Zonaton (17 page)

            "Like I said earlier, it's not my decision, Em. It's up to the councilmen whether or not to obey."

            "Do the councilmen understand that if they don't do as the Elders order, that gives the gerons the right to punish the entire village? Papa, they could wipe out all of Genesis!"

            Her father gave a slight shrug. "We're armed now. We can defend ourselves."

            The thought of the villagers facing a dozen or more gerons was laughable. Emmala half-chuckled, half-sobbed as she shook her head. "Oh, you foolish, ignorant,
stupid
people! Your little boomsticks might have taken down one geron, but that was because he wasn't expecting you to fire on him. His attention was focused on protecting me. Zon could have taken down the entire crowd with one sweep of his fire."

            Papa narrowed his eyes at her. "And you are a foolish and ignorant young woman to think a few boomsticks are all we have in our arsenal."

            Emmala stared at him in pity, then walked stiff-legged into the little room her father had set up to be her bedroom. Sitting on the edge of her narrow bed, she bowed her head and dragged her fingers through her hair. It was then her eyes caught sight of the dried bloodstains on her top and pants. Zonaton's blood. It was also at that moment she realized she couldn't stay here. Not at this house, and not in this village. In fact, there was nowhere she could stay if it meant being placed under the villagers' rules

            She had only one other option. One other place where she could go.

            To the only place she could call home.

            Getting to her feet, she went over to the small chest of drawers and began to dig through it. She found what she wanted in the bottom drawer. It was a pouch, sewn so that the straps went over her shoulders like a backpack. There was also a change of clothes in a size that would fit her in the second drawer. More than likely, they originally belonged to Markeem. Regardless, she shoved the clean set inside the pouch. Tucking everything underneath the bed, she laid down on the bed and clutched the silvery scale, holding it against the pillow, next to her lips. As she breathed in the fading scent that was her last connection to Zonaton, she waited for the night to fall. For the gerons to return and find the villagers unwilling to obey their edicts. For all hell to break loose.

            Before she was aware of it, she fell asleep.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Attack

            When she awoke, the room was dark. The house felt eerily quiet.

            Emmala rolled out of bed and slid the pouch out from its hiding place. A quick peek into the hallway confirmed her suspicions. The house was empty.

            Quickly, she went to the kitchen and began filling the pouch with whatever edibles she could take with her. Over across the small bar, she spotted the remains of the meal her brother and father had been eating when something made them leave. She had a vague idea what that something could have been, but it was not her problem. If the villagers thought they could disobey a direct command from the Elders, they were soon going to find out how foolish that decision would be.

            With the pouch full, she tied the flaps down and hoisted the pouch onto her back, adjusting it until it felt comfortable before securing the straps under her breasts. This way, it would leave her hands free.

            She opened the front door carefully and checked for signs of anyone walking by. The street and sidewalks were clear. She left the house and exited through the gate, pausing to get her bearings. Remembering which way she and her father had come from the center of the village, she turned in the opposite direction and began jogging.

            Within minutes she discovered what she sought. The barrier marking the village's outer perimeter was fairly innocuous. A rock wall a mere two meters high; it was easily scalable. The wall was less a barricade and more of a reminder, to let the villagers know they were not allowed past it. To do so would mean they would be at the mercy of any geron discovering them outside.

            Fortunately, the wall was tall enough to allow her to jog behind it without someone from within seeing her. She needed to circumvent most of the village before she could head for the mountains, and she needed to do it before daylight.

            Emmala kept a brisk and steady pace. Occasionally, she caught sight of dark shadows passing overhead. At those times, she would hug the wall and hope the gerons' sharp eyesight didn't spot her. She gave a brief prayer of thanks that her clothing was dark blue, and that she hadn't put on the pale green pants and top her father had initially offered her.

            She had no idea how long or how far she jogged. The moons finally rose, giving her a glimpse of the mountains, now somewhat visible in the distance. The pale light would also make her stand out, despite her dark clothes and hair. Plus, there remained the flat, open plain between the village and the mountains she had to cross before she reached the huge boulders where she could hide at the base of the nearest cliff.

            Another dark shadow passed above her. Emmala froze and waited for the geron to fly by. The black shape bleeped as it glided toward the village. At the sound, the hair on her head stood up.

           
What?

           
Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as the rectangular form bleeped again. A second later, a stream of greenish light poured from the shape, and something exploded with a hard flash of bright orange flames.

            The truth slammed into her brain.
That's not a geron. It's that alien craft from the crater! It's the miners!

           
Instinct told her to run for the mountains, but her heart told her differently. In spite of what happened between her and her mother in the past, she still loved her father. She had to get him and Markeem out of the village before the whole town was reduced to rubble.

            Ignoring the little voice in her head that berated her for her decision, Emmala scaled the rock wall again, dropped to the other side, and took off at a run for her father's home.

            A scream of pain or anger echoed overhead. She glanced up to see a dark violet geron letting go with a geyser of fire at something below. There was more screaming, and she rushed to keep behind a row of nearby houses.

            The world was filling up with brightness as homes caught ablaze, exploding like enormous bombs, and sending rock shards skyward and outward like tiny knives. She saw some of the rock structures burn like candles, and for the first time, she witnessed the stone melting from the heat's intensity.  

