The Chronicles of Ghaz: The Coral Saga Book One

By Angelo Niles

THE CORAL SAGA:
The Coral Saga by Angelo Niles is set in a future realm, the Coral Galaxy. The saga spans 20,000 years and entwines science fiction and shades of fantasy. The Coral Saga is four books in all: The Chronicles of Ghaz, The Pearls of Ijnar, The Clouds of Endyr and The Shrines of Sharjah (forthcoming in September 2019). A Glossary of Characters and Terminology allows readers to keep track of the many exotic worlds, alien language, and key players in this epic tale. A screenplay adaptation of The Chronicles of Ghaz is also available.
Storyline Overview:
“Earl Dagarth is hurled 20,000 years back to ancient Ghaz and is proclaimed the Awaited One by the Ambri—a species long extinct in his own era. With the help of a cybernetic avatar, Tonja Cervo, Earl escapes his Terjj captors and returns to the future. Earl and a handful of Ambri survivors aid Thlag rebels in a war to wrest Ghaz from its Terjj overlords and resurrect the hives. The Terjj and their Ijnari cousins covet hegemony in the Coral Galaxy. When moons vanish mysteriously during the Eclipse, interplanetary conflict erupts as Terrans are blamed. Lydia Nev, Prima of Wolf 16, joins a desperate exodus to Cyrus 794G. Energy beings known as S’both inhabit the planet. Their millennia-old rivals, the N’dar, dwell in a parallel galaxy beyond Eden’s Gate. Against all odds, Earl and Lydia brave galactic war and mystic prophecy to save their worlds and the Terran Confederacy.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Angelo Niles
• Release date: Dec 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463118108

Angelo Niles

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:Angelo Niles has written several short stories, appearing in Aoife’s Kiss, Iron City, On Spec, Star*Line and Nova Science Fiction. His first novel The Chronicles of Ghaz won wide acclaim among critics. He lives in a desert retreat in Arizona where he’s busy at work on his next Coral Saga adventure, The Suns of Coral. This forthcoming volume will explore Earth’s early inheritors of the Milky Way’s far-flung planets. And yes, eventually the gateway into the Coral Galaxy itself.

Book preview

The Chronicles of Ghaz

The Coral Saga: Book One

A novel by Angelo Niles

Second US edition published at Smashwords: December 2019.

Copyrights © 2019 by Angelo Niles

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

An excerpt from Cold Veins appeared in Aoife’s Kiss, published by Sam's Dot Publishing [2008].

All rights reserved.

First US edition: October 2016.

Dedication

For Octavia Butler, a wild seed of inspiration to us all.

And for Angelia, my wings in the storm.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue—Dawn’s Fire

Part One—Crystal Eyes

Part Two—Twilight

Part Three—Cold Veins

Part Four—Venus Eye

Part Five—Skyborne

Part Six—Stingfire

Part Seven—Specters

Part Eight—Burnt Ruins

Part Nine—Battle Cry

Part Ten—Orkthum

Part Eleven—Caves of Birth

Part Twelve—Gheb’s Deep

Part Thirteen—Qiblah City

Part Fourteen—Ambrithya’s Rise

Glossary of Characters & Terminology

Author’s Note

About the Author

Acknowledgments

I pay tribute to my lovely mother, Sakina Zaky, who bore the brunt of this saga’s hardships. Thank you for a mystic journey over the sands. To John P. Brown, a profound gratitude for your honest critique. For the insights on alien characterization, I’m indebted to R.K. Lee. My gratitude to Paul Fahring and Larry Smith for your insightful comments. I thank Tyree Campbell, a faithful and patient editor. Without your insight this saga may have never left terra firma.

I wish to thank Megan Kelsey of Arizona State University for her valuable notes on poesy. Cherished also are the lectures on geology, astronomy, and planetary science by ASU undergrads Hannah Bercovici, Mr. Dupuis, Mr. Adler, Ms. Hall, Ms. Handler, Ms. Gherani, Ms. Carlson, and Mr. Czarnecki. I am humbled by the lessons learned throughout this journey. Our cosmos is far more fascinating than any world conjured by this author’s imagination!

I continue to be inspired by those who paved the way before me: Frank Herbert, Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson, Nancy Kress, and the beloved Octavia Butler.

To all my loyal fans out in the galaxy, thanks for sharing this odyssey with me. Without you, there’s no Angelo Niles.

—Angelo Niles, April 7, 2019 CE.

