Seeds of Conviction

  SEEDS OF CONVICTION

  BOOK TWO OF

  THE CORE TRILOGY

  MAQUEL A. JACOB

  Copyright © 2016 MAJart Works

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied on critical articles or reviews.

  Published by MAJart Works

  www.majartworks.com

  Hillsboro, Oregon

  Cover Art by Dar Albert

  www.wickedsmartdesign.com

  DEDICATION

  To the vast universe and all the beings that occupy it. May you continue to inspire me through lucid dreams.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A huge thank you to NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) for having a platform to support writers’ creative juices. Without them I would not have pushed myself and learned what I was truly capable of. I also would not have et Dr. Laurel Standley who helped keep me on track. She contributed to my success in more ways than I can express.

  For all my friends, family and classmates, the wait is over. It took a little over two decades but better late than never, right? To my early beta readers, sincere condolences and immense gratitude. Big thanks to Chris Downing for helping me come up with the titles for this thing.

  ONE

  A SPY ON EARTH

  The last alien warships ascended high above the charred remains of cities worldwide, into Earth’s atmosphere. The battle between planet Azrom’s rebel faction and Earth had come to a screeching halt with only a select few from each respective party knowing why. It was fierce and bloody with casualties disproportionate on the human’s side. Somehow, every mutant Azrom enforcer had been wiped out. A mixture of relief and sorrow swept through the inhabitants of Earth.

  The Razznian spy, dressed in a hooded track suit to hide the brown scaly skin covering his entire body, watched with curiosity as the humans struggled to comprehend the mass destruction left behind from a battle they had no idea how or why it started. His lidless red eyes scanned the area and his mouth opened to reveal two rows of razor sharp teeth, his equivalent of a smile. Observing, though not interacting with, the battle proved to be a good idea.

  He had watched Azrom’s armada supporting another alien group on the ground and upon getting a closer look, the Razznian realized they were Lassian; the race supposedly extinct by Azrom supreme ruler’s, Halfar, own hands.

  How could they be here, and in such large numbers?

  He made his way back to the rendezvous point where a portal sat open for his departure back to Razzna. He had a lot to report on.

  Home Coming

  The sky churned viciously as the Azromian Armada’s mother ship descended from space at an angle through the stratosphere. All six thrusters rotated maneuvering beneath its underbelly in preparation for landing. The gunmetal hull covered with large spikes forced the air to concave around it as it emerged from the clouds. Correcting its position so it was perpendicular to the ground below, created winds with enough force to bend nearby trees nearly in half and rattle the palace’s foundation.

  Halfar watched, from the command center of the ship, as his palace guards rushed forward onto the roof to await his arrival. In full battle gear, he stood arms folded with his legs wide apart while the crew around him focused on controlling the ship. Being back on his home world sent a shiver through him. There was a lot of work to accomplish in order to rectify the damage done by his advisors, now deceased. He had dispatched them as a ruler was obligated to do.

  The invasion and conquering of Earth, instigated by his advisors with General Kur as a scapegoat, turned into rescuing the human race from his own Armada. Assistance came from warriors of planet Lassa via their leader, Chardon. After the battle ended, the gate to Earth had been severed. Humankind was not ready for interaction with techno- logically advanced alien races.

  More damage had been done to his soul and that of his men than anything else. The loss and regret spread wide over the Lassians, who he had nearly made extinct, and his own race. It was a mess he alone had to correct over the next few decades. Right now, he needed a plan for rebuilding his council and the trust of his generals.

  With a roar and crushing winds, the ship settled into a hover over the palace platform. A small square of light opened at the underbelly and shot down a few hundred feet from the waiting entourage. The light rescinded and, in its place, stood Halfar with his two Generals, Rass and Kur, flanking him on each side followed by a handful of enforcers. Everyone’s hair whipped into their faces as the ship moved laterally across the sky towards the docking bay located ten miles to the east.

  The guards dropped down in unison to one knee, bowing their heads. Their left arm lay across the thigh while the other hand lay flat on the ground in front of them. Halfar grimaced at the display. It had been a long time since he witnessed the perfect triangular formation of his guards in full regalia. He glanced at Kur and saw the twinkle of delight in his eyes. Rass seemed unimpressed, for he didn’t acknowledge the greeting. After a few moments, the guards stood back up and the leader came forward to address Halfar directly.

  “My lord, it is good to see you again. It has been too long.” He bowed his head again.

  “Yes, a shame it has to be on these circumstances.”

  “Indeed.” The leader’s face scrunched up as if he had smelled some- thing rotten. Halfar motioned towards the door leading into the palace and the guards about faced, parting like the red sea to allow passage. “How long will you be staying this time, my lord?” He had to try and keep his lord’s fast pace while conversing.

  “At the least, until I elect a new council and assure the progress of rebuilding.”

  As the entourage passed the guards at the palace entry, Halfar saw slight movement out of the corner of his eye and witnessed Rass attempt to stop himself from stumbling by reaching out to place his hand on a wall nearby. His physical injuries were minor. The mental anguish he suffered manifested as physical pain. Kur caught him by the elbow on impulse. It occurred in mere seconds and no one else noticed. He worried about both his young Generals.

