Blackjack Wayward (The Blackjack Series) by Ben Bequer Read Free Book Online

flute and raised an eyebrow when he noticed I hadn’t, so I downed mine as well. It was like wine, but much stronger, and the fluid had a strange effervescence much like champagne. The tickle persisted once I had swallowed.
    “Interesting,” I said.
    “I hoped you might enjoy it.”
    “You have to understand,” I started, in an apologetic tone, not even knowing why I did it. “The Mists just attacked us, and the folk from that village. We were just defending ourselves.”
    He nodded. “Indeed, it was their mistake.”
    “I just think it’s important you know that we didn’t incite them.”
    “They were led by the most foolish and bombastic,” he said, pouring us another round. “And it cost them dearly.”
    “Are they even around anymore?”
    Drovani shook his head, “Just a few of their former warlords, tucked away in shards with a few solders. Mostly fighting each other these days.”
    “Well, that’s good. Those guys were assholes,” I said, sipping the wine.
    “The passing of the Mist Army provided opportunities as well. For example, to my people.”
    I studied him for a moment, wondering what he was getting at. He was unarmed and, while a formidable creature, far smaller than I. If it came to a tussle, he’d bear the brunt, but he didn’t present a threat at the moment. Drovani was interested in something, more than just the mission he had hired the ship for. He wanted something from me.
    “I wasn’t here long enough the last time to get to know the local politics.”
    He laughed.
    “I suppose not,” he shrugged and poured more of the wine to top off our glasses. “A dozen years ago, my people fought the Mists, and won. We were victorious, but they had great numbers, and their armies were easily replenished, whereas ours ... well, my people are long-lived, longer perhaps than any other of the aliens gathered in this world, but we could not expect to survive a long war of attrition against the Mists. A treaty was proposed and accepted by both parties, wherein the Mists would rule all places save the remnants of our world. There we would be autonomous, and the treaty held for eleven years. Until you came and made it void, by destroying not only the Lords of the Mists, but also their ruling council.”
    “You’re welcome,” I joked, and he raised his glass to me.
    “Yes,” he continued. “There is an opportunity now, a chance to change this place, for the better. No more Mist gulags, like the one you encountered. No rendition of able bodied males to serve in their ranks, nor of attractive females to serve their needs. No more stealing of harvests to feed the armies.”
    “Peace,” I said.
    “In a word, yes. My people could bring this.”
    “In return for what?”
    Drovani’s eyes snapped at me, “Nothing. My people are peace-loving. We do not wish to rule this world, but to free it from the yoke of those who founded it.”
    “The Lightbringers?”
    He nodded.
    “Sounds like a plan,” I said, not wanting to let him know that any effort against the Lightbringers would be destined to fail. They were god-like beings, with mastery of matter and energy, and perhaps even time itself. I should know: I stood before one and was utterly at its mercy, in both body and mind. In fact, when it communicated with me, I recall it utilizing my own thoughts and memories, organizing them in a way for me to best understand its meaning and intentions. I had never felt so helpless. So powerless. Drovani and his people might be formidable warriors, but nothing could stand in the face of the Lightbringers, and to claim to want to fight them wasn’t just folly – it was ridiculous.
    “So tell me about your people,” I asked, not wanting to get into an argument with him.
    “We know ourselves as Vershani,” he began, “and our people come from a lush forest world, a planet called Calaqmul. I don’t know where your world is, in order to give you a reference.”
    “Earth,” I said. “Our planet is