Alien Redeemed

by Marie Dry

  Zaar cupped her cheek, his hand gentle, and he smiled at her, those sharpened teeth gleaming in the artificial light. “I would never make a liar out of my parena. His name will be engraved on the tube.” Sarah smiled up at him and enjoyed the frightened sounds coming from the priest. She briefly worried for her soul; she didn’t want to become like Coralinda and her brother. But these cowards had to be taught to fight with honor if they wanted to revolt.

  Zaar stepped back and turned to face the thrones. “You are a traitor, Coralinda. The fact that you are a female will not save you.”

  Fear came off the woman in waves. She motioned to her sobbing brother. “He orchestrated all of it. He made me help him,” Coralinda pleaded.

  “Liar,” Cornelius screamed.

  “Silence, you snivelling woumbers,” Zaar thundered and Sarah nearly jumped out of her skin.

  Sarah couldn’t find it in herself to feel sorry for either of them. Maybe before she’d seen the way Cornelius had tortured the six warriors. The awful way he’d killed that warrior. And Coralinda had watched and enjoyed their suffering. How could they do something like that? The overwhelming rage left her and suddenly she felt limp and tired. She just wanted this over with and to be home with Zaar.

  “You, Cornelius, will be put to death by the same method you used to torture my warrior until he died. I doubt you will face your death with the courage my warrior showed.”

  Sarah swallowed, remembering the acid eating through that poor warrior, Cornelius’s sick enjoyment, the way the priest had giggled. The Aurelian deserved this sentence, but she couldn’t enjoy the thought of anyone dying like that. Not even this worm.

  Chains clanging, Cornelius fell awkwardly to his knees, half on and half off the throne, pleading, “Please, my leader, I was merely following her orders. Mercy, please,” he sobbed.

  Zaar ignored the pleading and moaning coming from the siblings.

  Zaar went to stand in front of Coralinda. “You will be imprisoned, in the dungeons of this monstrosity you like so much for the rest of your life.” He cocked his head in that odd reptilian way the Zyrgins had and Coralinda looked on the verge of passing out. “Your imprisonment will be broadcast for all in the Zyrgin Empire to see what happens to those who harm my parena and defy my rule.”

  He might say the fact that Coralinda was a woman wouldn’t affect her sentence, but Sarah knew better. If Coralinda had been a man, she’d have had the same sentence as her brother. She knew that the part of the sentence, where he mentioned filming them, was in revenge for her watching and enjoying the torture of Sarah and the warriors.

  Zaar came and put his arm around her waist. “We will leave now. My warriors will see to these two and ensure that all the other traitors are found and dealt with.”

  She leaned against him while he walked her out of the lavish throne room. “I don’t like this palace—it’s overdone with gold and jewels and with too much stuff. I prefer the simplicity of our rooms.” Sitting on a purple bear pelt sounded real good.

  Zaar held her closer. “A warrior and his breeder do not need jeweled chairs to sit comfortably.”

  She smiled up at him, but stopped when her bruised lip protested. “We have much better taste.”

  The scarred warriors fell in behind them and Sarah noticed a hesitation in their movements. It wasn’t their wounds—she knew Zyrgin warriors would die before showing that they hurt. But something was up with them.

  She turned, Zaar’s hand still around her waist, and said, “I have scars too.” She’d never know what made her say it. Something in the proud way they carried themselves and the hesitant way they moved tore at her.

  Every Zyrgin turned and stared at her and then Zaar, who grew taller.

  “I had scars when I came here,” she said quickly.

  Their shoulders relaxed, but not by much. None of them looked at the scarred warriors. It was a curiously poignant movement. The warriors who’d have no problem sacrificing themselves in battle, didn’t know what to say to their scarred brethren.

  Sarah stopped and stepping out of Zaar’s arms. She went to stand in front of the six scarred warriors.

  “I have scars and the Zyrgin values me. He values you, as well.” She took Zaar’s hand and pressed it pointedly. When he didn’t react, she looked up at him and widened her eyes. He widened his back at her.