  The doors to the throne room were opened by two guards to reveal a massive hall built like a large cave made of golden Amber rock. Torches along the walls gave it a coppery glow. Giant columns the color of sand- stone spaced twenty feet apart from each other stood majestic connecting to the ceiling. Entering the throne room, Halfar motioned for servants with his hand and twenty of them appeared lining up in two rows on either side of the hall. He proceeded to his rightful seat, taking the stone steps two at a time, and turned to face the entrance before plop- ping down in a heap. Rass and Kur came up to take their place on either side of him. A servant advanced and Halfar waved him closer, whispering instructions in his ear. The servant stepped back, bowed low, and left the hall taking four other servants with him.

  “My Lord, is there anything you require of your royal guards at this moment?” The captain of the guard stood at attention in the entryway.

  “No, keep watch of the gateway portal and wait for another arrival.”

  “My Lord?” The Captain raised one eyebrow.

  “I have,” Halfar hesitated for a moment. This was a delicate matter. “Acquired a mate.”

  There was a palpable silence as the news took hold. Halfar had never taken a mate before or had any interest in procreating for that matter. A mate now seemed a bit too sudden for them.

  “She should be arriving two moons from now with a small group and,” Halfar sighed heavily knowing this would be yet another shock, “my son.” He heard the gasps.

  “Congratulations, My Lord!” They all shouted in unison.

  “A royal heir is to be celebrated.” The Captain announced.

  “Yes, yes. When they arrive, we will discuss the details.” Halfar waved them away.

  As the guards exited the throne room, the doors thundering shut, Kur turned to him and tsked. He was rewarded with a look of disgust complete with narrowed eyes.

  “My Lord, divulging such matters on the first day is irresponsible of you. You could have at least waited a moon cycle to spring it.”

  “It would not have mattered either way.”

  The male servant from earlier returned with the other four carrying various trays of food and refreshments. Each tray was laid at the edge of the throne’s platform. He carried two large cushions on top of his head for the two generals. It was not a moment too soon. Rass eased himself down onto the cushion set beside him and went into a near fetal position. Kur sat down cross legged on his and glanced over with a worried expression.

  “Leave us,” Halfar ordered. The other servants along the walls hesitated. He knew why. Their ruler should never be left unattended. Currently, he had no patience for it. “Now!” He watched them all flee through the inner chamber doors on the far side of the hall.

  Making sure the last one was far gone, Halfar pushed himself off his throne and crawled over to Rass. He checked his breathing by laying a hand on his chest to feel the rise and fall of it. Rass did not stir from the touch. Halfar saw Kur’s shadow fall over them. Stealthy as ever. He brushed some of Rass’ hair away from his face and stood up next to Kur. They both looked at each other; Halfar contemplating, Kur accusatory.

  In the previous battle before their return, Halfar had given Rass the mission of eliminating Kur, who had acted in what he thought was treason. Knowing th
eir past history as lovers, it must have seemed especially cruel given Kur’s situation. Halfar knew he was to blame. The following months afterwards on the planet New Lassa found Kur trying to repair their damaged relationship.

  “He is in no shape to deal with the reforming of the regiments.” Kur stated the obvious.

  “Then you have to deal with it along with inspection of the battle ships.”

  “That leaves you to do what, exactly?”

  “Deal with the remaining council members who weren’t stupid enough to go against me.”

  “Ahh, well I bid you success.”

  “First, we rest a bit.” Halfar went back to his throne. “You will stay with him for a while after I leave?” Kur’s face scrunched up as he turned to him. “Should I not have bothered to ask?” He eased back and began to contemplate how to rectify the damage done.

  Assessments

  Chardon surveyed the landscape of New Lassa for the best options to make it more habitable for his race. Their original home had been destroyed, scorched black, by a planet bomb sent from Halfar. An event regretted by all involved. Scientists from both races collaborated to find a remedy for the planet’s weak sun and now in the works. A brighter sun meant more heat and better vegetation. So far, the highest temperature during the warm season reached a mere 21 degrees Celsius. The eyes of everyone on the planet over the past few decades started changing to accommodate its light.

  Loud screeching from across the fields made Chardon’s head snap up and turn towards the sound. It meant one thing; her son was being teased by one of the older manbeasts. She smiled at that. If not by Mota, then possibly Trinon. Both were the sons of her personal guardian, Modas. Soon, they would travel to Azrom to stay with her mate, Halfar, for a little while with one of them in tow.

  The visit was more like a war council than a family reunion. Chardon’s previous mate, Sestis, had set into motion a string of events that threatened both Lassa and Azrom. Planning should only take a decade at most. The only way to battle their new joint enemy, Razzna, was to combine their forces and hope for victory. Razznians were a nasty species who fought with no sense of honor simply because they were not as strong as they appeared.

