Mantasi

By Ann B. Keller

In the final book of the BRIGGEN trilogy, the king and queen of Neimus and their young son, Torrent, return from exile on Drothos to find Mantasi much changed. The hulking Xandoth have laid waste to the once lush, green planet, while an armada of criminals hovers overhead bent on destruction. Quinhelm is afraid that he can keep his secret no longer, a tale which has the power to change everything.

Briggen and Kirrus, the mysterious leader of the Resistance, struggle to save the inhabitants, while a huge space probe threatens to obliterate them in a single beam of energy. It is foretold that only the mother of all dragons can save them now, but who is this creature and can she rescue them in time? The secrets of the ancients shape Mantasi’s future in the thrilling conclusion of this epic science fiction/fantasy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ann B. Keller
• Release date: Oct 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311123831

Ann B. Keller

Ann B. Keller has been writing novels, poetry, and screenplays for over fifty years. In addition, Ms. Keller is a veteran of the stage, singing and starring in the lead role as the tomboyish Princess Winifred in Once Upon a Mattress, which gained her an invitation to audition for the Metropolitan Opera in New York. She has received the National Thespian Award and has appeared in numerous additional theater productions in New York, Michigan and Maryland, including The Admirable Crichton, The Crucible and The Pajama Game.I'm currently working on an exciting audio drama entitled LUSTRIAS. Think of a futuristic Lord of the Rings, and you'd be pretty close!A few innocent men and women from Earth are thrust into a world swarming with hungry werewolves, noble elves, and spirited succubi. Desperate men and women fight alongside these amazing creatures as they battle the growing forces of evil, seeking to save their planet and the universe.Cast members from around the world have lent their talented voices and enthusiasm to this compelling story. Check it out for yourself at Green Moon Productions.http://www.greenmoonprod.comTITLES BY ANN B. KELLERA Chance EncounterA Splinter in Time (Book One of the Timeless Series)Briggen (Book One of the Briggen Sci-Fi/Fantasy Trilogy)Cherish: Collection of Love StoriesCrenellationsEver CharmingFootsteps Across My HeartFor the Love of KateHis ObsessionHis to DesireKeeper of Her HeartLight of LoveMantasi (Book Three of the Briggen Sci-Fi/Fantasy Trilogy)My Colorado LoveO, Sweet DesireOnce Inside A MountainRedding's ChoiceSecret YearningSo, What Is Love?TalismanTerminal FacetThe Devil’s CrescentThe Edge of Hope (Book Two of the Timeless Series)The Pembridge BrideThe Torrent Seed (Book Two of the Briggen Sci-Fi/Fantasy Trilogy)Treasure of Langtree LakeVortex of Revelation: The Last DaysVortex of Revelation: The Second Coming

Book preview

MANTASI

by

Ann B. Keller

Mantasi (Book Three of the Briggen Sci-Fi/Fantasy Trilogy)

By Ann B. Keller

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 9781311123831

Copyright 2014 Ann B. Keller

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Chapter 1

Drothos

Sickeningly yellow clouds dripped from the sky, cloaking every mountain and treetop in a thick impenetrable shield. In the valley below, a tongue of mist spiraled upward from a small stream meandering through the lowlands, a stream where creatures came to drink - and often met their end.

The planet Drothos was a large, gas covered body, the ninth in the solar system near the blue green planet of Mantasi. Drothos teamed with life, from the sparkling gray moss hanging from the boughs of huge Oambu trees, to the eels gliding silently through the streams and the wealth of animals who dwelled in its thick jungles.

Danger lurked around every corner. Every double sunrise brought the horrible realization that this could be one’s last day, a last meal enjoyed, a final breath gasped in the heavy atmosphere. No creature with any sense would establish any sort of presence upon such a humid, inhospitable planet. That was precisely why Briggen had decided to seek refuge here.

