by Josie Walker
The beasts seem to have forgotten me as they rally to tackle the larger threat. As the monsters step toward him, I notice an opening on one side. Feeling a renewed sense of hope, I rush through it. I’m almost to Bocc-d’ar when I feel a sharp pain in my ass. Something is biting me!
I wail and drop to the ground like a stone. My barbaric hero lashes out with his trident and the pressure on my butt releases as Bocc-d’ar cleaves the beast’s head from its body in a single blow. The rest of the pack takes a collective step back, as though they are no longer sure if I’m worth the effort.
I use this opportunity to limp over to where my hero is crouching. I drop down wearily behind him. He’s my ticket to survival, and well I know it.
The leader of the pack stands again on its hind legs facing Bocc-d’ar. I watch it all go down through my alien’s legs. My hair stands on edge. What if Bocc-d’ar isn’t strong enough to best them all? Why didn’t he bring any of his men?
No one’s moving. It’s a staredown. The beast howls at the moons which seems to be the signal for the monsters to attack. There is a light emanating from my trident man’s armor, so I can see the hairless wolf monsters in more detail than when I had my sconce earlier.
Acidic drool slips from their tongues, which are lolling over razor sharp teeth. I see a branch nearby on the ground. I reach over to pick it up. It’s a rather puny weapon against these monsters, but better than nothing.
Their leader must be a coward because he stands his ground, allowing the rest of his pack to advance in front of him. They form a tight semicircle around us. I decide that standing is a better position and get back on my feet.
I wave my branch wildly in their direction, and one of the monsters lets out a series of snorts. I swear the thing is laughing at me. Maybe these things are more like alien hyenas than wolves.
Bocc-d’ar stabs another beast, impaling the back of its neck. Then he retrieves his trident out with a jerk as the beast slumps to the ground. He turns slightly, positioning our backs toward the left side of the sheer drop.
With each step we seem to be retreating slowly toward the top of waterfall. I hear a zing of metal on metal and realize with a start that a long sabre has emerged from his other arm. I wonder how many weapons he has in that armor of his? For the first time I hope it’s an arsenal. I really don’t want to die.
Another of the beasts is decapitated as it lunges toward me. I raise my puny branch and shake it wildly at the next one advancing to my side. I keep up with Bocc-d’ar step by step as he moves.
But he seems to be leading us back towards the waterfall. I’m not sure what good that will do us, but it seems to be his plan. Maybe he’s a really good swimmer. It would seem I’m back where I started.
Before we can get there they all rush at once. His sabre and trident slash and stab with a frenzy. I’m able to bash at least one of the beasts in the eye with my branch. Who says I’m not a team player?
Right when I’m busy congratulating myself, spittle from another of the beasts splashes my arm. I scream when I feel the acid burn my skin. We have reached the edge of the falls now, and the sound is so loud it’s deafening.
I’m poised on the precipice, gripped with uncertainty. What should I do? Moving in unison, the pack swarms us. Bocc-d’ar shoves me into the fall and I scream as I tumble inside.
Instead of falling to my death, I land on a rock ledge running along the falls’ center. I scramble away from the sheer drop and hug the side of the mountain, watching as the beasts swarm him. I scream in horror as Bocc-d’ar is overtaken by their superior numbers. They are going to kill him, and it’s all my fault. I feel a deep stab of guilt laced with regret.
They growl and snarl, their razor sharp teeth ripping into the soft spots between his armor plating. Dead bodies are strewn all around him, but more beasts always replace the fallen ones. What can I possibly do to help him?
His skill as a fighter is out of this world. I’m reminded of the battle in the arena. But this is different. The sheer number of opponents is staggering.
A large creature jumps Bocc-d’ar from behind and sinks its teeth into his shoulder as he fights three more in front of him. I hear and smell the sizzle of their acidic saliva burning through the mesh between metal plating. I’m horrified as I imagine what it is doing to the soft exposed flesh underneath. As those wicked teeth sink in deep, depositing venom directly into his bloodstream.
