White Tiger

By Vijaya Schartz

On the frozen plains of Kassouk, where a few aliens rule a medieval Human world, Tora, Human warrior trained by tigers, seeks her father’s murderer. But what she finds at the point of her sword confuses her. How dare Dragomir, the handsome Mutant, question her bloodline and her loyalties? And could a new enemy control the savage hordes of the fringe?

Dragomir offers to help, but Humans and Mutants are forbidden to fraternize under penalty of death... Should Tora trust her mind, her instincts, or her heart?

In the vortex of war, treason and intrigue, among blizzards, avalanches and ambushes, Tora sets out to solve the mystery of her father’s death. When she unveils the secret of her birth, she realizes Dragomir is the key, and together, they must save their planet from the invaders and fulfill their destiny... if they can survive dire persecutions from those they mean to protect.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BWL Publishing Inc.
• Release date: Nov 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9780228609018

Vijaya Schartz

Born in France, award-winning author Vijaya Schartz never conformed to anything and could never refuse a challenge. She likes action and exotic settings, in life and on the page. She traveled the world and claims she comes from the future. Her books collected many five star reviews and literary awards. She makes you believe you actually lived these extraordinary adventures among her characters. Her stories have been compared to Indiana Jones with sizzling romance. So, go ahead, dare to experience the magic, and she will keep you entranced, turning the pages until the last line. Find more at http://www.vijayaschartz.com

Book preview

White Tiger

Chronicles of Kassouk Book One

Second Edition

By Vijaya Schartz

Digital ISBNs

EPUB 9780228609018

Kindle 9780228610182

Web 9780228609032

Print ISBNs

LSI Print 978022860905

B&N Print 9780228609063

Amazon Print 9780228610199

Copyright 2019 by

Cover art by Jenifer Ranieri

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise- without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book

Dedication

To lovers of strong heroines, brave heroes, and cats, everywhere, this book is for you.

Chapter One

Get out, all of you! Let him die in peace!

Tora had meant to yell, but her battle voice cracked mid-sentence. Her father deserved better than a bunch of posing courtiers as he lay mangled on his deathbed.

Steeling herself against the grief that threatened to overcome her, Tora opened wide the sculpted doors of the palatial bedchamber. Following her order, the imperial guests filed out peacefully. None of them would dare contest Tora’s authority. Even as she limped, her tall stature, and officer’s uniform, imposed respect.

The old healer squeezed Tora’s arm on his way out but didn’t meet her eyes. He lost too much blood. The man bowed in apology. There is nothing I can do for such dreadful wounds.

Well aware of her father’s desperate condition, Tora nodded. As she closed the massive doors on the last courtiers, the draft unsettled the candlelight, and shadows flickered on the gilded walls. Her father reclined on the pillows of the blue velvet bed. Thick bandages covered his shoulder, arm and flank, but they didn’t prevent large crimson stains from spreading, wet and shiny.

It pained Tora to see the old soldier in this pitiful state. How frail and vulnerable he looked without boots or sword. The sky-blue uniform, reduced to shreds and spattered with blood, had lost its regal luster. But in the determination of the moribund gaze, Tora could see a spark of her father’s strength. Even in his last hour, he remained General Tomaso, the fair and dedicated leader.

A spasm distorted her father’s features. He coughed, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, then the matted head fell back onto the pillows.

Are they gone? Tomaso asked in a rasping whisper.

Tora could only nod.

Come near.

Yes, Father. She forced a smile and wiped the moisture from her eye with one sleeve then straddled the velvet stool by the bed, easing her right leg to the side. The fresh wound in her thigh still stung. Let me send someone to the temple. Maybe the Godds can heal you with their magic technology.

No, child... It’s too late for me. The old soldier wheezed as he gazed into her face. You look so much like your mother... pale blue eyes... blond hair... except that she kept hers long and free, not short like a boy. But you have a strength she did not possess.

When he paused to catch his breath, Tora didn’t dare interrupt.

I’m happy I’ll join your mother soon. But before that, I must tell you... He struggled to sit up.

Tora eased him back on the pillows. Don’t exert yourself, Father.

The old general grimaced, holding a veined hand to his flank as if to prevent the blood from escaping through the bandages. The smell of approaching death reminded Tora of the battlefield. But how could such death strike here, in the palace?

She took her father’s hand. I don’t understand how a big cat could do this to you. Wild jaguars or panthers do not venture into the citadel, and a tamed feline would never attack unprovoked.

