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  Vendel Rising: Vol 2

  Women of Rank

  L.A. Warren

  JEM Publishing

  Vendel Rising: Volume 2

  Women of Rank

  by: L.A. Warren

  Copyright © 2018 L.A. Warren

  VENDEL RISING: Volume 2

  Women of Rank

  All rights reserved.

  This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this ebook ONLY. No part of this ebook may be reproduced, scanned, transmitted, or distributed in any printed, mechanical, or electronic form without prior written permission from L.A. Warren or JEM Publishing except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

  Editor: Eanna Roberts (www.penmanshipediting.com)

  Cover Artist: Ellie Augsburger (www.creativedigitialstudios.com)

  Interior Design/Formatting: JEM Publishing

  Published in the United States of America

  JEM Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: NUMBER

  Created with Vellum

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my one and only—my amazing and wonderful husband.

  Without your care and support, my writing would not have made it this far.

  BLURB

  New Terra Histories by Malita s’Lissa s’vlor

  “High Tender Marcus explained the purpose of Tender Training. An expert in his craft, he used the braklav to instill unimaginable terror and absolute obedience.

  Using an old Earth cliché, resistance really was futile.”

  June 5, 2136

  The Aliens had landed. We were not alone. Our visitors showered us with gifts and smiled at us. All the while they enacted their plan.

  I survived the Vector which selected those destined to live. With Activation, I did that and more…so much more.

  Not only did I survive, but I blew past the expectations of the Vendel. I superseded what they thought I might be capable of, and they had no idea what to do with me. I should have realized what that meant. In that moment, I had won, but that was a truth I couldn't see. Not then and not for a long time to come.

  I both succeeded and failed with my plans for revenge. Forgiveness never once factored into my path. I became something new, yet I clung to what I had been. My failures held me back.

  The Vendel claimed to be our saviors. They destroyed our world. Killed billions. And yet, they acted the part of savior and saint? Every fiber of my being craved their destruction. My desire to destroy them surged within each and every breath. Every pulsation of my heart demanded revenge.

  Gregor Ulysses vlor’Malita claimed to have our interests in mind, humanity’s interests, and perhaps there was a kernel of truth in that statement, but billions died by his command.

  Savior?

  How do you justify that to the dead?

  I couldn't.

  I didn't.

  I fought until defeat stared me straight in the eyes. Do you know what I did when faced with failure? My laughter filled the halls of my deepest despair. I refused to concede, because I needed revenge, even when it was beyond my grasp.

  Following the sage advice of my grandfather, I settled for small victories. To bring down mountains, I needed to start by moving the smallest grains of sand. Given time, dedication, and perseverance, boulders would soon fall and mountains would crumble. I could win, but it would take time.

  The Vendel collected the survivors of the Vector. I endured the trials of Activation and came out with my life intact. Not all of us did. The Vendel tested us, ranked us, and subjected us to unimaginable torture. Then they burdened us once again with the threat of death.

  I survived each challenge, endured each new threat and, through it all, I grew stronger.

  The Vendel remade me, although it would be a long time before I understood what that meant.

  More than the collar or the booted steps which announced the inevitable arrival of Gregor, the man who was my vlor’ master, it was the spinning rod of the High Tender which truly terrified me. High Tender Marcus held unimaginable pain at the end of that braklav. Gregor defeated me with his kindness, but it was the High Tender who destroyed me with his brutality.

  However, I refused defeat. One small grain at a time I continued to chip away, seeking vengeance.

  But then the voices began to whisper. What if the Vendel are right? What if they are the saviors of humankind? What if in defeating them, I will bring extinction upon the human race?

  These questions had no answer. At least not then. Come close, my most trusted friend, let me tell you a story of forgiveness and hate.

  Contents

  Part I

  Prologue

  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

  Part II

  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

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  VENDEL RISING Series

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  THE END

  Part One

  Prologue

  New Terra Histories by Malita s’Lissa s’vlor

  Life is but a collection of moments, some more memorable than others.

  Every now and again a moment comes along, so intense that indelible memories are forever carved in our minds. We remember what we were doing, feeling, seeing, hearing, and tasting at the exact instant our lives changed.

  I remembered two things: the warm, rich scent of a powerful man, and the agony of the braklav.

