by Corin Cain
The teeth pierce my skin and I know I am slain, that only my blood-brothers will survive.
Thunder booms once, twice, and then six times more in quick succession – and the dragon’s crushing bite weakens.
I fall free of its snarling jaws, and see in horror that the eyes of the dragon have both been turned into smoking holes. I look over to see Aubrey, with that Earth weapon in her hand, pointing the smoking tip of it at the dragon.
Her hands are trembling. Mine would be too.
I glance down and confirm that my wounds are not serious. I can still feel the huge fangs of the dragon pressing down, about to end me. Marks bleed lightly, my green blood dripping from the holes as I look up at the evil beast that nearly killed me.
If Aubrey had been a second slower…
“You saved my life,” I murmur, as the dragon gurgles its last, bloody breath.
We stagger into a semi-circle and gaze down at our conquered foe – the creature that had terrorized this world for more than four decades.
But no more.
Stryker’s Orb-Blade hums into life, and Haleon and I fire up our own weapons. We cleave the head from the dragon’s muscular neck and start dragging it back south.
27
Stryker
Midway back to the caverns of our Scorp-Blood tribe, we pull the dragon’s head into our old cave and set up base for the night.
“I was wrong to doubt you, Aubrey,” I murmur, stroking her hair. “If you had not been with us, Brigg would be dead, and maybe us as well.”
My words are filled with pride for my mate. We fought and killed for her, as is only right in our tradition – but she did the same for us.
“You were wrong to doubt me, Stryker, but you never will again.” Aubrey smiles up at me, with such sweetness that my heart throbs. It’s so strange to think of such a small, vulnerable creature possessing such strength and courage.
But the Orb-God selected the perfect mate for us, as living in this world, with my triad, will require nothing less.
How did I - one so violent, and full of rage – ever deserve a mate as perfect as Aubrey?
I will not question good fortune too long. We are alive, and that is all that matters. I gently touch Aubrey’s cheek, tracing my finger down her beautiful features.
“I will bring you to the southern tribes. They are a valley people, and they have territories more suited for a woman like you.”
Haleon breathes in sharply. “But they hate us, Stryker. They’ll never accept us in their lush lands.”
I shake my head. “We are the dragon slayers, now. We’ll see if they make an exception for us. I have a suspicion they will.”
Brigg snorts, rubbing his hand against his wound, pushing in a new compound of mushroom paste to heal himself. “They are not even Scorp-Blooded.”
Aubrey looks at me, confused. “I thought the Scorp-Blood is what allows you to bear children?”
I nod. “For our tribe, it does. The tribesman of the southern valley believe that our Scorp-Blood markings makes an Aurelian too violent. They drink a brew, instead - laced with Scorp-Venom – before their mating ceremony.”
The issue of breeding – of fathering heirs to continue our heritage – is one that has long plagued the Aurelian people. Each community that we encounter has different practices and beliefs. We have learned that Scorp-venom, properly ingested, can allow an Aurelian to father children with any human female.
In other Aurelian cultures, some say only the leaders of the community can grant that honor, or that an Aurelian must find a destined mate – one woman out of a billion who shares a Bond with them and their triad – to sire a child the natural way.
I know little of such things – only that the path we have trod to earn the right of fatherhood has been a long and dangerous one.
We have the sacrifice the Orb-God demanded.
Tomorrow, we shall accept our reward.
28
Aubrey
I can’t believe that we defeated the dragon. I trusted in my triad, but not a one of us thought we would survive.
Together, we worked to take it down. I felt horror grip me when the crippled beast grabbed Brigg in its huge jaws, but my aim was steady as I shot those last eight bullets in quick succession – just as I’d been trained to back on Earth.
My gun was now useless – a hunk of metal, as my triad had described it. I cared little. It was incongruous here – such a human weapon in such a wild world.
Instead, I watched the three Aurelians use their own Orb-Weapons to cleave the head from the dragon, and then drag their bloody prize back to the cave we’d once shared; thirty years ago, when I first arrived on this world.
We rested, and the following morning the triad felled a tree, using the wood to craft a makeshift sled for the dragon’s head to be pulled on back to their jungle home.
We were so close now – and beyond returning home, the promise of a softer, valley land filled with fruits and respectful Aurelians had been offered as a further reward.
I knew that bearing children with the Scorp-blooded Aurelians would give us strong sons, but I was still worried that they’d be vicious and angry – a product of being raised in a dangerous, jungle environment.
A softer life would contrast with their innate potential for violence. It would temper all the strengths my beloved triad would teach our sons about violence, honor, and strength.
We reach the jungle, and trek down toward the caverns of the Scorp-Blood tribe. Horns sound as we enter.
The guards meet us outside of the jungle. Ripper’s jaw drops when he sees us, and for a moment he looks like he’ll confront us yet again.
I wonder what Ripper will say, but he stands mute, staring at us. I imagine he can’t believe that we really have the head of the dragon that has plagued the tribe for so many decades. There’s nothing he can do. The tribe comes out into the jungle, hushed as we approach. Not a word is said.
For a moment, we don’t know if he’ll respond with anger, violence or jealousy – our victory highlighting his insecurity…
…but eventually, Ripper spreads his arms wide.
“You are heroes!”
His tribe roars out in admiration behind him. Children and women pour from the safety of the caverns, and begin to dance and play under the watchful eyes of their mothers.
The air is filled with jubilation – although the guards are still tense, and watchful for jungle cats and other predators.
As I watch them scan the perimeter, I realize the truth. Even with the dragon gone, I know this jungle is not the place I’d want to raise my children.
The tribe starts to chant our names as we drag the dragon’s bloody head inside the cavern. It barely fits down the tunnel.
