She Died in My Arms Read online

  She Died in My Arms

  The Children of Clay, Volume 0

  Ono Ekeh

  Published by Ono Ekeh, 2018.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  SHE DIED IN MY ARMS

  First edition. February 27, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 Ono Ekeh.

  Written by Ono Ekeh.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  She Died in My Arms (The Children of Clay, #0)

  SHE DIED IN MY ARMS

  (THE CHILDREN OF CLAY SERIES—PREQUEL)

  © 2018 Ono Ekeh

  HELLO READER,

  Thank you for your interest in this short story, She Died in My Arms. This is the unedited version of the story—a special preview for you. This is the prequel for The Children of Clay series and this story leads directly into the first book of that series, The Clay Queen.

  Enjoy!

  Ono Ekeh

  4,000 YEARS FROM THE Present

  The earth suffered a tragic nuclear war roughly 4,000 years ago. There are few human communities left. Most of the earth is irradiated and unfit for human habitation. The tribes of the far north are the Sybu and even farther, the Navalese. Of the tribes to the south, the most powerful is the Jaru.

  NORTHERN REGIONS

  Captain Senaya Le Tenade crouched at the base of the beacon, a ten-foot pole, with a transmitter at the top.

  She typed:

  Captain Senaya Le Tenade, Vanguard Forward Reconnaissance Unit. Temple is in view. Gates/grounds lightly guarded. Sybu offer little resistance. Have not received instructions. Our presence is no longer secret. We will press our advantage and proceed to secure the temple grounds. Resistance expected. We will secure Queen Nouei. Should we stay execution or proceed? Eagerly awaiting instructions.

  Her finger depressed the button, but hesitated at the release, as she tried to re-read the message. Exhaling loudly, she released her finger and pulled the flat key panel out of the slot to prevent any of the locals tampering with the contraption. Her message was now in the ether and will shortly get to Command Skene. Her soldiers, all clad in worn desert camouflage, formed a protective circle around her. But their display was overkill. The Sybu men, women, and children stared at them with innocent and concerned eyes. But there was not a hint of a threat from them. Their reputed passivity was not exaggerated.

  Miles further down south, her people the Jaru, waged a fierce battle with the Navalese, who along with the Sybu, were the only two tribes who still worshipped the imposter deity, Queen Nouei. This was the fifth such battle and the encounter had decidedly turned in favor of the Jaru, who’d convinced other tribes to join the true Lord of Heaven and Earth, Lord Ryna. Whether compelled by Ryna’s message or whether they saw the writing on the wall, many worshippers of Queen Nouei, The Imposter, converted, turning the tide against the Navalese.

  The Navalese were the epitome of savagery. Xenophobic to the hilt, there was no prouder race on the face of the planet. Their savagery and relative technological naiveté notwithstanding, they hated anything foreign, almost as much as they could not bear any slight to their queen, The Imposter. But these were reflections for another day. Her task had been to operate as an advanced scout, to see what Navalese forces remained closer to the temple, thus determining how scarce weaponry ought to be used.

  The Imposter, Queen Nouei, lived in a temple-palace, in the heart of Sybu territory. The North. Home of the Navalese and the Sybu. Windy, drab, wet, and uncomfortable. She and her scout force had spent many nights concealed in caves and bushes under miserable conditions. Why anyone would live this far north, hundreds of miles from all the other human tribes, was beyond her understanding. Incredibly, the Naval region was fifty-or-so miles further north. Given their temperament, their separation was probably in the best interest of everyone, including the Sybu.

  The Sybu, the great contradiction. As barbaric and distasteful as the Navalese were, the Sybu were the opposite. Passive to a fault, they had a near-religious disdain for conflict. They made for excellent negotiators as they loved conflict resolution, unity, and diversity. But like the Navalese, their devotion to The Imposter knew no bounds. Known as people of reason, they were renowned for their ability to judge any matter fairly and adjust themselves to truth where it displayed and manifested itself, with the exception of one case, Queen Nouei.

