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LENGTH: Borderline Full Novel
SENSUALITY: Spicy/Carnal

Cover art (c) Jenny Dixon 2006
ISBN 1-58608-929-3
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Imagine a people so attractive, so vital, so sexually enticing that they have been hunted, enslaved, and persecuted for over five hundred years. Imagine that there are creatures from all over the universe who would kill to own them. These are the Shadrani...

A heritage guarded by dark secrets, a strange, ancient book that tells of a mythical people who lived a passionate and violent life in a place far away and long ago. When Dallas Devlin sets out to find the missing pieces of his ravaged life, he has no knowledge of the connection he has to a star-crossed couple from another time and place, and no inkling that he will be thrown into a maze of deceit, betrayal, murder and sexual obsession.

Rating: Contains graphic violence, sex, adult language, and includes some same-sex relationships. Some readers may find this offensive. This book was previously published but has undergone revisions for its release.

SONS OF GEMEN

A tale of the Shadrani: Book 2

By

D.G. Novak

NCP Release July 2006

© copyright D.G. Novak

Cover art by Jenny Dixon, © copyright July 2006

ISBN 1-58608-929-3

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

Vancouver, Canada

Sometime in the near future

The dream was always the same.

He was running, running from something indescribably awful. At first there was only a mild threat, a sense of general anxiety, but it quickly began to grow into a feeling of fear.

Of menace.

Of terror.

Behind him, the thing that pursued him grew ever closer, and the boy felt his heart start to trip wildly. He strained to move his legs faster, but found his strength ebbing rapidly, as though the earth itself was bleeding it from his body. With a silent prayer he pushed himself past all boundaries, his whole being vibrating with the adrenalin of fight or flight. But this was not something he could hope to fight. All he could do was try to escape. All he understood was that if this darkness reached him, he would be lost ... all would be lost ....

He awoke with a start.

The boy looked out onto the back alley, squinting against the golden intensity of the late afternoon sun as he jolted awake from his nightmare. He had fallen asleep here in the corner of the fire escape outside the small apartment he shared with his mother. The spring sunshine had caressed his skin, kissed his face, and seduced him into slumber with its warmth. Not a difficult feat, since he was sleeping so little at night lately.

Dallas Devlin was fifteen years old.

And so far, his life wasn’t going too well.

Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply to absorb the sounds and smells of the city, to touch base with reality and stop the thrumming of his heart. Below him, life played out its stark reality like a grimly-penned melodrama. The homeless wandered aimlessly, stopping to sift through garbage for anything they could turn into quick cash. Drug deals went down on a fairly regular basis and Dallas knew exactly what the pretty, young males who showed up on the corner were selling. Such was life in a low-rent apartment.

His mother saw none of it, it seemed. The woman had the uncanny ability to walk down the filthy street and not be accosted by even the dirt and debris, let alone the human garbage that lingered there.

In spite of it all, this was a time of day Dallas treasured. A time when the world was ending its work day and people were coming home to loved ones. A time when you could hide within the walls of your home, safe for the moment from the ravages of the outside world.

Dallas raked a hand through his dark hair as he shifted to make himself more comfortable, while the sharp smell of a neighbor’s cooking wafted on the breeze from one of the open windows in the complex.

Onions, garlic, and some kind of fish, he thought. Dallas wrinkled his sensitive nose and felt his stomach demand action. He was hungry, but it could wait. For the moment, he turned his attention to the large, familiar book that sat on his lap.

It was a singularly strange piece of work, dark with age, the cover made from some kind of leather, though which animal had given its life for the protection of the tome, he could only guess. There was no author’s name attached, nor was there a title to it.

It was quite fitting, he mused, that the book was so strange and seemed almost alive … threatening.

It had belonged to his father.

He ran a hand over the dark, smooth cover and wished, not for the first time, that the mysterious thing could talk. He suspected if he knew its history, he would know his father. Then the thought made him shudder.

That might not be such a good thing.

Dallas loved to read, especially a good fantasy story, but his obsession with this particular book also sprang from the fact that it was the only thing he had of his father’s. He would read it every few years, picking it up whenever he had a spare moment, whenever he needed something to take him away from his mundane existence.

And he needed that now.

Gently sliding the volume open, he turned to the page where he had left off.

He had read about half of the story this time around and once again, found himself captivated by the tale of Erone and Calli, he the Prince of Gemen and she the royal daughter of his mortal enemy, King Sadone of the Sorisi.

Erone’s people, the Shadrani, held same-sex marriage as not only sacred, but mandatory, so his love for the princess was forbidden on many fronts, and hers for him had almost cost her very life. But Dallas liked the fact that they had fought against all odds for the right to love one another.

He had reached the point in the story where it looked like the star-crossed lovers were going to be allowed to be together.

Settling in, he began to read....

* * * *

Planet of Daleer

After the great population wars on Daleer, what was left of the habitable land was taken over by the weary survivors. Only the strongest had come through the holocaust, only those most determined to win out through fair means or foul.

The inhabitants of the planet were called the Tsanziki, a people who worshipped one omnipotent deity, Tsandis. But it seemed that their god had abandoned his people when the population grew to such an extent that the Tsanziki were forced into war with one another to secure space to survive.

