The First Covenant (Dark Universe Series Book 2) Read online

  “Your captain,” the chief said, staring worriedly from Ramya to Ross, “He’s Terenze Milos?”

  Ross nodded. “Yes, he is.”

  The chief pointed at the looming wall of trees. “And you’re sure your ship’s in there?”

  Ross held up his comm. “Look,” he said. He pressed the large button at the center that connected radio channels for communication. The comm flashed green for a brief second, then crackled. “Wait . . . that’s—”

  Ramya scooted closer. All they had heard so far on the comm was a dull buzz, but this was far more.

  “. . . ello,” a voice spurted out.

  “Flux?” Ross yelled. “That’s our engineer,” he explained quickly to the Berkari chief. “Flux!”

  “Ross? . . . you . . . tuck.” The channel went dead as abruptly as it had come to life. Ross flashed a bewildered look at Ramya before tapping the button a few more times. The comm stayed quiet.

  “What did he mean? Tuck? Who’s Tuck?” Ross said.

  Ramya didn’t know, but her head was spinning, one thought circling her mind at a furious pace. The crew was alive after all.

  “I think he meant stuck,” the Berkari chief said suddenly. He had turned a shade of purple once again.

  “We need to help them,” Ross said.

  The chief burst out in a Mwandan tongue, yelling orders at his men, who broke in a frenzy of activity at once. He barked something at Ahool who immediately scuttled close to Ramya and Ross.

  “Come, we get inside Chief’s carrier,” he said, pointing to the black super-rambler.

  “Where are we going?” Ramya asked.

  Ahool nodded. “We go inside the Grove of Stillness, of course.”

  Of course? But how? The wall looked as impenetrable as ever. Ahool’s prayers and chants had not made the slightest dent in the Sentinel wall.

  “Does the chief’s vehicle have special powers?” Ross precisely asked what Ramya was thinking. “Can it just sail through the wall?”

  “Of course no,” Ahool chuckled as if Ross had just made the silliest of comments. “Chief opening wall now.”

  Ramya spun around to look for the chief. He stood, arms crossed and eyes closed, facing the wall. She looked up at the wall of trees on the other side of the clearing. Nothing seemed to have changed. Or had it?

  “Did those trees just move?” Ross said suddenly.

  The trees were surely doing something.

  Ramya blinked. Then again. Something was happening. How, Ramya didn’t quite understand, but she was sure the gap between the two tallest trees at the middle of the wall hadn’t existed a second ago. Now an even, although narrow, path that led into the darkness of the grove had appeared by some magic.

  “Come, come,” Ahool prodded. “We ready to find your ship.”

  They were indeed ready. By the time Ross and Ramya had boarded the chief’s carrier, the path had grown wide enough to let a large vehicle to pass. A second or two later, the Berkari chief stirred. He bowed low at the wall and then rushed into the carrier. As soon as the doors closed behind him, the vehicle took off.

  The Berkari chief stopped briefly near Ross and Ramya. “We will find your ship, do not worry,” he said.

  The chief was a regal presence and the confidence oozing out of his words was comforting. Ramya suddenly realized that they didn’t even know the chief’s name. In the rush of activity, no one had introduced him. They could always simply call him “Chief,” but being trained in observing protocol since childhood, Ramya couldn’t shake off the discomfort.

  She half-bowed hastily and voiced her question before the Berkari chief could walk away. “How should we address you, Chief?”

  The corner of his mouth curled a little. “I am Chief Dal Uminato. You can address me as Chief Dal.”

  A shadow fell inside the carrier. Ramya looked around. They had started to enter the grove. It was pitch-black inside, a darkness so deep that made Ramya shudder.

  “It’s closing,” Ross said. Following his gaze, Ramya looked toward the back windows. The opening that the sentinels had made for them to enter the grove was slowly growing thinner. It grew smaller until the last sliver of light was wiped off and the grove shut around them.

  8

  DARKNESS WAS thick and heavy and the carrier seemed to plod forward through it with difficulty. The weak light of the carrier’s front lamps lit a thin path ahead. Chief Dal Uminato stood with his arms on his hips, barking orders to the pilots in Mwandan tongue. A while had passed before he turned back to Ross and Ramya.

