Page 4 of Sy (Alien Berserkers of Izaea #2)

4

S omeone shouted from the other side of the hall, and Ashley watched as Sy’s broad back disappeared into the crowd, his revelation about Izaean mutations still ringing in her ears.

None of them had children.

She’d spent weeks preparing for this assignment, finding out all she could about the Izaean and the Lathar by researching potential threats and dangers, but nothing had prepared her for… that. For the reality of what these warriors had given up.

No, she frowned, what they’d had taken from them. In everything she’d read about the Izaean, she knew one thing for sure. None of them were here willingly. They’d been sent here because they’d failed some sort of genetic purity test.

The rich scent of chocolate dragged her attention back to the present. Following her nose, she found herself at the serving table where thick slices of dark cake glistened under the harsh lights of the mess hall. Her soup bowl empty, she set it aside and reached for a slice of the cake, watching the gooey topping ooze down the sides and onto the small plate. Her stomach rumbled at the rich smell. All it needed was some cream and a cappuccino, and she could almost imagine herself to be in some upper-class cafe somewhere.

Loading her fork with a corner of the moist cake, she lifted it to her lips. The first bite hit her tongue, and her eyes widened. Holy shit. Layer upon layer of flavor exploded across her taste buds… totally alien yet somehow familiar all at the same time.

“Latharian field cake,” a young voice announced.

She looked up to find one of the Izaean teens sliding onto the bench across from her. Not the one who’d soaked Thompson. This one didn’t have the thick black scaled areas over his skin or the red eyes. His own slice of cake sat untouched in front of him as he studied her reaction.

“One of the only things we kept from before,” he continued, his voice pitched low enough that only she and Lila could hear. “Most of the warriors gave up everything when they came here, but this…” He smiled. “It’s like it’s ingrained in our DNA.”

Ashley took another bite and closed her eyes in pleasure. Earth chocolate had nothing on this. “It’s wonderful. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

Pride flickered across the teen’s face, there and gone in an instant. “Had to change some things. Original ingredients don’t grow on Parac’Norr.” His lips quirked at the corners. “Some of the old-timers say it’s better now than it was back on Lathar.”

Her chest tightened as the implications hit her. These hardened warriors, holding on to this one small piece of home—a simple dessert becoming their link to everything they’d left behind. To the families they’d never have. She stared down at her plate, suddenly understanding the weight of what she was eating.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For telling me about it.”

The teen gave her a slight nod before finally starting on his own cake. Ashley watched him for a moment before returning to hers, her mind churning. The way he’d said “old-timers” gave her the feeling that he hadn’t had the cake before coming here. But he was so young… just how old had he been when he’d been sent here?

“I’m Kal,” the teen said with a smile, shooting a small look over at Lila that she completely ignored.

Ashley nodded, noticing movement from the corner of her eye. Lila had shifted in her seat, one earbud dangling free while the other remained firmly in place. Her daughter might look absorbed in whatever was playing on her tablet, but that removed earbud told Ashley everything she needed to know. Lila was listening.

“I’ve seen you and your friend working with the construction teams,” Ashley said, dabbing at a spot of chocolate sauce with her napkin. “You’re both doing a great job.”

Pride straightened Kal’s spine, his chest puffing out slightly. “After the battle at the southern fortress, Prince Isan and Banic declared Tor and me adults. We proved ourselves as warriors.”

The fork stopped halfway to Ashley’s mouth. “Battle?” The word came out sharper than she’d intended. She set the fork down carefully. She’d read about the battle. It was the reason she and her team were here, to build a new home base for the Izaeans after they’d abandoned their previous one. “You can’t be much older than my daughter. She’s fifteen.”

“Tor and I are sixteen,” Kal replied, his expression serious. “But…” he shrugged. “Age is different for us here. Once we can fight, we do. And we’re both experienced warriors now.” His eyes flickered to Lila again before he met Ashley’s gaze. “We can protect you both while you’re here.”

The absolute conviction in his voice made her throat tight. Sixteen. They were just sixteen and already combat veterans. Her eyes traced the barely visible scars on his forearms. What kind of world was this, where children became soldiers before they could… what? Drive? Or drink?

She thought of Lila at sixteen and imagined her daughter wielding weapons instead of her beloved tablet. Her stomach churned, the cake suddenly feeling like a lead weight in her stomach.