Following their miraculous deliverance from the interface, a huge wall of energy at the very edge of the solar system, the Alliance vessel Montplain had crisscrossed the galaxy with its precious cargo. Briggen and Telana, the King and Queen of Neimus, and their young son, Torrent, were estranged from their home planet of Mantasi and risked death if they returned home. The Xandoth, a large gray skinned warrior race, had taken over Mantasi, enslaving its people and devouring every resource within reach. If the monarchy was to be preserved, they had to find shelter elsewhere.

Ian Rhyton, the captain of the Montplain, had led the Xandoth and a host of would be assassins on a merry chase. No sooner did their pursuers narrow the distance to their quarry than their plans were discovered and neatly thwarted. The Xandoth couldn’t fathom it. During that time, the Alliance had hidden the Neimusians, shuttling them among space stations and remote outposts on distant planets until King Briggen had determined where they would begin their resistance efforts.

Briggen was tall and well built, with arms and legs thickly corded with muscle. His penetrating dark eyes could size a man up in seconds and his senses were hewn to a razor’s edge. He was brave and honorable, a natural leader, but no one could have suspected that he had a tender side. That is, until one fateful day when a small, sable haired minx dropped in front of him and rocked his world.

Telana had been the lowest of the low, a freighter pilot with no home and seemingly no future. A small contingent of men had been sent from the Montplain to assist the wounded freighter, and Telana had been busily engaged in making repairs when Briggen appeared before her. At first, he’d assumed she was a youth, but her tart, snappy replies to Ian Rhyton’s questions had quickly changed Briggen’s mind about that.

Telana was a small woman, barely over five feet tall, with sparkling green eyes and flawless porcelain skin. Curls of long sable hair flowed in a waterfall of color to her small waist and her graceful hands gestured with the lovely sway of a ballerina. However, inside this demure package lay a will of iron and astonishing abilities that were only discovered after Telana visited Briggen’s home planet. For Telana was a sorceress, the Sorceress of Qierkal, the last of an ancient line of priestesses stretching back to a bygone age.

Their son, Torrent, had been conceived on their wedding night, but their passage across the great barrier had accelerated his aging process. Although Quinhelm, the sorcerer, and Magwa, the Seer, tried their best, Torrent continued to grow and age at an astonishing rate.

It had only been two years since Briggen and Telana left Mantasi, but Torrent was the size and weight of an eight year old. Already, he showed the promise of becoming a big man like his father. His chest was broad and his arms and legs well-muscled from hunting and running in Drothos’ jungles. Torrent had been born with blue eyes and straight blond hair, but both had changed as he grew. With his current green eyes and dark hair, he was a delightful combination of both of his parents’ features.

This morning found Torrent hunting for his breakfast at a small clearing some distance from their base. He had visited the clearing near the tiny stream several times before, watching the delicate kiira dip their heads into the cool water for a drink. The kiira were slender, deer-like creatures, with long legs and an elongated snout perfect for grazing on Drothos’ many forms of vegetation. Sometimes, as many as five of these creatures would come to the stream in the early morning and Torrent was counting on those larger numbers to present him with a good chance for a kill.

So, Torrent crouched amidst the damp undergrowth, as still and silent as a boulder. Torrent’s double bow, which his father had helped him make, lay on the ground beside his right leg, two arrows cocked and ready to be fired.

Suddenly, a lica bird swooped across the clearing, shrieking its delight into the misty sunrise. For a moment, its bright aqua feathers shimmered in the sun as it dove for the grassy hillock near the stream. Settling into the deep grass, the lica hopped three times to the edge of the stream and dipped its head toward the water. A cruel twist of fate had gifted the lica with an upturned green beak, which was a hindrance to flying, but perfect for catching small fish.

In a massive roll of water and glistening black flesh, a large eel suddenly erupted from the stream. Dozens of razor sharp teeth gleamed wickedly from its mouth before they closed around the slender throat of the lica bird, pulling it under. Torrent saw one aqua wing briefly pierce the water, then all was once more quiet and still.