  “How long has it been since your ship crashed here?” he asked, his face rigid.

  Ross glanced at his watch. “Over an hour.”

  The chief rubbed his chin and pondered. “An hour? That’s bad.”

  Ramya guessed that no one, not even the Mwandans, entered this grove without its permission, and the Endeavor was an alien craft that had crashed into it. The grove couldn’t have liked that.

  “Bad? Why?” Ramya asked regardless, hoping the chief had some other reason in mind.

  “Reliquary groves like this one aren’t meant to be disturbed, that’s why,” the chief said. “Trespassers into the grove pay with their lives.”

  “Couldn’t you ask the forest spirit to forgive them or something?” Ross asked. “They didn’t mean disrespect. They—”

  “I asked. Doesn’t mean the spirits listened. And it certainly doesn’t mean they’ll forgive.”

  “We can’t lose them,” Ramya said. “We have to save Captain Milos. He knows how to fight the Locustans. No one else would believe what Dakrhaeth told us . . . about the second invasion that’s coming or about the four missing Strykers laying the groundwork for it.”

  “I would,” the chief replied grimly. “I know.”

  Ross leaned forward with a deep frown etched on his forehead. “You know an invasion is coming?”

  The chief inhaled sharply. “I don’t exactly know about the invasion, but there’s something strange afoot at the Fringe. There is a small Mwandan sanctuary on Bucifer P9, in the inner Fringe. Chief Mifek leads the Berkari faction there. We, the Berkari chiefs, speak to each other often. In his last communique, Chief Mifek said some strange things . . . frightening things. He said populations on various planets in the Fringe have disappeared mysteriously in the past week. No one knows where the people went, or why, or how. Now hearing what you just told me, I’m certain the missing Strykers have something to do with it.”

  “How could you have news from the Fringe?” Ramya asked. She hesitated a second before asking the question that burned in her mind. “I thought . . . I thought you shun the Confederacy and its tech?” The chief frowned and Ramya hastened to explain some more. “That’s what I’ve been told.”

  “You’re not incorrect,” the chief said. “Our government doesn’t allow use of the Confederacy’s networks. But we are the Berkari, the Mwandan outlaws. We don’t agree with our government. Besides, I have other ways to get news.”

  He turned around to look at the path ahead. Ramya peeked also—there was nothing new to see outside, only a dimly lit path into the unending dark. But the Berkari chief had certainly sensed something because he walked over to the pilots and yelled in his native tongue. The vehicle seemed to slow down a little.

  Ramya scooted closer to Ross. “Why are they slowing down?” she whispered.

  Ross shrugged. He couldn’t know the answer, but she desperately needed some reassurance. Slowing down was not good at all. They were already late and losing time. Every second mattered. Not knowing the Mwandan world thoroughly enough, there was nothing she could do and the helplessness infuriated her.

  Thankfully, the Berkari chief came back to them quickly. “Temihula’s not letting go,” he said gravely.

  “What? Who?” Ross asked.

  The chief closed his eyes briefly before pronouncing the name again. “Temihula’s one of the major spirits of the grove. He’s the giver of life, the forefather of the Mwandan race. We’re al
l descended from him.”

  The Mwandans, a plant-based species, understandably worshipped the flora. Their sentient forests were as powerful as they were weird and the spirits within them were gods to the Mwandans. It stood to reason that a command from the spirits was irrefutable.

  “What do you mean he’s not letting go?” Ramya blurted.

  “He’s the one who holds your ship captive,” the chief explained. “And even though we have permission to travel into the grove, he’s still angry at the intrusion and he refuses to release the ship.”

  “What does he want?” Ramya asked.

  “I’m not sure yet. I’ll ask when I get closer to the center of the grove. But . . .” His words faded and Ramya grimaced. A dangling “but” never was good and certainly not in this situation. One part of her didn’t want to know what he thought was wrong, but she also knew she had to find out. How could she help Captain Milos and the Endeavor if she was scared of hearing the truth?