“That’s very kind of you,” she managed, somehow keeping her voice steady. She couldn’t let her horror show… wouldn’t insult these people by questioning their ways, no matter how wrong it felt to her maternal instincts.

Ashley watched Kal’s gaze dart to Lila again, his earlier bravado faltering as a slight flush crept up his neck. For all his talk of being a warrior, he was still very much a teenage boy. The contrast between his fierce declarations and his shy glances at her daughter made her bite back her smile.

Taking another bite of cake, she considered her next words carefully. The differences in Tor’s appearance compared to the others was striking—those red eyes and the large black scaled patches that covered most of his body made him look more alien than the other Izaeans she’d seen. Even Sy, with his red eyes and only a little bit of the black skin, seemed more human somehow.

“I noticed Tor looks different than you,” she said softly, keeping her tone gentle and hoping she came over as genuinely interested rather than anything else. “The black areas on his skin and his eyes… did that happen during the battle you mentioned?”

Kal’s shoulders tensed, his fork hovering over his half-eaten cake as a guarded look washed over his face.

“Yeah,” he said but then seemed to catch himself. He set his fork down carefully, shooting a glance around to see if anyone was watching, and she got the feeling he was looking for Sy. Then he leaned forward. “He was… injured during the fighting. Nearly killed.”

There was more to the story, but the look in his eyes stopped her from pressing further. Whatever had happened to Tor had affected his friend deeply.

“I’m so sorry,” she said quietly. “It must have been difficult to see your friend hurt.”

Kal’s jaw worked for a moment before he gave a nod. His gaze flicked to Lila again, this time with something like worry in his expression, before returning to his plate. The cake sat there as he seemed to retreat into himself, the earlier easy conversation disappearing as he bit his lip.

Ashley easily recognized the signs of trauma when she saw them, and her heart ached. These boys might call themselves warriors, but they were still way too young to have seen the horrors of battle. Her maternal instincts surged, and she ached to reach out and offer comfort. She didn’t, though. She didn’t know their customs well enough yet to know if such a gesture would be welcome or seen as patronizing, and the last thing she wanted to do was insult their hosts.

She went back to eating her cake, and the silence stretched between them, broken only by the general buzz of conversation from the other diners and the faint music still leaking from Lila’s remaining earbud.

A sharp rap echoed through the mess hall. They all turned around, looking toward the front of the hall where Commander Kraath stood, his massive frame commanding attention without effort. The low hum of conversation died away as others noticed him waiting.

“Your attention, please.” His deep voice carried easily across the space. “I would like to extend my apologies again for the emergency accommodation last night. The storm caught us all off guard.” He swept his gaze across the gathered humans, his expression open and honest. “We have now prepared proper quarters for you all within the garrison itself.”

She sat up and paid attention, glancing at Lila, who had finally removed both earbuds and was watching the commander with interest.

“Your guides,” Kraath continued, gesturing to various Izaean scattered throughout the hall, “will show you to your assigned quarters. They will also brief you on security protocols and answer any questions you might have about the garrison layout.”

Movement caught her eye as Tor appeared beside their table, his red eyes seeming to glow under the harsh lighting. The black scaled patches on his skin looked almost iridescent as he moved, reminding her of oil on water. Despite his intimidating appearance, his expression was friendly as he exchanged a quick glance with Kal. He didn’t speak.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” Kal said, rising from his seat. His eyes lingered on Lila for a moment before he ducked his head, a small flush creeping up his neck again. “Sleep well.”

Ashley gathered her things, watching as Lila powered down her tablet and collected her backpack. Their guide—a tall Izaean with striking silver-white hair—waited patiently near the hall’s exit. As they walked toward him, Ashley noticed other small groups forming, each with their own guide.

She yawned widely, hand in front of her mouth, as they followed the guide. She was so tired, she barely paid attention to his security briefing as they were led to a comfortable set of rooms with a living room and a separate bathroom. Walking into the bedroom, she dropped down on the bed, shucking her boots off and lying back.

“Just five minutes,” she murmured, and that was the last thing she knew as sleep claimed her.

Sy stalked through the garrison’s corridors after he left the main hall, his longer stride eating up the distance as he followed Kal and Tor, their conversation cutting off the moment they spotted him. To be fair, it had been all Kal talking and Tor listening with his head cocked slightly to one side.

