Providence

Brody – Celtic/Gaelic; Brother

Lamar – German; Famous Land

Part 6

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I can't believe this. I can't fucking believe this. If you had just stayed quiet none of this would have happened."

"What do you mean? I was just asking a question. And it was good question, too."

" 'Do you think my tunic makes me look fat?' is not a valid question! You know what ... because of that, you're telling him."

"Why do I have to tell him?! You lost the Prince, you should tell him!"

"I didn't lose him! His Second rescued him. That's not my fault!"

"Like hell its not!"

Lamar rubbed his brow with his hand in exasperation. It had all been planned perfectly. The previous night at the Festival, they had position, they had their weapons, they had their orders. Their job, their main prerogative, had been to capture the Prince. The Princess was expendable, the Second as well. But the Prince, Cyrus had wanted alive. That he had made abundantly clear.

And Koen was alive all right. Just not in their custody. And Lamar was sure that he and Brody were going to bear the brunt of Cyrus's wrath.

Brody had been his usual annoying, quarrelsome self and had distracted Lamar. The two brothers had fought for several minutes about completely irrelevant topics until Lamar had finally convinced Brody to give up his argument. They had stood waited for the sign from Cyrus.

"So ... do you think this will work?"

Lamar turned to Brody, with a smirk on his face.

"Knowing Cyrus, this is planned to the T. As long as everything goes according to plan, Cyrus will have the throne, and we will be promoted. So keep your eyes open. I don't want this to go south because of you."

Brody was immediately offended. "What do you mean 'because of me?' I don't do anything."

"Exactly. You're always goofing off, and not doing your job. So shut up. We need to stay alert."

"I'm alert."

"No you're not. You're a distraction," Lamar said offhandedly. He was far too preoccupied to offer his brother's words with any sophisticated acknowledgement.

Lamar turned his attention to the Prince, while he and Brody stayed off to the side of the stage, the large curtains hiding them somewhat.

"I am

not

a distraction."

Lamar rolled his eyes and turned to his brother again. "Will you shut up?!"

They both turned to the stage, looking intently at Cyrus who was seated just behind King Eamon and the royal family. He sat regarding the crowd, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike. All but the Neroan people were completely unaware of his intention.

Laser guns were in hand as they awaited the signal to capture the Prince and, if need be, kill the Princess. Remorse and regret were foreign words to the two brothers, having worked with Cyrus ever since their graduation from temporary aide to lasting employee. They relished in the presence of their leader and completed any work he gave them with gusto. Anything to please Cyrus was worth doing.

Brody sighed slightly, already bored of standing and waiting for minutes on end, while Lamar maintained his position intently.

He kept his voice hushed, "Lamar, how do I look?"

Lamar turned to his brother with a fully puzzled look adorning his face. "What?"

"Well, this is a new tunic," Brody stated, running his hands over the cloth to straighten the wrinkles. "I'm not sure of the color. Do you think it makes me look fat?"

A beat.

"You can't be serious," Lamar said as he gave Brody a blank look. Was his brother really asking this question?

"It does, doesn't it?" Brody continued completely unaware of his brother's true opinion. "I told that seamstress that green wasn't my color. She just wouldn't listen."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Unbeknownst to them, a figure in the shadows watched in horror as the attack took place.

He had kept a close eye on the two, curious as to why two Neroan guards would take watch behind the stage, while most others were standing in the crowd. Something had been off with them the entire night, their staring at Cyrus, seemingly waiting for something.

Will had never been particularly at ease with the prospect of having Neroans attend the Festival. But Eamon's wish was Will's command, even if it seemed to be complete insanity. Even after the reconciliation, Eamon, along with the rest of the kingdom, had been worried of the implications that the Neroan presence offered. They were known for their callousness, their dishonor, their utter disregard for anything and everything pure and good. Inviting the Neroans, and especially Cyrus, to Aevar's Festival was like inviting a hungry wolf into a flock of sheep.

And it had proved just as foolish, and just as deadly.

Will had been assigned as a covert guard that night, watching for anything out of the ordinary. He watched intently from behind the thick curtains for any militaristic movement. Anything that would put Aevar on the defensive.

He hoped with all his heart that nothing would ruin or disgrace the Autumn Festival. Not tonight, of all nights.