  Sarah sighed. “Tell them you value them.”

  He said something in Zyrgin and the scarred warriors relaxed. She had the feeling they were all laughing at her, but she didn’t care. These warriors had sacrificed themselves for her. She would help these warriors now. They needed her protection. And she’d gone through this before, while she doubted they’d ever been as helpless as she’d been.

  Zaar led her out of the throne room and down several corridors. “Have you been here before?” she asked him.

  “Many years ago. I would prefer never to come here again.” It only gradually dawned on her that Zaar was furious. Beneath his expressionless face and calm demeanor, he was seething.

  25

  That realization should’ve scared her, but instead it made her feel safe.

  Zaar leaned down, pressed his lips to her ears. “We are broadcasting everything to the empire. My subjects have to see my parena walk out of this palace of traitors, injured but strong.” He lifted her face and silver flashed in her view. Her sight in her swollen eye cleared up a little. He caressed her temple, her cheek. “Our doctor will help you on the ship.”

  She tried to smile, but her lips didn’t want to stop trembling. “I’m all right.” Her wounds were nothing compared to the five warriors following close behind them.

  “You are brave, my parena,” he said. The highest praise from a Zyrgin warrior.

  He carefully traced the hurt flesh on her chin and her cheek and something terrible flashed in his eyes. “Be brave for a little longer, while we show our people our strength.” He took her hand and led her through the corridors until they reached a gilded and bejeweled double door.

  The palace should look sumptuous and elegant, but instead, it was bloated and stuffed with riches and evil power. It was a strange surreal moment, walking next to the ruler of practically the universe with guards flanking them, their footsteps loud and intimidating, the only sound in the palace. Every now and then she’d see a scared, but curious Aurelian peeking at them and then disappearing.

  Their procession turned and entered a large entrance with sunshine blazing from two wide open double doors. Six Zyrgin warriors, with the colors of Zaar’s personal guard, stood at attention. They saluted when Sarah and Zaar reached them. Their eyes dipped to Sarah and then stared straight ahead. She faltered for a moment—they’d never done that before. Outside Sarah jerked to a stop, staring up into the harsh sunlight, but that wasn’t what caused her to blink.

  A big ship, with the same distinctive patterns as the spaceship that had brought her to Zyrgin, crouched on some sort of structure it had flattened like a giant bird of prey landing on a mouse. Pieces of stone lay scattered; part of what looked like a roof protruded from the wing of the dangerous-looking ship. Maybe a type of gazebo. Sarah just hoped no innocent Aurelians got crushed. Her eyes widened—as far as she could see, Zyrgin spaceships hovered in the air. Like a flock of vengeful predators, so many of them hovered around the landed ship, they blocked out the sky.

  “Umver,” she whispered.

  Big ships and small ones and medium ones. All of them obviously warships with their black-and-red sword motifs. “You do know how to make a statement,” she murmured.

  “This is not a statement, it’s a threat,” he said.

  Sarah nodded—it was a huge threat. With typical Zyrgin bluntness, along with the broadcast of Coralinda and her brother’s capture, this screamed: don’t mess with us. She wanted to feel sorry for Cornelius, to beg Zaar to lessen his sentence, but she kept thinking about that warrior, taking the torture and certain death so bravely. For her.

  “Are there any ships le
ft to guard Zyrgin?” she asked.

  “One thousand one hundred and five ships guards Zyrgin,” he answered.

  She choked back a laugh at his literal answer. Her lips hurt too much to smile. Just how big of an army of warriors did he have? How many spaceships patrolled his territory and enforced his rule? How many did you need to practically rule the universe? She’d known that she’d married a powerful male. But they lived so simply on Zyrgin, the sheer power he wielded wasn’t something she ever got faced with. Now that the ordeal was over and she was safe, reaction set in. The trembling started in her hands and moved to the rest of her body. She felt every ache and bruise. Strangely, where Cornelius had burned her with the acid, she didn’t feel any pain.

  “Your wounds pain you?”

