Red Leopard

By Vijaya Schartz

In charge of the Kassouk fortress in the king’s absence, what is Terek to do when a Goddian spacecraft lands in his medieval backyard, carrying tall aliens and their striking ice princess?

Galya, the woman in charge of the geologic expedition, is searching for an extraordinary crystal with hyper-conductor properties. The futile defiance of a handsome Human chief, nicknamed Red Leopard like the infernal feline that follows him everywhere, isn’t going to stop her.

Terek must defend his people’s freedom, but an old prophecy surfaces, carrying a new threat. When political intrigues, greed, murder and betrayal tip the scales, whom can Galya trust? Her fellow Goddians? The Mutants bred to serve her race? Or her primitive Human enemy?

Editorial Reviews

"action packed, fast paced story... I can't wait to read the next book in the Chronicles of Kassouk series." 5 angels - Fallen Angel Reviews

"This book was so good. The plot, characters, setting, everything was laid out in detail; vivid and believable. I was completely lost in the world Vijaya created and loving every second of it." 5 stars - Goodreads

"Schartz’s love scenes are intense and tasteful. Red Leopard offers plenty of excitement, adventure, and love from the first page to the last." 4.5 stars - FictionNovels.net

"...another good read in this fantasy romance series... packed with action and adventure. Galya ... a tough warrior... a sweetness about her that makes her easy to like... I loved how Rascal was Terek's faithful companion and defender throughout nearly the entire story... I really liked Red Leopard." 4 stars - The Hope Chest Reviews

• Language: English
• Publisher: BWL Publishing Inc.
• Release date: Nov 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9780228610038

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

Red Leopard

Chronicles of Kassouk Book Two

Vijaya Schartz

Digital ISBNs

EPUB 9780228610038

Kindle 9780228610045

Web 9780228610052

Print ISBNs

LSI Print 9780228610076

B&N Print 9780228610083

Amazon Print 9780228610069

2nd edition copyright 2019 by Vijaya Schartz

Cover art by Jenifer Ranieri

Print back cover art by Michelle Lee

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 strong heroines, brave heroes, and loyal cats

Chapter One

Galya enjoyed the physical challenge, and the forbidden exhilaration of battle. She sliced the warrior's neck with her lethal blade. The man promptly disintegrated. More fighters charged her in twos and threes. Her sword traced graceful curves through the artificial atmosphere of the meditation deck. Pale blue skirts flowing with each movement, she neatly slashed each attacker with the speed and precision of a laser beam.

If questioned, of course, she'd deny taking any pleasure in the exercise. Her people frowned upon primitive emotional displays. Like they frowned at her foreign looks and freakishly small six-foot stature, so much so that they'd sent her off world.

Computer, freeze program!

The new enemies rushing at her froze, and she stilled in a defensive stance, sword held high, ready to strike. The polished black gem hanging on her chest vibrated softly. Who could possibly hail her so far in deep space, out of reach from Godda?

Computer, end program. Galya sheathed her blade as the holographic training routine shimmered and vanished. Before answering the puzzling call, she caught her breath for a few seconds and centered herself as she crossed the soft mat of the meditation deck. Then she returned her sword to its indent in the bulkhead, next to her daggers, spears, bow and arrows.

Meditate in action, her teacher used to say. And thanks to him, if Galya ever met an assailant in the flesh, she would likely survive. Not that she had long to live, only a hundred years or so, but that made her life even more precious.

Sorry to disturb your practice, My Lady, the booming voice of General Kyril, her second in command, announced over the sound system. Your caller claims to be a Mutant of New Earth.

How is that possible? Since when could Mutants send messages through deep space?

Hoping the unseemly flush from her vigorous exercise had faded, she pressed the silver thread running through her black crystal transmitter.

The life size holographic picture of a male humanoid materialized in front of Galya. A Mutant hybrid, half Human half Goddian. She stared at his cerulean blue robes. Why didn't he wear the traditional white? Had the Mutants of New Earth grown so arrogant as to ignore the impurity of their origins?