The Chronicles of Ghaz

I am the goldweight and the measure of truth

I am the blood and breath of life.

—Cherene Sherrard, The Quality of Sand.

Prologue

Dawn’s Fire

"Soon shall we settle your affairs, O both ye worlds!

Then which of the favors of your Lord will ye deny?"

—Ancient Earth scripture, circa 634 CE.

I.

Zegh Plateau, Ghaz

20,000 years ago…

Azmyth thrust his kyesh into the writhing nest of tentacle vines, deftly skewering the kedjka before it escaped back into the murk. When dawn crept upon the westerly horizon the kelps slithered from their nests to seek out mates in nearby crevices, driven by lust and a need to lay their inky seed in a hasty frenzy before Scoria rose into the sky. Such heat from Ghaz’s moon made hunting miserable even for a Hafz monk like Azmyth. Adept as he was with a kyesh—skillfully carved from the tooth of a tusk whale—Azmyth dared not linger in the Zegh after moonrise. During Aftar, the harsh blue sun sailed closely behind Scoria’s red blaze, scorching the terrain by day while leaving long cold nights.

Azmyth knelt to inspect his kill closely. Though lifeless, the kedjka’s abdomen still pulsated, its glands full of nectar. The very ambrosia that sustained all Ambri. He dislodged his kyesh, then lifted the kedjka to his lips and drank slowly.

I thank the Origin of Life for this nectar. May its gift prolong the Awareness in my blood.

A calm resolution swept over his soul then, for the kedjka’s wild nectar had just now settled into his veins. Many Ambri had perished after ingesting raw nectar as Azmyth had, so potent was the mood-altering tonic, with often hallucinogenic effects. With his vim replenished, he began the task of flaying the thin elastic skin from the still writhing vines, gutted it swiftly, and squeezed yet more secretions from its entrails. Nothing wasted, not even the viscous sperm sacks whose musk he wiped over his ochre skin. A masking of his own scent and a screen against the inferno now rising over the westerly bluffs.

Wiping the kyesh blade with a single forefinger, Azmyth stood and peered north to the Gheb Forest, briefly taking in their majestic boughs dominating the wispy clouds. Dawn on Ghaz had no rival on any world. Vast weather spheres sailed along the planet’s equator, taming the great storms and monsoons. He inhaled deeply, savoring the briny sweet breeze lifting from the Mythrih Sea. Some faint odor touched his nostril slits. An alien scent. One whose fetor put a prickly sensation on his nape.

Azmyth scoured the nearby scarps. Dusky shadows played hauntingly against the morning mist that crept along the black coral bed, and he found it hard to discern anything, particularly with the ruddy moonlight encroaching upon the plateau. But something…

A presence, yes.

Azmyth crouched, clutching his kyesh, amber eyes narrowed. It was there in the crags, spying on the eastward hives. A vile entity loathed by all Ambri. And if this thing had breached the orbital defenses and brazenly perched itself this close to the hive, it certainly bode an ill omen.

He skulked into the crags, edging silently closer to the scent. Agile as a nymph newly emerged from its first skin, he crept, bound softly and cautiously up the bluff until, without a betrayed footfall, he came upon the intruder’s hiding place. It knelt with its back to Azmyth, huge wings folded like a moth’s, hair cords busily seeking out danger in the air.

A Terjj spy! On Ghaz…after eons of peace.

Light as mist, Azmyth sprang onto the shelf just as the Terjj’s hair cords writhed in alarm and it spun on its heels to face him. Clenching its talons into fists, it snarled and bared its fangs. "Gthai sjak, Ambri! Har ijhad thlach!"

Although he spoke no Terjjan, Azmyth grasped the intended insult. Bah, Terjj! Curse your gills and the wretch that spawned you.

Enough was the taunt to imbue its ruby eyes. Come, you wingless worm. Let the Ambri’s extinction begin with the spilling of your blood.

Azmyth twirled his kyesh. Eyes a sudden amber fire, he dug his clawed feet into the brittle shelf, ready for combat. We will erase your filth from the stars, as you shall be from this planet.

Wings unfurled, the Terjj parried Azmyth’s glancing blow, the kyesh a mere twig against its razor-sharp talons. But the feint proved purposeful and gave Azmyth a sense of his opponent’s reflexes. A well-timed thrust would end the duel.

The Terjj slashed at Azmyth’s left cheek, and he flinched to his right, anticipating the other claws which he blocked with steely forefingers. An Ambri’s dually pronged fingers were lethal staves when wielded by a practiced warrior, and the defensive blow broke the Terjj’s wrist bone.

