Chapter Text
Thicker Than Water
Chapter Four
Laramie stood staring at the smoking ruins that were the remains of New Mecca. Her eyes were wide and sorrowful, her lips slightly parted in shock. Shazza stood next to her, holding Zion's other hand and wiping a tear away with her other hand. The soldiers had gathered behind them loosely. They were all on alert. Nobody had expected things to be this bad. The piles of stone and flaming cloth served as a heartbreaking shadow of the city it once was.
She walked on, holding her son's hand tight and the group moved forward with her, almost unified. They moved on to what looked like it'd been a large main road but was now speckled with fallen rocks. She took in the sight of the old vendor's booths lying in piles of stone and wood. Houses were reduced to pebbles and, as they traveled a bit further, bodies emerged from the wreckage. Laramie gasped and scooped Zion up quickly. "Close your eyes," she whispered to him, and he hid his face in her shoulder.
The messengers stepped out from the rubble when they'd walked about half the visible length of the road. Laramie looked them over; taking note of how unmoved they seemed to be. This had been their home, and they didn't even spare a frown. Something was definitely wrong about them. "The others are meeting in the gathering hall," the woman spoke.
"It's just this way," this from the young man. They both turned and led them down the road. Mikah stepped ahead of the group and moved them forward at a sustainable pace. As they walked along, the soldiers fell into that protective circle they often took up around her, a barrier of bodies with her, Zion, and Shazza at the center. She hadn't seen Mikah tell them to do anything; maybe they just felt it was necessary.
Up in the distance, some of the smoke cleared, and a large statue came into view. It towered up over the city, into the sky so far that it would have disrupted the flow of any clouds. The ruins of the city fell away and they were left pacing through a field of sand and dust. "There used to be buildings here," Shazza said, voice trembling, "Houses, temples, stores…schools."
"They've wiped it all out," Laramie said, "It's almost a complete barren wasteland now." Shazza took Zion out of Laramie's arms and moved to walk behind Laramie with him held in her arms as the circle of soldiers narrowed. The statue had grown on the horizon until they were finally navigating around its massive base. Their eyes shifted between the statue and the gathering hall, which came slowly into view around the statue, a dome glistening in the dull sunlight. It looked to be the only thing left untouched in the city, perhaps on purpose.
Laramie peered beyond the gathering hall and frowned at the line of strange ships. They had faces on them and some of them hovered along without sound, blurring the other ships as they passed. She'd never seen anything like it and, if given the choice, would have kept it that way. Their footsteps clicked as they stepped onto the slick pathway that led to one of the entrances to the gathering hall.
The messengers stopped and knocked heavily, three times, on the doors that lay shaded by an overhanging portion of the roof. Mikah stopped the group a bit more than an arm's length behind them. Some called Mikah paranoid, but his caution always came in handy.
There was silence from within the gathering hall and then the sound of clunky footsteps grew louder. The doors creaked open inward and two armor-clad men stood just inside. The messengers went in first and Mikah led the group after them. More of the armored men ushered them down a staircase and Laramie followed blindly. The guards had closed the circle so tight that she couldn't see past them. Her feet finally touched flat ground and the circle shifted and parted before the movement stopped completely. The part left Shazza and Zion hidden, but Laramie was visible to those who stood directly ahead of the space.
She stepped past the soldiers and some of them made small movements as if to stop her. They were on the floor in the center of the hall with the armored men and what was left of the civilians all around them on raised platforms. The civilians were kneeling, but the fear on their faces let her know they didn't want to. A man stepped forward. He was older, and armored like the other strangers but his helmet had faces on each side. He stopped just in front of her and bowed shortly, face twisted into a self-righteous mug. "Queen Laramie," he said.
"Yes," she said, and let her voice sound as tired and irritated as it could.
"I am Lord Marshall of the Necromongers," he said. He placed a hand to his chest and brought it out to reach for her.
She stared at the extended hand with a gaze so harsh that he withdrew it quickly as if she’d stung him. "With all due respect, which doesn't amount to much," she began, "I'm not here to see you. I was summoned by the elders of New Mecca."
He chuckled shortly, "I regret to inform you, but the elders are no longer with us. However, since you are here, I would like an audience with you myself."
"And if I decline," she asked, and the soldiers shifted around behind her.
"If you decline," he said, "You will watch everyone you've brought with you, die…slowly."