Even Galya, a full-blooded Goddian princess despite her Human looks, felt compelled to wear light colors to compensate for the traces of impure material in her genetic makeup. A necessary evil.

Pardon the interruption, O Great One. The Mutant looked disturbingly like her but taller. Seven feet, pale skin with high cheekbones. He bowed respectfully, his long, glossy black hair falling along each side of his face. Although he appeared young, he could be over a hundred years old. His only Goddian feature, six fingers on each hand… like her.

But Galya had flaxen hair. And she kept it short, so it wouldn't interfere with swordplay. Because of her lack of pigmentation for a Goddian, the crew called her Ice Princess. It also referred to her pale blue silks and glacier blue eyes. They didn't call her that to her face, of course. But she knew.

Who are you, and why did you hail me?

I am Yaman, Mutant of the first rank, Grand Master of the Brotherhood of the Goddian Light on New Earth. He surprised her by raising his head and meeting her gaze with green, calculating eyes. A brazen breach of etiquette. The opportunity is upon us now, O Great One. You must hurry.

Must? Baffled by the insult to her rank, Galya controlled the urge to react. She couldn't expect some Mutant from an outlandish planet to understand proper behavior. She wondered how he knew she was on her way to his remote outpost but couldn't show her ignorance. Why, in your opinion, should I rush a carefully planned schedule?

Behind Yaman, the white plastek consoles and stark white walls of the room on New Earth reminded Galya of her quarters on the ship. Definitely Goddian design. Great One, the usurpers of Kassouk left New Earth to visit a neighboring planet.

Usurpers? Galya immediately regretted her question and struggled to remain calm. As the highest ranking Goddian representative in this quadrant, she must uphold the reputation of omniscience the Godds worked so hard to maintain among the locals. The consequences of an uprising, however, could compromise her mission.

 The underlings they left in charge are no match for your vessel, O Great One. Master Yaman smiled coolly, as if proud of himself. It is your chance to regain the planet for the Godds.

The presence of their king would make no difference. Galya hid her irritation at the Mutant's manipulative suggestions. Even with a small contingent, my ship is a formidable weapon. No amount of Human or Mutant technology can match it.

Unfortunately, Great One, it would not be prudent for you to land in Kassouk. My brotherhood is the last bastion of Goddian worshippers. We are greatly outnumbered by hostile unbelievers and must live in hiding. Despite the gravity of his words, Master Yaman spoke with calm authority. I'll transmit the location of our safe haven. We would be blessed by your presence.

And you shall be. Galya trusted the information since Mutants couldn't lie, a useful trait in their genetic makeup designed by her father during his last visit. Fear no more, Master Yaman.

Thank you, Great One. A crimson crystal shimmered on Yaman's chest as he touched it to transmit his location to the navigation bridge. A red transmitter? How odd. Yaman bowed. We are eager to have you in our midst.

How could his red crystal have broader range than her black one? But Galya couldn't divulge any Goddian inferiority by asking about the remarkable hyper-conductor. She would acquire the technology from Master Yaman soon enough. At maximum speed, we can reach your planet within one of your days.

Galya severed the communication. The hologram vanished. Then she pressed her black gem once more, audio only, visualizing the turquoise face of her second in command. General Kyril? Did you get all that?

Loud and clear, My Lady.

Set course to his precise coordinates on New Earth, maximum velocity.

What kind of events had shaken the outpost planet, for the population to stop worshiping the Godds? Had her father omitted important details of his last mission there? Did he know about the crimson hyper-conductor?

Galya's mind whirled with too many questions. As if it was not enough for her father to send her away. Of course, her presence on Godda insulted the purist race, her smaller size and Human appearance a constant reminder of the compromises they had to make to survive. Her flawed looks and short life span also made her unfit to bear children. Therefore, despite her noble birth, she was expendable.

Master Yaman seemed to have found the precious mineral she had been sent to excavate. The native rebellion, however, would complicate thing. Should she quash it by coaxing, or by force? She smiled at the prospect of new challenges. Without her father to order her around, Galya might try unconventional methods.

But by whatever means, she had to succeed. She couldn't afford to fail.

