The Melier: Prodigal Son

by Poppy Rhys

  Dania scowled, her fingers tightening into her dress and her gorge rising. Oril was only a kid! Her scared eyes and slight figure now making sense.

  “I want to...” she ground out in the confines of her mind, “want to... punch something—someone—HIM!”

  “Too many here,” River warned at the same time Zed advised, “That would be unwise.”

  One voice in her mind wanted to punch something too, yet the wolvenk and the computer agreed they were outnumbered, and she wasn’t ready to die quite yet.

  Jruviin turned his head to murmur something into Val’Koy’s ear. Dania couldn’t hear what was said, if anything, and she wondered if it was all for show.

  “We decline,” Val’Koy said.

  Oril was subsequently yanked back and the second woman brought forth. This one nearly as tall as the males, her single breast in the middle of her chest notably larger than the other women Dania had seen.

  Her black-green hair was shaved off one side of her head, and the o-shaped nostrils between her sleek, relaxed brows barely moved. Unlike Oril whose nostrils opened and closed at an alarming rate, showing just how anxious she’d been.

  This woman was calm, and her shoulders were pushed back in a proud way.

  “We offer this female called Yit.” Trik’s tone letting on he didn’t like his first offer being turned down. “Our selected presch that we have not yet claimed.”

  In a bold move—bold for a woman here, anyway—Yit raised her violet eyes to briefly flick her gaze across Val’Koy’s face before returning her sight to the ground.

  This time, neither of her mates consulted each other before Val’Koy declared, “We decline.”

  Yit flinched, just slightly, and Dania squinted. Why would she flinch?

  The tension in the air grew thick, and Raim’s nostrils thinned before he pulled Yit back and grunted, taking a step forward and causing everyone around Dania to tense.

  “You have no intention of trading,” he accused. “You mock this circle!”

  The silence made her ears feel numb, yet Jru and Val didn’t bother to move or speak for a span of moments.

  “You bring nothing we wish to trade for,” Val’Koy finally said, low and steady. She barely withheld a wince. Dania conjured up what she imagined his face looked like right now—that simultaneously bored and arrogant expression only people with the world at their fingertips could successfully achieve. “Let us not waste any more time.”

  “We have offered you hospitality, and you snub our right to barter. We challenge you to kweekotuh!” Trik announced.

  If possible, Jru’s shoulder muscles bunched further, his glossy feathers lying absolutely flat and contouring his flesh.

  Murmurs broke out around the room, a few whoops shrilled into the air.

  “Zed, what’s kweekotuh?” Dania worriedly asked the A.I. and was met with silence. The oxygen thinned. “Zed?”

  “All database searches come up empty, Captain. There is no written record of kweekotuh.”

  Jruviin’s tail flicked to one side. “We accept.”

  Dania swallowed.

  ****

  The spicy scent of food clogged her nostrils and made her eyes water. The air couldn’t be any thicker with whatever seasoning was poured on just about everything in the enormous, servant-packed kitchen of Sharn’s tower.

  River leaned over her shoulder and sniffed the loaf, rearing back and snorting to clear his snout. Even he thought it smelled gross.

  “Why are they cooking?” Dania blurted, standing beside Oril as they’d been tasked to wrap heavy loaves of a gray, spongy, spherical substance that smelled like hot fungi and made her want to retch.

  While the women milling around spoke here, they did it in soft, low tones. No men were in sight.

  “They cook for—”

  Oril was silenced when Yit appeared and made a sharp click in her throat. Oril got up and busied herself elsewhere, Yit taking the newly vacated spot at the orange-tiled counter.

  “This feast is for the feeding once Trik and Raim claim their presch.” Her confident voice a sultry, hushed tone that made her all the more mystifying to Dania. This female didn’t cower like most of the others, and she doubted anyone else would’ve looked directly at a male like Yit had during the failed trade.

  “This would’ve been for my claiming,” Yit barbed, her piercing eyes glaring at Dania momentarily before she wrapped another loaf and placed it into a woven tub. “May still be.”

  Dania’s eyes narrowed while Yit wrapped more loaves. This wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with mean girls. Being the fat girl all her life came with its fair share of social challenges, but Dania had learned she could handle people like Yit.

  “I hope so.”

  Yit paused mid-wrap. “You don’t want Trik and Raim?”

  Dania side-eyed the pretty Equahn. “No.”

  “They are strong, violent warriors, and you,” Yit checked her head to toe, “otherworlder, would be blessed to have—”

  “Listen,” Dania exhaled and faced the woman, “you have nothing to worry about. I don’t want Trik and Raim. I’m—” she quickly remembered Val and Jru weren’t supposed to be hers, “duty-bound to the males who claimed me.”

  Yit’s expression eventually relaxed and they went back to wrapping.

  “What’s the kweekotuh?” Dania quietly asked.