When the battle cries had died, two camps survived, the remainder of the people strongly divided between two of the great leaders who had battled so fiercely.

First there was Gemen, called The Terrible, because of his merciless battle tactics. But his warriors trusted him and would follow him through the horrors of another war. Then there was Arath, called The Destroyer, because it was what he did best. But many people respected him and also flocked to his banner. These two remaining leaders had diametrically opposed concepts on how to contain and regulate their overly fertile people.

Arath chose to repress, control and dominate the females of his race, the Sorisi. Within his camp, the women walked a strict line of sexual decorum. And when that did not work, the choice was female infanticide.

Gemen, knowing he could never curtail the inclinations of his passionate, fertile people, the Shadrani, chose to create a same-sex society where children were conceived and born only through royal decree.

They could not be reconciled, one to the other, and so to prevent more misunderstanding or perhaps more carnage, they took their followers and began separate societies within the limited confines of the ravaged planet of Daleer.

But now, the unlikely love between the Queen of Arath and the Prince of Gemen had brought the planet again to the brink of war.

* * * *

The City of Soris

Planet of Daleer

The sound of his boot heels clicking would have echoed sharply off the stone floors of the castle keep if not for the soft leather bindings he’d used to render them silent.

As it was, the man padded softly, creeping along the dark hallways and rooms, keeping to the darkest of shadows. Before he rounded any corner, he carefully stole a glance to be sure the way was clear.

He’d been given all the information he needed by those who had hired him, they had told him that he would meet with no opposition. But he trusted no one. He was used to treachery, deceit and betrayal.

He was used to this kind of work.

Raising his head, he listened, barely breathing, motionless in the darkness. He heard nothing. His senses registered only the almost palpable silence that hung like a presence in the still night air, and the faint scent of the polish that was applied religiously by the household servants and was evidenced in the high gloss on the furniture and the plank wood floor. Still he waited, careful unto distraction about his approach, to be caught in this endeavour would mean certain death.

Finally, he began to move again. Slowly, painstakingly, he made his way to the chambers where he knew they would be sleeping.

Typical, he thought, as he rounded the last corner to peer down the long hallway that led to the royal bedrooms, the ones who want the deed done the most are never the ones to dirty their hands with it.

But that was all right with him. He would not get much work as an assassin if any of his clients had the guts to do the nasty work themselves.

* * * *

In the royal chambers of Queen Escallitani of Soris, her young son, Revar, lay in his bed and pretended to sleep.

The child’s eyes were closed and he kept his breathing slow and even so that his mother would not know that he remained awake in the bed, ready to strike, his small dagger clutched in his hand. It did not occur to him that a seven-year-old would spark little fear into the heart of anyone who might intend him harm. He was not just any seven-year-old boy - he was the seven-year-old heir to the throne.

He could hear his mother moving quietly around the room, getting things together for their flight from the city. She had told him nothing, not wanting to frighten him, but Revar heard things, knew things she wouldn’t understand and he was determined to protect her during this dangerous time.

So, he pretended to sleep until she shook him gently to wake him.

“Mama,” he said quietly, “what is it?”

She placed a finger to her lips and whispered in his ear. “Just come now, my darling, and say nothing. We are leaving the city.”

Revar rolled out of bed with the economy and speed of movement that always brought a small gasp of awe from his mother.

She should be used to it by now, he thought in passing, after all, I get it from my father.

* * * *

Satisfied that his way was clear, the assassin moved forward like a silent shadow. As he approached the solid wooden door that barred the way to the royal chambers, he stopped and considered the deed he was about to do.

He had no problem with murdering the child, the boy was an abomination.

But the mother?

It gave him pause to think of actually killing her. His queen.

Still, she had it coming, he knew. In truth, she was nothing but a whore, consorting with those cursed, dark, Shadrani, making peace with them, inviting them into the city. His city.

The thought made him shudder. It bolstered his resolve to remember all the crimes she had committed against her own people. His hand tightened on the handle of the long, viciously sharp knife he carried. Silently, he inched the door open and slipped into the quiet chamber.

It was so easy, just as they had told him. The royal bed now lay within easy reach. In the inky darkness, he could just make out the figure under the covers, motionless. His heartbeat doubled as he approached and thought of plunging the knife in. He must be quick about it. He couldn’t allow her to cry out and warn the child sleeping next door. He would kill her swiftly, silently, and then get rid of the creature she had spawned, and things would return to normal in his world.

He felt a rush of anticipation at being this near his target.

The queen. So still. So unsuspecting.

A few more steps and she would be his.

He raised the lethal weapon above his head, readying for the strike. Then he drew in one long, rasping breath and began the deadly plunge downward. The blade sliced through the air of the royal chambers, then came to a dead halt a foot away from its target.

The assassin blinked, confused, thrown by the unexpected block. His eyes and his mind snapped together at the same time to register the iron grasp that held his arm. Then he caught the glint of feral, steely-blue eyes that razed him even in the darkness of the room.

He had time to register only one terrifying thought before his life was snatched from him as quickly as snuffing out a candle flame.

Shadrani!