  The Queen herself was something of a mystery. A human imposter who claimed to be divine, her power lay more in her legend than anything else. She was rumored to have lived for thousands of years. But of course, that was impossible. It was even rumored the Jaru once honored her... her office. Surely, not her, but someone, one of many who adopted that identity. She would know soon enough, Senaya thought.

  “Lower the weapons,” Senaya ordered quietly to her force of fifty scouts. “Keep them live and stay sharp. We need the Sybu on our side when this is over.” She scanned the colorful array surrounding them. The Sybu people watched, deathly quiet. There was no fear in their eyes but some apprehension.

  “So many children,” one of her soldiers said. “All out in the open.”

  Senaya grunted in acknowledgement. Not much was as she’d been briefed. No one told her there’d be these many children. She hadn’t been this close to children in years, not since she was a child. The Sybu, though, didn’t seem overly protective of them.

  A man stepped out from the crowd with his arms raised. “I greet you in the name of the Lord, Queen Nouei. She is expecting you and has instructed that we show you every hospitality. You have her word. You will not be harmed.”

  Senaya walked up to the man and studied him. She smirked at his boldness and pushed him aside. “I don’t need her word to guarantee our safety.” The crowd parted as the scout force marched down the main thoroughfare leading to the gates of the temple which was a mile away.

  Public and commercial buildings lined the road leading to the temple. Moderately sized, by Jaru standards, the red brick and wood-beam construction patterns, gave the city a sense of organic unity. Everything seemed connected. According to her briefing, Senaya knew the Sybu worked and operated above ground as all other tribes did, but they lived below ground.

  The slow march down to the temple gates took about twenty minutes and while throngs of Sybu children followed behind them, the adults along the way, gave little more than a glance and returned to their activities.

  Her scout force was too exposed and Senaya was now well aware of just how foolish it was to have emerged from their concealed positions, especially in daylight.

  Greed. Pride. Fear?

  Whomever captured The Imposter would forever be a legend. Even more, if she could get The Imposter to renounce her ways, all the better. That pride had gotten the better of her leading her to order her force to reveal themselves. However, in her haste, she’d failed to calculated the consequences of upstaging her superior, Commander Skene. The scout force was his outfit, and simply executing his designed mission. The unmasking of The Imposter was his task. The Jaru had thrived because they respected order. To wait for her superior was the right order of things.

  The temple tower filled Senaya’s view, at the top of which was a dull, bronze-like ring, in the middle of which a carved figure of woman that stretched from its top to its bottom. The temple was situated in a gated campus that stretched out for acres—a combination of worship space, residence, parks, and gathering space. The temple itself was, the first and primary building, rectangular with slender Corinthian columns along its sides.

  “Wow,” Bentar Mali, her next in command, whispered. “That is a lot of color.” He nudged his head forward.

  Senaya suppress
ed a chuckled in acknowledgement. The temple was plastered over with swaths of vibrant, but mish-mashed colors. The Sybu certainly loved color.

  “Real intimidating,” another one of her force said.

  She shot her a stern look. Respect your enemy. Always.

  The temple was located at the northernmost reach of Sybu territory. Brave, to say the least. Behind the temple was a plain that stretched for a few miles and then was the rumored Cursed Forest and the waters. The North was cursed and she couldn’t help but admire the Sybu and especially the Navalese for living this far north. The waters beyond were well-known as the destination for the dead, who haunted these lands on their way to the waters, which were said to cool their thirst.

  As much as she hated to admit to herself, as much as any of her force hated to admit, each night in the field had been filled with terror, as a hush fell over their camp and they despaired of encountering the dead. Emerging prematurely from concealment was as much for their sanity as it was strategic. It was easy to see how fear of the dead drove people into the arms of The Imposter. Every night brought on an existential crisis, a personal reckoning. The dead devoured the living and left them drained of life. And as was known, your state at the moment of death, was permanent. If fear and unaccounted sins characterized one’s final moments, then that fear and your sins were your burden for all eternity. Yes, Ryna may grant you relief in the world to come, but only if she promised aforehand and she only took the best. Senaya was not one of the best.