  “Kweekotuh is... dangerous,” Yit confessed, eyes darkening as her black-green hair slid over her shoulder.

  Dania had feared it would be.

  “A race through the canyon where kwee—the infected invaders—burrow into the rock.”

  “Infected?” Dania breathed. “What are they infected with?”

  “Black virus,” Yit whispered as if it were a curse to utter. “They brought it with them when their ship crashed here long ago. It is why we need strong warriors. We fight for our world.”

  “Don’t you have scientists? Allies? People who could help find a cure or fight the kwee?”

  Yit hmph’d. “We don’t need help, otherworlder. We will defeat them ourselves or die.”

  Dania scowled and remembered Zed saying the Equahn’s had space faring tech, yet didn’t use it. As she gazed around the kitchen, it was clear they hardly used any machinery at all.

  “Why don’t you use tech?”

  “It is a weakness to the body,” she scoffed, and Dania had to exercise every muscle inside her to keep from rolling her eyes.

  She’d heard of other races like the Equahn’s. Arrogant, delusioned people—entire civilizations—that had died out because they refused to believe in the power of modern technology and medicine.

  It wasn’t her place to interfere, but that didn’t stop her from worrying about the danger her mates faced. Val’Koy and Jruviin would be put in a canyon with rock-burrowing, diseased people.

  What if they contracted whatever virus these beings hosted? These people obviously didn’t have a cure, and while her mates probably had proper vaccinations—she didn’t know, it wasn’t really a first date kinda question—what if the virus was something their bodies couldn’t fight?

  If it acted like other viruses, Dania assumed her mates would have to be in direct contact with the infected to contract it.

  “You’re worried,” Yit stated, a question lodged in her eyes. “I see it on your face.”

  Dania imagined most women around here didn’t worry about their mates. The lack of love and affection on this planet was glaringly apparent.

  When she didn’t respond, Yit leaned in and whispered, “There’s a shortcut through the canyon... A part of the pit where very few kwee burrow.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Dania was certainly thankful, but suspicion flourished in her belly.

  Yit set another loaf in front of her when an overseer urged them to keep wrapping. “If your males win, we both get what we want.”

  FORTY-THREE

  JRUVIIN

  “It is suspicious.” Jruviin rubbed his curled k
nuckle back and forth over the curve of Dania’s soft abdomen in the dark as they lay in bed. “Should we trust it?”

  He’d been anxious the entire time Dania’d been out of sight. They couldn’t have been separated for more than an hour or two. He and Val’Koy had even let her go, ushered to the kitchen for chores with the other females, to avoid questions that could arise if they showed too much affection. Their charade was already under question.

  Jruviin loathed it. He hated this planet. It reminded him too much of home, though Equah was—surprisingly—worse in lots of ways.

  “The word of Trik and Raim’s selected presch...” Val’Koy murmured on the other side of Dania, his skepticism audible. “Why would she help us?”

  River shuffled in the corner, circling the cushion before plopping down again. After the failed trade, the wolvenk wouldn’t let Dania out of his sight. Knowing the creature had been with his mate was the lone reason either of them were able to remain sane.

  “I don’t know for sure, but can we afford to ignore her?” Dania whispered. “The others know the canyon. They already have a leg up on you two.”

  Jruviin didn’t trust it. His gut told him something was up, but he hadn’t been there. Hadn’t heard the conversation.

  “I think Yit wants Trik and Raim,” she went on. “And I, most definitely, do not. If you guys win, we both get what we want, that’s what she said.”

  “Dania—”

  “I refuse to lose you guys, alright?” she leaned up, turned and sat on her knees to face him and Val’Koy. “If you take the shortcut, there’s less chance of either of you getting infected with whatever this ‘black virus’ is, and a higher possibility of you winning.”

  He shared a glance with Val’Koy.

  “And if it wasn’t obvious, I’m the prize. We. Us. What we have.” Her delicate hand rested upon his chest, and then his partner’s. “I don’t want to lose us.”

  His thumb rubbed over her wrist, careful not to graze her with his claw. With this information, he and Val’Koy now knew what they were in for tomorrow, and what sick creatures they needed to avoid.

  Val’Koy scrubbed his face, staring at the ceiling. He’d known his partner long enough to pinpoint the moment he’d come to a decision.

  “We will take the shortcut,” Jruviin finally said. “And we will not lose.”

  ****

  DANIA

  Dania shaded her eyes against the blistering blaze of the sun at its zenith. The trek to the edge of the canyons was short, maybe not even a couple klicks outside the city. It struck her as odd.

  “Why live so close to the infected?” she whispered to Yit, walking at her side. They brought up the tail of the entourage and shared the weight of a cask of blood—what would be used to draw out the Kwee from their hovels.

  “We will not run from our home, otherworlder.” Yit sighed, either exasperated by her question or the weight of the cask. Dania had an idea which one.