* * *

Control room - Kassouk Temple Complex on New Earth

Terek gave a last glance at the control room before shutting down the computer array for the day. Time to leave the Temple Complex of the Mutant Princes, and return to his antiquated Human world, although he didn't belong there either.

The automated moon station alarm chimed, raising the hair at his nape, below the line of his cropped auburn hair. It was the second alarm since he'd worked at the Temple. Was it a true emergency, or a glitch, like a few months ago? How could anyone on the surface have sent a signal into deep space?

Terek punched a key on the white plastek console to stop the strident alarm sound. Then he read the runes scrolling down one of the screens lining the circumference of the white control room.

Blazes! Terek's head spun with the implications. His heart pounded like a jungle drum. This was unthinkable. He pushed a symbol on the smooth console and forced down his panic to speak with the authority of his temporary position. Terek, here. Calling an emergency Council of Princes in five minutes.

He shut down the computer array and the various screens on the walls of the circular room flickered and darkened, except for the moon station monitor that kept scrolling data. The amber rays of the setting sun, through the flexglaz dome overhead, bathed the slick white consoles in pinkish light.

Straightening his baldric and homespun hemp tunic, Terek hurried toward the door, his metal-shod boots echoing on the marble floor. He hoped no crisis would occur while he was in charge. When the king insisted in honoring him with the responsibility of leading the Council of Princes in his absence, Terek should have refused.

He was a good engineer and skilled as a warrior, but he was too young. Besides, he couldn't stand dealing with the Mutant Princes. The spoiled, educated brats led a charmed life, with no appreciation for their privileges. Others, like Princess Esperana, the king’s daughter, dedicated their lives to solitary meditation and refused to take part in politics. Not that she would be allowed on the Council. Only the oldest of Mutants could govern.

The sliding door opened revealing a Gray guard, a Mutant of the third rank in dull gray armor. The taciturn Gray moved aside to let Terek exit the control room and nodded gravely. Have a pleasant evening, Red Leopard.

The Gray had called him by his warrior name, a subtle reminder of Terek's inferior bloodline. Only Humans adopted the traits of large felines as a badge of honor… with the exception of Queen Tora, of course, once known among Humans as White Tiger.

I fear it will not be pleasant, but thanks. Terek couldn't manage his usual smile as the door closed. If the security of the planet had been compromised, much was at stake.

The ceremonial dagger clinked against his studded belt as Terek strode on the plush runners covering the floor of the high vaulted hallways. Gigantic tapestries with bright geometric designs hung from the lofty ceilings to cover the walls.

Once, during a renovation, Terek had observed a colossal relief hidden behind the tapestries. He'd recognized a living Godd from the Hall of Records, one of many once revered in these hallowed halls as deities, until eighty years ago. The Mutants now despised their Goddian Fathers, and the new Human generations had forgotten the Godds to favor older deities.

Terek nodded to a group of tall Mutants in white silk robes, lounging on an upholstered bench lining the hallway. The spoiled brats considered work beneath their station. Their striking hair and skin colors varied from blue to green, orange, bronze and copper.

A Mutant female with orange skin smiled at him coolly. The closest to a sexual advance he would ever get from a Mutant. A good thing, too. Who wanted to mate with such cold fish? Not counting the fact that they lived for four to five hundred years, and most of them were already over a hundred.

Like any other young man, Terek had urges. But he couldn't stand Mutant females, and Human women considered his short hair, obsessive grooming and daily baths excessive. He, on the other hand, wished they would bathe more often.

Terek veered into the royal section of the Temple Complex. When he reached the stone doors of the council chamber flanked by two quiet Grays, he took a slow, calming breath. He then released it, willing all the tension to leave his mind and body. As he stepped closer, the Grays nodded, and the door slid open. Painfully aware of his lack of experience, Terek walked in with all the confidence he could muster. How would the council interpret the disturbing news?

Only one Mutant councillor had arrived, Lady Naya, a princess with aquamarine hair and white skin. Terek took his seat at the large elliptic table next to the empty chair of King Dragomir. The Mutants filed in slowly, with deliberate nonchalance. Terek felt their reluctance to obey his order. All wore traditional white silk, and on their chest the azure gem of their transmitter.

