Red Sands: Warlords of Atera

by Kyle, Celia

  Drazan carefully rolled away from Sheri, unwilling to wake her from her well-deserved slumber. Once upright, he stretched and sought to loosen his sore muscles. He padded across the room, intent on reaching the bathing chamber, when the sight of himself in the mirror snared his attention. His breath caught and disbelief flooded his veins. He had never imagined, but now… His scales had darkened, the red hue deepening to a burnt brick. The scales around his neck, upper back and chest now stood out against the normally lighter color.

  By the goddess… Every Ateran he encountered would know of his change in status. The alterations of his coloring were unmistakable and blatantly pronounced his mating to one an all.

  Drazan had received his Mating Stripe.

  “That’s different,” his kode’s sleepy, muffled voice from the direction of the bed grabbed his attention. He abandoned his perusal of his Mating Stripe and looked to her, disliking the frown on her lips.

  “It is the Mating Stripe.” He stood straighter as he studied his reflection. “It is a sign of our bonding. It is a gift from the goddess to tell one and all that you have claimed your kode.”

  “Hmmm…” She rose from the bed, grasping one of the blankets and wrapping it around her to hide her nudeness. She covered herself as she approached, and he hated that he could no longer look upon his one’s bare body. Not stopping until inches separated them, Sheri traced the line of his Mating Stripe around his throat and then down his chest. “It’s interesting.”

  Drazan scanned what parts of her body he could see, searching for any changes to her appearance as well. And found none. “Does your kind not show their mating upon their flesh?”

  Sheri laughed, that tinkling sound that soothed his heart, and shook her head. “No, we don’t. When we get married, we wear jewelry to show that we’re taken, but our bodies don’t change.”

  Drazan grunted. It displeased him to know his kode would not have a physical sign of their bonding visible to others. He would think on a way to correct her lack of Mating Stripe.

  They breakfasted together and all the while he stared at his kode, his one, his forever. The goddess truly gave Atera—him—the greatest of gifts when she placed Sheri and the human females in his path. He imagined the other Ateran males gifted with a kode felt the same. They would also be troubled by the lack of Mating Stripe. He had much to accomplish this day, but addressing her lack was one of his focuses.

  Once they’d broken their fast, Drazan left Sheri so he could attend his business for the day. He met with several city leaders, settling a dispute about trade agreements and another regarding construction of housing in a nearby cliff face. He briefly spoke with the ambassador from the Living Sands informing him that Warlord Traze and his delegation had returned to their home in the south. The report listed the condition of the human females in Traze’s care—many of which were still in poor health. He ordered a message sent to the Living Sands warlord, demanding the male provide him with constant updates on the status of the injured females. He knew Sheri would wish to know their condition and he did not wish to worry her without need.

  At noon, he left his aides and returned to the stronghold though he did not immediately go to his quarters. He still had other business to complete.

  Drazan headed to one of the small outbuildings within the stronghold walls—the forge encased within its walls typically used for the creation of weapons and tools. He did not hesitate to order the forge tenders and workers to leave and not return until summoned. He was the warlord. His word was law. The males looked at him oddly, but one glare had them scurrying away like frightened hatchlings. He waited until he was utterly alone before getting to work.

  He sought out a plate of polished, gleaming metal or a mirror first, digging through supplies until he located what he sought. Then he went to the crafter’s bench and located a small set of pliers. Items in hand, he went to the battered wooden table tucked in the corner and propped the shining surface so that he could see himself in the reflection. Then he lowered himself to the chair that had seen better days. Once comfortable, he pulled one of his own sharpened blades from his belt and placed it on the scarred tabletop.

  A mirror. A blade. And pliers. All he would need.

  He studied his scales in the mirror, running his claws over those on his shoulders and upper arms, then the darker ones of his chest. Yes, he knew what he would do for his kode and each scale had to be the most pristine. His kode would not have scarred scales as a sign of their mating.

  He took his blade and slid it beneath one of the scales he’d chosen, grunting with the sharp, piercing pain. Then he grabbed its edge with the pliers and lifted it further, giving himself enough space to slip the knife deeper, cutting the scale free. He held it up in the light shining through a nearby window and studied the small piece of himself. It sparkled in that bright sunlight, as if the goddess herself blessed his path, and he nodded before setting it aside.

  Drazan continued the process for some time, careful to choose only the most glorious of his scales. They would regrow with time, though removing them was a painful and arduous process. He only plucked a single scale from each different area on his body—unwilling to leave one portion of him exposed by the lack of scales. By the time he finished, he had two dozen small pock marks where the scales had been removed. They still ached, and he set the work aside for now, placing the scales in the pouch he carried at his waist.

  He left the building and turned his attention to his kode, anxious to see her again after being apart from her for so long. He strode across the yard toward the main building that held his quarters. The yard remained fairly empty, warriors and workers having left for the day. The suns hung low in the sky, barely peeking above the tops of the cliffs that surrounded their city. The air was already growing cooler with the coming night.