Pain etched on its face, the alien swiped at Azmyth’s temple with a wing. He countered with a crouching spin, sweeping his foe’s legs with a kick. Although winged, the Terjj was caught flat-footed and hit the shelf hard, crippling its left wing. The other thrashed at Azmyth when he thrust his kyesh into the scaly skin mail of its exposed torso. The blade pierced a lung and it coughed up violet blood.

Azmyth twisted the kyesh. Die swiftly if you wish for mercy. Otherwise, I’ll leave you to rot under Scoria’s inferno.

Best to die than…live to see my race obliterated. It spat weakly. Albar willing, this world will soon be rid…ah…of every living Ambri. Sjak, soon.

With a vicious yank, Azmyth withdrew the kyesh and spat on its violet-stained blade. As the Terjj lay teetering on death, Azmyth lifted his eyes to the rosy firmament. A pall fell over the Awareness instilled in his blood; some inexplicable void in the collective consciousness that linked all Ambri to a common past, present and future. It felt as if the sky had just been rent asunder and a terrible thing now loomed over Ghaz.

As if a vast hole had just yawned above the hives…poised to swallow all existence…

II.

Dear Origin of Life! A Terjj here? On Ghaz? Bodhim’s amber eyes flashed angrily. As Chieftain of the Eastern Hives it fell on him to safeguard the lands between the Zegh’s black lakes and the easterly peaks. A spy caught so close to the Queen Hive would surely stir widespread alarm, and justly so. In all his fifty-seven rebirths—aeons of life on Mother Ghaz—he’d never known a single Terjj to have fouled their beloved soil. Not since the first interplanetary war when the Ambri drove the Terjjan hordes back to their hives on Terjjah long ago. Bodhim stroked his long chin. And it was a Hafz monk who captured this scout?

Yes, Sire. An Nubyth caste named Azmyth. A loner from the Hijaz Steppes, I’m told."

A kinj monk, Bodhim reflected. One of the wingless breed who chose a reclusive life in the wild; mystics who clung to the old ways and shunned the modern advancements enjoyed by their kinsmen in the hubs of Firjah City and Ardh. They refused even the convenience of telepathy orbs. Very well, Goshef. Bring this Azmyth to my chamber. I wish to personally honor him with my scepter.

As you wish, Sire. The captain bowed, then turned to carry out the chieftain’s summons.

Bodhim sniffed. Ah, and Goshef?

The raven-eyed captain paused at the archway. Yes, Sire?

Do take care to keep this matter hushed. We needn’t rouse the hive over one Terjj. Not until we’ve thoroughly examined the facts.

I will brief the guards, Chieftain Bodhim. But, Sire: would it not be wise to inform the other chieftains? In case there are—

Seal your tongue. And hasten with my summons, captain.

Of course. I beg your pardon, Wise One.

Bodhim ignored the overstated reverence. He knew as Goshef did that the ancient progenitors were the true Wise Ones; those Ambri who left a dying nebula and seeded virgin worlds far from Ambrithya. Ghaz they chose for their new homeworld. With its smoldering peaks and dormant seabeds scarcely explored by the indigenous Thlags, they spent ages transforming this once barren planet into a lush hive. And now this. A lone Terjj whom Bodhim feared may well be the first of an invading swarm.

Dear Origin of Life.

III.

When he entered the chieftain’s plush chamber, Azmyth drew in a sharp breath. Eying the ornate songstone columns and polished coral surfaces from floor to ceiling, he knew instantly why he’d kept to his reclusive life on the steppes. The Ambri had grown decadent in their hives. Awaiting Azmyth’s presence was Bodhim, standing before a balcony that vaunted a majestic view of the eastern peaks. His wings arched high behind broad shoulders, a gown of vaporous dekhrah cloth draped regally over his lithe body. Clutched in his slender forefingers was a scepter: a brilliant orb atop a songstone staff.

The Orb of Light and Vigor.

Glowing nymphs fluttered about the chamber with watery chatter. Servants newly hatched from their primary skins, they flashed curious glances at Azm th’s simple garb. He wore a dun tunic and litham scarf; the kyesh tucked into a sash at this waist. All he needed to survive in the wild.

May I offer you a nectar? The chieftain lifted a goblet from a tray held by one of the dutiful nymphs. Any mood your palate desires.

I’ve had my fill, thank you. Although considered impolite to refuse an offer of nectar, Azmyth had no desire to sate himself on the bland concoctions harvested from their kedjka farms.