In contrast, Terek's tan clothing and leather gear marked him as a lowly Human, the only one ever allowed inside their inner sanctuary.

 Terek couldn't understand why King Dragomir had chosen him to lead the Council of Princes in his absence. Why indeed? A Mutant Prince would be better suited, experienced, and more knowledgeable than any Human alive. Not to mention better accepted by his peers.

Ringing the crystal bell on the table in front of him, Terek waited for the Council members to quiet their private conversations. Then he made eye contact with the score of Mutants seated around the slick stone table to make sure he had their full attention. The moon station has detected a long-distance communication from New Earth into deep space.

Impossible. Brother Kohl, a black Mutant with golden hair and yellow eyes, met Terek's gaze with a hint of defiance. We do not have the ability to communicate beyond our moon station.

Yet it is a fact. Terek refrained from raising his voice at the challenge. See for yourself.

Terek pushed a key embedded in the granite table, activating the link to the control room. The monitor of the moon station appeared in a hologram above the table, still scrolling data.

Where did the signal originate? More provocation in Kohl's voice. As the oldest Mutant Prince, he should have been left in charge of the Council.

Somewhere in the mountains to the northwest. Terek couldn't let Kohl steal his authority. Unfortunately, the communication didn't last long enough to pinpoint the exact location.

Brother Kohl's yellow eyes glittered with excitement, and the other Princes looked up expectantly. Could it be a glitch? Like that time, months ago, after Brother Yaman stormed out of the Council?

We have to consider the possibility that the transmission we detected months ago was not a glitch. Terek sighed. Once could be a fluke, but twice constitutes a precedent. Terek realized the dangers it would represent if a hostile space-faring race knew of their existence. Not to mention the dangerous smugglers and space pirates roaming the galaxy in search of plunder.

Could the call have been made by Brother Yaman? Kohl's black face sobered. No one knows where he hides. He just disappeared. His very silence is suspicious.

Terek understood Kohl's concern. If Yaman called for help from an intergalactic race, he plots a takeover, and Kassouk is not armed to repel an invader from space.

Brother Kohl rose and paced around the table, his long golden ponytail moving in rhythm to his stride. Yaman has been quiet too long. He is intelligent and charismatic. Many brothers and sisters followed him in exile. What if he plans to return in force?

But where would Yaman acquire a far range transmitter if it's not available on this planet? Terek suspected the Council of Princes hid important technology from Humans, him included.

Good question. Brother Kohl's black face remained unreadable.

If Yaman can transmit through deep space, we are no longer safe on New Earth. Terek cared deeply about the safety of the planet. If he contacted the Godds, they may come back to oppress us. If he contacted the Reptoids, they will destroy us. In any case, we'll have an invasion on our hands.

The Mutant Princes around the table nodded gravely.

Having studied history, Terek feared the worst. Any kind of invasion will bring suffering to the Human population. We have to prevent bloodshed.

How? Brother Kohl still paced around the table, golden eyes riveted to the marble floor, his black face tense.

Naya, the aquamarine-haired female with white skin, drummed a six-fingered hand on the granite table. King Dragomir chose a fine time to go off world.

This is precisely why the king left. He saw this coming. That’s why he went to negotiate an alliance with the Danikuns. Terek hoped his beloved king would return soon and straighten this mess. But negotiating an alliance cannot be rushed.

What if the Godds come back? At Brother Kohl's question, all the handsome Mutant faces sobered.

Naya shook her head. And may the Great Engineer protect us if they decide to resume their genetic experiments.

 The Mutant Princes feared for their cushy life and government control, but Terek and his fellow Humans had even more to lose. They would re-enslave the citizens to work in their infernal mines.

Kohl stopped pacing. Maybe we shouldn't have been so quick to ban weapons of mass destruction.

Perhaps. It made sense to Terek in hindsight. But after the catastrophic consequences of the Reptoid war, our resources were better used in peaceful endeavors. We barely finished the clean-up.

We have no military to speak of. Kohl's shoulders sagged.