“A word, Kal,” Sy said, his voice quiet as he pulled them to one side.

The two exchanged a look before Tor gave Kal a slight nod and peeled away, leaving them alone. Sy noted the way Kal’s shoulders bunched under his leathers, though the young warrior kept steady eye contact. Good. The pup had spine. But he’d known that since his showing in combat during the southern fortress battle.

“You were talking to the human female. Ashley.” He kept his voice carefully neutral, even as his hackles rose. He was obviously going crazy—well, craz ier, that was. He was already feral, so there wasn’t much further he could go—if he considered a youngling like Kal a threat.

“Yes, I was.” Kal’s spine straightened like he’d swallowed a metal rod. “She asked about the field cake.”

“And?” Sy’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“I just explained about the recipe changes.” The words tumbled out quickly but steadily. “Nothing more.”

The scent of nervousness rolled off the younger Izaean in waves, but he wasn’t lying. Sy let the silence stretch, knowing the weight of his stare would draw out whatever else the pup was holding back.

“She asked about Tor too.” Kal shifted his weight, betraying his discomfort. “About his armor and why he has more.”

A growl rumbled up from Sy’s chest before he could bite it back. Questions about their differences set his teeth on edge, especially from humans who didn’t understand the implications of letting such information slip.

“I didn’t say anything important,” Kal hurried to add, the words practically tripping over themselves to get off his tongue. “Just that it happened because he was hurt.”

Sy studied the younger warrior’s face. The pup was still green enough that his emotions played across his features like a holo-vid. His earnestness was evident, genuine. Ashley’s curiosity about them wasn’t surprising. The doc had had that kind of look about her, and look how it had helped them. But with her offsprings being so close in age to these two…

“Her daughter,” Sy growled. “Did you speak to her?”

“No.” The denial was immediate, a flush burning across Kal’s cheeks like a bright banner. Then he paused, clearly wrestling with something before blurting out, “It’s strange though. Seeing a female our age, even if she’s human.”

“Watch your thoughts.” The warning came without real heat. They were young, and this situation was new… unprecedented. “They’re here to work. Nothing more. Lila is off limits.”

“Of course.” Kal nodded so fast Sy thought his head might fall off. “I wouldn’t… We wouldn’t?—”

“I believe you,” Sy cut him off. Kal had always shown good judgment, even when shit hit the fan. “Just remember, humans are different to us. They’re smaller and more delicate, and they’re under our protection. That means from curiosity as much as danger.”

“Understood.” Some of the tension bled from Kal’s shoulders at Sy’s acceptance. “Should I avoid speaking with her entirely?”

Sy considered the question, weighing the implications. “No. Conversation is acceptable. Expected even, given how long they’ll be here. Just be careful what you reveal. Now, be on with you. Those dishes won’t do themselves.”

Sy watched as Kal hurried down the corridor to where Tor waited, his shoulders hunched as he leaned back against the wall. Tor’s red eyes met his, and he gave a slight nod. The gesture confirmed what Sy already suspected. Tor had heard every word. Since turning feral, the young warrior spoke less, but his awareness remained sharp. The rage that had initially consumed him after the change had settled into something manageable. It had been weeks since Sy had needed to intervene in one of Tor’s “episodes”… something his body thanked him for. He was strong and fast, an experienced warrior, but going up against Tor when he was raged out was something else entirely.

He is one of the oldest of our kind, the voice in his blood said unexpectedly.

Who? Tor? Sy asked, the sound of his steps echoing back from the stone walls of the corridor as he made his way toward the outer wall.

No. Not the body.

Sy resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Izaean could be literal, but his Rage voice took it to the extreme at times. I mean his passenger, like you are with me.

More than a passenger, the voice hissed back and, as if to prove a point, lifted his hand to brush against the wall as he headed up to the stairs to the battlements. It was local stone, rough-hewn and solid, surrounding him on all sides as he climbed.

Yes, yes, but you know what I mean. Tor’s Rage is old?

Yes. One of the oldest awake.

Awake? What do you mean awake?

But the voice had retreated in his mind, just “static” where he’d felt its intelligence. He wouldn’t get any more out of it for the moment. But “awake”… that was new information. Did that mean that potentially all the Izaean could go feral? Was the mechanism for turning something to do with the symbionts themselves rather than, as had been assumed before, the Izaean losing the battle against madness?