The order had proven to be quite beneficial, although entirely eerie as well. The ironic coincidence played in Will's favor. Upon seeing the dart hitting the King, Will was quick to respond. He emerged from his hidden corner and rendered the two Neroan guards unconscious, thus allowing for a small window of escape.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lamar had lost sight of his mission for the second time that night, and verbally battled with his brother, ordering him to be silent. But it had been too late. When Cyrus had given the signal, they had missed it. The Second, William, had snuck passed them and rescued the Prince and Princess.

They had awoken form their brutally induced slumber to raging headaches and an insufferable sense of dread. They had failed miserably.

Despite hours of searching, neither could find any sign of the Prince, save for a crown they had found in a nearby wooded area, which in turn had led to nothing but dead ends.

The plan would have worked perfectly. The two royal figures had been stunned by the death of their parents; the crowd had roared in anguish; their emotions had been at an all-time high; the distractions were paramount. If only Brody had kept his mouth shut, this never would have happened.

"Listen," Lamar started in semi-defeat, pacing in thought. "We both lost him. And now we have to tell our God damn leader that we failed."

Brody's eyes went wide. He was, in all honesty and obviousness, the comic of the pair. Somewhat dimwitted, and completely incompetent, Brody seemed to always find himself fighting with Lamar, and losing. And than somehow they both end up in immense trouble.

He scratched his ear in thought.

His brother sighed, seeing Brody's innocent reaction.

"Okay, you just stay quiet. Let me do the talking. All right?"

Brody nodded, and Lamar turned to knock on the heavy wooden door in front of them that now served as Cyrus's throne room.

After the assault on Aevar, and seeing that the Festival had been a 'success,' Cyrus had been quick to leave for the palace. He had confidence in his subordinates, knowing that they would follow his commands and complete their missions.

Attack the military bases.

Deploy the chemical weapon known as Kulleanium.

Close all ports.

Leave no survivors.

Eliminate the royal family.

Capture the Prince.

Perfect,

Lamar thought.

Just perfect.

"Enter," a booming voice behind the heavy door sounded, and the two brothers shared a look before Lamar opened the door.

Brody entered first, keeping his eyes downcast. Lamar followed, closing the door behind him and turning to Cyrus.

He sat on the extravagant wooden throne that had once been held by King Eamon. The throne room was lavish, probably the only room that Cyrus hadn't immediately destroyed any sign or presence of the prior royal family. The silk drapes hung from the twenty-foot windows aligning all four walls. Numerous, grand paintings hung in place, except for the portrait of Eamon above the large throne – which Lamar was sure had been swiftly taken down. Gold and silver accented many of the decorative pieces within the room. It certainly held the presence of a King, even if the person sitting in the throne was not the rightful owner of that position.

But Lamar was quick to extinguish that thought. Those particular notions would certainly help neither him nor Brody in this situation.

"Sir," he said respectfully with a bow and Brody was swift to follow, though his reply was much quieter.

"Well, what news do you have for me boys?" Cyrus asked from his throne, picking at the bowl of fruit to his right, hardly giving their presence acknowledgement.

"Well sir, there is a slight problem."

Cyrus turned to Lamar and Brody, dropping the fruit in his hand. "Oh? And what is that?" A strong, undeniable sense of authority and power emitted from his being. With golden hair and crystal blue eyes, Cyrus was an intimidatingly handsome man, which only added to his commanding presence. Every muscle, every sinew of Lamar trembled in his presence, and tried unsuccessfully in disguising it.

Cyrus was now giving them his full attention.

"The Second, William, he..."

"Ah yes. The intolerable Second In Command. And what 'problem' do I have the distinct displeasure of owing to him?" He moved gracefully from the throne, descending the few steps, and menacingly walked towards the two brothers. A slight smirk adorned his handsome face.

How he despised the royal family.

Lamar anxiously teetered from one foot to the other, throwing his brother nervous looks over his shoulder.

When Cyrus stood no more than a few feet away, Lamar turned to him and said, "The Prince escaped."

Rather be blunt than prolong the agony,

he thought.

Cyrus eyed him; a clear look of annoyance and anger crossing his face. "He what?" His voice held such malice that Lamar jumped slightly in fear.

