The 6th of Six (The Legend of Kimraig Llu) (9 page)

Mistress Ann mounted the two steps and adjusted the microphone to her height. As if on cue, the double doors opened again. In parallel lines, Number 1 Building’s troops marched in to fan along the wall. The double doors remained open. Two full Battle groups entered, without their male Hunters. There was no sign on the door; every male knew not to enter this room.

“There are a dozen males in this room. Leave now or die.” Her voice was strong, vibrant for a woman just into her seventies.

When there was no response, one Battle Group broke into pairs and began to climb the steps. They knew exactly where they were going and so did fourteen individuals who quickly stood and headed for the double doors.

Mistress Ann nodded. She knew the extra two would not take a chance on staying.

Waiting for them to clear the chamber, she surveyed this house of laws designed and built to her own specifications. On each side of the lectern sat six additional Leaders. The single high backed chair at the back of the podium barely contained the portly body of Leader Pace. Twelve females were in their place...the ruling Wicca with one seat empty.

Leader Breen, the newest, should be sitting next to Leader Sala. She was in the basement waiting for the order to start a mission the Wicca had authorized. Now they were holding it up.

An additional twelve council members represented each of the five structures. Five tiered rows of seats, arranged in a large horseshoe, rose above the podium. Each of the tiered rows should hold twelve females. Now dozens of extras were sitting on the stairs and lounging against the railings. There should have been one empty seat in front of each tier, this reserved for that building’s single Superior. Not today—that seat and the visitor’s seats were filled with riffraff.

“There are people in this room who do not belong.” Mistress Ann paused, surveying the room. Her lips drew tightly together, biting off her anger. When she did this, all the work her secret beauticians did with their creams and salves was wasted. She looked more than her age.

“Out...now!” When they failed to more, her lips faked a thin smile. “Now.”

The offenders were not quick enough. With a negligible signal from her at the podium, pairs of Troopers used the butt of their spears to prod anyone not wearing a robe. There were a few wannabes in ill-fitting robes. There were a few obviously nervous individuals. One spear tip jabbed to the shoulder of an obnoxious female—a little blood—and the general exodus began.

When the doors closed, Mistress Ann’s Queens made a quick survey of the aisles and tiers. One turned to her, indicating the count was correct.

She addressed the assembly.

“You have all forgotten who you are!”

Then, ever so softly into the microphone, her voice rising at the end of each thought.

“You have a task before you! Yet here you sit. For three hours you sit, arguing about who should have the honor to govern One Nine.”

The Wicca seemed nailed to their seats. As if she did not have their attention, Mistress Ann clapped her hands once, close to the microphone. Ears hummed. No one moved. She had their attention now.

“The Wicca, all thirteen of them, chose yesterday. Leader Breen will govern One Nine.” She paused again, her arm rising along with her voice. A pointing finger circled the five tiers of seats.

“This assembly will not delay our expedition any longer.” Her pointing arm darted towards the double entrance doors.

“Because of you, I am forced to make one change.”

Massed troops formed in the open doorway. The four remaining Building Superiors entered, striding purposely in their ebony blue robes. Behind them, one, the youngest of the four, broke away to join Mistress Ann at the podium.

“The Wicca had chosen The 5th of Five, the Mistress of this very building.” She stopped for a moment, resting her hand on the shoulder of the woman beside her.

“She was to assist Leader Breen and oversee the interests of the Five Superiors. You made her wait.” Mistress Ann’s voice left no opening for questions.

“Instead, I will assist Leader Breen. She will stay and watch you.”

Shocked babble was instant. This was unacceptable. The Building’s Superiors could only make a decision like this if there was an impasse on the floor. They were not finished with their discussion. A general unrest began to spread.

“All five of your superiors are before you—a quorum.” As she spoke, the remaining troops who were massed outside the open double doors began to filter in.

“You have three seconds to state your case.”

The 1st of One kept time by rapping her knuckles on the microphone. Once, twice, then she spoke.

“I thought not. Our decision is final.”

Mistress Ann left the Chambers heading for the basement, her C-link at her ear.

* * *

Basement staging area

Below the Council Chambers

11:30 AM

We should have been on our way to One Nine by 7 AM.
Kimraig continued to pace in the lower garage level.
Instead she walks away and takes another call on her C-link.
At least this time she is just listening.

Where was that Mistress who had demanded to be part of this Journey?

Leave it to Leader Breen to come up with something else to delay our schedule. Inspect her two Hunters; she says, as if what I thought of them mattered.
Kimraig had already seen enough, they were standing twenty yards away with their backs turned guarding the entrance down from the upper level parking. Leader Breen assigned them here, over four hours ago, before his guards had escorted him—unarmed—from her rooms. Good defense, it would give the two of them a chance to fight or run if the expected troops proved less than friendly.

Fine, then I will inspect them.

His heels clicking on the deep gray concrete, Kimraig completed a circle around them. Then he made the circle one more time, slowly.

Two young Hunters, two of them, almost mirror images.

He looked slightly up to each of them. The face on his right side was full, with muscles set in concentration. Only a twitch in the hooded nose betrayed his awareness of the man circling him. On the left, the second was all angles under the fullness, and dead eyes. Eyes set just a beat apart that revealed nothing. Their hair, he could not get his mind around their hair. Copper fire cropped close to the scalp. The close cut had failed to stop the curls.

Kimraig stared at himself, twice.

“This is forbidden,” he breathed, all thought of departure time forgotten.