  “I can make it to the ship. I won’t give them the satisfaction of letting them see me hurt. And whatever you did with that silver thingie helped a lot.” If her baby was hurt, she’d return and choke Coralinda and she’d feed Cornelius to that plant that had eaten the mouse animal.

  He walked her to the top of the gilded steps with an arrogant swagger. His every move said, I rule, don’t take me on. But his hand held her upright, supported her when she stumbled. At the top of the steps he stopped and stared down at a cluster of Aurelians kneeling, trembling, on the decorative stones. Going by their plain and tattered clothes, they were servants or peasants. Sarah tugged on Zaar’s hand. “Say something to them.”

  “I have nothing to say to them.”

  “These are ordinary Aurelians. Tell them they’ll be treated better in future. Please don’t allow these people to suffer anymore. You should’ve seen how bad Coralinda and her brother treated their servants.”

  Zaar murmured something in Zyrgin which she was sure were some choice words on softhearted breeders, and faced the Aurelians. “A Zyrgin will be appointed to rule you. You will be safe. Now go to your homes and await instructions.”

  It didn’t sound very reassuring to Sarah, but bowing and touching their foreheads, the Aurelians dispersed.

  Zaar took Sarah’s arm and practically marched her through the long line of warriors leading from the steps of the palace to Zaar’s ship.

  The guards stood tall and proud, their right hands resting on the hilt of their swords strapped to their sides. This was another show of strength, because normally they made the swords appear from who knows where. On Zyrgin she’d never seen a Zyrgin carrying a sword.

  She sagged in relief when they reached the ramp of the ship. “Is this the same ship I travelled to Zyrgin with?”

  “Yes.”

  They entered the ship and Zaar supported her when she would’ve stumbled from sheer exhaustion when they walked up the ramp. The doctor waited in the cabin she’d used to dress in when she’d arrived on Zyrgin all those months ago. She’d managed to hold it together, to suppress the bone-chilling fear for her unborn child. Sarah burst into tears and clung to Zaar. “I don’t know if I’m pregnant, but I think I am and I’m so worried they hurt my baby.” She trembled so much she could barely speak.

  Zaar picked her up and put her on the bed. “When I scanned you earlier, I saw that your small warrior is fine,” he said.

  She clutched at the front of his uniform. “Srinisisa drugged me. I’m worried about what the drug has done to my baby,” she told Zaar. She shuddered. “And I worry that the baby was hurt when Cornelius burned me.”

  The doctor kept his distance while Zaar scanned her and handed the gadget back to the doctor. Next, he accepted the pen-like silver gadget they used for injections. “Your small warrior is still healthy. Nothing harmed him.” He went to press the pen against her neck.

  Sarah held up her hand. “No, I don’t want any drugs while I’m pregnant.”

  Zaar showed her the pen-like gadget. “This will help you not feel pain anymore and it will not harm our small warrior.” Before she could agree or disagree, he pressed it against her neck, and her aches and pains disappeared almost instantly. “You and I need to talk about mutual decision-making,” she told him.

  “It would be a waste of time,” he said and turned to the doctor.

  He and the doctor grunted at each other and then the other Zyrgin handed him another gadget and left. Zaar pressed it against her neck. “This will purge the last of the drug, that breeder gave you, out of your system. It will not harm our small warrior.”

  “And the acid?”

  “It burned your birthmark, but barely penetrated the skin. The doctor said Cornelius probably used a miniscule amount of acid on you.”

  “It didn’t feel miniscule,” she muttered. Sarah looked down at her hands, flattened the material of her jeans over her knees. “When did you know?” she asked casually. She couldn’t stop trembling.

  Even without looking at him she could feel his gaze on her like a physical touch. “I suspected when you threatened to kill me if I left my boots lying around again.”

  “Oh.” How he connected her need for order with being pregnant, she had no idea.

  “We have to talk about our small warrior.”

  His serious tone scared her. Her head jerked up and her gazed clashed with swirling red. “Why do we have to talk about him? Is there something wrong with my baby? You said he was all right.”

