The Last Narkoy
Gathow
Copyright © 2016 by Elizabeth Price
Cover Design © 2016 by Elizabeth Price
All rights reserved.
This e-book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
ONE
A dark fog grew heavy over the forest of Diamra, blocking out both moons. High above, a Tiketi bird circled a massive Limble tree for a place to land. Before it could land, it quickly flew off into the sky, squawking as it rose above the dense fog.
From the forest, a dark figure appeared draped in heavy cloth. His face was shielded so that only his black eyes could be seen. He blinked several times, clearing the darkness from his eyes. His eyes changed from orange to a light green as he approached the path leading to the city of Ortees.
He paused at a light post with a wrinkled old piece of paper attached to it. It was a poster featuring the picture of a female child. The plastic bands that once attached it to the post were now gray and deteriorating from months of exposure to the weather. The digital image wavered as it changed from front view to side view.
Below the picture, written in bold words reads:
Wanted: Dead or Alive!
Crimes Against The Empire
10,000,000 Credit Reward
The man’s tall shadow fell across the poster, blocking the moons’ light. A tattered gloved hand reached to the poster, ripping it from the post. A beam of light flashed across the pole, blasting the metal into pieces. The man rolled his face cloth aside, his face chapped from the harsh summer heat. He looked up, his green eyes switched back to orange, staring into the distant forest. Another shot made him scurry beneath his long, gray robes for his pistol.
Another blast ricocheted off a signpost next to him, flashing in his eyes.
“Damn it all!” he scoffed, wiping the debris from his eyes. He stared down at the toe of his black leather boot, noticing a small burn hole where his big toe was snugly housed. A pool of blood gathered within his boot. “Oh, come on!” he grumbled.
“Rosanheer, stop playing games! It’s best to give up and save us all the hassle,” yelled a man from the forest, from a distance away. His voice was smeared with the thick accent of a Clove.
Rosanheer forced back his hood, his eyes searching the forest for any sign of the man who yelled at him. He let one nervous laugh escape from his straining throat.
“Colnoc, I should have known they’d send you. How’s your sister?” he called as a jab.
“The same as your mother,” the man called back.
Rosanheer rolled his eyes. “You know…” he paused, reaching into his pocket to pull out three small pieces of explosives, “you’ll never take me alive,” he called back, his voice growing hoarse.
“I know. That’s the point of having a price on your head,” Colnoc called back.
“Yeah, and just how much is it now?” Rosanheer yelled back as he ripped the top off the explosives. Before the man had a chance to call back, he tossed the explosives into the forest.
“Everyone, down!” screamed another man just as the forest exploded in fire.
Rosanheer ducked down, hiding beneath his robes to shield himself from the flames. He looked up in time to see a massive Limble tree engulfed in flames falling towards him. Without a moment to spare, he rolled down a steep embankment, not stopping until he reached the forest.
***
The wind had an unnaturally bitter taste. At first, Sedom couldn’t tell for certain what it was. Then it occurred to her. It was flesh and blood she tasted. Instantly it caused Sedom's stomach to cringe and cramp up. Her arms wrapped around her waist as she attempted to keep her last meal.
“Where?” She gulped, wiping the saliva from her lips.
From her perch, high within the trees of the forest, she could see a massive pillar of smoke rising from one of the cities in the distance. If she was correct, it was the city of Ortees.
“Oh. The Marisheio are at it again,” she huffed. She removed a bandana from her toolbox and wrapped it around her nose and mouth to keep from breathing in the ash.
Once again, she reached to her toolbox, removing another nail. With slight hesitation, she hammered the nail into the nearly finished lookout tower, high in a Limble tree. From above her, two silver orbs delivered more lumber with the aid of their small tractor beams. They set the pieces of cut lumber beside her then lifted off to gather more.
“That's good enough for today. It’s time to recharge,” she called to the orbs around her.
She removed another nail from her tool box, but her attention was on the distant city. An explosion blanketed the small city of Ortees, sending a shockwave through the trees of the forest. Sedom grabbed the planks of her newly laid flooring, grateful she hadn’t placed the last plank yet so she had something to hold onto.
Ortees was a small Crehail city that house about six-hundred people. They shunned outsiders and, much like the Narkoy, cared little about technology. Most of the time the city was peaceful, the people of Ortees kept to themselves. Rumors spoke of those who inhabited the city being related by blood. They would intra-mate with one another; brothers with sisters, cousins to cousins. To the Narkoy they were heathens, yet Sedom couldn’t help but think about the Narkoy