Prince Torrent had grown up with such violence and beauty around him. Life, in all of its facets, was to be treasured for the gift could quickly disappear. Although the young prince mourned the lica bird’s death, it meant that the eel would live another day. With a deep sigh, Torrent shifted his left foot forward and settled himself to await his prey. Thankfully, he didn’t have long to wait.

The first kiira entered the glade quietly, its large brown eyes searching for danger. The kiira’s reddish brown fur and random spots blended in perfectly with the surrounding undergrowth and Torrent blinked to ensure himself that he was really seeing the lovely creature standing before him. The kiira’s nose was a dark blending of iridescent black fur with mottled brown extending in a mask over its forehead and large, dark eyes.

Gingerly, a second kiira entered the glade, standing near the flanks of its mate. The new arrival cocked its head both left and right, searching the deep undergrowth for any hint of a predator.

A baby kiira abruptly burst into the clearing in a tangle of galloping legs. Merrily, it frolicked in the growing light, scampering from one side of the glade to the other while it explored the full extent of its abilities. Torrent had to stifle a chuckle at the young’s antics.

If he were a serious hunter, Torrent would have to kill one of this family today. That prospect gave him no joy. He was just beginning to evaluate his other prospects when two large kiira bucks slowly entered the glade. They were magnificent creatures, a very large male and his equally beautiful brother. Heads high, they moved majestically into the open as Torrent’s fingers closed around the shaft of his bow.

Torrent aimed and fired in one fluid motion, felling the large buck. The remaining kiira panicked, fleeing for their lives. He allowed the large buck and kiira family to escape to live another day and they bounded into the blue green undergrowth with a final kick of their jet black heels.

Rising from his hiding place, Torrent approached the large buck lying so still in the glade. Sometimes, he had to dispatch the wounded animal with a quick stroke of his knife, but he was lucky this day. His arrow had apparently entered the buck’s heart.

As Torrent bent to tie the buck’s legs together so he could carry it back to camp, another creature paused to investigate the disturbance. The choralf was a huge predator, one of the largest of its kind. At nine feet, the beast was longer than a tall man and its inky black coat made it almost impossible to see among the ferns and bushes that grew beneath the massive trees.

The huge cat’s golden yellow eyes centered on the boy in the glade as it silently inched forward, its large claws sinking into the soft spongy earth. The boy had his back to the choralf, which was an unexpected development. That meant when the attack came, the white skinned creature would have little warning. A kill was almost assured.

Inch by inch, the huge beast narrowed the distance to his prey. Powerful muscles bunched on the choralf’s massive shoulders and legs and the dim light shimmered over the cat’s undulating black fur in a deceptively pretty iridescent pattern. Already, the choralf anticipated his next meal and his mouth parted, revealing two pointed incisors well hewn by hundreds of kills.

All was quiet in the leafy glade. No bird cried in the distance. No insect dared to rub its legs or wings to greet the new day. It was as though all of the creatures sensed death’s silent approach and were wary, holding their breaths, waiting for the inevitable.

The white skinned male was apparently too young to realize the danger of silence in the jungle. He went about his tasks whistling to himself, tying one set of the kiira’s legs together with a short rope and then shifting over to tie the animal’s front legs, too.

At the edge of the clearing, the choralf crouched low, preparing to leap upon its prey. Every tendon strained. Huge muscles in its haunches bunched into tight knots as the massive beast readied itself. The choralf’s yellow eyes never strayed from his target. It was a gaze few escaped, for the beast was a master hunter even at a young age and this cat was no youngling.

Agonizing seconds ticked by as the choralf waited for the proper time to strike. Patience was a hunter’s virtue and the choralf had no intention of allowing the small white skinned male to escape this day.

Suddenly, a bird cried out in the distance, shattering the perfect silence. The boy was on his feet in a trice, his green eyes quickly scanning the limits of the glade to penetrate the trees beyond.

A second later, the choralf charged. Torrent raised his bow, starting to aim his second arrow at the large cat. The choralf’s lethal jaws opened wide, revealing a set of wicked looking teeth crowned by four long incisors with pointed tips. The teeth glistened in the dawn’s light filtering through the clouds, shining with evil intent as the choralf leaped high into the air.