As we enter the main cavern, I sense a blackness emanating from one of the tunnels that leads off. There’s a dark eagerness coming from the cavern that houses the tribe’s sacred Orb – as if the otherworldly object can sense the sacrifice being brought to it.
The three Aurelians pull with all their might, so close to their reward, and with the dragon’s head leaving a bloody trail in its wake, we enter the shrine room together.
The Orb pulses and shimmers as Stryker, Brigg and Haleon drag their offering to it. Blackness seems to extend from the Orb, and it literally gobbles the dragon head; absorbing it into the blacker-than-black darkness of its shimmer, spherical body.
There’s no sound as the Orb consumes the sacrifice – nothing except for a low hum. I shudder, wondering what thoughts grow in the mind – if it has such a thing – of the massive Orb.
Then, suddenly, a blue tendril darts from the Orb, and skewers me like a spear.
I gasp, staring down at the rippling black shaft of lightning, piercing my belly like a sword.
For a moment I’m fearful – remembering how the Orb back on Earth literally burned that guard from the inside out…
…but instead, I’m lifted up in the air, and feel my body filled with a crackli
ng force like electricity.
And then it suddenly stops, and I drop to the ground, clutching my belly.
There’s no wound where the shaft of black lightning pierced me. No burn marks, or scars. I feel no different, in fact…
…until I suddenly gasp; feeling a sensation I’d long since forgotten.
My panties suddenly grew wet.
“I-I just got my period,” I mutter, in shock and confusion.
I’m sixty-four years old, according to the calendar of Earth. And yet, for the first time in over thirty years, I’m once again fertile.
Ripper enters the room, studying the four of us.
I fear he will yell, scream, or assault us…
…instead, he lowers his head in shame.
“I misjudged you,” he murmurs. “I banished you. You have brought more honor to this tribe in a single day than I have in my lifetime – and I must recognize that.”
And then, incredibly, this ancient and powerful Aurelian drops to his knees in front of us – offering up the chain he wore around his neck to mark his position as Clan Leader and Chieftain.
“I would make one of you Chief of the tribe,” he says, looking up and holding his head high as he addresses us.
Stryker shakes his head. “We must refuse, Ripper. We travel south, now – to raise a family.”
I expect Ripper to mock the choices of the Aurelians. I know that the southern valley people have a reputation for being soft.
But, instead, he nods – his pride abandoned.
“The truth be told? I myself have longed for those lush valleys.”
Stryker extends a hand – pulling the old Chieftain to his feet.
“You honor us with your offer – but in making it, you have proven yourself once again worthy to be Clan Leader.” Stryker lays a heavy hand on the old Chief’s shoulder. “It takes bravery and courage to face mountain lions, or Scorps, or even a dragon itself…”
The leader of my triad bows respectfully.
“…but it takes far more to admit when you have been at fault.”
Ripper takes a breath and blinks his eyes – showing how humbled he is by Stryker’s words.
“It takes courage, too, to forgive. You honor me, tribesman. I’ll earn that honor by bringing this tribe into new prosperity.”
The old chief extends his arm, one by one shaking the huge hands of my beloved triad. They accept the gesture, filled with new respect for their humbled Chieftain.
As they do so, one of Ripper’s wives discretely hands me a plain, cotton pad, which I accept gratefully and find some privacy to use.
In the shelter of a dark corner, I pull down my pants and apply the pad.
The sight of my own blood makes me weep. I’d given up all hope of ever starting a family when my periods stopped, and more so when I got that fateful consultation with the doctor; pronouncing me irreparably infertile.
It had seemed like a curse at time, but as I pull my pants up I realize that perhaps it was a blessing, instead.
What would have happened to me if I hadn’t been infertile?
I can see it so clearly now. Growing old with Joshua, perhaps never knowing who he truly was – as he put on a good front, but I believed he never truly loved me.
I’d have had a fake life and a fake love.
I’d have had everything I’d wished for at thirty-two-years-old, and hated every second of it.
Instead, my dreams were shattered – and it was beyond the best thing that could have ever happened to me.
Stryker, Haleon, and Brigg come behind me, and wrap me up their arms.
“The southern valleys are lush and fertile, my sweet. We will be lauded as heroes there, and we’ll be able to create for you the future you deserve.” Brigg’s words make me sob, for the first time in as long as I can remember, from complete and utter joy.
Most people get to have just a few, short decades with the ones they love – perhaps forty or fifty, if they meet early and are lucky.
Instead, I will spend thousands of years in bliss with my triad – loved forever.
Three gorgeous, brave, selfless warriors. I can feel how badly they ache for me, and I give myself utterly to their might.
I got the exact opposite of everything I’d planned for – and I couldn’t have been luckier for having done so.
Partner at the law firm by thirty-two. Married by thirty-three. Two kids by thirty-six?
That all seems so small now.
A grin splits my mouth as I look at my mates.
Married to three men by sixty-three.
Ten kids by a hundred.
A laugh escapes my lips, and I feel true joy as the three Aurelians surround me with their love.
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We will claim her.
She looks at my triad with disgust and hatred.
We stare at her with pure hunger.
Captured and forced to battle in the blood-soaked arenas of Bugra, my triad will live and die under the scorching sun.
The only thing that moves our weary muscles and overcomes the pain of our wounds is the obsession of claiming our fated mate.
She is brought to us humiliated and disheveled, and yet still her eyes burn with defiance.
We are born to battle. We are born to blood and violence. Aurelians have no master, and when we break our shackles there will be a reckoning.
She will be ours, even if I have to level empires and plunge the universe into war.
I would kill for her, die for her, even as her hatred burns me to the core.
She will be ours.
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