He shook his head as he reached the top of the stairs and pushed open the heavy door.

Cool night air hit his face as he stepped out onto the battlements. From this height, he could see clear across the valley. The original builders had known what they were doing when they’d anchored the structure into the cliff face. Four levels stretched below his feet, burrowing deep into the rock where they kept their most sensitive operations. Above, two more levels rose into the air, topped by the defensive wall he now approached.

His boots were soundless against the stone as he began his circuit of the wall. The four watch towers rose at each corner, their shadows stretching long in the moonlight. He’d walked this path countless times, but tonight his thoughts churned with new concerns. Bringing humans here was a calculated risk. The Latharian empire remained unaware of the ferals’ existence, a secret the Izaean had maintained for generations. These humans, with their curiosity and technology, could pose a threat to that secrecy. It would only take one of them to say the wrong thing, and for that comm call to be intercepted, and the empire would find out what the Izaean had been keeping from them for years.

He sighed and picked a spot along the wall between two of the other four guards on watch tonight. He didn’t need to worry about communications. He knew that. Somewhere below him, the garrison’s communication hub was active, monitoring every transmission that entered or left the planet’s atmosphere. Any attempt to spread word about the ferals would be intercepted before it could get off planet.

He scanned the darkened valley below. The moons cast enough light to see by, though he didn’t need it. His enhanced vision picked out details in the shadows that would be invisible to others. Movement caught his eye—a herd of grazers picking their way through the scrubland to the south, their elongated necks swaying as they moved.

Footsteps approached from his left, measured and familiar. He didn’t need to turn to know it was Kraath making his nightly rounds. The garrison commander’s scent reached him before the man did—a mix of leather, weapon oil, and something else Sy could never quite place.

“Quiet night,” Kraath murmured, coming to stand beside him at the wall.

“So far.” Sy kept his voice neutral, though his senses sharpened automatically. Something about Kraath had set him on edge since he’d met the male.

The legion knew him, but when questioned, he hadn’t been able to explain why. And then he’d given some excuse about how he knew that the enemy who had attacked them at the southern fortress were Tanel because he’d been a lab assistant before he’d been sent to Parac’Norr. Which was utter trall . He’d have to have been an adult to have worked in a lab, and the standardized testing would have picked him up way before that. He’d have to be at least a couple hundred years old not to have been tested as a child.

But whatever Sy’s suspicions about him, the commander had led the garrison for years without incident, keeping the ferals in line with practiced ease.

“The humans are settled?” he asked.

“Yes. Their quarters should suffice.” Kraath nodded. “Though bringing the child was unexpected.”

“I believe she was listed on the incoming manifest.”

The commander nodded again. “Indeed, she was. But I didn’t think the mother would actually bring her here.”

Sy watched Kraath from the corner of his eye. He reached for his Rage, letting it surface just enough to sharpen his senses further. Can you sense anything from him? he asked silently.

The voice in his blood stirred. The old one walks carefully.

Old one? Sy pressed, keeping his expression neutral as Kraath discussed patrol rotations. He’s not feral. I’d know if he was.

Older than you know, the voice whispered back. Older than most.

What does that mean?

But the voice retreated, leaving only a static buzz in his mind.

“Your thoughts?” Kraath’s question pulled him back to the present.

“The patrols are solid, so we can keep an eye on the females,” Sy said, covering his distraction. “Though we might want to increase coverage near the work site. We’ve attracted the attention of some of the wild ferals. I’ll assign Kal and Tor to shadow the girl.”

“Good idea, as long as they understand the boundaries. Make sure they do.” Kraath nodded, his expression unreadable in the moonlight. He pushed away from the wall, pausing before he left. “And keep me informed of any changes.”

“Of course.”

As Sy watched him go, the Rage’s words echoed in his mind. The old one. But what did that mean? Kraath showed none of the signs of being feral—no armor, no claws, no red eyes. Yet something about him felt off, had always felt off.

Tell me what you know about him, Sy demanded of his Rage.

Cannot, came the reply. Old ones have their secrets.

That’s not an answer, Sy growled internally, but the voice had already retreated, leaving him alone with his questions and the cold night air.

He sighed and settled in. It was going to be a long few hours.