Torrent caught only a glimpse of the great cat’s underbelly, four legs, claws and a jaw lined with glittering sharp teeth. He felt the choralf’s huge paws curl around his shoulders as he went down.

A few miles away, the day was beginning at Briggen’s rebel base. The Neimusians filtered out of the cave entrance a few at a time, scanning the perimeter for any signs of danger and checking the many monitoring devices clustered around the entrance.

As usual, Magwa was cooking something in the huge pot positioned over an ancient fumarole, while Quinhelm, the sorcerer, chided her for some new indiscretion. Magwa, the Seer, was a strange little creature. She stood a little over three feet in height and was covered in long, reddish brown fur. A single penetrating brown eye erupted from her brown skin. A wide nose led resolutely downward to a broad mouth filled with teeth yellowed by age. No one knew how old the Seer was, but her wisdom and wit had helped them to survive the difficult days since Mantasi had been overrun by the Xandoth.

By contrast, the sorcerer Quinhelm was a stately man with a long white beard extending to his waist and intelligent, bright gray eyes. He wore a long purple robe, which had seen better days and dusty black shoes with curled toes. Quinhelm was Briggen’s advisor and close friend. He was a link to the past, to the days of the ancient kings of Mantasi and his vast wealth of knowledge had been instrumental as Briggen fashioned a home for them in Drothos’ cruel environment.

Quinhelm scowled as Magwa scratched her furry right side.

What’s for breakfast? the wizard asked in a gravelly voice.

Unabashedly, Magwa raised her stirring stick, revealing a glistening black mass interspersed with numerous shriveled leaves. Quinhelm’s stomach turned over in protest.

Eel again? Quinhelm groused.

If you would care to participate in the hunt, perhaps we could do better, Magwa loftily replied, returning the eel to the pot.

If Briggen would allow us to use our magic every now and then, we could have a veritable feast! the old wizard complained.

And bring the Xandoth down around our heads? Magwa gasped. Don’t be ridiculous. There are no energy bursts like that on this simple planet. The Xandoth would target them and then where would we be?

Our defenses are ready, Quinhelm argued.

Indeed? I have yet to see anyone win a defensive battle, Magwa scoffed.

What would you know of war, you doddering old creature? Quinhelm asked.

Perhaps more than you think, Magwa replied, raising her chin high into the air.

Ha! Where were you in the battle for Mantasi or in any of the great wars when Briggen’s father was in command of our forces?

Magwa sighed dreamily.

Ah, now there was a man fit for command, Magwa softly acknowledged.

Which one? Quinhelm queried. Briggen or his father?

Both, I’d wager. Each was suited to his own time, little Magwa reasoned.

Those were great days, days of action when men and dragon united against a host of adversaries, Quinhelm cried, envisioning the battles in his mind.

Mantasi’s scrolls contain such a wonderful account of those glorious days. When we return, we should take Torrent to see them, Magwa suggested.

"If we return," Quinhelm complained.

What do you mean ‘if’ we return? Briggen has promised that our hour will come.

When? I’m not getting any younger, you know, Quinhelm groused, pulling a stray leaf from the depths of his long beard.

I can see that, Magwa chuckled, eying the ancient wizard from his head to this toes.

Quinhelm’s gray eyes narrowed in an icy glare, but Magwa only grinned at his discomfiture.

All is in readiness! Quinhelm declared, gesturing around the camp. The batteries are armed and fully charged. The storerooms are filled with firearms, swords, knives and spears. The men have been trained and retrained and they grow impatient for battle. Why does he delay?

Bah! You talk like a youngling, Magwa wearily sighed.

A what? Quinhelm thundered.

You old goat! What would you have Briggen do, declare war when there is little chance of victory?

Yes! If it would mean our leaving this unholy planet, Quinhelm declared. I detest these cloying mists, the interminable dampness, biting insects, blood sucking talibars - and I hate eel for breakfast!

