Ruined Kingdom Page 9

  A few months back, while dining with her parents, she'd made the mistake of asking her mother how he was getting along. At the mere mention of Dragon, her father’s face grew dark with rage. Gavin was so mad, Gyspy was afraid he was going to smack her. Harlan just seemed amused by Gavin’s anger and said she was sure he was doing just as well as Caraculla, wherever that villain might be now. Still furious but silent, Gavin grabbed his drink, scooped Missy up in his arms and retreated to the home library. After that, nothing else was said on the subject and Gypsy was careful not to mention Dragon again.

  Harlan emerged from her office. Her mother’s eyes were rimmed in red and her face was blotchy and damp. Gypsy’s heart went out to her because she looked so exhausted. Gypsy knew how important this hospital was to her. It had taken over twenty years to get Megolyth to make good on his promise of building it, and now her dream was crumbling. Harlan passed by, looking down, lost in her thoughts. She managed to stroke Gypsy's cheek in passing.

  Gypsy followed her around the corner and watched as Harlan entered Scarlet’s room. Desmond gave a last survey of the hallway and went in after her. He closed the door behind them.

  Gypsy stood in the hall not sure whether she should follow. Dragon eased up next to her. His presence sent a charge through her, warning of danger. She resisted the urge to touch her sword hilt and put her hand in her pocket instead. She didn’t want to provoke him and upset her mother further. His gaze moved down to where her hand was. He gave her a cool stare, a blatant statement that her action hadn't fooled him.

  “Where’s Gavin?” he asked.

  Gypsy forced herself to calm. She pulled her hand out of her pocket and let it fall to her side. “Desmond told me he’s been arrested.”

  “No surprise there.” He strode past her into Scarlet’s room. Gypsy followed.

  Her mother removed her lab coat. Underneath she wore a white button-down shirt and faded blue jeans. She leaned over Missy and draped her lab coat over the child’s small shoulders. Then after whispering some words to the little girl that Gypsy couldn’t hear, she pressed her lips against Missy’s temple for a long time.

  Then she abruptly turned to Desmond. “I’m going to see Megolyth.”

  Desmond stiffened and his brow wrinkled. “That is a really bad idea, Harlan. He's fucking crazy. How about you let me go talk to him instead?”

  “No. You need to stay. We may need to evacuate Scarlet and your son. Dr. Krull is here to help, but he has other patients to tend.”

  Harlan turned to Gypsy. “You take care of Missy until I get back.”

  Gypsy glanced at Missy. She looked so small and vulnerable. “Of course, but what are you planning to do?”

  Harlan sighed and pulled out the band holding her hair back. While stuffing it in her pants pocket she said, “I have to get Gavin out of jail before that jackass Megolyth tries to execute him.” She marched over to the side of Scarlet’s bed and voiced in a final assessment to the wall terminal. She read it over then turned and walked right up to Dragon. “Where is Bethara?”

  Gypsy flinched, like her mother had walked in front of a rolling boulder. For the life of her Gypsy could not figure out why her mother didn't exhibit any caution around this lunatic. It was as though she were talking to one of her medics or a common soldier. Didn’t she understand this guy was dangerous?

  Dragon folded his arms across his thick chest. He cast a warm gaze down at her mother. “Gone to go check on her parents. She said she would meet me here in an hour.”

  Her mother reached out and kindly squeezed his forearm. “If she runs late, you might need to administer your injection yourself.”

  Something dark and frightening emerged in his eyes. Like a sinister creature briefly surfacing from the depths of a dark lagoon then slipping quickly back down out of sight before it was seen. Gypsy wouldn’t blame Bethara if she never came back here again. This guy was an unpredictable maniac. Who needs this scary shit?

  Dragon gave an unconvincing nod. “I can do it.”

  “If you have any problems, find Dr. Krull. If he's not available then Gypsy can do it.”

  What the hell? Gypsy can do it! Is my mother out of her mind? There is no way that I’m ever going to get close enough to stick that crazy with a needle. Gypsy was putting her foot down. She was not doing this. But before the words could exit her mouth her mother turned toward her again.