The beast obeyed its master’s order. Tomaso took a ragged breath. As I fought it off, a man watched in the shadows. The black devil didn’t let go until the master called it back. They left me for dead.

Tora’s mind raced through her anger to make sense of the chaos. But, why would anyone want to kill you?

Tomaso sighed. I was asked to betray the emperor... I refused.

A conspiracy?

He nodded.

Who are these murdering cowards? Tora’s blood heated her veins.

They are not important. Tomaso’s eyes closed briefly. The emperor is old anyway, and he has no heir.

But justice must be done. They should pay for their crimes. I beg you to tell me.

Tomaso shook his head feebly. No, child. Telling you would endanger your life as well. And forget about avenging my death. Don’t get involved in politics. Promise me you won’t.

I promise, she said to appease him. But Tora vowed to herself to find her father’s murderer. She would bring him to justice and make him pay.

Tomaso motioned for her to come closer. Three nights ago, I saw fire falling from the sky far to the south. He struggled for breath. The sign the Godds talked about in my youth... the coming of the Reptoids.

Reptoids? Tora raised one eyebrow at the unfamiliar word. Are they from the heavens, like the Godds?

They are the Godds’ fiercest enemies, devils of war... Tomaso’s voice weakened to a whisper. In my youth, the Godds said the Reptoids would come someday, with weapons that can pierce metal and even stone.

Stone? Confused, Tora hesitated. Why haven’t the Godds informed us?

The old man managed a sarcastic smile. The almighty Godds have secrets.

What about the emperor? What about the Mutants? Can’t they protect us from these Reptoids?

No one has ever seen a Mutant. Some say these benevolent children of the Godds are a myth... Tomaso grimaced. Our people will need you on the battlefield when war is upon them.

You know you can count on me, Father. If neither the emperor nor the Mutants could help, Tora would have a difficult war ahead.

The old man winced. One more thing... When I married your mother, I was an old man.

I know, do not torment yourself. Tora blotted his clammy forehead with a handkerchief.

Listen. Tomaso seized her hand. Your mother was already with child when I met her. She begged me to marry her... never told me who your true father was. I didn’t ask. After she died giving birth, I raised you as my own.

Tora’s heart beat faster than in the heat of battle. Her world shattered at the shocking news. Her throat constricted as she struggled with the turmoil in her mind. The very basis of her value system, birthright, rank and blood ties, collapsed in that instant. If not from her father, from whom did she inherit her unusual talents? She glanced at her freakish six-fingered hands. Tomaso had taught her to hide them since childhood. Why? Who was she?

Returning her attention to the dying man, Tora didn’t fight the tears rolling down her face. You are the only father I ever loved, the one who took care of me, who taught me everything I know, who made a soldier out of me. Her throat clenched. It doesn’t matter whose blood flows in my veins. She meant it, but others would not accept her if they knew. In this world, blood was everything.

The shadow of a smile crossed Tomaso’s face. You are a fine warrior... a loving daughter. You make me proud. I love you with all my heart...

The cool fingers went limp in Tora’s hand.

Farewell, child. I’ll see you in a better place, hHe whispered with his last breath.

Blinking away the tears, Tora closed his eyes and uttered the ritual prayer. May the Mutants guide your soul to its final resting place, the planet of our ancestors.

Despite the sadness in her heart, Tora attempted to meditate to assist the Mutants and facilitate her father’s passing into the ancestor’s world. But the old man’s last words still rang in her mind. What if the Mutants were a myth? If they did not exist, how could she trust them to guide her father’s soul to the afterlife he deserved?

Tora took a calming breath and visualized her father as a young man. In her meditation, she guided him beyond the confines of New Earth into faraway space. Her spirit glided with his, toward the Milky Way of ancient legends. When they reached the blue orb, the planet called Earth, Tora smiled and waved as Tomaso’s soul went on to meet his ancestors.

Relieved at his safe crossing, Tora opened her eyes. She could now grieve for her loss. She would miss the dear man who had filled her life with love, honor and discipline.

When her tears dried up, she called the guards and let them know that the good general had crossed the gates of death. Tomaso’s body now belonged to the empire and to posterity. There was nothing left for Tora in the gilded apartments where she had spent so many happy years, so she left the imperial palace.

Her boots echoed in the still night as she crossed the cobblestoned esplanade, cursing the painful limp in her stride. Beyond the fence, she heard the gurgling of the marble fountain, then a bird shrieked high in the branches of the sacred oak. Tora glanced up.

