The Secret of Zormna Clendar - Julie Steimle (best autobiographies to read .txt) 📗

to his full height. “Do I have to? This has already been a long day, and I am really tired.”

“Just make it short,” Zormna snapped. Despite being distant, ten-thousand-year apart blood kin, she still found him the most trying man alive.

He looked dryly to her. “There is a lot involved. But I’ll try to make it simple for you.”

“Ha.” She made a face back at him.

The exchange earned snickers from those watching.

Sighing, Jafarr cleared his annoyance off his face, and said, “The short of it is: ten thousand years after the death of the royals, the last of the Tarrns was supposed to come, remove the High Class, and end what is known as the Endless War.”

“Single-handedly?” She raised her eyebrows with complete doubt.

He chuckled, meeting her ironic gaze. “No. Of course not. I told you. There is a lot more involved.”

Zormna huffed, folding her arms. “Well, the McLennas thought it was supposed to happen fifteen years ago. That’s why they left Home. To avoid it.”

Orrlar looked to Jafarr. “The McLennas?”

Jafarr’s face flushed. He looked desperately to Al before shooting Zormna a dirty look.

“They’re from Arras?” Orrlar swelled with surprise and anger. Eergvin and Azdrov, as well as the woman, looked startled.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Eergvin exclaimed.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” Jafarr said, not meeting his gaze.

They looked to Al who just shrugged it off. “They were keeping the law. They are actually pretty nice people.”

“But they are obviously High Class!” Asdrov shouted.

Then they looked to Zormna, knowing that she was living with them.

“Do they know about you?” Orrlar asked her.

Zormna sneaked a look to Jafarr. He shook his head minutely, trying to tell her not to answer. Trusting that he knew his associates better than she did, and how they would react, she said, “You are getting off the subject. Besides, I knew what they were when I moved in. When they heard my name, they insisted that I stay with them. That’s why they insisted.”

“Not just because you are Surface Patrol?” Jafarr asked.

“Besides that.” She rolled her eyes. “The point is, if this prophecy was supposed to be fulfilled fifteen years ago, then maybe it was nonsense to begin with.”

“Don’t say that,” the woman murmured, looking like that idea was the worst thing to think of.

“Why not?” Zormna snapped. “If it isn’t true, then it isn’t true.”

“Because we need the prophecy to be true.” Al looked as distressed as the woman.

Zormna blinked at him. Honestly, she liked Al, despite how he had wrangled her to the floor previously and tied her up. Al’s sincere, crisp blue eyes reminded her of Alea Arden. “But it is already long overdue.”

Al glanced to his friend.

“Exactly fourteen years, seven months, and three days overdue—according to the Parthan calendar,” Jafarr cut in. His fathomless eyes fixed on Zormna.

She turned with a quizzical stare at him. Then she looked to the others who also stared at him, then her. But they understood what he was saying. It was all over their faces.

Unfortunately, Zormna didn’t. “What do you mean?”

“Sometimes you are so thick,” Jafarr muttered, looking likely to hit his head against the wall.

She rose. “You know, I’ve had enough out of you. Stop with the guessing games. Tell it straight.”

“How old are you, Zormna?” Jafarr asked her, sounding tired. There was not a smile of mockery in his eyes this time. The depth of them overwhelmed her. Her face grew hot.

But she maintained her gaze. “What relevance is that?”

“Just answer me.”

Zormna flushed deeper. “You know how old I am. If you’re trying to prove a point by saying I’m not mature enough to understand, I’ll have you know that I passed the adult test at—”

“Twelve. I know,” Jafarr cut her off a little too impatiently. “That’s not the point. How old are you now?”

Clenching her teeth, Zormna glared. “Fourtee….”

But she stopped. A shudder ran through her.

“You don’t think that I—”

“You are a Tarrn,” he said. “An improbable one, I grant you. But the prophecy said the last Tarrn will come in ten thousand years, and will end the Endless War.” Then in a dry sort of way, he explained, “The prophecy did not say the Endless War would end in ten thousand years, just that the last Tarrn would come in ten thousand years. Perhaps the Tarrn just needs to grow up.”

Zormna felt faint.

“Is she alright?” Asdrov whispered to Eergvin.

“Bit of a shock, I think,” Eergvin said. Then he cleared his throat. “One small detail, though. When is your birthday?”

She stared at Eergvin as if he had dropped out of the sky to ask her if she knew the velocity of an unladen sparrow (Todd had her watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail with him recently).

“It is actually is important,” Al explained, glancing at Eergvin.

“Is that in the prophecy too?” she murmured, feeling sick.

They all nodded.

Zormna sat down in the chair, placing her head in her hands.

It was too much. Way too much. It was one thing to be hunted her entire life. To lose family and to fear every day at being discovered. It was quite another to find out she was royalty—even if it was only from an ancient line, ten thousand years back. And worse, to hear that quite possibly Darren Asher was right, that her people awaited a Messiah—and she was it? Too much.

“I can’t be the only Tarrn left,” she murmured.

Jafarr replied, “It’s a scary thing to be the last, isn’t it?”

She lifted her eyes to his face. “You’re the last of the Zeldars. Is there any prophecy about you?”

He ducked back sheepishly, looking away.

Al smirked, shoving forward again. “Yes.”

Zormna’s eyes widened.

“He’s the last Tarrn’s protector,” Al said.

Her eyes went even wider. “What?”

Jafarr rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “The title is called: Leader-of-Many.”

“That’s a lame title,” she muttered.

He shot her a dirty look.

But she huffed and said, “There are lots of people who lead many. I was one.”

His compatriots chuckled, sharing looks that said they knew all about her.

“Yes.” Jafarr nodded. “But I lead the rebellion.”