If it feels anything like my ass, it has to be agony. And the beast only had its teeth in me seconds before Bocc-d’ar killed it. The force behind Bocc-d’ar’s powerful thrusts lessens. That’s when I realize he’s succumbing to the poison deposited in his system.
Bocc-d’ar falls hard, flat on his back, and the beasts pause their attack to watch what he will do next. The arm holding the trident falls to the side, coming to rest on the ground closest to where I am standing inside the falls. Without considering the consequences I lean over and reach my hands out from behind the curtain of the water.
I grab onto his arm, just below the trident head. I pull with all of my might. He is huge and dead weight to boot. I dig my heels in again, and am relieved when he starts to inch towards me.
I keep on tugging. The beasts don’t seem to notice at first that his practically unresponsive body is moving. He must be conscious enough to realize what I’m doing because he digs his heels into the ground and pushes his weight in my direction. His help is enough.
The monsters snarl and lunge and I can only assume that they’ve caught on to my stealth activities. One latches onto Bocc-d’ar’s ankle and tries to jerk him back. But it would seem that my alien has more fight left in him.
He sits up and thrusts his sword through its skull, then let’s go as I drag his body the rest of the way inside the waterfall. I look at them through the curtain of water as they slowly back up. They howl and their leader steps forward, but doesn’t follow us inside the water’s protection.
“They’re afraid of the waterfall,” I say aloud. “That’s why you pushed me in here,” I tell my wounded rescuer
“TSSS,” he whispers, then starts trying to crawl across the rock ledge to the other side of the waterfall. He only goes a couple of feet before he stops, rolling onto his back. I crawl over his still form and pick up his metal head, placing it on my lap.
I stare into the blue lights which shine behind his eyes when he’s in his metal form. His armor is reflecting light from somewhere and I can see huge chunks of the metal has been eaten away by the wolves’ acidic saliva. As his eyes lock with mine, the light dulls, then goes out behind his eyes.
“Bocc-d’ar! No!” I shout at him, willing him to return to me.
As if in answer to my plea, his body changes, the metal armor dissolving to reveal a beautiful flesh and blood warrior beneath. He is naked, except for a leather loincloth. I hear the wolves howling just a few feet away, outside the curtain of falling water that separates us. I’m afraid that at any second they will muster up the courage to push through the veil of water.
I thread my fingers through my rescuer’s long hair and say his name again. “Bocc-d’ar! Wake up! Please? Bocc-d’ar! I don’t know what to do!”
His eyes open at the sound of my voice, and he shudders. The acid melts deeply into his flesh, burning him from the outside in. Blood and pus pour from his wounds. He struggles to stand, and I help him to his feet.
He stumbles as he takes a couple of steps, but now I understand that he wants to take us deeper into the fall. I sling his arm over my shoulder as I try to help support his massive weight. The rock beneath our feet is slippery from the water, and the roar of the falls increases the further in we walk.
It is such an eerie sensation to traverse this narrow ledge with the wet rock of the mountain to our left, and the curtain of raging water falling to our right. One misstep would plunge us into the dangerous pool, and to certain death below. We move sl
owly and I feel with my toes first before each step because the width of the ledge is uneven.
Eventually the sound of the alien wolves’ howling is swallowed up by the roar of the falls. But that doesn’t mean I let down my guard. I continue to push forward, almost dragging him at points, but eventually we stumble out through the other side.
The topography is very different here. There are no trees, and we are on a wide barren rock ledge. We both fall to our knees, gasping to catch our breath. From out here I can hear the howling again, but it sounds muffled and distant so I don’t think they’re close . . . yet.
The beasts call to each other as they run. My mind might be playing tricks on me, but I think that they’re getting louder. Suddenly I fear they have another way around the falls and are running to this side.
Bocc-d’ar lifts his head and looks to the sky. He opens his mouth and the sound that comes out is unlike any I have heard him make so far. It is vaguely like the roar of a lion, but much louder and with a lower pitch.
