No females or children? What the hell?
Goosebumps prickle my skin, and I suddenly wish I had a coat to pull tighter around me. Is this going to be like walking into a nightclub as the only woman, ogled by a bunch of drunk, horny losers?
Ugh, except this time, they’re all giants. Fantastic.
“How come?” Sandra asks, echoing my thoughts as she glances at the backs of Demon Egg-Head and Dracoth.
“Silence,” Dracoth commands, being his usual bore self. “Warriors ahead,” he adds, nodding toward two Clown-dathians standing like metal statues, barring entry to the alluring sights of bustling activity beyond.
“Garrick, look at the size of this one!” one of the guards exclaims, nudging his companion, who’s fiddling with his wrist device. Both guards are easily over seven feet tall but much older than Dracoth, with withered, wrinkled faces and long gray hair—like aging heavy metal fans who never grew up.
“Huh?” Garrick mutters, his eyes widening at the sight of our strange party. Dracoth halts before them, towering over the pair as his belt and our chains rattle like a jailor’s keys. I tug at my heavy collar, trying to create space to catch my breath.
“Gods, what are they feeding you Magaxus warriors?” Garrick adds, his eyes crawling over Dracoth’s form.
“Blood and death,” Dracoth replies, sneering at Demon Egg-Head, whose yellowed fangs, and glowing green eyes flash—the only things visible beneath his obsidian hood.
“You Magaxus are... strange, to say the least,” the other guard mutters, grimacing. “I’ll stick with borack meat and ale, myself.” He pauses, looking at his blue holographic device. “We don’t have your ship on our list. What is the nature of your visit?”
“Visit?” Dracoth’s face twists into a sneer, his crimson eyes flaring. “Do I look like a weak outsider to you?”
My pulse quickens, fearing my red radiator is about to blow a gasket... once again. Maybe a confrontation could give me a chance to escape or—dare I hope—be rescued? I study the guards, trying to gauge if they can be trusted.
“Ah... well, no.” The guard shrinks back under Dracoth’s fierce glare—apparently too much for anybody to handle. “We have to ask, that’s all.” He throws a nervous glance at his companion. “But it’s clear you’re a returning Magaxus warrior.”
Dracoth moves forward, our chains clinking—a hateful cue to follow.
“Wait!” Garrick calls out, his voice sharp. “High Chieftain Krogoth has outlawed slavery.” His eyes flick between Sandra and me. “Are these females... humans?” He shakes his head and turns to his companion. “Gods, what a mess. We’re supposed to bring any humans to High Chieftainess Rocks, but they’ve just left.”
This might be my chance!
My heart pounds as I stare at the guards, my breathing erratic. Dracoth and Demon Egg-Head have broken some kind of Clown-dathian law. If I speak up now, maybe these guards can get me out of this mess. But... what if it’s better to stick with the devil I know?
“We’re not slaves,” Sandra chimes in, breaking the tension and making my decision for me.
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise.Does she have the worst case of Stockholm syndrome ever?
“These are for our protection,” she adds, clutching a handful of our thick metal chains.
The guard frowns, glaring at the chains. “What about you?” he asks, gesturing in my direction. “Are you with them for...” His eyes flick nervously to Dracoth, who looms over us like a simmering volcano. “Protection?”
My gaze darts between the guards and Dracoth, my heart thumping in my chest.Crap, what do I do?If I stay silent, Dracoth might drag us further into God knows what. If I speak up, these guys might just throw me into another cage. “I... I...”
“You heard the females.” Dracoth inches closer to the guards, his enormous hands flexing—a subtle but unmistakable threat. “Step aside.”
His voice is low, dangerous, like distant thunder. He doesn’t bother to add more. His presence is enough.
The guards lock eyes with him for a brief second before quickly stepping back to escape his intimidating shadow. “Yes... well, proceed, Magaxus warrior,” Garrick stammers, gesturing toward the exit with a trembling arm.
Our chains clink and jangle again, a grating continuing signal of my humiliating enslavement as Dracoth strides forward like an unstoppable mountainous tyrant. He even bullies the guards—or police, or whoever the hell these guys are!
I’m glad I kept my mouth shut.They would have handed me back the moment Dracoth snapped his fingers.
“You hesitated,” Dracoth growls, turning his head just enough to glare at me. My stomach sinks into my shoes.
The giant perv misses nothing!
“What do you expect? I was scared!” I snap back, struggling to keep up with his long strides.