Bodhim sighed. As you wish. He took a languid sip from his own goblet, then returned it to the tray and waved the maid away. Leave us in private, all of you.

When the nymphs had fled, he took a moment to appraise Azmyth. Bodhim regarded the monk with poorly masked disdain. So, then, Azmyth of the Hijaz. We owe you a great honor for your brave feat today. I’m told you single-handedly subdued this…Terjj visitor.

A deliberate choice of words?

Azmyth frowned. It did not come all this way to admire the sights, I’m sure. The fact that it had no communication device or weapons tells me it must’ve had a ship hidden somewhere. A means to transmit whatever it learned back to its hiveship. Yet I found no craft anywhere near the crags where it lurked.

Truly a mystery, yes. My captain of the guard has sent out Sarfyth drones to search for any sign of the flyer—if one exists, that is. We really can’t say how Terjjan aircraft could have evaded our orbital shield array, but we will no doubt have an answer soon.

Terjj do not tire of inventions. They may have…other means of travel which the shield cannot detect. Azmyth watched Bodhim’s face grow taut.

You seem well informed about the traits of Terjj. Considering your confinement to a nomadic life.

I wasn’t always a monk. And the Awareness reveals much to those who ponder, Chieftain.

Evidently. Bodhim folded his wings and came near enough to let Azmyth feel his breath upon his brow. The large, deep-set eyes beheld the fresh scars on his cheek. This Terjj put up quite a fight, I see. Very nasty cuts there.

I’ll live. Azmyth huffed tiredly. He longed for his solitary haunt in the Hijaz Steppes. If you’ve nothing further to pick my brain about, Chieftain, I would like to return to my…wandering.

Monk, I wish to enlist your skills.

My skills?

Yes.

Bodhim strode to his balcony and gazed momentarily at the now dusky peaks. He kept his back to Azmyth long enough to punctuate the silence, and then turned. No living Ambri has engaged a Terjj in hand-to-hand combat. Except for you, Azmyth. And other than a few of the Old Ones, none besides you and my trusted elite guard have even seen a Terjj. I want you to train the Sarfyth. Give them an advantage no other Ambri will have when the time comes.

Why? I’m held by no fealty to any hive. I am a kinj—he stressed the vulgar term for wingless Ambri—and as such am bound to no fief or chieftain.

No fealty? Not even to our beloved Queen Cheoptra? Surely the noble Hafz of Ghaz have not strayed so far from the collective comb.

Azmyth’s forefingers itched for his kyesh. Bodhim’s insult stung as though he’d implied that Azmyth was a mere Thlag roaming aimlessly in search of pastures for its magwog herd. He wisely kept his voice controlled as he replied: I am Ambri. And so long as I breathe life, Cheoptra is my queen.

Ah, then. The runes speak truly. This from a soft, watery whisper behind Azmyth. He whirled to face her and was startled by the Truthsayer’s fiery emerald eyes. Forgive my stealth, Azmyth of the Hijaz. Long has it been since I’ve examined a monk of the Hafz Order. And a master warrior, from what I hear.

A Nubyth like Azmyth, she bore no wings under her cloak. Although time had not etched lines in her soft features, Nikrah was old as the Gheb Forest; perhaps older. Azmyth knew of her prescient powers—the zikhr mind-melding rite that few ordinary Ambri dared endure, much less survived.

But a Hafz monk…would he?

Fear not, she purred. I came not to probe your memories, monk. Those I’ve sensed already. It is your rebirth that I’ve come to prepare you for.

IV.

Nightfall fell over the jungly world that swallowed Azmyth into an ever colder labyrinth. Days ago when stringy rays of moonlight still shone through the gargantuan boughs, he’d picked fungus shoots from the tendrils dangling here and there. Their meaty flesh did not serve as food but rather as repellant for the pesky atyds. They had plagued him incessantly, taking nips from his exposed skin. Welts scored his sore arms. Since his rise to the higher canopy, Azmyth fought off nesters that dove now and then from their aeries to gather prey for their young. While too small to carry off an adult Ambri, the nesters were maddeningly persistent and slow learners. He’d slain many with his kyesh before they eventually left him alone. Already exhausted from the continuous climbing, Azmyth was even more spent after warding off a Mizar anemone. Its rapacious tendrils had snaked out of a nook when he paused for a brief rest.