I wonder what it could mean. Is it a signal to the other aliens? A warning to the hairless wolf beasts to stay back?
I don’t have to wait long to find out. I hear a sound overhead and look up to see a huge form flapping its wings above us. It’s the dragon. With no cover from trees on this side of the falls, the light from the twin moons reflects off ruby red scaled armor plates. It flaps its wings twice. Then it flops clumsily to the rock, somehow managing to not knock us off the edge.
It makes a mournful cry as it turns its head in our direction. Bocc-d’ar stands unsteadily on his feet and takes my arm, pulling me toward the dragon. I hear the wild cry of the pack as their howls reverberate across the rocky ledge.
I can tell that they are on this side of the falls with us now, and they are getting closer by the second. We have to get out of here! The dragon lies down on its belly and touches its head to the rock, making itself as short as possible.
There will be no comfortable saddle for this trip. Bocc-d’ar reaches his hand across its neck, leaning into the beast. He groans with immense effort as he pulls his injured body onto the dragon’s back. I push upward on his hips, hoping to help in some way. Just then something darts past in my peripheral.
And that’s when I see them. They’re here, and I swear they’ve called in reinforcements because their numbers have swollen.The pack howls in fury, closing in again for the kill.
Bocc-d’ar reaches his hand down to me. Teeth from one of the wolves grazes my calf as Bocc-d’ar lifts me onto the dragon’s back, swinging me up behind him. I dig my toes into the scales of the dragon’s sides like stirrups.
There is no saddle, so I squeeze my thighs around its spine. My leg burns, and throbs in unison with my ass, but I can tell it’s minor. Just a drop of the monster’s acid saliva touched me. But my rescuer didn’t get off so easily. He must be in agony.
I hold onto Bocc-d’ar, not entirely sure if he’s providing the stability I need, or if I’m the one anchoring him to the back of the dragon. The ruby dragon stands and turns toward the beasts. It lifts its massive head and fire erupts from its mouth like water from a fireman’s hose.
“Why didn’t you call the dragon sooner?” I can’t help but lecture him.
It’s probably a good thing he can’t understand my ungrateful criticism. A half dozen of the beasts erupt into flames as the dragon flaps its wings and leaps from the cliffside. I feel Bocc-d’ar sway in front of me as the dragon banks to the right.
“Don’t you dare pass out! If you do I swear I’ll never let you put your penis in me again!” I shout into his ear.
When I hear him mumble “PENUSSS” softly I know that he’s still with me. And it’s as though my mention of his favorite bit of anatomy has revived him. He sits a bit taller and talks in his strange language. I will happily put out again if that’s what keeps him alive and on the dragon with me.
I’m no longer naive about my ability to traipse around his savage world alone. I need a protector and he’s the only one I want. It’s a shame I didn’t realize this sooner.
He’s communicating with the dragon somehow, and in a span of mere minutes we’re landing just outside the castle walls. I see the men on the parapet and start shouting to get their attention.
“Over here!” I yell at them. “It’s your master! He needs you!” I shout.
I know they can’t understand my words, but that doesn’t seem to matter because they must have recognized the dragon. The drawbridge is instantly lowered and guards begin pouring out of the castle. They’re on us in seconds.
They reach out and lift me off. Sensing that he’s safe at last, my hero gives up the fight to stay conscious and falls from the dragon’s back into their waiting arms. With nothing but the tiny loincloth, most of his body is on display.
From what I can discern, via the twin moon’s silver light, his wounds are serious. They look like something you would see on a burn victim. Waves of remorse wash over me. It’s my fault he’s injured. If I hadn’t tried to escape he wouldn’t have been out there in the first place.
But wait. This is crazy. Why should I feel guilty that I got him hurt when he’s the one that kidnapped me in the first place? And why should I feel so grateful that he saved me? I never asked for any of this!
I’m so confused I don’t even know what to think anymore. My mind is absolutely twisted though because, logical or not, I definitely feel like I owe him . . . big time. This terrifies me. I’m afraid for my captor? I’ve officially lost all my marbles.