She nodded slowly, but her gaze didn't soften where she set it to burn into his face. "I mean no offense," she said, "But, even with such large numbers, having your men defeat mine would be quite a feat. I know of you and your people. You deal in death, we deal in life and, on this plane, we are dominant in that match." There was movement among the armored men this time. "However, I'll grant you your audience. More bloodshed is the last thing the people of New Mecca need to see right now."
"Very well," he said and turned to pace away from her, "I will start by being honest. I called you here. I wanted to meet on neutral land." He turned to move around the outside of the circle. "You see, you have something that I think could be quite useful to me. As you surely know, we work for the sole purpose of reaching the threshold to the Underverse. Thanks to some theories and, of course, minor experiments, I've come to believe that you and your home planet hold a key to us reaching our destination."
He moved to stand near her again and she eyed him, still listening. "The magic of life mingling with the science of death. And somewhere in between will be a balance that provides us with a window to the threshold-"
"No," Laramie said, flat and firm, "Anything else?"
The Lord Marshall frowned deeply at her but his mouth twisted into a smile. It was an odd expression and she had no idea what it meant. "Very well then," he said, "Take the queen to a cage. Kill the others." Laramie calmly stepped back from him and closer to the group. She could live without being next to the guards, but in that moment she wanted to be next to her son.
Mikah stepped in between Laramie and the Lord Marshall. He had a long, two-handed sword out and had taken a defensive stance. "Halt," the Lord Marshall shouted. He stepped back and eyed Mikah closely, "Well, well. A Nuage Noir. The forgotten race, forsaken by their own God." He'd stepped closer again, and his face held a confrontational expression. Mikah stayed where he was, still and waiting.
Nuage Noir. Dark Cloud. It was a derogatory name given to the race spawned from Fidèles and Furyan blood. There weren't many left, but the few that were had become known in the Vivant Galaxy as the best warriors and protectors they had. Fidèles magic with Furyan strength made for a combination that was very difficult to injure, much less kill. The Furyans had once tried to take Gloria by force, during such a time many of their women were raped and force bonded, giving birth. The Fidèles hated the Furyans for it. The seed was scorned and shunned, until they proved useful for their fighting abilities. They were natural born warriors, which is why Zion was so eager so young. This Lord Marshall knew more about their planet, their galaxy, than she was comfortable with.
The two messengers stepped out from where they'd gone to stand near the citizens. They moved to stand with the Necromongers, and they blended into the crowd so well that Laramie knew they weren't from New Mecca at all. They'd been sent to lead her here, to lead her people here for slaughter. "Lord Marshall," came the voice of a man. He had a strange spine shaped mechanism on his head. His eyes held a hint of desperation, as if he was trying to convince himself of something. The Lord Marshall turned to him. "Perhaps…they can be of use. A little extra persuasion for the queen's consent and cooperation."
The Lord Marshall turned back to Laramie, ignoring Mikah this time, like he wasn't there. His face confused her so she focused on his eyes. They switched between humored, triumphant, and hesitant. Finally, he nodded and his face spread into a dark smile. "Very well," he said, "We keep the queen with us. Lock the others away."
He spun then, arms outstretched and addressed the citizens. "See? Not even the race that has the means to fight us can stop us. All who oppose will, eventually, be killed. And never see the Underverse. So I extend this last opportunity. Bow and be converted. Renounce your faiths…or die."
The portions of the crowd that hadn't been bowing slid slowly to their knees. They all had such fear in their eyes that it made Laramie's stomach turn. In their face she saw the faces of her people. Would they try and do the same on Gloria? And then, at the back of the bowing crowd, a figure caught her eye. Draped in brown and still standing. One of the armored men went to the figure and told them to bow. That got rid of any thought that the figure was with them.
Laramie stepped around Mikah and looked up at the figure, closer now. Her skin crawled so much it felt like it would drip from her body. Her breaths had stopped and she hadn't noticed. Five years. Five years and there he was. He was facing away from her, face hidden by a hood, but she still felt him. "I bow to no man," came that voice.
Riddick pulled the hood from his head and the armored man removed his helmet. He looked him in the eyes, even though they were hidden behind those goggles. "He's not a man," he said, "He's the holy half-dead who's seen the Underverse."
"Look I'm not with everyone here," Riddick said and pointed over the armored man's shoulder, "But I will take a piece of him."
The armored man followed Riddick's gaze to another soldier, wielding two odd shaped weapons. He shifted his weapons in his hands and climbed the steps towards them. The armored man turned back to look at Riddick. "A piece you will have."