Like our king, I don't believe a weapon that can destroy our planet is the answer. Terek glared at Kohl. It's not much, but when Brother Yaman left, I started a training program for Human troops.

Brother Kohl sneered. The king indulges your silly ideas, but swords and arrows cannot stop a fully armed Goddian vessel and its contingent of trained soldiers.

It would work better if you allowed Humans to carry laser weapons. But only the Grays wield them. Terek bristled as he reiterated his pet peeve.

Humans lack the training and are too emotional to use advanced weapons! Kohl glanced at Terek sideways, as if regretting his outburst. Only a few can handle superior education.

Terek snorted, knowing full well he was the only educated Human alive. Just like your Goddian Fathers, you control the Human population by withholding knowledge and technology.

We are quite willing to share our knowledge with other equally intelligent minds. Brother Kohl set a steady yellow gaze upon Terek. You are the living proof of that.

Terek shrugged. I am the exception, and I know you are not actively searching for other gifted Humans.

Still. Kohl paused emphatically. You are Human, you have access to our knowledge, and you hold the highest seat on the Council of Princes.

And that's where the bit chafed. Do not envy my position, Brother Kohl. I didn't ask for this responsibility.

Fair enough. Kohl's black face relaxed and he offered an easy smile. But I don't see the point of training Humans in primitive warfare.

Study our history, Brother Kohl. Human warfare has been known to overcome higher technology. Terek's restraint slipped and he raised his voice. Besides, if a conflict arises, the Human population will be the first to suffer, and I don't want them to lose their hard-earned freedom. Or worse, lose all hope of a better future.

We are not completely helpless. Naya's blue eyes entreated. Our station on the smaller moon is fully armed.

But Terek had studied the specifications. Our moon's arsenal cannot penetrate Goddian shields. And since this council never approved any planetary defense plan, there is nothing on this planet able to destroy an invader from space.

A murmur rose among the Mutant Princes as they glanced at each other with dismay. Had they become so lax that they didn't know the limitations of their armament?

Terek couldn't believe their naivety... or their arrogance. Since our only spacecraft left over from the Godds is presently off world with the royals, all we have for air transport is a small fleet of flyers. And they are unarmed.

A yellow-skinned Mutant named Mink scoffed. Still, it's better than horse-drawn carts.

Heat rose up Terek's neck. These horse-drawn carts keep you fed.

Mink shrugged, disturbing his black ponytail. Not entirely. We have hydroponics. I mean no insult.

No insult? Terek shook his head in frustration. Never underestimate the determination of a people fighting for freedom. Humans are more than the sum of their technology.

Terek started to understand why King Dragomir had left him in charge of the Council despite his shortcomings. These Mutants only cared about themselves, and someone had to look out for the Human population.

Mink's yellow face relaxed. I do apologize, Red Leopard.

Terek stiffened at the condescending use of his Human name. He resisted the urge to punch Mink in the face. Such lack of control would give the council an excuse to strip Terek of his responsibilities. Better let everyone cool off. In any case, it could take weeks, or months, before that message is received by the Godds, or whoever it's intended for.

The Mutant Princes nodded understanding.

It's late. Terek gazed into the sobering faces. I suggest we all retire to think about a practical plan to improve our defenses in case of an attack from space. We also need to locate Brother Yaman and his faction. In the morning I want options and suggestions from each of you.

* * *

Once out of the Temple, his boots ringing on the flagstone of the courtyard, Terek breathed in the fragrant night. Ginger blossoms sweetened the air and nightingales in the surrounding trees serenaded the two full moons.

Searching the moonlit courtyard for his furry friend, Terek whistled. No response. Rascal!

A faint growl answered from behind the thick shrubbery lining the high voltage wrought-iron fence. The Mutants had activated it as soon as the king had left. Without the royals as a buffer, they didn't trust the populace, and for good reason. Cowards!

Running in the direction of the growl, Terek saw the orange spotted leopard slinking out from under a bush. The feline looked bewildered, his hair stood up, and he smelled of burnt fur. His right front paw seemed charred, probably by the infernal fence. Blazes!

