Page 1 of Orange Lake
Prologue
THE ATTACK
Same Period, Last Year
The night sky was dark that day. The moons are not visible, the sky is gray. A telltale sign that it will rain soon. The air smelled like freshly broken grass.
Night cool air stirred the furs of a few hundred manasties just outside a small banking area of a land, not far from the forest of trees that they emerged. Cool and composed, it seems they all breathe at the same time.
Just outside where they lay down on their front, they survey a nondescript building. It has three floors and each floor has two rooms. It is only a facade. What lies beneath it is more important than what’s outside.
That is why there are so many guards stationed within the 10-mile radius. No vehicle is visible though it’s hard to tell with so few lights.
The leader of this group of manasties stood up. Followed by his second-in-command, a manasty feared by his brethren because of his beauty and cruelty. A pity that he had to be cruel. Many manasties will follow him, if only he can be kinder.
The leader stood, a sinewy male, his ensemble black the same as his comrades.
“It is time,” his second-in-command whispered. So soft, only the leader can hear him.
He nodded and signaled the three hundred manasties he gathered for this day. It is time to end the power the Elders have on this planet. That is their goal. And the only way to achieve it, is to cut off the source of their power. Their greed.
Using his right hand, he signaled the start of the attack.
Manasties, those with light colored furs, are not visible under their dark clothes. They crept their way slowly to the building. Their inside man managed to disable the alarms that is why they are able to reach this far. Yet, they also have their second-in-command, capable of disarming their enemies using a crystal. But the leader will not use such a technique. The Elders know of this strategy and for this mission, there is no chance for failure. He pulled all the favors that are owed to him to pull this off. Failure is not an option.
Amid the armed manasties, a lone soldier surveyed the top of the banking as he watched the chaos unfold. What he is doing is wrong. Whatever they are about to do will lead to their extinction. Yet, he cannot stop. He is a slave on this gang. Fellow slaves, back in the camp, depended on him not to fail. It is a delicate balance. Help the people now or destroy the future of the manasties.
The cries of people who depend on him mingled with the war cries as so many guards descended on them. Their inside man is probably dead by now. His fate is set. There is no turning back. He had made a decision. And so did the rest of the slaves who are with him on this raid. It is to die now rather than see their loved ones die at the hands of the leader. Much crueler if they die at the hands of the one who holds the Shura, the second-in-command.
His battle instincts activated as he and others fought their way to the bowels of this building that housed the future of Manasty.
Then it started to rain. So much blood, on both sides, spilled that night and continued for two days before the gang achieved their goal. The Elders in the Council of Tribes were not able to send more troops because other groups attacked five other underground bunkers.
The river along the area turned red.
Chapter 1
SHURA & THE RELIC
Zirc
Ageles, West Sector
Two days, six hours, five minutes, three seconds and counting. My internal clock is reminding me how much time has passed since my female is sleeping. And it is pissing me off.Night has fallen and it will be another day tomorrow not knowing ifmyfemale will make it through. I have second thoughts about not ensuring her physical body can endure the hyperdrive.
I barely noticed I was pacing back and forth like an angrymusat. Though I just noticed now because four other Manasties are spread out in the room, all carrying or nursing their weapon. Roqs included.
I glared at each and every one of them.
“Speak to us again brother, who is thisNeko?”
Crix, the bane of the Purple Tribe. He decided to be the leader of this makeshift group whose ultimate purpose is to gang up on me.
“Do not rile me Crix, I am agitated.”
Two someones snorted. I refused to find out who.
Crix did not snort or laugh. I know each of them like a tribal brother though not each one of them is from my pack. In like, they know I am not acting normal either.