  “It’s very easy, Gypsy. It’s a standard intramuscular injection just like a vitamin shot. The syringes are preloaded with the appropriate dosage so you don't even have to draw one up.” She pointed to the hall and in the direction of her office. “There’s an extra box of the medication labeled with his name on the back shelf in my office. If Bethara or Krull are unavailable, please make sure he gets his next dose before midnight.”

  The mere thought raised hairs on the back of her neck. Watching Missy is one thing, but medicating Dragon was over the line! Gypsy opened her mouth again to protest, but her mother gave her a cold look. “This is not open to debate. You have enough basic medical training to do this. It’s very simple. I don’t have time to argue. Now shut it and do as I ask.”

  Gypsy could almost touch her mother’s fear. She got it. Not only was her father missing but everything was deteriorating around them. Ashamed, she said, “I'm sorry mom. It’ll get it done.”

  Harlan walked up to the door. Desmond stopped her by grabbing her arm. “Wait. Why not let Gypsy go?”

  Her mother gave him a gentle smile and patted his hand. “Scarlet is stable. You know Krull will take good care of her.”

  Desmond shook his head as if her mother was missing something. “It's not that. It’s Megolyth. He’s very dangerous, Harlan. I'm afraid that son of bitch will try and keep you for himself.”

  Harlan paused and searched Desmond’s face. She looked worried but determined. “I have to go. Try not to worry. I'll be fine. Really.”

  Desmond kept his hold on her arm for half a minute longer. He seemed desperate to force her to stay. But anyone who knew Megolyth understood Harlan was the only real chance Gavin had of getting released. Megolyth respected her. He might actually listen. Desmond let her go. Harlan gave a last quick glance at Missy and trotted out the door. Desmond covered his eyes with his palms and rubbed. Gyspy wanted to say something but there was nothing left to say.

  A worried silence quieted the room. A moment later everyone was startled when the door swung open. It was Bethara. She rushed in panting. “I’m back!”

  Desmond stared at her, expressionless. He ran his hand down his face and let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. All the veins in his big hands bulged, like violence was only an uncomfortable incident away. Desmond fixed his gaze on Dragon. A demonic grin lifted a small corner of Dragon’s mouth. It had nothing to do with humor. A strange, tense moment passed between the two males. Gypsy wasn’t sure what the tension meant but it certainly wasn’t friendly.

  When Desmond spoke, his voice was rough and strained. “Well, thank the Gods for one fucking thing.”

  Chapter 12

  Commander Kharon had crossed the Imperial border a few hours ago and started up one of the less travelled mountain trails that branched off toward Leviathan's kingdom. The smell of death hit his nose the moment he changed direction. He continued riding until he came across the source.

  Although slightly obscured by some Broqu trees, he could clearly see the isolated medical outpost was in shambles. The front door hung down sideways on one bent hinge. Fragments of wood and broken glass were strewn all over the ground. It looked like an explosion had gone off inside. Urging his hyperia forward, he rode the rest of the way up the narrow dirt trail. The structure had been built far from the main trail, with its rear backed against the mountain base. Despite the solitude, it was clearly marked on all of his military maps. Like most desolate outposts it had been constructed near a water source. The narrow stream running through the mountain rocks nearby was only about a hundred yards away.

  A
s he drew closer he saw the five rotting bodies piled up outside the entrance. Some hungry looking hyperias were pacing in the stalls attached to the right side of the building. He stopped his mount and listened for movement. There were nothing but the grunts and breaths of the restless mounts and the squeak of the ruined door in the breeze. Even the confined animals seemed to have stopped their movements to watch him. A gathering of five flightless sotos were picking at the dead, eyeing him as well. There was no bickering among them, since there was enough carnage to go around. Kharon watched them cautiously. A few of the bipedal lizards were not much of a threat, but they could easily overwhelm a lone traveler if there were more than ten of them. Thankfully these weren’t as much of a concern because they lacked wings.

