“War Chieftain,” I correct him. Irked, I turn my gaze back to the female, who’s now transformed into a vision of blissful ecstasy. She waves her hands through the green mist in languid, dance-like motions, her eyes drowsy.
“Of course... War Chieftain. How could I forget?” he corrects, tittering darkly. “What female could be worthy of our greatWar Chieftain?” He lingers on my rightful title mockingly, but I will not be baited. His words are wind, lesser even—wind has uses. “Oh, there’s no need to sulk.” He presses after a moment of silence, feeling the need to fill it. “I saw the way you stared at her, the words you muttered.”
“You saw nothing, you deaf old fool,” I retort more sharply than I intend. He’s good at this, rankling me like no other.
“Is it her plumpness that stirs your young heart?” Ignixis questions with a knowing grin, twisting the runes on his face into a grotesque mask. “Like a fattened flaxen-hairedborack, ready for the slaughter and the feasting.” He smacks his lips before laughing with excitement.
She showed bravery in a sea of tears.
I frown, recalling the golden-haired female, another moment of weakness when I named her “most beautiful,” distracted by her ample breasts and pleasuring curves. I need to be more careful next time, not give this gas-cloud more fodder.
“Shame your device showed no females for you. You’re as keen as a ruttingaurodon,” I challenge, glaring at him with my eyes as sharp as my claws.
“Maybe!” Ignixis hoots, brushing a hand over his bald, tattooed head. “But we Magaxus Elders vow to forgo such carnal pleasures when we purify our bodies in the sacred words.”
“You’re an Elder no longer,” I remind him, enjoying the flicker of anger twisting his face. Glad I’m able to irk him as he irks me. We’re like two wounded animals tethered by shame and a shared goal. I could drive my claws deeper, tear open his dishonor and expose his festering wound—but he’s useful to me.
“I could no more stop being an Elder than you could stop being a giant,” Ignixis scoffs, turning his attention back to the medical console. “This female shows signs of early arthritis in her hands,” hetuts, “For one so young. They really are a fragile species.”
She must work with her hands.I study her, expecting to see calluses and thick, swollen knuckles, but they appear as soft as the finest fur.
A loud ping echoes through the cluttered medical lab, signifying her healing is complete. I rush to open the pod door. The intoxicating vapors tickle my senses as I see the human female examine her hands with disbelief, something akin to pleasure on her face—a welcome change.
Her eyes snap to me, as if just remembering my presence and her fear. She rushes to cover her sex, her small hips and breasts trembling. I hold up placating hands and slowly retrieve a small translation device from my belt. Despite my careful movements, she winces and squirms, and a twinge of something unfamiliar—guilt, perhaps—stirs within me.
The device emits a soft hiss, clamping onto the skin beneath her delicate ear.
“Speak,” I command.
Her eyes snap to mine, full of surprise. Her mouth works soundlessly as she brushes the translation device slowly, then she speaks more strange gibberish I don’t understand.
I frown with disappointment, turning to Ignixis, “Your translation device doesn’t translate,” I state, my voice oozing contempt.
“Nonsense!” Ignixis shoots back, leaning towards the human female, tilting his head, straining to hear. No doubt the oldgas-cloudis half-deaf. “She’s speaking a different language than the Earth’s common Englandish.” He struggles with the strange alien word as I furrow my brow. These humans must be a fractured people to have so many different languages. Most known species speak galactic basic and their native language, much like us Klendathians.
“I... speak little English,” the little female mutters, sounding like sweet nectar to my ears. “I understand you little.” She bows her head in a respectful way I find pleasing.
Ignixis and I round on the female with surprise and curiosity, prompting her to retreat further into the pod. “You are notOni?”
What’s an Oni?
I glance at Ignixis with confusion, suddenly feeling a treacherous fluttering in my chest that shouldn’t be there. “We are Klendathians. we come from a distant planet called Klendathor,” Ignixis replies with a smoothness I envy.
The female’s dark brown eyes twinkle with awe, then her gaze shifts downward. “Why?” she mutters, fidgeting with her hands. “Why I’m here?”
Ignixis chuckles, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll let the greatWar Chieftainanswer that,” the treacherous, disgraced Elder mocks as he leans in closer to whisper in my ear. “Time to woo with your charming personality, young Dracoth.” My eye twitches as I suppress the Rush bubbling to the surface. “Remember why we are here,” he adds, straightening to exit the room with a sly smirk.
The one time I actually want the old gas-cloud to speak and he leaves!
What is this feeling I’m experiencing? A churning unease and doubt bores through my guts like a gigantic tunneling wyrm. The dainty human female stares at me with blinking eyes expectedly.What do I say to one such as her?Look at her! So tiny and frail, I’m afraid If I breathe too deep, I may tip her over.
“You may be my bonded female,” I state simply.
Her eyes widen, and for a moment, there is silence. She blinks rapidly, processing my words. “Bonded... female?” she echoes, her voice trembling slightly.
“Yes, you might bring me great power.” I nod at her, trying to reassure her, but to my chagrin, my words appear to have the opposite effect. She curls into a ball, wrapping her legs with her arms—her favorite position.Fragile in mind and body, it seems.
I sigh and retreat to a nearby bench, retrieving the female’s clothes, hoping it might instill some confidence in her. As I approach, her moist eyes flick to me, and she rocks back and forth. It’s not terror in her eyes, but something worse—total despair.