  The tall gates swung open with barely a squeak. Sonorous voices resounded further in the temple grounds. A large strangely-shaped reflecting pool revealed itself to the left and children splashed and played in it. The smell of incense wafted toward them as did the smell of roasted food. The grounds were filled with hundreds of Sybu. Some in groups, danced and sang. Others sat on the grass sharing a meal. Some, individuals or groups, walked around in meditation. A young girl on her knees and eyes closed, raised her hands and prayed silently, but fervently.

  Senaya hesitated, unsure if her unit and weapons constituted a sacrilegious presence. Irrelevant. The Imposter was not sacred. Thus their presence could not be sacrilege.

  “Hello. You are welcome!” A jovial voice came from the side. A woman in a flowing red tunic emerged and bowed. “Makri. I am Makri, one of the attendant priests.” She paused and a moment of concern flashed through her sparkling amber eyes, but then she recovered with a broad smile at Senaya. Her smile persisted as she waited.

  “Oh,” Senaya said, realizing it was her turn to introduce herself. “Captain Senaya Le—”

  “Ah, Senaya!” Makri said, her arms opened wide.

  “Captain Senaya Le T—”

  “We don’t use titles up here,” Makri leaned in, with a whisper. “The Lord wants no one to assume the mantle of master.”

  “The Lord?” Senaya raised her voice. “You take Lord Ryna’s title and use it for The Imposter?”

  Makri stepped back, shocked and unsure. She scratched her forehead in thought and then smiled. “We mean no disrespect to your God. I’m sure you won’t begrudge me that.” She looked at the rest of the scout force. “You all must be tired. We have beds, showers, and hot meals for all of you.” She rubbed Senaya’s shoulder. “We’re excited to have you here. We don’t see many Jaru. We hope you’ll enjoy your time here.”

  Senaya turned to the temple building and studied it. According to the Jaru ambassador, the Navalese stationed their fiercest guards by the queen, but they were nowhere to be found. She exhaled. The North was indeed cursed. She was chosen to lead this force because of her level-headedness. But everything she had done recently seemed less rational in hindsight. Her emerging from their concealed positions made less and less sense. It was very uncharacteristic of her. Normally, she would’ve infiltrated the temple grounds under cover of night and taken a detailed survey and assessment of the security situation before a move against it. Now here she was, exposed, with no real plan. But thankfully the activity around the temple would be a clear deterrent to the Navalese opposition. Attacking her scout force would put all these worshippers at risk.

  Senaya proceeded straight ahead with a quick pace. She was her to apprehend The Imposter and hold her in custody until the Commander arrived.

  “Senaya, wait!” Makri ran after and touched Senaya’s elbow lightly when she caught up.

  Senaya turned and hit Makri’s arm away. She grabbed the neckline of Makri’s robe and twisted. “Captain Tenade.” She tightened. “Got it?”

  Makri stared at her, concerned, but unafraid. Her reaction was simply of someone who didn’t want to be hit, but not of someone who was afraid. There was confidence in those eyes, that nothing Senaya could do to her mattered.

  Senaya let her down and proceeded, her force keeping up behind her. As they walked down the center drive of the temple, people stopped to stare at them. Again. Apprehensive, but there was no fear. They all left what they were doing and soon the road was lined with Sybu gazers. She ignored them, unlatching her holster and resting her hand on her sidearm, as they approached the steps of the entrance to the temple.

  The steps were clearly as much for congregating as they were for climbing. Each one was large enough for an adult to sit comfortably. Thus entrance to the sanctuary, a series of large, beautifully carved wooden doors, seemed more distant than it actually was.