  Kharon jumped off of his mount and secured its reins to a nearby post. Then slowly, quieting any metal scrape, he unsheathed his sword. Each crunch of his boots seemed to echo his arrival, so as a precaution he stopped every few paces to listen. The stench of decay grew with each step. At least the sotos had the decency to scatter in fear for a few moments while he approached the dead.

  The five dead were four medics and, from the white lab coat, Kharon guessed one doctor. All were male AEssyrians. They had been slashed, stabbed, and partially dismembered by someone in a blind rage. The number of wounds spoke to the mental state of the attacker. Someone was really pissed because the wounds went beyond a simple killing. The men looked as though they had been hacked apart even after death.

  These types of medical clinics didn't accept payment, so the killer wasn’t after money. Kharon wondered if it was drugs but then discounted that, too, since the butchery was too much for such a small cache. Maybe an unhappy client? An examination of the bodies and the stench told him they had been dead a couple of days. He wondered why no border patrols from either realm had come across them. Then he remembered the Imperial patrols had been cut back because of money and this clinic wasn’t close enough to the Triumvirate’s side of the buffer zone to concern them.

  While staring down at the ground surrounding the dead, something caught his attention. Only one set of footprints could be seen around the bodies. Moving closer, he crouched down and was flooded with dread. He stood but kept his gaze on the tracks. The tread prints bore an all too familiar shape. They were the same imprints as his own, but two sizes smaller. The standard issue Imperial Officer's boot. Only an exceptionally well trained soldier could have killed this many men so fast they never had a chance to unsheathe their weapons. The killer could only have been Caraculla.

  He reached his thoughts out to Gypsy and immediately sensed distress. She was having her own issues at the Empire. Now that she was more comfortable with their Primal connection she never blocked him. That realization brought a profound sense of shame as he thought about how he had treated her over these last few months. Whatever was happening, he didn't want to add to her troubles. She didn’t need to know about this yet as it would certainly upset her. He knew she still cared for Caraculla, and although he didn’t blame her, it angered him. Prior to Gypsy, Kharon had never even come close to being in love. He had always been in absolute control of his emotions. So the pain of heartache from a previous love was alien to him. She was the only woman who could break his heart and he knew there would never be another.

  Kharon hated Caraculla. In his eyes Caraculla had stepped over that fragile line all soldiers walked between warrior and murderer. Cruelty, killing, and death, were a big part of what kept a warrior alive and employed. More often than not, bloodshed was necessary and unavoidable. A soldier had to survive at all costs...all costs but their honor. Few men he knew reveled in it. Not even Gypsy's murderous father, Gavin, enjoyed it, despite his reputation. Only those who had served with him knew the truth. General Gavin Theron was a soldier to his core. And like all soldiers, he understood what the taking of a life cost his soul. Every killing robbed a little more compassion and love from a man’s heart. In the end, barely enough of the softer, joyous emotions could slip in, if they were fortunate. But Caraculla had happily surrendered to the destruction of his soul, something strange to see in a Razorback.

  The worst part wasn’t Caraculla’s decline. The real tragedy was that the Colonel didn’t know why he had succumbed to the corruption. Perhaps the truth was just too hard to face. But Kharon knew, although as a younger male he might have dismissed it. The toxic sin of envy began its desolation of Caraculla’s fragile vanity the moment he began training Gypsy. Kharon knew Caraculla had seen what Gavin had failed to see. Gypsy was different, a prodigy, the one her father had been waiting for but denied. By the time Gavin did recognize it, it was almost too late. There was greatness in her that needed to be nurtured and developed. Even compared to the renowned female Razorback warriors she was frighteningly gifted. Gavin had taken Gypsy far, but there was so much more ground to gain. She had barely brushed the surface of her long buried potential.

  Caraculla had known all of this.