The night sky suddenly brightened, and the familiar weather star flared like an oil fire. What was happening? Then the star exploded in a shower of bright sparks, like a hundred shooting stars at once. Then the embers blinked out and died. Tora’s heart filled with dread.

The weather star had graced the heavens for centuries. Created by the Godds, it softened the weather on the plains of Kassouk to allow farming. Without it, what would happen to the weather? To her people? Would winter reign most of the year as it did in the frozen wastelands to the south? Only predators survived there, wild beasts and their hunters, the savage tribes of the fringe.

Tora shuddered at the memory of the last skirmish and the fresh wound in her thigh.

As the smallest moon rose over the eastern mountain range, Tora remembered Tomaso’s warning about a Reptoid invasion, and a conspiracy against the emperor. Now the weather star had died. Could all these events be connected? Tora must find out.

She’d start by searching for Tomaso’s killer. It should lead her to the conspirators. And whoever they were, Tora would make them pay.

Chapter Two

Under the sacred oak that towered over the palace esplanade, Tora shivered in her sky-blue parade uniform. Light duty in the emperor’s personal guard for the wine festival wasn’t her idea of military life. She missed active duty.

Despite the rays of the twin suns, the temperature had plummeted since the death of the weather star. The first snow had fallen too soon after the harvest, before the leaves changed color, and, for the first time in recorded history, flocks of birds had migrated over the mountains to the badlands and the desert.

But cold weather could not stop the festivals that abounded in Kassouk. Following tradition, this one took place in the Imperial Palace, built half-way up the hill between the temple and the lower citadel. On such occasions, the great hall opened its many doors and windows, and rippled with azure and white banners. The aroma of sweet-spiced meats, roasting venison, and smoked fish wafted on the cool air.

Both moons had waxed and waned since old Tomaso’s death. Tora’s discreet inquiries had revealed no clue about the murderer, and no evidence of a conspiracy against the emperor. At first, she thought about warning the emperor, but without proof, who would take her seriously? No. Secrecy would serve her best.

Beneath the giant oak, people and their large pet felines watched with the same vigilance. Could any of these aristocrats, hiding behind bland smiles and polished manners, have killed her father? Which of them might be plotting against the emperor?

After most of the guests had arrived, Tora moved to the crowded hall and took position with the other guards around the room. Fruit, cheese, bread, ale, and, of course, wine loaded the banquet tables. Most of the visitors browsed, ate, and drank while waiting for the delicious meats to be served after the traditional presentation of grievances.

Emperor Selig, a venerable man in white robes and white beard, presided on his high throne, paying scant attention to the two leopard cubs wrestling at his feet on the thick rug. Noticing the cubs, he waved to a beastmaster who led away the two young leopards on a leash.

As the custom allowed, the people of Kassouk now lined up in front of the high seat to request favors from the Godds through their Human representative, the emperor himself.

The first peasant in line bowed to the emperor. Majesty, we cannot withstand a harsh winter like the one coming this year. Please convince the Godds to improve the weather. If nothing’s done, all our livestock will die in two months’ time.

Emperor Selig adjusted his earpiece then closed his eyes in concentration to consult the Godds.

The Godds themselves rarely attended Human festivals, preferring to watch and listen from a remote room. Sometimes their voice boomed into the hall although they weren’t there. Other times, they dictated orders through the emperor’s earpiece. Most people didn’t notice, but Tora knew a few imperial tricks.

Having lived in the palace all her life, she had learned much from the old man she remembered fondly as her father. His position as advisor to the emperor made him privy to many secrets. And in Tomaso’s youth, the Godds hadn’t hidden their flying machines, weapons and magic technology from Humans as they did now. Tora wondered at their change of attitude.

Finally, Selig spoke. The Almighty Godds refuse to change the weather at this time.

A murmur of disappointment filled the hall.

The Godds order all farmers to slaughter their livestock and give the Temple its share of meat. What’s left should suffice to survive the winter. Come spring, all will be fine.

Tora read shock and fear in the peasants’ eyes, and she understood it. If they slaughtered all their animals, what would they raise in the spring? But no one dared contest the Godds’ decisions. The Godd of agriculture probably had some new breeding program in mind for next year.

In turn, the workers from the northern duranium mines lined up in front of the emperor and bowed. They wore the symbolic leather apron of their trade with obvious pride. Their representative complained of long hours and relentless demands to increase production.