Magwa snorted with laughter as Quinhelm whirled away and stomped toward the opening in the cave. The old wizard was a little more outspoken than most of Briggen’s men, but he did have a point. Magwa sensed that their time of waiting was nearly at an end. It was time to act while there was still something left of Mantasi worth saving.

Although Briggen’s forces didn’t receive many reports of the destruction occurring on their home planet, what they did hear nauseated them. The huge, lumbering Xandoth had systematically stripped the planet of many of its natural resources. Vast forests had been denuded of trees and wildlife, lakes and streams were polluted and so foul that fish no longer swam within their previously crystal depths. It would take the better part of a century to regrow what the Xandoth had so quickly laid to waste.

The vast and once beautiful city of Neimus had become a den for thieves, murderers and a host of miscreants from all parts of the galaxy. The Xandoth tolerated their arrival and the Neimusian space port was one of the busiest in the solar system.

Creatures gambled for females or spaceships and the confrontations frequently escalated into the streets. Occasionally, a cleanup crew was dispensed to dispose of the bodies before the stench became too bad and discouraged business. Prostitution also abounded in Neimus. In fact, Briggen’s palace often hosted a nightly orgy of drink and flesh enough to make a man’s head spin.

The good citizens of Neimus had retreated into the forests surrounding the city or to the depths of the underground established by Briggen’s father. They stole and scrounged for enough food and drink to keep themselves alive and traded for meager clothes to cover their nakedness.

Their one source of hope was the glorious city of Qierkal, Telana’s home. The city had been built upon a rocky outcropping in the middle of Mantasi’s jungles and it was the home of the dragon riders. In ancient days, hundreds of dragons had flown over Mantasi, but they had been almost obliterated in the great wars. Only Quinhelm’s friend, the dragon Ephereon remained, a sole survivor of that magnificent time in Mantasi’s history. That was, at least until the young dragons had been born.

Ephereon had located a clutch of dragon eggs in the mountains near the castle of the evil Sorceress of Endih. Upon her fiery death, the sorceress had been half human and half dragon. Although the lava had apparently consumed her body, her magic had remained long enough to preserve the eggs she carried. Deposited in a cool cave near the swirling waters of a waterfall, they had grown and matured until they were ready to hatch.

Ephereon, Quinhelm, Telana and young Pedar, Quinhelm’s apprentice, had risked their lives to rescue the dragon eggs and bring them to Briggen’s palace. There, in the depths of the wine cellar, twenty-eight little dragons had been born. How the people had applauded that glorious day! It was a great omen, indeed.

In his wisdom, Quinhelm quickly realized that a host of dragon younglings could get into a lot of mischief. He’d raised Ephereon from a youngling himself. Well he remembered the large dragon’s bungled attempts to fly and numerous crash landings. Then there were the host of incinerated buildings and merchant’s carts, torched fields, pilfered roasts and other dragon exploits. Quinhelm could only imagine compounding those problems by the number of younglings occupying the palace cellar.

So, the dragons had swiftly been moved to the beautiful and remote city of Qierkal, a place where the younglings could grow to maturity in an environment used to caring for dragons. Since the Xandoth’s arrival, Ephereon had sought refuge there, as well, providing a vital example of how an adult dragon should behave. Well, that was the theory, at least.

Quinhelm was too far away to transport himself to Qierkal, but with the help of a powerful spell, he did appear to young Pedar from time to time, assisting his young apprentice in training the dragons. It was a great honor to be chosen to train the younglings and some of the local villagers had also proven worthy of the task. Slowly, as the months passed, a team of dragon trainers had been assembled and they’d had some success in managing the young brood.

As Quinhelm retreated into the mouth of the cave on Drothos, his keen ears suddenly caught the distant clang of steel against steel. Some of the other men also heard the high pitched ringing and hurried to the source, fearing that a battle had finally begun. The soldiers quickly pounded through dozens of Alliance and Neimusian men and women making cloth, repairing pieces of equipment and sharpening steel blades.

