for surely, they would instinctually sense something so strong—many were frowning at the waters, brushing off their uniforms with brisk strokes as if cleansing something that clung to them. None turned their backs to the shore. Something was coming.

  Before he decided to take a closer look, the lift in the shuttle bay opened and Zeus stepped out. The change between what the prince looked like an hour ago and now was stark. His long blue-streaked black hair was now cut close to his scalp. The princeling had learned a hard lesson when he was younger. His long hair would be used against him no matter how closely it was braided to his scalp.

  His pale face was painted for battle, the lines, dots, and whirls changed the contours of his features, providing a fearsome mask. What he had not expected was Alpha, especially since he had recently given birth. From the base of Zeus’s ears, along the jawline, following the column of his neck, Alpha clung to Zeus. Perhaps the symbiote’s presence would keep Zeus from doing anything rash, or so Sohm’lan hoped.

  The borrowed pieces of uniform and armor fit Zeus well. The dark green iridescent gerrho’sauridae scales glinted in the dying light. Two swords, one under each hand, were buckled to Zeus’s belt, and a plasma rifle was strapped across his chest, the weapon’s muzzle peeking over his shoulder.