Once again, through the emperor’s earpiece, the Godds failed to sympathize. Instead, they demanded more hours, praising the great honor of extracting the holy metal. When the workers protested, the Godds promised a special heaven for miners and their families.

That’s when Tora started doubting her religion. Did the Godds, who professed their dedication to the people, have a hidden agenda as Tomaso suggested? If there were such a heaven, why was it never mentioned before? And how convenient to introduce it now, when working conditions had just worsened.

But even the Godds’ lack of compassion couldn’t stop a festival. To the rhythm of tambourines and the melodies of bamboo flutes, hundreds of betrothed now lined up to pledge their hands to the service of the Mighty Ones, asking for a blessing in starting a family. Tora smiled, recalling the young happy faces a few weeks back when everyone joyously trampled the grapes with bare feet, knee-high in red pulp to press the new wine.

Returning her attention to the ceremony, Tora watched the young couples in their best finery as they stepped on the scanner two at a time in front of the emperor. The booming voice of the fertility Godd resounded from above, declaring them suitable for marriage. The crowd cheered as each couple received approval. The last couple, lagging at the end of the line, finally stepped on the scanner.

You know you cannot marry within your own bloodline, the divine voice thundered overhead. Unknown to you perhaps, you are of the same blood. Your progeny could be marred by birth defects. I cannot allow your union.

The great hall went quiet. Few dared to whisper as the unfortunate pair made their way out through the throng, heads bent in shame. Emboldened by the first snickers, a few others jeered. Such tragedies had happened before. Tora felt a pang of sadness for these two.

Judging by the way they held hands and the determination clenching the young man’s jaw, she suspected they wouldn’t look for different mates. If they chose to elope, the couple might join the tribes of Zerkers in the south and become killers, thieves and Godd-haters. They would compete with wolves and bears in the frozen forests of the fringe and live like savages in the harsh winter land. Someday, Tora might find the young man at the other end of her sword.

After the unfortunate pair left, the emperor addressed the happy couples. Prosper in peace and bear healthy children.

The crowd cheered and rushed to the platters of meat servants set on the trestle tables. Soon, songs echoed in the rafters, followed by boisterous storytelling. Tora couldn’t share in the merrymaking. The loss of her father still tormented her. She missed the old man. Last year, at the same festival, they’d shared a pitcher of new wine and retold battle tales. Escaping the festivities, Tora went outside on the esplanade to help set up the bonfires.

Are you a soldier? A little girl with dark straight hair and big brown eyes startled Tora. She couldn’t be more than eight.

Yes, child, that’s why I wear the uniform. Squatting, Tora propped the logs above the kindling.

I want to be a soldier, too. Where are your children? I’d like to play with them.

Tora smiled at the natural assumption. At twenty-five, she was well past marrying age and must be a mother. I should find a husband first.

The child frowned. There are plenty here today. Why don’t you get one? The brown eyes now stared, unabashed.

Tora glanced up at a group of young men talking and laughing by the low wall. Military life doesn’t leave much time for romance, child. Besides, men are afraid of women officers. The scars on our souls run deeper than those on our skin. Rising, Tora rubbed her thigh. Too independent, too bossy, they say.

She fetched a torch from a sconce on a nearby pillar.

The child scrutinized her every move. Is it true?

Tora touched the torch to the kindling. Independent, certainly. Bossy, I really don’t know. She blew on the fire then watched the flames flare bright. But in any case, I never met a man I liked enough to marry.

Don’t worry. The child patted Tora’s hand. You’ll find one.

Instinctively, Tora drew her hand behind her back to hide her six fingers.

The child shrugged. I will be independent but not bossy.

That clarified, the girl ran back to her games.

Tora watched the child’s retreating back. That’s good, I think.

Staring at the flames that licked the dry wood, she remembered her few romantic encounters, brief moments of passion snatched before a battle or at a victory celebration. None of them had lasted beyond the next morning. Despite its rewards, soldiering life sure felt lonely sometimes.

Alerted by the sound of hooves on the cobblestone, Tora glanced up. A messenger on horseback crossed the esplanade at a full gallop and rode into the great hall. She ran behind the horse into the hall, where the unexpected incursion elicited cries of alarm.

Lathering at the mouth, the steed rolled wild eyes and reared at the sight of the crowd, threatening to throw its rider.

The messenger, bundled up in white fur, slid down the horse and tossed the reins into a servant’s hands, then he approached the emperor’s high seat. With a respectful bow, the man handed the monarch a long wooden box.