  As he crossed the expanse between the forge and the main building, a sand bug nipped at him, taking advantage of one of his newly vulnerable spots. He reached for his shoulder and went to brush off the insect before it could bite him again, yet his claws didn’t encounter a bug. A cool, hard object was embedded in his flesh and he pulled it out. He stared at the small item—a dart, tipped coated in a black substance.

  He spun in place, scanning the roofs of the nearby buildings, but finding no one. He sought for anyone on the ground, any who could be responsible for the dart that had pierced his hide.

  Again, no one.

  Drazan stepped toward the main building once more, intent on summoning his warriors, when his world spun, body listing to the side with a small stumble. He stared at the dart once more and brought it closer to his mouth. A flick of his tongue, careful not to touch the spike, revealed the truth—poison. Yet this time it was not the poison of the rafol tree as it had been during his most recent challenge. He had no immunity to protect him.

  He muttered a curse, snarling at himself for not knowing the poison, for being vulnerable to the substance, for… falling face first into the sand and losing consciousness.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  After Drazan left Sheri to her own devices, she popped over to the barracks to check on the women—spending the morning with them to ensure their needs were being met. They gradually were settling into their new home more and more with each passing day. Talk of escape had mostly stopped though there was still some discussion about sending a distress signal of some sort. Most ideas fell flat, and she got the impression the women spoke of sending a message to keep their hope burning.

  Even if there wasn’t much of a reason to keep that hope kindled.

  As she left the barracks and the ladies behind, she paused in the shade and leaned against the wall. She stared at the two suns hanging heavily in the sky, their brightness nearly touching the high cliff walls as they set. She still wasn’t used to the idea of two suns. Somehow that was even stranger than being on a world filled with lizard-people.

  She let her mind drift as she enjoyed the late-day breeze, rolling her conversations with
the women over in her mind. Only a few still spoke about going home with any enthusiasm. Several talked more about their Ateran males that had claimed them over anything else. None had shared any intimate details, but she was pretty sure she wasn’t the only one who had explored a male’s mating pouch. The blissful look and glowing faces had been a dead giveaway.

  She studied the clear sky, few clouds marring the waning brightness, and wondered if she’d ever see a rescue ship descending from the stars. She wondered further if she would truly want to leave if she had the opportunity. Just days ago she had been headed to a new world and new life—betrothed to an alien male from a peaceful, benevolent race. Now she was stranded on a harsh, hostile alien sand-world, and she was fucking a lizard-like warlord. Things certainly hadn’t gone according to plan.

  Further, she wasn’t sure how she felt about Drazan. Yes, she was attracted to him—as strange as he appeared compared to a human—and she was beginning to care for him as a man. Er, male. Even now, only being parted from him a handful of hours, she missed him. She wished for the feel of his arms wrapped around her.

  Either she was developing real feelings, or she was suffering a big bout of infatuation. And hadn’t she learned from her past, when she discovered that infatuation wasn’t anything like love. In high school, she’d met a college guy at a party. They’d dated for a month before she’d handed him her virginity. At the time, she’d thought she was in love with the guy. She’d thought about him every day and had been willing to give him everything, to do anything for him.

  Then he’d cheated on her with a girl from one of his classes—devastating her.

  Infidelity wasn’t an available option to Drazan. Even attempting would go against his biology. That didn’t mean their relationship—if that’s what it could be called—had any kind of future. When the newness wore off, when the lust and desire began to fade, would there be anything left to sustain them? Falling for someone was one thing. She knew it was easy to fall head over heels without a care for the consequences, but making a long-term relationship work was another story. It took hard work, devotion, and common beliefs and life goals. She wasn’t sure if she and Drazan had any of those things. Or if she even wanted to work to turn this into something more than sex and pleasure.

  Sheri shook her head and stepped away from the barracks, banishing the confusion thoughts. She didn’t know what to think or do, but for now she didn’t have any other options. She would wait to make any decisions until after she’d spoken with the women who’d been taken to the two other regions. Until their lack of a rescue was a certainty instead of a question. If she could get in touch with Kalinda, she could get the engineer’s perspective about modifying the Ateran technology to send a signal. If they couldn’t, maybe she could truly accept her new life on the sand planet. If they did get a signal out, she’d have a more difficult decision to make—one that would have consequences to more than just her.

  She headed toward the main building, intent on circling around back to stop and chat with the cooks. She had a craving for a good, old-fashioned burger. She figured she could cobble together some instructions for the Aterans to make her a ceaqburger.

  She was just nearing the front corner of the building when a commotion from around the back drew her attention. She frowned and headed in that direction to investigate and what she found had her increasing her pace. A group of Aterans carried something between them, the warriors obviously in a hurry and grim-faced as they strode across the hard-packed sands. When they got closer, she finally got a clear look at their burden—an unconscious Drazan.

  “Drazan!” She raced toward the group. She darted between the males that made up the large group, anxious to be at his side, but one of the males stepped into her path. He grabbed her and hauled her out of the way, seemingly immune to her struggles and shouts.