Still reeking of its pollen, Azmyth hedged on into the tangly interior, his path lit by the scant light of his keen bioluminescent eyes. His shoulders ached with the weight of the small bundle strapped to his back. After reluctantly taking on the task of training a handful of Sarfyth captains, Azmyth had gone with Nikrah into a recess deep within the hive. What he saw nestled in the ancient combs made him gasp in awe. Like lustrous gems set in songstone niches, there sat the embryo relics of Ambrithya—the primal birthplace of all Ambri life. A vast cache of the sacred fossils lay preserved in the primordial resin. Azmyth was standing in a Chrysalis Tomb.

These relics, Nikrah had told him, are the seed queens of Cheoptra’s bloodline. our hive’s rebirth will depend on these embryos’ survival. They mustn’t fall into Terjj hands. Or nothing shall remain of the Ambri’s legacy.

Azmyth’s throat had tightened. By the Origin of Life, I swear my blood to this task. Although…this weight is surely more than one Ambri can bear. By what means will I reach the Caves of Birth?

The Awareness will guide you.

And so Azmyth carried on, the burden weighty but an honor he wouldn’t relinquish while life yet flowed in his blood. Still, his joints ached and thirst taunted his will. Very little nectar remained in his kedjkaskin flask, and the Gheb Forest held no coral marshes, no wild source of sustenance an Ambri relied on. As they did not masticate like Thlags or other species, the Ambri’s only food was the kedjka’s nectar. Yet if he was to survive his journey through the mountainous trees, Azmyth had to find an alternative food source. But the forest was hostile; only fungi and poisonous vines grew this far inside the Gheb.

I’ll survive, he muttered to himself. I am a Hafz monk, after all.

Are you?

What on Ghaz…?

Snatching the kyesh from its sash, Azmyth whirled, eyes wide and startled. But he couldn’t see the voice’s source. Surely it wasn’t his fatigue speaking. Show yourself, whatever you are.

Ah, so he’s merely a monk, then. Not a prescient Truthsayer, nor one of the Wise Ones? The voice seemed to echo from every bough, twig and leaf. As if the very woods spoke.

He’s but one Ambri at that, came a distinctly new echo. A softer, feminine voice. And so brave this monk to have tread into our realm alone.

Truly, another intoned. Brave and obviously ill-prepared for the perils of his quest. So foolish, this mere Ambri monk.

Azmyth was torn between unspeakable fear and a suspicion that he’d lost his mind. Had he succumb to dehydration and suffered from delusions? Who are you beings?

A rustle of leaves mingled with watery laughter. Then calm fell over the Gheb’s hauntingly dark shadows. We are the lifeblood of the forest, came their tidal voices, like waves breaking against the Great Boundary Bluffs. And then Azmyth knew what beings spoke to him, though he’d not known their nature before this day.

They were the Praynth.

Part One

Crystal Eyes

O that I had known the riches far down in the bosom of the world, where the soul cannot go.

—Sufi song of ancient Earth.

1.

Chrysalis City, Tyre.

May 12, 3009 CE.

Earl should have walked away when the Cryon slid into the hazy booth with that nefarious grin, pearly white irises, elfin ears, and jet-black terrasuit aglow. Cobra Crystal Eyes flexed his sleek blue tendons, briefly spied the Ganymede’s dance floor, then shook his hairless head. Moon crowd ain’t what it used to be, Dag, he huffed in smooth Tyrean drawl. Oh, well. At least the Sidon gnomes haven’t started a brawl yet.

Give ‘em time, Earl said.

Ooh, hey. Check out the fur on that vixen.

Earl eyed a lovely Oort swaying her simian hips to Terran neural sync. Scoria-hot tingles swelled his veins, the Hadesberry sating his senses. But what would he do with all that buxom shag? He tilted his beaker. Ale shot?

Nah. Gotta stay sharp tonight. Don’t want our jaunt into the caves getting murky.

Caves? Are you talking Tyre’s underworld?

Yep. Got a fix on Oje Wu’s turf in the Abyss. Easy stuff.

No way, Cobra. No job’s worth that kind of risk. Not for all the ruja on Lynx even.

Dag, this is big. Think about it. A mother lode worth zillions just waiting down in Dante’s Caverns. We’ll be set for life, bro.

Or get eaten by cave djinns, Earl hissed. I’ve heard things. Creepy things they don’t tell you about in the travel vids.