“Not this time,” Leader Breen said moving to his side. “After that day on the training quad, when we saved the Wicca from capture, they were willing to grant me anything. I asked for my twin sons.”

“But they cannot serve...they must not serve...you should not...”

“Hmm. Service me you mean?” Leader Breen left Kimraig’s side, moving to her sons.

“Not all Hunters service their Commanders sexually, and certainly not my sons. But, an interesting concept,” she said as she trailed a soft finger along an angular, clenched jaw.

“Cullen here extended his service to the Mating Ritual well into his sixteenth year. You might think he was dedicated. I think he enjoyed his participation more then he let on.”

Her finger probed gently at his ear, then trailed along his broad shoulders as she moved to his twin. Obviously, this teasing touch had started at birth.

Impeccable training would not allow a response from Hunter Cullen.

“Now, Mr. Late here is a different story.” Leader Breen’s large hand gripped her second son firmly just above the elbow. No teasing here.

“Curtis punished me for two long hours before he graced me with his presence.” Then she stood on tiptoes and quickly nipped his ear lobe.

Training gave way to a slight role of large black eyes.

“As for the Mating Ritual, Curtis did his duty until Brody came along.” Knowing Curtis would stiffen at the coming barb, Leader Breen increased the pressure on his upper arm. “I call her, ‘Not So Little Brody!’ She stole his heart, wrapped it around her not so little finger. I had to have her assigned as Queen of my personal battle group just so he would start eating.”

“Kimraig, what do you think of our sons?” Breen sighed, returning to his side.

His service to the Mating Ritual extended past his own sixteenth birthday. It was not his choice; he simply produced more male children than any other Consort. Breen had been his last. Now she was throwing his sexual slavery back in his face by producing their twins.

I am not prepared to deal with this.
A nod would have to do for now. Neither young man acknowledged him.
Good, they are having none of me either.

The pounding of quick time marching jerked everyone’s attention back to the ramp down from upper level of the parking garage. The closed garage echoed in protest.

“That would be ‘Not So Little Brody’ coming to meet us. Meet Brody-1.” Leader Breen turned away as her C-link buzzed. She listened only, then turned and walked back to his side. Her forehead furrowed as if she had received an unpleasant assignment.

He caught her concern, but his attention shifted to the arrival of their visitors.
Brody-1
, Kimraig thought,
there will come a time when no one will dare identify any of us with a demeaning building number.

Brody-1’s female Troopers were at a brisk trot and just barely keeping pace with the gigantic woman’s easy strides. Everything about Brody-1 looked oversized; perfect proportions, yet oversized. If nothing else, she did know how to make an entrance.

Caution raised Kimraig’s hackles. Jumbled thoughts jarred his normal calm.

She is too big, a perfect target.

Curtis showed no emotion, nothing,
he noticed.
He should stand a little straighter with his woman coming.

We should have been in the field at first light!

This is an attack, not a dress parade!

Time to kick some serious...

Leader Breen moving behind him jerked his attention back to the reality—too late.

Chapter 4. Graduation Day

Clerical offices

Number 5 Building

Two floors above the basement where Leader Breen’s Battle Group was just leaving for One Nine, agitated staffers continued to find busy work in the tight cluster of offices filling the entire floor.

In a cubbyhole at one end, a pair of males sat across from each other, separated by an old polished desk. Their khaki shirt and trousers shouted clerical staff. Charles and Marvin shared this office and rooms as domestic partners. As a couple, they had committed to the Others alternate lifestyle, and had not been apart since that day.

In skipping the responsibility of the Mating Ritual and Hunter training by selecting an Alternate Lifestyle, they gained more rights than all other males. Those rights included coming and going as they pleased. It was still a dead-end posting. Each would be staff—with privileges—as long as he lived.

When his C-link beeped, Charles listened carefully for less than five seconds. Scowling, he quickly mumbled a reply and ended the call. Charles turned to his partner.

“Hunter Kimraig moved last night. He spent the night with Leader Breen.”

Marvin’s expression questioned Charles. He was a Mute, unable to speak.

“Our team leader, following the orders I gave him, withdrew his people assigned to terminate that worrisome ex Hunter Kimraig. Leader Breen’s troops have him surrounded. We will have to let him be for now.” He reached across the desk and gently squeezed his partner hands.

“Our Mistress Ann will not be happy.”

Charles grinned as a thought struck.

We will just take care of her other little item, Geri-5, her wayward Queen.

* * *

An hour later Geri-5 raged, spewing hot, rancid breath—eyes popping blue to white to blue again. She stood, braced over her fleshy arms, on the very edge of Charles’ battered, yet polished desk. Her piggy head almost disappeared between her shoulders. In an attempt to raise herself above the height of a gnome, she leaned forward, on tippy toes. A lonely chair loomed behind.

This space did not belong to Geri-5, but as a Queen, she just knew she deserved certain privileges. One privilege she enjoyed immensely was seizing Charles and Marvin’s property. She also ordered Charles and Marvin to stand in front of her, making this moment so much sweeter.

Of course, Charles and Marvin seldom followed any orders, unless those orders came from a member of the Council. Both waited patiently, dressed in spotless khaki shirt, trousers, and comfortable jacket—not a wrinkle anywhere. Both were fastidious, unlike some of their counterparts. After their common twelve-hour shifts, they stood unruffled and unwrinkled, as if they were starting the day. Just like now with Geri-5 raging in front of them.