  “Be still,” the Ateran warrior snapped at her. “They must get him to a healer. You must not interfere.”

  She pulled against his hold once more, teeth gritted and determination to get to Drazan suffusing every inch of her. He needed her. He needed…

  “Be. Still,” the male growled then, the dangerous sound slicing through her rising panic so she could get herself under control.

  The Ateran was right. She didn’t know anything about Ateran physiology. There was no way she could help him even if she wanted to care for him more than anything else in the world. That didn’t mean she would just stand aside while he was hurt.

  Once she calmed, the warrior released her so she could follow the group inside. They carried Drazan upstairs to his—their—quarters. They laid him on the sofa to rest and wait for the healer. Blood dripped from his back, droplets staining the fabric beneath him. He also clutched something in his hand and one of the warriors pried it free of her mate’s grip.

  A small dart.

  The Ateran raised the dart to his mouth and flicked out his tongue, just shy of touching the item. He grimaced. “Poison.”

  “What kind? Is there an antidote?”

  None of the males answered her. None would meet her gaze. She frowned and clenched her fists at her sides. She opened her mouth to demand answers when the healer Prirk entered.

  He took one glance around the space and then ordered the room emptied so he could work. The warriors left, taking up guard positions outside the door before shutting it behind them. Prirk didn’t try to eject her and she assumed her status as Drazan’s kode gave her special privileges in the healer’s eyes.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Sheri eased closer to her unconscious mate. “I’m a nurse. Er, a healer’s assistant.”

  Prirk studied her for a moment—weighing her words for the truth?—and then nodded. “You may assist me.”

  They worked together to tend the small wound. The dart had only made a small prick in Drazan’s back though for some reason he was also missing a number of scales. The pale patches were scattered throughout his upper body with no discernable pattern—no rhyme or reason. The wounds to his scales appeared superficial, and they were barely bleeding, though Sheri worried about the cause. She couldn’t imagine what could have happened to Drazan to leave him with such scattered injuries. The poisoned dart, however, was their highest priority.

  “Can you cure him?”

  Prirk rubbed a salve into the dart wound. Sheri recognized it as the same Healing Sands she’d seen not long ago. “I do not know if he will heal,” his words were low. “I must test the dart to discover what stronghold was used. Perhaps rafol sap, or—”

  “It is not rafol,” Drazan rasped.

  “Drazan!” she didn’t hesitate to push Prirk aside and get closer to him, cradling his face in her hands. “Are you all right? What happened? Can you speak?”

  “An assassin.” Drazan coughed, face scrunched in pain. “Sent by Krunt, I am sure.”

  Sheri shook her head. She didn’t understand the conflict between her mate and Krunt, but right then, she didn’t care. “How can we help?”

  “You are certain it is not rafol sap?” Prirk didn’t seem to believe Drazan.

  “If it were, I would be immune.” Drazan wheezed. “Krunt knows this. It is why his warrior-brother failed. He must have concocted a different poison.” He took a deep breath and released it with a frightening rattle. “Vile betrayer.”

  Then he said no more, falling unconscious the moment the last word left his mouth.

  “We must work quickly.” Prirk pulled a device from a pouch on his belt—an electronic scanner of some sort. It seemed so strange to see such advanced technology among stone buildings and the primitive designs of the living quarters. Drazan didn’t even have electric lights in his suite—another way of keeping in touch with his roots, his goddess, it seemed.

  Prirk rubbed the tip of the dart onto a slick surface on the scanner and then frowned at the device as they awaited the results. When alien writing flashed across the screen, his frown deepened.

  “A mixture of several poisons. Pollen from
a desert flower, ichor of the sand beast, a few common ingredients for binding and preservation of the poison and…” His gaze reached the bottom of the list and he shook his head.

  “And what?” Sheri leaned closer, looking over the alien writing. Unfortunately, the Trans Comm Implant was for audio only and she still couldn’t read the Ateran language.

  “A substance I have never seen before. Here, look at the composition.” Prirk pressed a few buttons on the device and the screen changed to show a diagram of a chemical stronghold.

  While Sheri couldn’t understand the symbols the Aterans used, she recognized the basic layout of a molecule, several branches connecting smaller symbols that she assumed represented atoms. She wasn’t sure what it all meant, but something about the design looked familiar. Something she remembered from her medical training…

  “Wait.” She strode across the room and snatched the bag of leftover medical supplies from the ship. There wasn’t much left, but she had refused to abandon it to the desert. She pulled a small vial from the bag and went back to Prirk. “Check this.” She handed him the vial.

  Prirk opened it, tongue darting out to catch the scent with his tongue. He grimaced at the smell and then tipped the vial to pour a small bit of the substance onto his scanner. The device beeped and whirred, but then a message appeared for them.

  The healer nodded. “This is it. What is this material?”

  “Biomed gel. It’s used on humans to treat wounds and prevent infection.”

  “Well,” Prirk glared at the vial. “It is lethal to Aterans. Drazan’s blood is reacting poorly but with this sample, I should be able to synthesize an antidote.”