Bah! Sufi myths and fairy tales—that’s all. There’s nothing lurking in the caves. Nothing in the Hun Cliffs, either, except the Gogs. Small-time thugs who claim they’ve got a star gate somewhere on this moon, yes. I don’t know about any teleportal, but there’s definitely treasure down there. And as fate has it, Oje Wu’s in a tiff with the clans; which means he’s too busy to watch his loot.

Um, hey, I’m just a reef urchin. Oje Wu is way too scary a Hun to get entangled with.

Ah, come on, Dag. Look at you. What’s all those years as a moonjack got you? Xeno sarcoids? Ain’t a lightdoc on Lynx that can fix your skin.

Sure ain’t. Not without an obscene amount of ruja.

Which Wu’s got plenty of in the caves. Cobra grinned slyly. Now, then. Are you game or no?

Earl let the prospect of riches override his prudence. Or maybe it was the Hadesberry thinking for him. So, when do we hunt?

Just after Titus-rise, when the moons are full. I’ve already hired a guide who knows the subterrain better than anyone. Crafty with a knife, too, so stay sharp. Cobra held his palm over the burner glowing between them, warming his cold blood. He then eyed a booth across the room. Tonja Cervo, he said, indicating the almond-eyed beauty in a kimono. "Oje Wu’s lethal geisha doll. Does pipe work for the Gogs. Mostly

culls their rivals. The Iyrean with her arrived moonside a few hours ago. Probably courting Wu for goods smuggled from Ghaz. Ambri relics, slaves, psychomorph weapons. Things even the Terjj won’t sell."

And this...Tonja Cervo?

She’s our Helen of Troy.

Earl nearly puked his ale. Whoa, dear God! What was Cobra conjuring up now? Was he fracking insane...affected by the lunar tides? Oh, boy, Earl groaned, nursing a temple. Why do I get the feeling this foray into the caves will be my last? Why?

Cobra arched an indigo eyebrow. A last foray for Earl Dagarth? The man who single-handedly slew a Fyr bull?

Earl’s one legend to speak of. He’d barely escaped with his skin intact. This time the Cryon thief might lead him to his death for sure. All for plunder on a gelid moon far, far from his beloved Lynx...

2.

Astonished by Cobra’s brazen stunt, Earl gritted his teeth when he saw their guide. Tonja Cervo. Oje Wu’s very own playgirl. Fully outfitted in caving gear, as were Earl and Cobra, she wore a laser knife and throwing arc holstered to her slender waist. The body-melding terrasuit made her nearly invisible against the glowing marble of the grotto they’d emerged into. Cobra had heisted a swift tube that shot them from thesurface and into the secret tunnels hewn from Tyre’s underbelly. That feat was bold enough. But to also enlist Wu’s killer geisha was shocking, despite what Earl quickly deduced.

Tonja Cervo was Cobra’s mole. A double agent in the Gogs’ ranks. She’d supplied Wu’s smuggling routes and the whereabouts of his private caches. The Cryon had balls, Earl had to admit.

Stay alert, Dag, Cobra huffed. Don’t want you falling into any chasms. At least, not before I’ve procured your expertise.

He’s your prime element? Tonja asked snottily.

Yep.

She gave Earl a once-over. But he’s hardly bigger than a Sidon gnome. What’s his data, anyway?

I’m not a gnome, Earl snarled. And my data, lady, is watching Cobra’s back when things get hairy. Call it vital subterfuge.

Huh?

He’s right, Cobra said. Dag’s a real Houdini. When it comes to thinking on his toes, he’s craftier than you know.

Tonja sniffed, and then slid her laser knife from its sheath. Before Earl could retreat, she kicked out her boot just above his ear. In a blur she hurled the azure blade at the marble pillar behind Earl.

He whirled aside and gasped, What the Fyr crap!

Hell whisker, Tonja said, nodding at the pillar. Almost ended your life cycle, that.

Huffing, Earl blinked at the writhing thing impaled by her knife. It looked like a lightning worm living in the marble itself.

Working the azure blade free, Tonja turned to Cobra with a grin. We should get going. Wouldn’t want our gnome perishing before he gets us out of any more, uh, tight squeezes.

The Cryon raised an indigo eyebrow. Well, now we know why the Gogs keep her close. Come along, Dag. Our prize is far from hand, and the caves breed more perilous things than hell whiskers, to be sure.

3.

Eying the faintly glowing nooks as they went, Earl clutched the small leather pouch strung about his neck. If worse came to worst, he prayed the grains within would do their magic. As they descended deeper into the labyrinth he tried to convince himself that cave djinns were purely myth. Nothing but fairy tales conjured by Sufi mystics.