  Zaar cupped the back of her head and held her against him. As if he was afraid she’d walk off during this discussion he wanted. “Zyrgins are born small warriors. They can walk and talk and are born with knowledge of the Zyrgin people. It is important that you understand this.”

  “Why?” She’d never heard him sound this disturbed. Could it be that he’d changed his mind, that he didn’t want children with a wife that couldn’t even make love like a normal woman? She pushed the self-doubt away. He had never given her cause to doubt him; sometimes she even thought that he might love her.

  “You will not be disappointed if you understand that you will give birth to a small warrior and not a human baby.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. “I saw Natalie’s sons, remember. I know what mine will be like.” She’d love him no matter what he was. He’d be safe and know love and acceptance from the day he was born.

  “Sometimes for females, seeing is not enough to understand.” There was a bleak acceptance from him that hurt her to see. She’d love to know what his first wife’s feeling was about the eleven sons she’d borne him. It still boggled her mind that he had eleven children.

  “I will love my child, whether he is a baby or a small warrior.” Something else struck her. “Will I have twins like Natalie?” She’d love having two babies—no small warriors, she corrected herself.

  His hand that had rested on her middle moved to cover her stomach. “No. The doctor said it is only one child in your belly.”

  What an intimate way to describe it. “Are you glad?” She placed her hands over his, hoping their child could sense both his father and mother holding him. It still felt unreal to think that in about six or seven months she’d have a baby. She had a noticeable baby bump when her clothes were off, but she’d managed to hide it by wearing large shirts and T-shirts.

  He sat down on the bed and leaned against the wall of the cabin and she had the strangest impression that he was trying very hard to appear casual. “Zyrgins are never glad. We know duty and battle and honor. We only know gladness through our breeders. And yes, I am glad you will give birth to my small warrior.”

  That sounded so sad and bleak. “You have more than duty and battle, you have me.”

  “I am a fortunate warrior.” He opened a tube and squeezed a vile-looking and smelling paste out of it. “You will rest now and and I will see to your wounds.”

  He put the salve on her cheek and around her eyes. It took her several minutes to decide it smelled like bad feet and sour cream and urine all mixed together.

  She remembered Coralinda’s horrible smile. “Do the Aurelians have sharpened teeth like you?”

  “No, only Zyrgins have that characteristic.” He concentrated on hi
s task, carefully putting the salve on every inch of hurt flesh.

  “Coralinda’s teeth was slightly sharpened. It looked odd, to tell you the truth.” On a Zyrgin it worked, but on Coralinda, with her silk dresses and jewels, it had looked downright odd.

  “It’s become fashionable among our conquered to imitate us.” He pulled his lips back in what she suspected was supposed to be a sneer. Showing very sharp teeth. “On Earth they paint themselves green and stick badly made ridges on their heads.

  “Really?” She laughed and then bit it off. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  “A warrior died for me, I have no right to laugh, to feel this happy and relieved.”

  “He would want you to laugh, to feel happy.”

  They were silent while he put the salve on every bruise. Sarah remembered her impression that for Coralinda, the rebellion had been personal. “Did you ever consider taking Coralinda as a breeder?” She frowned at him. “You really should start to call your women wives.”

  “She offered herself to me many years ago,” he said, matter-of-fact.

  Sarah could feel her eyes stretch as big as dinner plates. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing—it is unseemly for a female to offer herself like that. I left their palace and never set foot on Aurelia again.”

  That explained a lot. If only the warriors didn’t have to suffer for Coralinda’s pique.

  “Will the doctor see to the warriors? I don’t understand your problems with scars, but I could see it was a big issue for them. Is there any way their scars can be healed?”

  “They will be treated by our best physicians, but I suspect they are marked for life.”

  “I should beg you to soften Cornelius’s sentence, but you should’ve seen the enjoyment on his face when he forced the stalk of the plant down the warrior’s face.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. She wiped at her cheeks and stared at her fingers. “It’s odd, I’ve never cried, not once, and then in that cell when he hurt them so much, I just couldn’t seem to stop.”