Cyrus stood several feet taller than the two brothers, even without the crown adorning his head. His eyes had turned from blue to dark black with fury, seemingly looking thru the onlookers and into their souls, piercing them with evil. Royal clothing and stature was evident in appearance, but it was something else entirely that made Lamar tremble in his superior's wake.

The sheer velocity of his rage. Cyrus could move from subdued comrade to enraged tyrant in the blink of an eye, and God help the poor man held in its path.

"William was able to rescue the Prince and Princess before we could contain them. They escaped into the Chogan Forest."

Cyrus's blood was literally boiling in his veins, and before the wrath could erupt, Lamar pressed on, hoping to offer some consolation – a bit of good news among the travesty.

"But they're alive. We found the crown of the Princess. We tracked them as far as a creek running through the woods, but lost the trail. They're alive, sir." He purposely left out the key information that they were in fact compromised themselves by William. That fact would undoubtedly be their deliberate and painfully undoing.

The temperous fog lifted slightly from his eyes and ears, and Cyrus took in Lamar's words.

"You are sure? The Prince is alive?" His words were tight, but inquisitive.

Lamar took the opportunity.

"Yes sir. I'm sure of it. Brody and I believe that they are hiding in a safehouse. Its only a matter of finding them, weeding them out."

Both Brody and Lamar stood in anticipatory apprehension, looking at Cyrus with regret. They both knew that Cyrus was less than pleased, but at the moment, he seemed to be taking the information in with some curiosity, and was that ... delight they saw in his eyes?

"Do you know what safehouse they are hiding at?"

Lamar hesitated.

"There are three known safehouses near the Festival. We searched them last night, but they were empty. We think that the Prince is hiding in an underground safehouse. One unknown to our radar."

He looked at Brody who was equally unsure. They had discussed it somewhat the night before. If the confrontation with Cyrus wasn't a complete disaster, they could ask for soldiers to help them find the Prince. But the question had been would Cyrus even hear them out if he knew that the Prince wasn't in their custody.

Lamar hesitantly added, "The two of us alone can only cover so much area. But ... if we had some men, we could search the villages lining the forest and find them quickly, within hours even."

Cyrus's eyes narrowed.

"You are aware that you have failed in your mission," more a statement, rather than a question, of ignorance.

The two nodded and waited for Cyrus to continue.

"And still you ask for me to provide soldiers in an effort to correct this ... inexcusable act of neglect?"

Lamar was left speechless, and Brody too scared to utter a word in defense.

Cyrus eyed them carefully.

"The only reason either of you are still alive is because you are my best men, and have never failed on a mission in this magnitude."

He turned from them, headed for the throne.

"With that said, I will provide you with the soldiers you requested."

When Lamar went to respond, Cyrus cut him off.

"But know this ... it is only out the of the love of a chase that I will allow this sorry excuse for a mission to continue. Hunting down the Prince will not only be entertaining, but enjoyable as well." Cyrus was a predator, and all who knew him expected him taking enjoyment out of hunting his prey.

When Lamar and Brody went to exit the throne room, Cyrus added, "By the way." The brothers turned toward Cyrus, as he lazily sat on the large throne. "Another failure in this mission ... will be your deaths."

Lamar expelled a harsh breath and Brody gulped hard.

"Yes sir."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Papers and furniture littered the floors of the ramshackle safehouse. The last of the underground safehouses, the abandoned home held all the evidence of several occupants leaving quickly some hours previous. And even though Brody and Lamar had been successful in tracking the royal survivors to this safehouse, they had yet to find any indication of where they were now.

"Sir, nothing yet."

Lamar turned to the soldier at his left, and nodded.

"Keep looking. There has to be something here. They couldn't have covered all their tracks with a hasty exit. Don't stop looking."

"Yes, sir."

The soldier left just as quickly as he had appeared, and Lamar was once again left alone.

He and Brody were trained guards, proficient in taking down a target and disposing and threat. Why had everything gone so terribly wrong for them the night before? He had personally searched every square inch of forest and safehouse they had encountered, and even

he

had not found anything.

They were missing something. It was quite possible that the protector of this underground safehouse was well trained. But that did not mean that he had been able to dispose of all information regarding their destination. There had to be something ...