When the emperor opened the lid, Tora sensed the urgency in his measured movements. This could only mean bad news. Emperor Selig snatched the parchment from the box, unrolled it and read silently while the crowd whispered. The emperor lowered his white lashes to consult the Godds in soft tones through his earpiece.

Opening his eyes, the emperor addressed the crowd in a strong voice. Border scouts have spotted vast encampments on the southwest bank of White Lake. All signs indicate the barbarians are south of the great river, the Zerkers, are preparing an invasion.

The news chilled the great hall more than the cold outside. The assembly hushed, as if waiting for reassurance.

Emperor Selig singled out the guards in parade uniform standing at attention along the walls. Soldiers, he declared. The time has come to test your skills. We’ll need volunteers immediately. We must prevent this invasion.

Tora’s mind reeled with the news. The Zerkers, although fierce and dangerous, had never dared invade the Great Plains. In the past, they always attacked in small groups and never seemed to seek more than immediate gratification. What happened to their previous tactics of skirmishes, plunder and rape? This gathering implied a level of organization they had never displayed before. What could have prompted the unification of the tribes for an attack of this scale?

In any case, Tora saw a chance to escape the sheltered city of the Godds and return to her favorite way of life. As an officer, she would join the vanguard and choose her assignment.

But even the prospect of war couldn’t stop a festival. Soon the good citizens of Kassouk, confident in their superior military force and the protection of their almighty Godds, returned to their merrymaking.

Tora crossed the crowd of courtiers and approached the emperor. She saluted respectfully, and in doing so, asked for permission to speak.

Tora, daughter of our beloved Tomaso! Emperor Selig exclaimed with a sparkling smile. Your father was not only my advisor. He was an old friend. Selig sighed. What a shame to lose such a precious man. His sudden demise affected us all. What can I do for you, Tora?

Your Highness, I volunteer the Tiger Company for the vanguard.

Emperor Selig frowned. I know your father trained you well... and you fought bravely to earn your impressive rank, but this is a war like no other we have known.

More reason to use all the good soldiers you can get, Your Highness. And my men are some of the best.

Selig raised a white brow. Is your wound completely healed? My old friend would never forgive me for sending his daughter to her death. Now that he’s gone, I feel responsible.

Your Highness, may I remind you that I’m a Major in your cavalry and well past the legal age? My leg feels fine and you need my services.

Stubborn as a goat, your father used to say. The emperor chuckled. There is no denying you anything, is there?

Thank you, Your Highness, Tora exulted. I take that as a yes.

All right, Tora. Tell Marshal Kilian I sent you. He’s been itching to go south for months, and I just dispatched his commission.

Much obliged, Your Highness.

The emperor laughed.

Tora saluted and effected a perfect turnabout, marching eagerly out of the great hall, careful not to favor her right leg. She had lied about the state of her wound, but a few weeks in the saddle would do wonders to soften the fresh scar.

Down the narrow streets and many steps leading from the palace to the citadel, her boots echoed on the cobblestone, accompanied by the rhythmic click of her scabbard on the metal loops of the leather belt. She rubbed her thigh to ease the stiff muscles. The chill in the air smelled of snow to come.

Having never served under Marshal Kilian, Tora wondered what he would be like. She knew little about him, only that he came from old aristocracy and enjoyed the emperor’s support. He rarely ventured on the field. Some said he never actually fought his battles and was more of a strategist.

The twin suns had set, and dusk had fallen by the time Tora reached Marshal Kilian’s lair. She knocked on the heavy door.

Come in, whoever the devil you are! a loud but high-pitched voice yelled in response.

The oak door creaked under Tora’s push.

From the back of the cavernous room, a great bear of a man with black hair and full beard regarded her suspiciously with striking eyes of an unusual indigo color. Around him, scrolls, leather-bound books, inkhorns and quills littered benches, shelves and table. A blaze roared in the fireplace. Despite the draft from the window slit, the dry smell of smoke, parchment and bird droppings lingered in the air, mingling with a strong feline scent. Several cages hanging from the high ceiling, contained homing pigeons.

The big man’s gaze returned to the map on the table where a candle burned precariously. A black panther with a thick shiny pelt lounged at Kilian’s feet. The beast growled, wrinkling her nose and exposing white fangs, a fierce spark in its golden eyes.

Oh, stop it, Beauty, Kilian snapped. The almost feminine voice contrasted with the marshal’s imposing physique and leather garb.

Beauty still growled slightly, but when Tora greeted the animal in her mind and smiled, Beauty quieted and laid her head on crossed