At last Tonja led them to a yawning hollow with a sparkling pond in its midst. Welcome to Donte’s Pond, she said grandly.

Well done, Cobra replied.

Earl brushed grit from his swarthy brow. Wonderful. A scenic view by the lake. So where’s the loot, guys?

Right under your nose, said Tonja. With her sapphire eyes lit on Earl, she peeled off her terrasuit and boots. She winked playfully, enjoying Earl’s stunned gaze as she stood before him in a skimpy diving net. Try and keep the blue alien here safe while I’m gone, sweetie.

Uh...sure, Earl gulped.

Whirling into a somersault, then a high backflip, she dove into the crystal purity and vanished with hardly a splash. Ooh, she boils my blood, Cobra cooed.

Earl bit a fist. Make that two of us.

Soon the pond’s surface danced with bubbles, followed by Tonja’s sparkling curves, her wet black hair aglow with droplets as she emerged. With her coppery skin glittering, she sauntered over to Cobra with a golden sphere in her open palm. Our second element, gents.

Dear Fire of Life, Cobra said with a smile. He took the globe and examined it with a squint, as if inspecting it for flaws. Ah, at last the Starphire.

That’s our loot? Earl croaked incredulously. We risked our hides for a little gold ball?

Actually, said Cobra, it’s a homing device. One designed to locate rare gems like orc’s tooth. Or Tyrean pearl, maybe.

Or Oje Wu’s private stash, right?

Precisely. At its core is a highly sensitive ore found only on Cryos. A rare prize, considering you’d have to slay a sea dragon just to get a grain of it. And speaking of grains. He eyed Earl’s pouch. All we need to activate the core is the final element. A little something Dag brought from Lynx, yes?

With Cobra and Tonja eyeing his careful movements, Earl lifted the pouch from about his neck. He then undid the cinch and sprinkled a few grains into his palm. Will that do the trick?

Oh, that’ll do fine. Cobra gestured for Tonja’s blade. With its azure fire he slit his own palm, then let a single drop of his bright blue plasma fall onto the sphere’s polished surface. Both Earl and Tonja gasped as the ball took on the azure glow of Cobra’s blood. It then rose above his palm and halved in midair. I couldn’t resist showing off a bit of Cryon magic. Now, Dag, if you will?

Earl drew near and poured a few granules onto the still glowing sphere. Slowly the grains burned their way into the Starphire. An acrid smell stung Earl’s nostrils as the sphere activated a holographic display speckled with tiny black pellets. The specks were soon amber starlets orbiting the halves. Clusters formed constellations along the neon veins that fanned out to chart a map of the caves.

Cobra beamed proudly. Our Cryon technology far exceeds your limited advances, but this is child’s play for us.

Yeah, I’m impressed, Tonja said, sheathing her laser knife. So, Blue Boy, where’s the mother lode?

Take your pick. I’ve calibrated the sensors to show only stones of the highest quality. The caverns have dozens of lodes to choose from. The only fuss, then, is deciding which cluster has the most lucrative yield.

Tonja’s sapphire eyes widened as she scrutinized the veins. She finally touched the airy display. Mmm. This pulse looks brighter than the rest. Doesn’t look like orc’s tooth, either.

Cobra squinted. My, that’s some eye you have. For a human, that is.

A woman’s eye, Blue. When it comes to precious stones, there’s no rival to our instincts.

I stand informed. Okay, all we have to do is get to the lode. He uttered some Cryon command, and a distinct vein linked their position to Tonja's cluster. There. That should narrow the hunt.

Earl wrinkled his nose. Anybody smell that? A sour tinge in the air, like rotten flesh.

Tonja sniffed. Oh, don’t fret. I’m sure it’s just a dead hydra orc in a nearby karst. At least it’s not a hungry den maiden on the prowl. I’d know that stink.

Den maidens really exist? Earl knew he’d been suckered when she grinned slyly.

Of course they don’t exist, said Cobra, eyes rolling with pity. I’ve already told you. There’s no such thing as cave djinns or fairy—

A gurgle cut his words short. At first Earl thought the Cryon had choked on the awful stench now overwhelming them. But Cobra rose suddenly, levitated above his gypsum perch, arms akimbo, eyes wide with shock.

Dear holy skies! This can’t be happening, Earl told his mind. It wasn’t just a phantom scent, he now knew as the horror sank in.