He turned to the hallway, moving slowly past the soldiers who were feverishly destroying any and all furniture for a clue. Bedspreads and mattresses were torn and shredded. Desks and dressers toppled. Drawers emptied onto the floor. The once well-kept and clean safehouse was now destroyed of any integrity.

Integrity,

Lamar snorted.

Aevarians held no integrity, only fraudulence.

Every Neroan knew of the conflict decades ago between Eamon's family and Cyrus. Lamar knew of Cyrus's brief stint as a prophet, and had heard quite frequently from the horse's mouth how indescribably ignorant and arrogant the entire system was. The council had asked for him to find the oracle, and Cyrus had delivered. Perhaps somewhat self-servingly, but delivered just the same. Everyone would have gotten what he or she wanted. But that was never good enough.

For years Lamar and Brody studied Neroan history, learning Aevarians' weaknesses and strengths. The two planets had a longstanding rival, and Lamar waited with baited breath for the chance to attack his foe. Never mind the fact that no Aevarian had done one distrusting or sinful deed to Lamar himself. The implication was that it could and would happen. Better to strike before stricken.

He turned to his right and entered the communication room. The once active orbs laid dormant from the soldiers merciless scavenge. He kicked a broken orb at his feet and spun in place, searching the wooden walls that surrounded him.

Once again, nothing. He had searched this room, along with Brody, and they had found absolutely nothing to aid their investigation. Perhaps the protector was better equipped than Lamar gave him credit for. Perhaps Eamon had been a better militarist King than once anticipated. If he had implanted the covert guard who had rendered he and Brody unconscious, and had trained the protectors of the royal safehouses as well as Lamar suspected, perhaps Eamon would have been a political force to reason with.

No matter now though,

he thought.

What's done is done.

A startling static sound caused Lamar to turn to the desk behind him. His brows furrowed in confusion. He was sure that upon arrival a soldier had informed him that all communication equipment had been previously unplugged and dismantled.

Why now is an orb transmitting,

Lamar thought.

He neared the desk, and watched as the fax-like orb printed something onto the thick paper it held. He waited, his curiosity growing and he read the first words unveiled slowly. The heading read in bold black letters:

ALPHA 5-6-17 TRANSMITTED TO OMEGA BETA 9-2-54

. His fingers itched when he realized it was a transmission from a neighboring safehouse.

Finally, the printing stopped and Lamar all but tore the paper from the orb. His eyes read furiously, and then his eyebrows rose. A small smile graced his tanned face. "Oh my God," he said in a harsh whisper.

He turned quickly to the door, and ran as fast as his legs could carry him to Brody, who was searching the surrounding landscape. The many soldiers littering the hallway and door were caught in his fury to find his brother. "Watch out!" he cursed. "God damnit, get the hell out of my way!"

Finally outside, the suns hit him in full, midday force, and Lamar waited impatiently for his eyes to adjust. He searched for the green cloak that his brother was now wearing, and spotting him by a large tree, Lamar resumed his running towards his brother.

"Brody! Brody, thank God."

Brody turned to his brother's approaching voice and, finding him out of breath, wondered quickly whether he had done something wrong. Was Lamar mad at him still for last night? He tensed unknowingly and waited for the impending ridicule.

"Brody, read this!"

A paper was shoved roughly into his face, and Brody took the printout in his hand, curiously eyeing his brother once more, lowered his eyes and read.

His mouth opened in surprise. "Oh my God," he said quietly, and then lifted his gaze to his brother's now jubilant expression. "Where did you get this?"

"It just printed out. I can't believe it. I guess we're luckier than we thought, huh?" A smirk adorned his face, and Brody called over a soldier.

"Yes sir?"

"Prepare your men. We're leaving immediately for the Moana dock."

The soldier left quickly with his orders, and the two brothers shared a relieved look. Perhaps they were not to die after all.

Brody and Lamar turned to lead the now organized group of Neroan soldier, and in their eagerness, the transmission fluttered in the soft breeze, and was left sitting on the green Aevarian grass:

ALPHA 5-6-17 TRANSMITTED TO OMEGA BETA 9-2-54

START

CONFIRMING DROP OFF

MOANA DOCK DORMANT, VACANT