Dimar: Lost Waters
(you can order a paperback copy or ebook here)

Special Thanks to:
Clay Dreslough, Ian Smith, David 'Tae' Baxter, Eugene Arenhaus and Paul aka 'Draco'. :)

Table of Contents


Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33

Dimar terms
Arrallin terms




Lost Waters - Chapter 21

     Luuko wasn't sure exactly what he heard, but the message was clear. Like the unseen constant Wind that swirled around him, a voice sounded in his mind. He struggled to ease the strain on his one horn with what lift from the Wind he could summon while keeping the pouch and Tara as steady as possible. Each time the enslaver's tail came down to lash his back and sides, he carefully turned so the pouch would not be struck. If Tara's weapons went off inside of him, they'd both be lost and all his suffering would be for nothing. He had to get them to the execution chamber...he had to see mahmar again.

     "Sirma? Dinhit?" weakly, he reached out for other members of the assassination party, but they were out of range. The very walls of this Barryd discouraged psi communication...he could feel his cries bounce back at him, the desperation in his own thoughts galling him. The little voice inside his head never stopped, though. "You can do this...you have to do this...just hold on a bit longer."

     The enslaver turned back, "Hrrrm? Quiet you!" He slammed a hind foot into Luuko's side, slamming him against the wall of the corridor. Each breath sent fire through him, but he had to stay conscious. If he blacked out, Tara would fall out of the pouch before they reached the chambers.

     Through corridor after corridor the enslaver dragged him. His limp body slammed painfully into the corridor sides and platforms as they ascended level after level in Mulkol Barryd.

     Finally, the enslaver pinned his head into a stock and clicked it shut. Luuko could barely hear him over the throbbing ache, but he knew he had made his objective. This one's the bloodkin of the Great Mother herself, Great One. Seeing her die by your hand will be the final blow to the Telkan spirit. Hundredcycles of freedom have made these slaves resistant...even this one gave me trouble on the way up.

     Cautiously, Luuko opened his eyes. I must be dead! Beautiful colors filtered down through the ceiling panels, flooding an elegant room in an ancient style. His mother lay on a stone couch bathed in a soothing golden light, looking almost comfortable, asleep. He could see no restraints. A soothing hum filled the room, an air of expectation.
      As his vision cleared, he could tell that her breath was labored. The pain in his side quickly brought him back to reality. He was not dead. Death would have eased the pain. A large mottled gray figure loomed into view.
      Is that so, Krallik? Poor sod. Came to avenge her, did he? The Leader of the Mulkol regarded him, it seemed to Luuko, with curiosity and even a touch of remorse. Well, considering where they come from, we should expect some spirit.
      Looking left and right he could see the primary acolytes of Telka at either side. They had all been brought to witness the final transfer of Telka to Mulkol. He would live to see tomorrow, he mused bitterly, to die for the amusement of the Leader, no doubt. He felt the load in his pouch shift carefully. Tara! He had forgotten! The voice chimed in again, stronger. Don't lose hope...

      The leader walked back to mahmar, stroking her head softly. The caress was almost affectionate, as any mate might lavish on a partner. With the other hand, he readied a wicked-looking device - a combination of a main blade fitted with barbs seeping a thick red liquid. The scene was too much for him. Luuko screeched with fury, struggling against his restraints. Krallik kicked him in his bad side, and his bellow died, echoing hollowly in the chamber.

     Groggily, the Great Mother opened her eyes. As she lifted her head, Luuko could see how she was restrained. A series of tendrils reached up from the couch right under her scales. He could see them now more clearly, writhing within the tufts of her fur. She looked around the room. Her usually piercing gaze was glazed, but she knew her enemy when she saw him. Struggling against the thousands of tendrils that dug into her neck and belly, she growled and snapped at the Mulkol.
      The tendrils wrapped around her muzzle, pulling her head down. New tendrils sprang forth from the dais, pushing under her eyes, inside her ears and into her nostrils. She screamed in pain as they reached her brain, and Luuko again struggled, crying out to her.

     Don't give up! Don't give up! Don't give up! He echoed the only rational thought in his head to her, and together he and the little voice reached out to her. Something was blocking them. Mahmar didn't want him to feel her pain. I have to do something! He roared again, and felt a restraint come loose...

     As the Mulkol, now enshrouded in a cloud of white tendrils himself, brought the blade down toward her head, Tara began to struggle in the pouch. Krallik brought a hind foot down on Luuko's muzzle, breaking it. The pain was too much...the piercing sensation blasted him into unconsciousness.

The Tomb of the Unknown Editor: Thank you for all those pages of GREAT edits. I suck for losing your email. <:|   Dimar: Lost Waters is a public domain work of modern science fiction by Dee Dreslough. Please feel free to be inspired by it, draw pictures, write stories based on it, even republish the work as a whole...it belongs to everyone! www.Dimar.org