I’m shaking like a leaf as I allow them to lead me inside with him. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m cold and wet, or if it’s because I’m in shock. It hits me as we step inside the warmth of the castle. I almost died tonight.
I’m still young. I haven’t even really lived yet! I’m not ready to die. I haven’t done any of the things I wanted to do with my life. Everything is so wildly out of control that I wonder if I will ever get to make any choices for what I want to do ever again.
I allow myself to be swept along with the group of metalheads as they carry Bocc-d’ar inside the castle. Running away again doesn’t appeal in any way. I’d have to be suicidal to return to those woods alone. And what good would I be to my friends if I’m dead?
Who am I kidding? I’m in no position to save the other prisoners. I wanted to be their hero, but I can’t even save myself. If it weren’t for Bocc-d’ar I’d be toast. Reality hits my like a firm blow to the gut.
I’m stuck here, I realize as we rush down the street toward the castle. I don’t know for how long, but it could easily be forever. I’d like to think that Sarah and Vorek are still out there working on a plan to rescue us, but the realist in me says that’s just wishful thinking.
They’re probably all dead, I admit to myself. Tears leak down my face as I move numbly toward the castle. I shed tears for Sarah, my best friend, who was probably a casualty of the battle at the dome. Tears for all of my Krinar friends who I will never see again. Tears for myself as I admit defeat. And strangely enough, I weep for Bocc-d’ar most of all. I’m afraid that he’s not going to survive. What will I do without him?
CHAPTER TWELVE
One Month Later . . .
Bocc-d’ar
I lie abed, watching my mate sleep. The covers rise and fall with each sweet breath. I lift the soft furs slightly so that I can peek under and admire her more closely.
Her perfect nipples strain against the soft gray fabric of her shift. I wish that she would sleep in the nude so that I could see her beautiful body more intimately, but she does not seem to understand my wishes. I myself sleep in my flesh form with no clothing, but as of yet she has failed to catch on.
We are newly mated, and we will have the rest of our lives to learn each other’s likes and dislikes. So for now, I do my best to remember exactly what she looks like under her clothing. At least she no lon
ger needs the bandages from her encounter with the Sprek beasts. The constant reminder of how close she came to dying was more than I could bear.
I am still afraid to leave her side, even though there has been a complete cycle of the moons since that horrific night in the woods when I almost lost her. If only I could comprehend her strange tongue. It’s imperative that she understand the myriad dangers lurking outside the castle walls. I’m still confused and flabbergasted about why she fled the safety of my keep in the first place.
How has she even reached adulthood with no knowledge of how to defend herself? She seems to be ignorant of how to navigate dangerous terrain, and of which plants are venomous. Did her parents teach her nothing?
I shudder as I recall how terrified she looked when I finally found her, surrounded by the Sprek beasts. They had her cornered against the great falls. It sickens me to know that had I arrived scant seconds later, I’d have been too late. Either the raging waters or the hairless demons would have claimed her life.
To lose my mate after I have finally found her is unthinkable. I could never be happy with my lonely existence again. My sweet TSSS has brought new meaning to my life, and unfathomable joy. But she has also taught me to fear, a feeling I never really understood. Before TSSS I had nothing to lose.
I slide back her sleeve and examine her skin. She had a few small burns from the Sprek’s saliva. As I look at her arm I am pleased to see that I can no longer even tell where the blemishes on her fair skin were. She’s so fragile.
I hold my own arm up to examine it. My injuries from the Sprek beasts were more substantial, but are nearly healed. Fortunately I have a skilled healer with extensive knowledge of herbal poultices to counteract the poison in the beasts’ burning saliva.
As I regard my other arm, I see that nothing remains of their acidic burns but a slight puckering of the flesh. The new skin that has formed to replace that which was burned is a lighter color, but I’m sure my arms will look completely normal soon. But I would gladly bear any number of scars in order to save my mate.