  Off in the distance, a tall male figure advanced towards her. As he got closer she immediately knew who it was. His brown sandy colored mane hung down to the back of his knees, swaying in the light breeze. What started as a tiny smile grew, spreading across his angelic face as he caught sight of Chardon, steely blue eyes reflecting the sunlight. He was wearing a full tunic suit with the undone robe flapping around his six-foot five-inch muscled frame.

  “Trinon,” Chardon started to ask his question.

  “Hmm?” Even at a distance, a manbeasts’ hearing was impeccable.

  “Was that you torturing my son earlier?”

  Trinon’s smile turned into a big wide grin.

  “No, not at all.”

  He stopped a few feet from Chardon and his eyes averted away. All he had to do next was stick his tongue out and Chardon would have smacked him. It was something Trinon became fond of doing lately to appear innocent and cheeky.

  “Really?” Chardon’s brow lifted.

  “Well,” Trinon turned back to look down at her, “Mota began the prodding, and, well.”

  “Explain yourselves.”

  “We wanted to see if he could climb the monolith.” Trinon’s tongue slipped out between his lips and Chardon reached up to grab it with the intention of harm. Trinon was faster bobbing sideways to the right.

  “He’s not a man beast.” Chardon chided him.

  “Close enough,” a new voice replied from behind Trinon.

  Mota came up to them with Chardon’s son, Farin, in tow. He was only an inch or two taller than Trinon even though he was much older. They were resembling their father more as the years went on. Mota set Farin down and brushed some loose dirt off the sides of his robes before letting him go to his mother.

  Farin was tragically beautiful, which was one of the reasons why Chardon felt others wanted to pick on him. He had stark black hair with slight golden colored waves in it and murky green eyes. Instead of fingernails, he had shiny black talons sharper than any cutting weapon. His full pink mouth that he inherited from Chardon completed the exotic features.

  “They dared me to climb the big stone!” Farin’s small voice attempted yelling. “My claws just slid on it and couldn’t grip!” Chardon saw his disappointed.

  “Yes, well, next time they tease you, slice a piece of it off.”

  Trinon and Mota’s posture went erect at such a suggestion. Mota raised a hand in protest.

  “Let’s not get all out of sorts over a little fun and games.”

  Chardon sighed. “We are leaving soon, and I don’t want any incidents.”

  “Trinon is going to accompany him, so you need not worry.” Mota turned back towards the way he came. “I’ll see you off when the time comes. I have to tend to the other little ones.” He walked away, and Chardon wondered how he got his personality. Neither of his parents were what one might call cheerful.

  **~**

  Chardon watched Modas, her personal bodyguard, wait in silence as she tended to a dirty Farin in the basin embedded in the chamber’s floor. He didn’t move an inch for the duration of the event and there was an expression on his face that Chardon did not like. How Modas felt towards Halfar was no secret. In her opinion that should not transfer to her child.

  “Could you hand me a drying cloth?”

  “As you wish.” Modas stepped further into the chamber, removed a cloth from its rack and handed it to Chardon. He never came any closer than required.

  “Am I not worthy of your loyalty and protection any longer?”

  “You will always have both.”

  “That’s not why I asked, Modas.” Chardon spat through gritted teeth.

  “What is it you want from me?”

  “Stop treating us like pariahs!”

  “Understood”

  Chardon slapped the wet cloth on the floor, startling both Farin and Modas, and turned to stare at Modas. Her eyes filled with tears.

  “Does Modas not like Farin?” Farin asked softly, his eyes opened to their full extent.

  Modas’ in turn grew wide with shock and obvious shame.

  “I do like Farin, very much.”

  Farin, stark naked and not yet fully dry, smiled sweetly.

  “I’ll go prepare for the trip to Azrom,” he said to Chardon as he left.

  In the hallway, Modas strode hurriedly towards the exit. At the end of the corridor he stopped, took a deep shaky breath and smashed his fist against the wall. His head hung down in despair. This was not how he envisioned Chardon’s life. As her bodyguard, he should have prevented all that transpired from happening.

  Raising his head, he looked up at the weak sun mocking him from above. If it were not for Halfar and his childish tantrum they would still be on their home world. And Chardon would be safe. He would have got- ten rid of Sestis easy enough in the beginning, before she had a foothold within the council.

  Tiny laughter caught his ear and he cringed with pain. His little ones were playing in the fields further out and adjusting his vision saw Jaron, his mate and Chardon’s cousin, playing with them. He loved her, he did. But, he wondered if things could have been different if he was not forbidden from who he wanted initially.

  Would it have made me happy?

  Modas straightened his posture and continued towards the council room for briefing regarding their Azrom departure. The selection of people the council chose to accompany Chardon was not to his liking.

  His son, Trinon, was acceptable. Talas and Kelin he could do without. He had to deal with it because when it came to strategy Talas had no equal and he didn’t go anywhere without Kelin. Even more amazing was Jaron and Talas combining their talents lately. Modas sighed heavily. He had hoped to at least minimize Chardon’s interactions with Halfar, mate or not.