  He had stared into her growing power and found himself wanting. He had tried, without success, to control her with his love. When that didn’t work, he tried to destroy her by turning her emotions against her. There was no denying that once she reached the accomplished warrior she was meant to be, Caraculla would never be able to match her success. And that truth ate away at him for years...until this.

  As Kharon ventured inside the building he took in the tiny waiting room. Its floor, walls, and overturned chairs were spattered with blood. Beyond that was an exam room. Kharon moved through the small building with his sword still drawn. A brown leather medical table that had been fixed at an incline sat in the center of the exam room awash in more dried blood. A tray and some bloodstained surgical instruments lay strewn all over the floor. There were blood smears across the cabinets and counters, detailing the violent struggle. Some form of surgery had taken place. If there'd been a limb lying around he'd have thought maybe an amputation.

  Closer to the truth was that the doctor had tried to restore Caraculla’s venom spitting ability. He knew the Colonel held a potent grudge against Harlan for disabling his natural weapon. Even though he was furious with Gavin for assisting in the Colonel’s escape, he was thankful he had allowed Harlan to perform the procedure. Judging from the surroundings, the restoration attempt wasn't successful or there would have been nothing left of the corpses but puddles of dissolved tissue.

  Kharon hoped he was right. There were few things more dangerous than a mentally unstable Razorback. If this had happened a few days ago, then Caraculla must be traveling back and forth to Leviathan’s kingdom. This outpost was barely a week's ride from the Empire and Caraculla had been gone almost four months. The Colonel was out and about causing mayhem and Kharon wasn't convinced he wouldn't come after Gypsy or her mother. It was time to go home and help his family. Despite what he’d told her, Gypsy did need him and he had let his own bloodlust interfere with what was most important.

  Kharon came out into the bright afternoon suns, sheathing his sword. Making his way over to the small stable, he released the five hungry hyperias. They all bolted off down the trail, pelting him with dirt and rocks in their haste to escape what would have been a grave of starvation had he not come across them. Reaching out to Gypsy again, he found her consumed with fear and confusion, too distracted to sense him. Things must be getting worse. I’m coming back, my love. Be safe.

  * * * *

  By the time late afternoon came, Desmond knew something was wrong. Not only was Harlan not back yet from her audience with the Emperor, but there was no word from her. Gypsy was pacing the halls, Bethara was sitting on a waiting room couch reviewing the patient schedule, and Missy had wedged herself in a chair with Dragon.

  Curled up against him, she pensively watched the door, waiting for her mother or father to return. Desmond thought that if anyone should have been afraid of Dragon it would have been a child, but he was wrong. Missy seemed to take comfort in Dragon's presence and was genuinely happy when he paid attenti
on to her. The whole dynamic weirded him out, but as long as the kid was content then he guessed it was okay.

  Thankfully his own sanity had come back a bit as Scarlet had improved. Even his infant son looked stronger. The paleness of his skin was slowly being replaced by a healthier pink hue. His wife wasn't as lethargic when awake and her sleep was less fitful. Desmond looked down at his tiny son in the incubator. He had the same golden eyes as Gavin and Gypsy but looked more Kirillian than AEssyrian or human. Scarlet had toyed with the name Hazen before the birth, but hadn't told anyone the name except Desmond. It was the name of Scarlet’s real father who had died when she was a child. Now, as he rolled the name around in his mind, Desmond decided he really liked it.

  Strangely, Desmond was excited to be a father and hoped he could be a good one. But as he watched the boy sleep, the unmistakable chatter of reality and doubt filled his head. Desmond knew he was going to have to get Scarlet and Hazen out of here, if not to the Kirillian Medical Tender orbiting a nearby moon, then out of the Empire for sure. Things were getting unpredictable and that always meant danger.

  Outside in the hall he spied Gypsy still pacing tensely back and forth past the door. Desmond blew out a short whistle which made her stop and look at him. Walking out of Scarlet's room, he firmly gripped his sister's arm, leading her to the end of the hall near one of the rear entrances. She didn't offer any resistance, but he could tell she was still sulking from the verbal reproach he had given her earlier.