A flicker of doubt gnaws at me.Why are they so quiet?
Before I can change direction, my ears twitch at the sound of soft footsteps—approaching quickly. One of the females is running down the passageway. I grimace, bracing myself for another round of strange human madness. It’s not long before the fire-haired female comes into view, still wearing the leathers I gifted her—Sandra.
Her expression gives me pause—not fear, not joy, but something else.Concern. It spreads, infecting my mind like a poison.
“Dracoth!” Sandra yells, breathless. I march toward her just as she crashes into me with a thud, clinging to me, gulping in air, exhausted.
“I can’t find the other women.” Her eyes lock onto mine—blue as the ice that tries to harden around my molten heart.
“I think they’re gone!”
Chapter 20
Dracoth
Venting
Thisshipisvast—likeall Scythian Battlebarges—built to carry an entire warband into the heart of deadly combat. My females have been exploring its depths ever since I permitted their release. Would the other humans have left Sandra behind, lost in their curiosity? The panic in her eyes evaporates such fleeting hopes.
“I’ve checked their quarters and the showers; there’s no sign of them anywhere!” Sandra pleads, clutching onto me. “Please, Dracoth, they could be in danger.”
Her words barely reach me; my molten heart pumps Rush through my veins like a raging torrent. I’m already charging down the corridors like rolling magma.
“Wait for me!” Sandra’s voice fades behind me, but I do not stop. Each second is critical, and she would only slow me down with her human inferiority.
A dark thought slithers into my mind, twisting my lips with the rankest hatred. If those junkers have taken my females... by Arawnoth, I will strip the skin from their flesh and leave them to bake in the molten rivers of Scarn. But the thought rings hollow—the terror in their eyes was no act. They wouldn’t defy me; they’d sooner open their own veins than face my wrath.
I dash through the corridors like a flaming comet, my muscles driving me forward in an unstoppable rage. My surroundings blur as I inhale great lungfuls of air, each breath feeding the crimson Rush blazing from my eyes. I don my warvisor, its sacred blessings endowing me with enhanced awareness.
Lifeforms roam the ship, each species identified by their unique biological makeup. Casting my head to the left, I’m aware of Balsar and his two Argorian companions. I’ve already overtaken them as they hasten with elated heart rates down an adjacent corridor. More importantly, they travel alone.
Where are my females? The docking bays? Arawnoth, let it not be so!
Then I see them—three figures glowing in faint oranges and reds inside a rear docking bay, confirming my worst fears, hastening my desperate assault down the corridor. Their hearts pump with frantic beats, their adrenaline spiking in the throes of some fresh human madness. Fury coils within me as two of them scramble aboard a docked light ship.
They seek to escape!
How are they accessing secure areas? My thoughts race, my heart pounding with urgency. Using the warvisor’s communication, I reach out to the young warriors. “Seal the exterior docking bay doors, hold fire.”
None of them are even half as close as I am, but I’m still too far, sprinting from the wrong end of this endless ship, my Rush enhancing my haste.
My eyes blaze red, almost blinding me with their searing intensity. I thunder forward, faster than ever before, the very ground trembling beneath my feet. I will myself to hasten, imploring Arawnoth to grant me the strength and speed I need to end this madness.
One of the females breaks away from the hovering ship, moving to leave the docking bay—a small relief, but it does nothing to ease the chaos unfolding before me. I cycle through my warvisor’s vision spectrums, selecting one that gives me insight into the small fighter ship. Its engines are engaged, sputtering and groaning as it sways erratically, grinding against the docking bay walls.
There’s a chance! Their lack of knowledge works in my favor, and the docking bay doors are slowly closing. Each agonizing second stretches into an eternity. I’m closer now, very close, only a few corridors away.
The fighter lurches back and forth, inching ever closer to the docking bay door and the vast void beyond.What madness is this? Even if they escape, they’ll be lost in space! But there’s no time for reason and questions—logic does not belong in the realm of human female chaos.
Princesa comes into view, her face a mask of fear and disbelief. “I—I tried to stop them! I swear!” she cries, her voice frantic. Her words are meaningless to me—only action matters. I slam into the docking bay door with a force that makes the reinforced arcweave shudder and groan.
Princesa’s eyes are wide, darting wildly between me and the viewport, caught between terror and a maddening admiration. “Oh god... they’re almost through! They’re gonna make it!” she gasps, her voice tinged with awe.
Her naïve excitement at this catastrophe fuels my fury. She sees this foolishness as some daring escape, not the suicidal idiocy it is. There’s no time to shatter her delusions—I have to stop this.Now.
“Keth, override safety protocol, rear docking bay, my location—now!” I command through my warvisor. I claw at the massive door, trying to force it open, but it resists, groaning in protest under my strength. My breath comes in ragged gulps as I glance through the viewport. The light ship wobbles unsteadily, but is pushing through the atmospheric forcefield, triggering the exterior hatch to halt mid-closure due to proximity detection.
“They’re safe!” Princesa exclaims with delighted naivety.