Slapping a gnarled white hand on his wizard’s cap of velvet curls of red, blue and green, Quinhelm raced deeper into the cave. His white legs flashed briefly beneath the worn edges of his long robe and he leaped over a small cache of weapons with all of the grace of an aging buck. Quinhelm’s cap bounced up and down on his white head like three drunken velvet snakes, but he kept running, hoping that he could reach the battle quickly and perhaps lend some assistance.

When they arrived at the drop off overlooking the vast cave below, they stopped dead. An ancient rift had caused the bottom of the cave to drop about a hundred feet into the earth, opening up a cavern in the rock large enough to hold a small army. Over the decades, water and minerals had trickled through the rock, forming long stalactites and stalagmites of glistening yellow stone. Where the two features met, they had formed a column. Several of these columns marked the cavern in magnificent splendor, nature’s gift to any who might peer within.

Quinhelm and the other men around him had expected to enter a battle. Hearts pumping, arms already drawn, they quickly assessed the situation, ready to call for reinforcements if more help was needed. With sighs of exasperation, they finally shook their heads and lowered their weapons.

Far below them, King Briggen and Queen Telana fought a fierce battle. The two combatants thrust and parried across the gray shale floor in a dance of combat. If the men hadn’t been so angry, they might have found the scene quite beautiful.

What Briggen possessed in pure, raw power, Telana had in agility. She simply out maneuvered him. Of course, if Briggen ever connected with his gleaming blade, the altercation would swiftly be over. The muscles within his sword arm could propel his sharp blade completely through an adversary, neatly cleaving him in two. Briggen seemed to be holding himself in check, however, waiting and watching for a breach in his opponent’s defenses. In the meantime, the two monarchs battled across the almost flat piece of gray shale, keeping their skills up.

For several minutes, Quinhelm observed them, while the other Neimusians slowly returned to their morning duties, grumbling and complaining all the way. His friend, Briggen, had become quite an impressive warrior and a fine king, as well. Briggen’s father would have been proud of his first born son.

Quinhelm typically did not care for women, though. In his distinguished opinion, females destroyed the natural order of things. They were impulsive, sneaky, emotional, and opinionated. Outside of continuing the species, women were totally useless in Quinhelm’s point of view.

As a sorcerer, Quinhelm accorded Telana a certain amount of respect, of course, but he hadn’t expected to like her. That had come with time. Despite the humble circumstances of her birth, she’d made something of herself, triumphing against incredible odds again and again. She was honest and true, valiant, brave and good to the core.

When Quinhelm was younger, he, too, had understood that unique battle that sometimes raged between men and women. Despite their mutual attraction, a man and a woman could not deny that they were two separate people. That distinction made each cling to his own identity, fiercely battling against the ultimate surrender.

Oh, yes. Quinhelm the sorcerer understood the exciting battle being played out before his eyes in the cool recesses of the cave that morning, but the memory of his own indiscretions weighed heavily on his mind. So, with a flick of his wrist, Quinhelm cut one of the small stalactites from the ceiling. The massive piece of pointed stone separated itself from the ceiling as the supporting rock around it shattered, hurtling the stalactite down toward the king and queen below.

Briggen saw the stalactite falling a moment before Telana did. She was too intent on winning their little contest this morning. Briggen had won most of their impromptu confrontations and Telana vowed that this time, victory would be hers!

Swiftly, Briggen wrapped one long muscular arm around Telana’s waist and bodily pulled her out of danger. Her back held tight against Briggen’s chest, Telana protested for a moment, arms and legs wildly flailing before her.

The sharp stalactite shattered into dozens of pieces where they’d been fighting only a moment before. Pulverized rock and crystal danced across the cave floor, bouncing and pinging outward to lodge in every small nook and cranny.

Thank you, Telana gasped, her heart still thundering in her chest.

You’re welcome, Briggen replied, grinning into her upturned face.

What do you suppose caused that to happen? Was it a harmonic tremor?