Tonja snatched Earl by the collar and took cover behind a pillar. As they both cringed from the horrific sight, an invisible horn or talon pierced Cobra’s torso and jutted upward to form a bright blue crescent. Cobra dangled in the air, his neon blood trickling to the cave floor while the hideous thing behind him took on flesh and scaly texture.

Allah save us! Tonja cried, fumbling with her throwing arc. I can’t believe it. The orcs actually exist.

Earl was on the verge of fainting or losing his bladder. I don’t think that’s an orc, he rasped. It’s a cave djinn.

A troglodyte?

Yes. We’re in its lair. Poor Cobra!

Well, it’s too late for him, Tonja hissed. But I think now’s a good time for your evasive tactics. Well?

Earl slowly undid the cinch to his pouch, eyes on the djinn. It wasn’t going to gorge itself on all three of them. Not if Earl had his choice of fates.

As the djinn lowered Cobra to the ground, Earl boldly stepped before the hulking form, careful to avoid its acidic drool. Hey, ugly! I brought you a treat, Earl taunted.

Its lava-red eyes glared down at him. The mighty nostrils flared, smoky bile puffing down upon Earl. Bright azure blood dripped from the massive tusks curving from either side of its nostril slits. As if conflicted by the proximity of such fearless prey, the djinn snorted, its glaring orbs flicking from one human to the other.

Earl stood his ground. Well, aren’t you hungry? Open up that stinky maw for daddy.

Grunting its disdain, the djinn spat toxic drool at the human. With a thunderous bellow it slashed huge claws down at Earl’s throat the instant he flung his fistful of granules into the cavernous maw. A cry from the very gates of Hell exploded from the vaporous remains. All that lingered of the djinn was a pile of blackened crystals. And its hellish stench, of course.

Tonja gaped when she neared the ashes. What in the moons did that?

Reef sand, Earl replied emptily. Rose water and myrrh work too, supposedly.

He wiped tears and perspiration from his cheeks, then willed his nerves to take on the vision of Cobra’s torn body. When he knelt beside the Cryon, a hand grasped his wrist. The grip was remarkably firm and cold. Earl leaned closer to Cobra’s dying words. Dag, take the Starphire...before its fire dims. Before my blood...

No, hang on. We’ll get you out of here.

Don’t be foolish. I’m not leaving these caves.

Earl saw the glowing blue gash in Cobra’s chest. Guilt and pain choked off his words. There was no saving his friend and he knew it. My blood, Cobra gurgled. With a final gasp, he loosened his grip on Earl’s wrist. His glassy white eyes went empty.

Earl blinked numbly.

After a long spell, he retrieved the sphere and secured it in his pouch. Tonja knelt beside him, a cloth in her clutch. We’ll need a way to activate the map, she said gently. Cobra can’t be helped, Dagarth. But we can’t get to the treasure unless...

I know, he sighed. He took the cloth and gently staunched Cobra’s wound until an icy blue stain saturated the material.

As if she’d anticipated the tragedy, Tonja produced a thermos tube. I’ve set it to maintain his Cryon body temperature. It should keep the blood cells viable for a while. When he relinquished the cloth, she sealed it in the cylinder. Okay, she huffed, standing. We should go now, before another one of those cave djinns show.

Earl stood, eyes still on Cobra. Dust to dust, old friend. May we meet in the Afterlife so I can give you your share. So long, Crystal Eyes.

As he joined Tonja on their quest into the caverns, Earl pondered the likely reality that only one of them would gaze upon Tyre’s cold sky again. He harbored no illusions about his prospect of surviving the moon’s vagaries. Whether he’d again face mythical spirits or Tonja’s blade, Earl knew not.

Either fate, he’d have to stay on his toes. And maybe, just maybe he would find a way to save his flaky skin.

4.

Suddenly the job at Blue Star didn’t sound so bad. With its glaring red moon and fangbaring Terjj, Ghaz seemed like an idyllic getaway after his perils in Tyre’s abyss. Surely smuggling a lode of amber off that hellish rock would entail far less risk. So far, though, he and Tonja hadn’t encountered any den maidens or hydra orcs in the twisting passages. Although Earl did have another brush with a hell whisker, this time dispensed by Tonja’s throwing arc as it slithered down from a stalactite nest.

Twice saved, Earl was outwardly thankful for her sharp eyes but remained wary of her motives. Was she still Oje Wu’s lethal geisha? Or was she a free agent luring her prey into the caves with a promise of bounty? He’d certainly never met anyone so deft with arsenal like hers. Almost inhumanly swift. I’m curious, Earl chanced.