  June 2, 2136:

  Aliens had landed. We were not alone. The Vendel had somehow risen into the sky and traveled to the stars thousands of years before the rest of humanity launched our first rocket to the moon. In the deep reaches of space, an empire flourished and we knew nothing about them.

  I never understood why no one thought to ask why the Vendel had returned. With so many planets, why come back to Earth? Why had they left to begin with? Perhaps we should’ve asked before inviting them to dinner.

  Death began with a simple cough or sneeze. Like the Black Death of the Middle Ages, people who were hale and hearty in the morning, were dead by nightfall. Billions died at the hands of the Vendel.

  For a few of u
s, we weren’t touched at all. At least not on the outside, inside was a different matter. The Vendel collected us, tested us, ranked us, and remade us, although it would be a long time before we understood what that meant.

  Gregor Ulysses vlor’Malita claims to have our interests in mind, humanity’s interests, and perhaps there is a kernel of truth in that statement.

  Saviors?

  How do you justify that to the dead?

  One idea terrifies me. What if the Vendel are in fact, our saviors?

  This is the continuation of my story…

  Chapter One

  Sunday, 13 February 2035:

  Cradled in some man's arms, Elise snuggled tight against a warm chest, and struggled to remember what was happening, because it made little sense someone should carry her. Her eyes refused to open, almost as if someone had drugged her. She wanted to free herself, but one arm was pinned between her body and the chest of the man carrying her, and the other hung with an unnatural lethargy, swinging with each beat of his step.

  "Sire, she wakes." The deep voice shivered down her back and she furrowed her brows. Memories of pain echoed with his words.

  There was more, something off about her entire being. An ache centered in her bones and burrowed deep inside her skull. It felt as if they had ripped something away from her, something that was a part of her, but she was certain she had never felt it before.

  The man carrying her shifted her weight and a heady scent of spice and musk filled her nostrils. She rested her head on the shoulder so conveniently placed for her use and luxuriated in the exotic aroma full of masculine promise. Another scent floated to her senses, carried by a passing breeze. Irritating to her nostrils, it smelled wrong; a mix of foreign aromas.

  Wait. This isn't right.

  She pushed against the hard chest and forced her eyes to open. Then she saw him.

  Gregor held her against his chest and she tensed, realizing she'd been enjoying the embrace of a mass murderer on a planetary scale. How could she find his touch seductive? A deep self-loathing filled her and she wanted to die.

  The palest blue eyes regarded her with an expression of concern.

  Gregor gripped her tight, not the least put out by her struggles to get down. "You have come back to me, opés. I am pleased." He continued down a glowing corridor, filled with an unearthly opalescence, until he stopped in front of a circular door.

  She wasn't pleased. Not at all. She wanted down, but he clearly had no intention of setting her on her feet anytime soon.

  The door spiraled open and he carried her inside. Four men followed behind him, the three guards from before, and High Tender Marcus, the horrible man with the silver rod that dangled from his wrist.

  "You feel good in my arms." To emphasize his point, he rocked her close, nestling the top of her head under his chin.

  Her cheeks reddened as heat stirred in her core. She hated her body's response to this man. She'd dated her fair share of men and never reacted to any of them like this. It had to be that damned perfume making her body betray her like this. He said it had aphrodisiac properties, but it seemed to only work for Gregor. She felt nothing for the other men, and definitely not the High Tender. That man gave her chills. Knowing what she felt wasn't real didn't make it any less potent.

  Pressing her palm against Gregor’s chest, she found herself no longer pushing against him, but skimming the muscles underneath his shirt. With a jerk, she removed the treacherous hand and placed it on her throat where her pulse hammered beneath her fingertips.

  The door to the small room spiraled closed behind them and one of the guards pushed a symbol with wavy lines and a series of dots on a recessed panel. Lights flashed on the walls and the ceiling opened.

  She tilted her head and gasped. Open space extended hundreds of meters into the distance. She looked down, trying to regain her senses, and yelped as the floor disappeared, leaving them stranded over a gaping pit that was hundreds more meters deep. Vertigo overwhelmed her and she flung her arms around Gregor's neck, tucking her head beneath his chin.