Terek examined the paw, careful not to cause further pain. Even by moonlight, he could tell it was severely burned. Tearing the hem of his tunic, he wrapped the wound to protect it from the ground. Then he petted the big cat. Can you stand, big boy?

The leopard butted his head and licked his face with a raspy tongue.

You are welcome. But we need to apply ointment on that burn. Can you walk? Terek could probably carry the feline all the way to the Citadel if needed, but not without making several stops to rest. Rascal weighed as much as a big man.

To Terek's relief, Rascal stood and limped toward the open gate, keeping his wounded paw off the ground. The good thing about having four legs was that you could still walk on three.

Together they crossed the gateway and Terek heard the gate roll and clunk closed behind him. He chose the shortcut to the Citadel of Kassouk, a steep path down the slope. It might prove more difficult for Rascal, but it would get him to the Healing Hall much faster.

The two moons wove intricate shadows as the breeze swayed the shrubbery lining the path. Rascal froze, ears perked up, sniffing the breeze. The night had fallen silent. No bird song, no chirping insects. For an instant, Terek glimpsed someone prowling between the trees to the left. His warrior instinct and the prickle at his nape confirmed his suspicion. An assassin?

But who would want him dead? Did the Mutants fear his Human influence on the Council that much? The royals' absence provided the perfect opportunity to get rid of him quietly. How primitive of them to hire a lowly assassin, but also very smart. A random act of violence perpetrated by one emotionally unstable Human upon another. No one would ever suspect a Mutant Prince to be involved.

Come on, Rascal, Terek whispered as he resumed his slow stride. We know he's there. Let's be cunning.

The leopard limped alongside, and Terek realized Rascal's injury may not have been an accident. Without the leopard, he stood more vulnerable. And Terek's ceremonial dagger was a symbol of rank, not a combat blade. Still, he kept the blade sharp at all times.

The stealthy footsteps drew closer. Or was it the rustling of leaves in the breeze? Hooding his eyes, Terek focused on the sound and kept a slow pace, as if unaware. But with each measured step, he readied himself for an attack.

A projectile whistled through the air. Terek ducked. With a thud, the black metal star embedded itself in the bark of a tree. Two dark shapes sprang from the thick vegetation, a burly man with a curved sword, and a black feline. Terek whirled and leapt aside.

Chapter Two

Dagger in hand, Terek pounced on his adversary. No point in sparing his life. An adept assassin would never reveal who hired him. But the dagger slipped, deflected by hard body armor under the dark cloak of his aggressor. Metal armor? Assassins usually fought light and relied on their agility and skills, not protection.

Surprised but undaunted, Terek parried the vicious curved blade, vaguely aware of savage growls nearby, where Rascal grappled with the black feline. Brave, loyal cat. If Rascal died defending him, there would be bloody retribution. Terek slashed at the unprotected thighs, gloved hands, and masked face of the assassin, who dodged the dagger with great agility despite the armor.

Something in the fighting stance of the man seemed familiar, and the unusual shape of the curved blade required a different technique. Adopting a similar stance, Terek counter attacked in the same foreign style, with a natural ease that surprised him.

He thrust at the head, and a guttural cry told Terek his blade had gashed the man's cheek. Pushing his advantage, he stabbed the thigh and smelled the spray of blood.

Comet! His opponent uttered in a gravelly voice.

Turning suddenly, the man darted up the slope, favoring one leg, his black feline loping in his wake. Tempted to pursue them, Terek glanced at Rascal who lay on the ground. Blood seeped from deep gashes on his haunches and the leopard barely breathed. Terek had to save his loyal companion.

Heaving the wounded leopard over his head, he wrapped him around his neck and shoulders then proceeded carefully down the path, toward the Citadel. Through the cobblestoned streets illuminated by torches in sconces, Terek carried his heavy burden to Healing Hall's square and its large circular fountain. Staggering under the weight, he walked under the venerable oak tree, entered the courtyard through the open rolling metal gate and went straight to the Healing Hall's main entrance.

The Mutant in charge, Lady Leah, was a close friend of the royals and could be trusted. This rare compassionate woman had healing knowledge and