  “You have doubts, Chief?” she forced the words out.

  Chief Dal Uminato sighed deeply before nodding. “I do. Temihula isn’t one to trifle with. If he makes up his mind about something, that’s it. I’m not even sure he’ll speak with me.”

  A long sigh coursed out of Ramya. Anger swirled within her, along with it fear and hurt and every other emotion that made her want to scream. Her fists curled, nails digging into her palms painfully. Ramya welcomed the grounding pain and breathed. Now was not the time to give in to fear and rage, she reminded herself. She had to think clearly. But what could she do? Temihula wasn’t a person; it was a sentient spirit of the forest. How did one talk to a forest?

  “Let’s at least get closer and try,” Ross suggested, and the chief nodded in agreement. Ramya envied their calmness. This was something she needed more of, to build a façade of composure even when she was tearing up inside just like she knew Ross was at the moment. But it was easier said than done—emotions spewed out of her more often than not, another thing her father utterly, intensely disapproved of.

  Ramya turned away, looking for a way to distract herself. She spotted Ahool. He was seated on a bench where a pillar inside the carrier formed a small nook. Ramya strode over and sat down next to the Mwandan boy.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked, nudging him gently.

  “I worry. The forest is angry and that’s not good for Ahool,” he said. “Look.” He pulled at the long zip on his sleeve and pushed the blue fabric up to reveal his spindly gray arms. Reddish, painful-looking welts were scattered all over his arms.

  “What are these? How did they happen?”

  “Mwandans sense thoughts from forest spirits. Their anger make Mwandan sick.”

  “But the chief looks fine,” Ramya said. “Or is he getting sick also?”

  “Some Mwandans get more affected,” Ahool explained. “Some less. But chief is Uminato, he can channel anger better.”

  “You can’t? That’s bad.”

  Ahool shook his head. “Not bad. Ancient spirits bless me. I feel them more than many. But I never felt anger like this before.”

  The welts on Ahool’s arm were getting redder and angrier by the second.

  “Can you feel Temihula? What is he saying?” Ramya asked.

  Ahool flinched. “Do not take his name,” he whispered, shaking his head violently. For a second or two he stayed absolutely quiet. “He wants us leave,” he whispered.

  And let the Endeavor die? There was no way in hell she was going to do that. “Can you tell Temihula this is a mistake? The captain didn’t intend to harm anyone or offend anyone.”

  “I can’t talk to Temihula. Ask Chief.”

  She didn’t have to ask. Unknown to Ramya, the chief had been standing next to them, listening to the conversation intently. Now he sighed deeply.

  “Ahool is right. He wants us to leave. Look at that.” The chief pointed in front of him. A storm was brewing in the murky darkness. Branches whipped back and forth, trees swung wildly. It was much like the storm they had encountered before they came across Ahool.

  Ramya walked closer to the window, noticing how Ahool clutched his arms as the tempest outside grew. Ross and the chief gathered near.

  “This is not safe for us,” the chief whispered after he had watched for a while. “He won’t let us pass. We have to turn around.”

  “But—”

  Ramya couldn’t get a second word out. The chief cut her off decisively. “There are no buts. We have to leave.”

  Ramya stared disbelievingly as the chief strode up to the pilot and shouted orders. Slowly, the carrier started to turn around. This couldn’t be happening. They had come so close to helping the Endeavor and now . . .

  A rush of thoughts rose in her mind in a panicky wave and Ramya cried out to the unseen forest spirit outside. “Please, Temihula! Please let us pass and release the Endeavor,” she begged. “A whole lot more depends on it than our lives. There’s more going on than you know.”

  Chief Dal rushed back and grabbed her arm. “What are you doing? You’re an alien. You can’t address a forest spirit. Stop,” he warned.

  Ramya couldn’t. If she or Ross didn’t tell Temihula the whole story, who would?

  She continued desperately. “Enemies . . . Locustans are coming to get us and no one else but Captain Milos understands what is happening. He knows how to fight them. He is our only hope. And if he . . . and his ship aren’t released, the entire galaxy will fall. The Mwandans won’t escape unharmed either. They—your children—will die too.”