  He chuckled and held her tighter. He bent his head to whisper into her ear, "There is nothing to fear. We are in a lift tube, a transport device. A force field supports our weight while moving us up."

  She pulled away, but he held her close.

  He gave a low hush meant to soothe. "It's perfectly safe."

  "Where am I?" her voice cracked.

  She swallowed against rising nausea, because she already knew the answer to her question, but she needed the distraction to hide her fear of the nothingness above and the void below. No way was she going to lose it in front of these men and show any sign of weakness. Well, at least, not lose it again.

  The High Tender stood opposite them. He twirled the braklav, caught it, released it, and repeated the whole process, all the while he watched her with his cold brown eyes. When he realized her attention focused not on him, but the braklav in his hand, his face lit in a satisfied grin.

  Gregor's lips brushed her earlobe. It wasn't a kiss, more of a promise. "Welcome to the Gambit. You are not on Earth anymore."

  A shiver ran through her whole body, lighting her nerves from head to toe. She'd guessed as much, but having her fears confirmed made it real. When had she left? Must have had something to do with them drugging her. There really was no escape now.

  A wind blew down on them as they sped up into the dizzying height of the lift tube. The breeze helped to tamp down her nausea, but she still clung to Gregor, praying for the maddening ride to be over. For the moment, it didn't matter if that made her appear weak in his eyes. She would allow this one moment of reassurance from the enemy and find her strength later.

  Soon their speed lessened, and the wind eased until it disappeared. A white circle fanned out from the wall and formed a solid floor. A semi-circular doorway spiraled open to their left.

  Gregor released her from his grip and settled her on the floor. "Take it slow," he said in soothing tones. "Your body is still adjusting after the Tenderstat testing. Perhaps a little help?" He offered his arm for support.

  She glanced at his arm with mixed feelings, not wanting to take it, but knowing it was impossible to refuse. Unless she wanted to taste the braklav again, she had to obey, and unfortunately, she needed his help. Her legs trembled and she barely kept her balance standing still. If she took a step, she knew what would happen. This weakness terrified her nearly as much as the five large men and alien spaceship surrounding her.

  She reached for his arm. "Thank you, Gregor." Her gaze flicked to the High Tender and watched the silver rod drop from his grip. A shudder went through her as she considered what would have happened had she refused. Her hand shook as she placed it in the crook of Gregor's arm.

  A smile spread across his face. It softened his expression, smoothing out the corners of his eyes. She wanted to pull her hand away, mortified by how compliant she behaved, but his hand covered hers and held it in place. The braklav snapped in the High Tender's palm, then dropped and dangled.

  Steadying her grip on Gregor's arm, her first step went without a hitch. Not too bad. Another. She was doing well. On her third step, her legs buckled.

  "Why am I so weak?"

  Gregor caught her and steadied her on her feet. "Aftereffects of the testing. Do not worry, it will fade."

  Elise gritted her teeth and tried again.

  He moved down the long hallway, letting her set the pace. She placed each foot with deliberate care, testing before transferring weight. She tried to look around, but the act of walking commanded her entire attention. Intel would have to wait for another opportunity, although the hall remained empty except for them. Each step brought one thought to mind.

  She was trapped and there was no way out.

  Chapter Two

  The Gambit, Day 1

  A long walk through a maze of passageways ended at a pair of clear doors. Inside, six men dressed in black stood at parade rest, guarding an inner round door reminiscent
of a bank vault. A red light flashed over the outer doors. The High Tender approached and pressed his hand to a flat panel display.

  Three more men, wearing brown tunics, sat behind a waist-high counter, with their attention focused on holographic displays. Only one glanced up as they walked inside. He fixed his attention on Elise. She shrunk under his scrutiny and took a step back, only to come to a stop against Gregor's solid body. Retreating into the safety of her enemy's arms made no sense, yet she acted on instinct, choosing Gregor for protection. What she should have done was stand her ground and level a hard-focused glare at the man behind the counter.

  "Master Tender, is this the one?" The man's voice was deep and smooth, but his eyes glittered with the same hardness she had come to expect in the High Tender. The title did not go unnoticed, or the deference in the man's tone. Master Tender seemed to signify a position of leadership. There was more to him than she thought.