She stared, not quite believing it. “But…you’re only seventeen years old.”

He laughed, seriously amused. It sounded almost musical. “You have been on Earth too long. Weren’t you an Alea at thirteen?”

Shaking her head, Zormna looked earnestly to Orrlar. “Aren’t you the leader?”

Orrlar smiled warmly. But he shook his head like he was sorry. “No. I am a leader. Jafarr became the leader of the rebellion when our last leader was killed by enemy fire during a raid. Jafarr rallied everyone together and preserved the core of the organization. Basically, he saved the revolution. And the revolution has been taking cues from him since. Not from me.”

Her eyes turned back to the dark-haired descendant of famous rebels. Apparently leading the rebellion was his fate. Yet she bemoaned openly, “Why couldn’t you have been a singer like your other ancestors, or something?”

Jafarr shook his head, chuckling like he thought the same thing.

“Oh…he can sing,” Al smirked. He looked like wanted to share a story, but now was not the time.

“The point is,” Eergvin interrupted. “His job will be to protect you.”

Zormna gave him a dry look. “Him? Protect me?”

Admittedly, they all shared the same doubting glance. Although Al said, “You do need someone to watch your back, don’t you? Considering what happened after the Olympics.”

Zormna stiffened. It was an ugly fact. He was right. And someone paranoid like Jafarr would be perfect.

Orrlar and the others frowned. They were all discomfited by the mention of her kidnapping. Zormna wondered exactly how much they knew. Their information about her and the goings on with the McLennas and the FBI clearly came from Jafarr and Al. And she knew they had not shared all information with their compatriots, for good or ill.

The older man asked, “What did happen to—?”

Clenching her head, Zormna closed her eyes. “Don’t ask me. I don’t know. My head hurts when I try to remember.”

“But They know—?”

“I don’t know that They know. Ok?” She didn’t mean to bite his head off, but she was frustrated. “The FBI stole three days from my life. End of story. Right now, I am trying to deal with this.”

Everyone had gone silent. Al and Jafarr exchanged a look.

Jafarr then whispered. “Why did you come here today, Zormna? Really?”

She met his gaze. Her lips pressed into a line as she tried to read the indiscernible thoughts behind his dark eyes. But it was like looking into depths of space itself. She whispered, “I need allies.”

Rising to his full height, he nodded, taking that in seriously.

“The Kevin really left you alone here,” he murmured. “Didn’t he?”

Zormna nodded, cringing.

“And the Kevin knows what you are?” Jafarr asked to make sure.

Nodding again, Zormna felt worse.  

“Does Alea Arden know?” Jafarr asked.

Zormna shook her head this time. “Only the Kevin and Salvar—and Officer Kren, my uncle’s partner—know about me. No one else.”

Jafarr leaned back. “Officer Kren?”

Al choked in surprise.

The others did not react. They looked at Jafarr quizzically. Especially Eergvin, who seemed the closest to Jafarr and Al out of the older group.

“Was your uncle Officer Javer Clendar?” Jafarr asked.

An electric rippled went down her spine. How did he know? Zormna blinked and nodded, wondering again if Jafarr was psychic.

“Oh my…” Jafarr set a hand over his mouth.

Al nudged him. “You two are closer tied than you thought. Your string of back luck, and now her uncle?”

“What do you mean?” Orrlar asked, watching the two friends.

Jafarr peeked at Zormna who was listening intently as he answered the former cop, “Officer Javer Clendar was this policeman who used to patrol my neighborhood with—” and he looked to Zormna, “—an Officer Kren Briiks who we still saw around. As a kid, I thought Officer Javer was just an Orr’quarr like Dzhon. He had red-black hair.”

Zormna took in a sharp breath. He did know her uncle.

“Officer Javer was killed when I was nine,” Jafarr continued with a look at Zormna, though he was talking to Orrlar. “Afterwards they found out that he was a Tarrn. A sniper had shot him when he was on route to a domestic disturbance.” To her, he said with complete solemnity and respect, “Your uncle died while on duty when you were six, right? That’s when you went into the Surface Patrol, isn’t it?”

Zormna stiffly nodded. “You really knew my uncle.”

Jafarr nodded, his eyes inspecting her face more intently as if searching for familiar features. “And so did Dzhon.”

It made her head swim. Anzer Dzhon Niizek was their mutual friend who had joined the Patrol and had trained under Zormna. She had learned a lot about Jafarr through Dzhon, also, though she would not openly admit it.

“Coincidence,” Alsdov said.

“No,” Jafarr murmured. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, I do,” Alsdov retorted with a huff. His eyes stroked over Zormna like he was sizing up a prize animal. “Ok, so we’ve proved she is a Tarrn. What now? We’ve got the FBI on her tail. She’s been abandoned here by the Kevin—”

“For my protection,” Zormna snapped back. “Dural Korad has been…” She flushed and looked the ground.

“Ah, no.” Jafarr groaned. “Korad’s been investigating you?”

“He’s always hated me. I humiliated him once, and he’s never forgotten it. It was right after I caught you the second time, in fact,” she said. “That’s why the Kevin grounded me to the moon base that time when you—” She stopped, shame washing over her as she met his gaze. The memory of their last encounter back Home was still fresh and painful. Capture number seven. She had caught Jafarr trying to steal one of her ships when she was in a bad mood. It was after dealing with Dural Korad at ISIC. She had tackled and pinned Jafarr with no mercy.

“I’m sorry.”

Jafarr stared.

“I was just doing my duty. I didn’t understand…” But she could not look at him.

The room went silent again.

“Wow,” Al murmured, shifting his feet uncomfortably.

“Back to topic,” Alsdov broke the silence. “What now?”

Jafarr had not taken his eyes off of Zormna though, as he spoke to Asdrov. “Keeping her alive