            Someone passed her, silent and terrified. People were running for the perimeter wall. Running for their lives. It was then Emmala remembered that her father and brother had probably gone to the center of town to await the gerons' return, and to see what would happen when the councilmen made known their decision. If they were still there, she had no other choice but to try and find them, and get them away from the village.

           
I could take them back to the cave where Zonaton and I lived.

           
But first, she had to get back to her father's house. Hopefully, she would discover them there. If not, then she had to make her way to the town square and pray she would run into them either there or along the way.

            On the other side of the street, another beam of pale green light spurted from the flat ship. This time she saw a geron take the brunt of the weapon's power. The creature exploded in a thousand chunks of bloody pink meat, spewing blood over the area like hot, pink rain.

            Cold fear froze her momentarily as she tried to make sense of what was going on. Without a doubt, the gerons had returned to see if the villagers were willing to turn over those responsible for killing Zonaton. The villagers must have refused. But why the alien miners had chosen to attack at that moment remained a mystery.

            Fire and confusion reigned. People were screaming as they raced for what they believed was safety. But as she watched, the villagers climbing over the walls were met with a river of greenish flames from another flat ship.

           
Two ships?

           
Emmala squinted and stared at the first ship, now hovering in the distance.

            "Wait. That ship looks smaller than..."

            Then it became clear to her.

            "The miners' ship, it comes apart! It breaks apart in pieces!"

            Which meant there could be three, four, maybe a dozen miniature ships flying overhead. And all of them spouting that horrendous green flame.

            "Wait. Wait." She pressed a head to her forehead. "Wait. Wouldn't all of those littler ships need to be piloted? How many miners did we see at the crater? How many miners were there?"

            The picture Zonaton had formed in her mind came back to her.
Eight creatures, one pilot, nine total.

           
"No. Not one pilot. Nine pilots. Nine smaller ships that, when assembled, become one huge ship."

            A geron swooped overhead, screeching loudly before letting go with a bright yellow blast from its throat. The energy hit something. One of the alien ships. The explosion became a fireball, and the world lit up in a beautiful conflagration of reds and oranges. She could see the shadows of people running to get out of the way of the fiery pieces raining down on them.

            Glancing down the street at the burning houses, she noticed the perimeter wall was not too far behind them. It would take her too long to go back the way she'd come, around the outside of the wall. It would be faster taking a straight shot to her father's home, and staying behind the houses, out of view.

           
Let's just hope he and Markeem are there.

           
She had no trouble rushing to the rear of the nearest house and hiding behind it, letting the fire mask her movements. But she had difficulty trying to figure out which way to proceed from there. Amid the noise, the flames, and confusion, she could only guess which way to go.

            Several gerons flew overhead, going in the direction she assumed was the center of the village. It helped her determine which route to take. Keeping her head down, Emmala hurried through several backyards, jumping the low rock fences between the properties like they were hurtles.

            Another small rectangular ship flew over. It spouted its terrible green fire, and the two gerons it was tailing fell like bright shooting stars. Intent on watching the horrible spectacle, she didn't see the young woman running toward her until they crashed into each other. The woman shrieked in pain and surprise as they bounced apart and landed onto the turf.

            "What's happening? Why are those ships firing on us?" the woman whined. Emmala didn't recognize her, but the woman's eyes widened. "You! It's all your fault! All of this is all your fault!" Rather than argue with her, Emmala scrambled to her feet and continued running as the woman continued to stand on the sidewalk and yell obscenities at her.

            She managed to get to the end of the block. Not seeing anyone or anything coming from either direction on the street, she tried to make a dash for it to the next row of houses.

            The big geron nearly landed on top of her, knocking her to the dirt. Turning onto her back, Emmala stared up at the creature, who spread his wings and let out an ear-splitting screech. It grabbed her with one clawed hand and reached down with its beak open to tear at her, when she threw up her hands and cried out mentally.
"No! I am an innocent!"

           
The geron froze. Its dark eyes stared at her in the varying light.
Who are you?

           
"
Emmala."

           
Zonaton's Emmala?

           
"Yes!"

           
The creature bowed its head.
Hurry. You must leave this place.

           
"What's happening?"

           
The miners are attacking. You must leave.

           
"Why were you going to attack me? Who are you fighting? The villagers, or the miners?"

           
I was not attacking you. I was knocked down by the enemy.

           
A brief series of images entered her mind, and everything became clear to her.

            The geron swept the road with its wings, catching her with the tips and rolling her over onto her stomach so she could stand
.
Go now. Run to save yourself.

           
"I can't! I must find my father and brother first before I can leave."

           
A spurt of green fire arched overhead, attracting their attention. Without saying anything more, the geron leaped into the sky. Emmala watched as the creature let go with hard blast from its throat. The flare of energy struck the side of the ship, and fragments from the craft exploded outward. She took cover against a house as the pieces bounced off the roof and landed in the yard. One hot segment landed mere inches from her foot. The intense heat from the metal immediately set the grass on fire, but she couldn't worry about that now. Once the area was clear, she continued to hurry.

            There was no way she could reach her father's house first. Her remaining hope was to pass through the center of the village, placing herself directly in the line of fire, and proceeding on to her father's home from there.