  The chief shook her arm and hissed at her. “You shouldn’t do this. Temihula won’t tolerate this. You’re insulting him even more now, and this time you’re doing it knowingly.”

  Ross nudged her elbow, his fingers icy. “This isn’t working,” he whispered. “Dal looks terrified. Let’s not insult his forest anymore.”

  Perhaps she could appease the forest spirit? Ramya fell to her knees facing the window.

  “Please, Temihula. Please let my ship go. They didn’t mean to cause you or your people any harm. I don’t either but—”

  Something—a broken branch, likely—crashed against the window and Ramya fell back in terror. She couldn’t understand Temihula like the chief did, but there was no mistaking the spirit’s murderous rage. It made Ramya’s core tremble, but she steeled herself.

  The captain, Fenny, Sosa . . . people who’d trusted her and . . . respected her . . . were in there, trapped. Locustan threat or not, the Endeavor’s crew was important to her and she was not going to give up on them.

  “I care about the people you’re holding, and I know they’re innocent. I cannot simply walk away.”

  “That’s enough. Stop now,” Chief Dal yelled. At the same time, a loud cacophony rose from the pilot’s area and a second later the carrier thudded to a stop. Ramya lost her balance, her shoulder crashing against a pillar. Ross had held on to Ahool’s chair but the Berkari chief had been thrown to the floor. He scrambled to his feet and rushed to the pilot.

  “Temihula struck us,” Chief Dal exclaimed. Color had drained from his face, the normal deep brown now faded and dim.

  Ross glared at Ramya. “Did you have to rile him up? Now what are you going to do?”

  Ramya glared back at Ross. She hadn’t wanted to rile anyone but Temihula didn’t leave her a choice. She had only seen a chance to make her case and pleaded. How was it her fault that Temihula was so stubborn and difficult?

  “Well, at least I tried,” she shot back.

  “We have to leave!” the chief said.

  “I won’t,” Ramya declared. “I can’t.”

  The chief crossed his arms and frowned. “What are you going to do? Fight the grove? Fight Temihula?”

  “Maybe.”

  Color drained from Dal’s face. “Are you mad? No one fights a spirit. It’s a sin to even think of it.”

  “Really? Has no one ever fought it?”

  The chief looked away uncomfortably. “No one survives a fight
with the grove,” he said slowly. “He will kill us all.”

  The carrier swayed under their feet and then rocked violently as if to make a point. The pilot shouted something and Chief Dal walked away momentarily.

  Ramya looked up at Ross. “You go on and leave without me,” she said. “I’ll go outside and see what I can do.”

  “Are you crazy?” Ross snapped. “A Mwandan says there’s no point fighting the grove and you’re not going to listen to him? You’ll get killed out there.”

  “My life is as good as over without the Endeavor carrying me out of here. Without the Endeavor, I’ll get dragged back into a life I’m trying to escape. And I’m not fine with that.” Ramya paused to look at Ahool. He was staring into the darkness outside, stiff like a log. “Besides, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to rescue those people who are trapped in the Endeavor. They’ve appreciated me more than anyone else before, and I’d be damned if I didn’t give everything I’ve got to get them out of that hell.”

  Chief Dal stomped up to them while the carrier kept rocking. “Now he’s blocked the road back as well,” he said, shaking his head hopelessly at Ramya.

  For a second or two that followed, Ramya couldn’t hear a sound in the carrier other than her own ragged breathing.

  “What does he want?” Ramya managed a broken whisper.

  From the faded color of his face, Ramya could easily guess it couldn’t be anything good.

  “He’s not letting us out. That’s means one thing: our lives are forfeit.”

  “What?” Ross almost yelled. “Why? You were just trying to help us.”

  The chief nodded slowly. “He’s offended that we are sheltering trespassers.”

  “It’s my fault,” Ramya said. “You’re being punished because I yelled at Temihula.”

  Something fell on the roof of the carrier and moved across it like a snake. “What was that?” Ramya blurted. More falling sounds came, along with more slithering noises. The vehicle creaked as if in pain.