As Telana stepped away, Briggen cast a glance at the overlook. For a moment, he caught a brief glimpse of Quinhelm’s robe as the sorcerer whirled away, chuckling to himself.

Could be, the king softly surmised.

Briggen had to have a talk with the old sorcerer and very soon, by the look of it. The old goat was over stepping his bounds.

Hum. Quinhelm is becoming more daring of late, Telana softly surmised.

I’d hoped you didn’t notice, Briggen sighed, sheathing his long sword.

I knew he was close by, but I certainly didn’t expect him to do anything like this.

Telana bent to retrieve a piece of homespun cloth from some of her belongings resting on the cave floor. With long, smooth strokes, she wiped down her blade and finally sheathed the sword at her side.

I’ll speak with Quinhelm, Briggen firmly decreed.

Telana laughed. And do you think that will make any difference? He’d relish the attention.

You’re probably right, Briggen chuckled, his dark eyes crinkling up at the corners with merriment. Still, he can’t go around dropping things on people whenever he becomes annoyed.

Why not? the queen innocently inquired.

Telana, you have to be firm with him, Briggen protested.

Oh, I agree with you that something must be done, but you can’t really blame him, Telana reasoned.

What do you mean? the king asked.

We’re all getting a little restless, Briggen. I feel it and I’m sure you do, too.

Really? If the eels don’t shock us in the streams and the shimani don’t impale us with their horns, then the wrockmar or choralf attack. I’d hardly consider us to be bored, Briggen scoffed.

These men came from Neimus and from the Alliance to help us fight, not to sit in a cave getting old and fat.

Briggen frowned. We hold exercises every day.

I know, Telana softly acknowledged, laying one delicate hand on his arm. But it’s not the same thing. I feel that the time of waiting is over.

Perhaps. The Xandoth are strong and they’ve had two years to dig in, too. We really don’t know what defenses they’ve established in the time that we’ve been gone.

Then maybe a little reconnaissance is in order, Telana suggested.

Briggen grinned. Really? I’ll speak with Quinhelm.

Good. I think I’ll go see what Magwa has in store for us for breakfast. I hope it isn’t eel again. You know how much Torrent hates those things.

Far away on the blue green planet of Mantasi, another day was also beginning. The twin suns rose over the once beautiful city of Neimus, starkly gleaming through the windows and hallways of the palace. Dawn’s light brought the Xandoth’s atrocities into vivid detail, a sight which saddened the local populace, who remembered better days.

Only a few panes in the tall Palladian windows lining the main hall of the palace still remained intact. Most of the glass had been broken long ago in one drunken night of revelry or another and the shredded curtains hanging beside the windows did little to alleviate the aura of destruction. Massive carved doors of Oambu wood had been nicked and gouged in hundreds of fights and some had been virtually incinerated on their hinges.

The three huge golden rings imbedded into the entryway, the symbol of the kings of Neimus, had been removed and melted down long ago. In their place, the Xandoth had ordered a crude cement cap constructed so that no one entering the palace would injure himself and not be allowed to enjoy the fruits of shore leave.

The polished marble floors of the palace were now often caked with dirt and grease, the accumulation of dozens of feasts since the Xandoth had taken over the city of Neimus. The kitchens and wine cellar were about the only things still left standing in their original condition. The Xandoth demanded good food and drink and they tolerated the humans’ insistence on cleanliness in these two parts of the old palace.

Human and alien detritus littered the floors of the palace. The huge bluish gray bodies of the Xandoth soldiers were curled into corners or lay prone upon the floor where they’d collapsed in a drunken stupor the night before. Their combined snores made the windows hum in protest.

Scantily clad human and alien prostitutes slowly rose to their feet as they met the light of day, righting their clothes as best they could. The Xandoth coupled violently, often stripping the clothes from the females as their excitement mounted.

Xandoth anatomy was somewhat different than their human counterparts. The males of the species possessed a long, snout like appendage beneath their left arms. When aroused, a