  Tactically vulnerable, Senaya decided it was time to change her mentality about the process. Perhaps, emerging from conceal positions and operating in tactically unsound ways, was nothing other confidence in their presumed success. Why sneak around when one can march through? It was more important to send a message of invincibility than it was to prove it. Her force was skilled, but besides superior weaponry, it was doubtful that they were a match for the Queen’s guard if it came to combat. Which is why they were supposed to remain concealed.

  “Su ma’a!” A booming voice called from one of the inner doors and out burst a rotund man with a full smile. “My fellow Jaru. What a pleasure to see some familiar faces!”

  Senaya and the rest of her force looked up in surprise. She stepped back as the man bounded down the stairs with such grace that defied his girth. “Ambassador Witcum?”

  “In the flesh.” He grabbed Senaya’s arm and shook it warmly. “Oh, it’s always so good to see a face from home.” He walked briskly among the confused soldiers, patting and pinching cheeks like a long-lost uncle.

  “We presumed you were detained and possibly dead,” Senaya said, when he returned to her. “You’ve sent no communique nor have you respond to our hails. We presumed you—”

  “Dead,” he finished. “You said that the first time.” He took in a deep breath. “The Queen is expecting you. She’s excited to meet you.” He cleared his throat and hushed his voice, causing the other Jaru to lean in. “It is mid-morning prayer and the Sybu are offering sacrifices to her. I can show you to your quarters and we will return to dine with the Queen—as her special guest.” The last part was added with flourish.

  “Ambassador,” Senaya said, motioning her hand to his body, “what are you wearing? Where are your jewels and colors.”

  He laughed. “Nothing to worry about. You know, it is easy to get these people to do whatever you want when you humor them a little. Although, I must say, these clothes, simple designs, sold colors, are comfortable.”

  “May I remind you, Sir. You represent all the Jaru at all times. You are not at liberty to abandon your dress code any more than I can ignore this uniform.” She pointed her index finger toward her chest. She turned to her force, “All right, follow me. We’re going in. Celt Squad, remain out here, Ganti Squad take a look around and report back in an hour.”

  “An hour, Sir?” one of the Ganti Squad soldiers said, eyeing the entrance nervously.

  “What are you doing?” Ambassador Witcum said. “You can’t go in there. Not right now.”

  “What about the Navalese guards, Captain?” another soldier asked.


  “I have fought the Navalese four times now,” Senaya said. “They don’t sneak around, they don’t do stealth.” She chuckled. “They don’t do strategy, period. If they were going to attack, they would’ve much earlier when we revealed ourselves in town.”

  “We have orders and we will fulfill them,” Senaya said. She turned to the Ambassador and looked him up and down, frowning at his attire. “Ambassador Witcum, I’m assuming the powers of the Consulate on orders from the Jaru Federation. You will assist me. Will you comply?”

  Ambassador Witcum swallowed hard, like a child who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He nodded and leaned into Senaya. “Captain Tenade,” he said slowly, reading her name off her uniform, “There are twenty fierce Nevalese guards who have sworn loyalty to the Queen. She has ordered them to not fire a single shot nor attack with any weapons. But, to be honest, I don’t think she can control them. Let me handle this and make sure our negotiations start off on the right foot.”

  “Negotiations?” Senaya leaned back. “Are you out of your mind?” She stabbed a finger in his fleshy chest. “Their butter has made you soft and someone in here as scrambled your mind. We are not here to negotiate. We are here to execute. Every moment she remains alive, our people die fighting these cursed Nevalese filth. Do you know they eat the hearts of—”

  “That’s not true, Captain,” the ambassador cut her off.

  “Oh, you’re defending the Nevalese?” She grabbed his forearm. “Now listen to me. You take me in there, smooth things over, when we verify the number of guards and make sure none is in hiding, we will kill them.”

  He gasped. “No, you can’t. That’s bad faith.”

  “You yourself said it. The Imposter can’t control them.” She noticed he winced at her words.