Chapter 37
Talear
Town of Mombassa
Odin opened the backpack and took inventory; ten detonators, four fully charged pistols and a set of casual clothes were packed inside. Satisfied, he shrugged into the backpack and then covered himself with a long, coarse brown robe and hood and prepared to step off the skiff.
A blast of dry heat engulfed him as he descended the ramp and stepped onto the ground he hadn’t walked on in over eight years.
Mombassa wasn’t the biggest town on Talear, but large enough to offer a trading market that spanned several blocks.
He kept his face hidden and moved through the busiest sections to hide in the crowd.
The unique scent of kerrel drifted throughout the markets as he passed several merchants peddling assorted meats and roasted vegetables.
Odin inhaled, enjoying the familiar fragrance.
Despite Talear’s harsh conditions, he realized with a sigh, just how much he missed his home.
The sun remained high overhead as he made his way toward a decrepit bridge that crossed a dried riverbed. The ground beneath the bridge was littered with scattered, weathered rocks, deep splintering cracks and drifting sand that stretched to the horizon.
On the other side, a jutting black fortress rose from the dunes.
“You there,” someone called out from beneath the bridge. A wizened older man struggled up the sandy embankment, advancing in his direction. “If you want to cross this bridge you’ll need to pay a toll. And in return, I will tell you a story.”
Odin recognized the elder. He was a rebel sympathizer, one who had aided their cause many times over. “Kildar, what are you doing here?” Odin let the hood slide back, revealing his face for the first time.
“Odin, is that you?” Using his crooked cane for support, Kildar moved closer, examining Odin with blue eyes clouded with age.
“We have all been waiting for your return. If for nothing else, just to thank you for keeping the well filled. I don’t know how you did it all these years, but so many of us are grateful. ”
“Well?” Odin had no clue as to what he referred to. “Water?”
Kildar stared at Odin. “Yes, the water you have delivered to the well in Istabella. We all know it’s from you.”
Now he was even more confused. The water wasn’t from him.
But if not him, who? Who else would keep the well filled and claim it was from another?
From him? He groaned, recalling Reyne’s pleas on Armathea, I don’t like doing this, Odin.
But she is worth twenty thousand barrels of water, and you should know what that means to our people.
It hit him like a bolt of lightning striking from the sky. Reyne. But why? Why would he betray the rebellion, only to allow Odin to escape to Rhygarion Three and continue the cause on his own? When he finally got his hands on Reyne, he would beat those answers out of him.
Kildar pointed at the fortress. “Are you going to open those damn gates?”
“That’s part of the plan.”
“Good.”
Odin offered a swift farewell as he hurried across the bridge. He trudged through the drifting sand at an unrelenting pace until he stood before the Ramachii entrance.
The door cranked up automatically.
Odin took a deep breath for strength and crossed the threshold. He knew that if he didn’t pass the scan—if Tia’s formula was wrong, a lethal gas would fill the chamber, rendering him dead within minutes.
His communicator started to rattle with a buzz. Tia must be trying to reach him to let him know the weapon was ready, but he couldn’t take any chances on responding. Not now. He would contact her once he was inside.
The door closed behind him with a grinding clank, locking him inside the small chamber.
“Hold for authorization.” A commanding voice rattled from the communication center. A horizontal sliver of green light appeared at the top of his head.
The scanner moved downward, inch by gradual inch, to his waist, then back to his head. Odin held his breath, waiting. This is what Reece must have felt, he realized clenching his jaw. Waiting for a door to open, that never would.
“Back again so soon, Reyne?”
Fuck. Odin attempted to disguise his voice. “Yes.”
“All clear.”
The opposite metal door cranked open with gradual grinding. A dank musty odor assaulted his nostrils. He wasted no time striding into a darkened underground corridor bathed in torch light.
Odin shed his coarse robe and dropped his backpack to the floor.
He removed the armband and stripped off the top half of his stolen Taleari uniform and tossed on a casual shirt that covered his bandage. After tucking everything back inside, he hid his gear in an obscure, dark corner.
Needed to do some quick reconnaissance before attempting any rescues, he crept up the stone staircase. A moaning sound echoed from a corridor leading from the third landing. Thinking he reached the prison level, he delved into the darkened hallway.
It wasn’t a prisoner he realized, but rather a couple engaged in a heated act of intimacy.
He spun, ready to slink away in silence when an unexpected noise jarred him. Before he could react, a pain spread across his temple.
Everything went black.