He stepped out of the way and the man with the strange weapons stepped closer to Riddick. Shazza had moved from behind the guards to stand staring at Riddick. The man raised the weapons over each shoulder and went into an offensive stance. He left his body open and unprotected. He was depending on the armor to be impenetrable. It may have worked with someone else, someone easily shaken by his large stature and his weapons. But with Riddick, it was just a stupid mistake.
He swung one of the weapons at Riddick's torso and Riddick lunged back, throwing off the brown cloak. The man swung again and Riddick ducked to the side. He swung with the other hand and Riddick ducked under it. He ripped a blade out of the soldier's back that Laramie hadn't noticed and, as the man spun to swing at him again, Riddick drove the blade into his torso once. He yanked it out and plunged it in again, and again for extra measure. The armored man fell backwards and tumbled, motionless, down the stairs, sending citizens scurrying to get out of the way. Laramie didn't pay much mind to the falling body. She was staring into the dark surface of those goggle lenses. His eyes were hidden but she knew he was looking at her. His face flicked to Mikah and back to her, and his head tilted slightly. Mikah had moved to stand beside her now, sword still out and the gaze he shot at Riddick was not friendly at all.
She knew Mikah disliked Riddick, but until that moment she hadn't understood the full extent of it. They were going to end up fighting, and having seen them both in action, she wasn't sure who would win, but she'd lose someone either way.
Riddick turned and moved to walk away. "Stop him," the Lord Marshall called, and she'd forgotten he was even there. He was hurrying toward the body and he stooped down to pull the blade back out. Blade in hand, he strode up the stairs towards Riddick. "Irgun," he said, "One of my best."
Riddick glanced at the body and back at the Lord Marshall, "If you say so."
There was a long pause of silence and the Lord Marshall brought the blade up between them, balanced on one hand. "What do you think of this blade," he asked.
Riddick snatched the blade from his hand and twirled it, expertly, in his own, before handing it back, hilt first. "I think it's a half gram heavy on the back end," he replied.
"In our faith," the Lord Marshal began, "You keep what you kill." He put his hand around Riddick's hand and the knife, as if to push it back towards him, but he held on. Tension burned between the two of them. "Are you familiar to me?" Riddick didn't answer him, just strained against some force she couldn't see exerted. "Have we met on some distant field?" The last was asked with malice.
"You'd think I'd remember," Riddick said.
"You'd think I would too," the Lord Marshall stared at him for a moment. "Take him before the Quasi-Deads." The soldiers closed in around him and Mikah touched Laramie's arm. She turned to look at him. "Bring the Queen along," he continued, "Perhaps we can…talk some sense into her."
Three of the soldiers grabbed Laramie and tore her away from Mikah. Mikah frowned at them, and his eyes bled to black. His image fuzzed as he struck out in one short blur of speed. The armored men ran out of luck in the face of that blow. He beheaded two of them, slit the throat of a third, and was stalking in on others, a predatory look in his eyes. "Mikah," she said and he stopped but didn't look at her, "It's okay. I'll be fine, protect the others."
No more soldiers grabbed her. She moved up the stairs where a woman was talking with Riddick and the other armored men around him. "Zion, no," came Shazza's voice, turning Laramie around. Zion was trying his best to shove past the remaining guards. His eyes were wide and desperate. She moved back down the steps and placed a hand on each side of her son's face, kissing his forehead. "Everything is going to be fine, little love," she whispered, "Stay with Mikah and Shazza. I'll be back, I promise."
She stood slowly from him and he turned his gaze from her to the nearest opposing guard. The glare he gave the man made him shift on his feet. The look on the child's face said that one day, when he had the skill and experience, he'd be capable of horrible things.
Laramie looked at her son one more time, just in case she had to break her promise, and turned to venture up the stairs. Riddick stood there with the strange woman, waiting on her. "Take the other's to the holding cages," said the armored man who'd taken off his helmet to talk to Riddick before. There was movement behind them but she couldn't look back at her son again, couldn't watch him be shooed away from her.
She stood at the top of the steps, back hunched as if she'd been hit, and looked at the ground until the sounds of movement stopped. She wasn't worried about them living, Mikah would carry out her orders at all costs. It was what lay ahead for her that concerned Laramie. The only comforting thought that she had was that they might not kill her as long as they needed something from her.
Riddick looked down at her as they stepped back into the open, dusty air. She frowned up at him, nothing nice to say for the abandonment he'd dished out five years prior. "What," she asked, voice tired and breathy.
He lifted the goggles from his eyes and looked down on her with that glittering gaze. His eyebrow arched and his eyes burning questions into hers. "Cute kid."