  She got it. She could understand the need to fight for something that belonged to you, a place one called home. If Dania’d had that, she would’ve fought for it tooth and nail if need be. But she didn’t. Not only was she a nomad, but she was part of a species that had long abandoned its home world out of necessity.

  For a split second, she almost felt pity for the Equahn’s, but then watched as one of the men cuffed a woman upside the head when she didn’t move out of his way fast enough.

  That sympathy shriveled up like a scorched weed.

  The canyon ahead stretched as far as she could see, breaking off in all directions and splitting up the desert like deep wounds.

  She wasn’t even at the railed edge, but she knew it would be a fatal fall with just one tumble or shifting of loose rock.

  Craggy dead trees jutted from the sides of the canyon where nothing else grew and no animals could be seen. Not even the leathery brown birds she’d witnessed gliding above the city.

  River moved to all fours beside her, inching closer to the railing and peering over. He sniffed along the sand on his way back to her.

  “What did you see?”

  “Nothing. Smells bad here. Foul things.”

  “You can smell them?”

  “Yes. Strong, sick scent.”

  His side brushed up against hers as he crouched, and she buried her free hand into his scruff. Touching him brought her more comfort than she wanted to admit. Tamping down her terror grew harder with each ticking second.

  When she looked over, she saw Yit watching them, her nearly black eyes pointedly on Dania’s fingers twisted into River’s fur.

  Dania dropped her hand.

  “Mine,” River coaxed in her head, lightly nudging her side.

  “We can’t. People are watching.”

  Dust and sand kicked up when River forcefully cleared his snout in what she’d pegged as a wolvenk’s version of an eyeroll.

  “Bring forth the bait!” someone hollered.

  Yit guided them nearer to the edge but, thankfully, a male stopped them, pulling the cask from their hands and toting it the rest of the way.

  From here, she caught her first glimpse of her mates, far away and deep in the ravine. Val’Koy and Jruviin rode on the scaled white mounts alongside Trik and Raim.

  The male dumped it over the edge, the thick, syrupy blood disappearing into the canyon.

  “The Kwee have been summoned,” Sharn announced, the small group murmuring their approval. “The blood calls to them. They will be hungry for fresh bodies to infect or devour.”

  Dania wiped the sweat from her upper lip, her hot skin chilling at the idea of her mates outrunning these monsters Sharn spoke of.

  A hair raising, beastly shriek split from the depths of the canyon, causing her to jump.

  What was that? Her inner voice involuntarily blurted a question she already knew the answer to.

  Another call, the sound like nails on brushed metal, and her skin instantly itched. The crowd barely flinched, no doubt expecting—used to—the unholy sounds.

  Sometimes sounds didn’t match up to their sources. The common ro’catta on Dor Nye looked cute and fluffy, but if they were warning off a perceived threat, you would swear a mutated bear-sized banshee was screaming.

  Dania hoped Kwee were cute and fluffy.

  “It is time!”

  Her eyes flickered to Sharn and followed the direction of his gaze. Far ahead, in the ravine, all four racers lined their mounts side by side. Val and Jru leaned towards each other, communicating something.

  Her palms slickened as the terror she’d tried to ignore all morning broke through.

  They can do this, they can do this, she chanted to herself. They’d been through worse, right? She had seen them fight. They’d been up against greater odds and came out more imposing than before.

  A few virus riddled invaders wouldn’t get the best of them.

  The sound of a gong being struck, a flinch, a tremble of the ground, and the four were blazing through the canyon toward the finish line an uncomfortable distance away.

  Wait, the ground—the ground trembled.

  “What’s happening?” She didn’t mean to ask aloud, but her attention was split between the race and the fact that the sand subtly vibrated beneath her.

  “Kwee,” Yit said, staring ahead. “They come.”

  No sooner had Yit finished saying that before the Kwee showed.

  They most certainly were not cute and fluffy!

  Multi-horned, bipedal gray worms came to mind. They swarmed the canyon, emerging from the person-sized holes in the rockface and spilling into the ravine that the men sped through.

  Dania clamped a hand over her mouth as the wind caught and brought a miasma of sour decay and steaming swamp.

  The shrieking intensified, her mates dodging the creatures—the ones falling from above and those running on all fours beside them in some petrifying version of a running with the bulls.

  Adrenaline surged her veins when a worm opened its ungodly round mouth,
triangular teeth big enough to spot at a distance, and dove for Val’Koy.

  No, no, no!

  She took a step forward as if she could stop it.

  Val’s eyes lifted, catching sight of the impending attack. He pulled hard on his mount, dodging left, bashing into Jruviin’s mount and setting off a domino effect.

  Jru’s mount spooked, sidling up against Trik’s beast, pushing the two so close, their legs touched. It was just enough to allow Trik to reel back and aim a punch at the Draekiin’s face.

  Dania gasped. The crowd chuckled at the violence.

  Another step forward.

  Jru took the blow, veering his mount back in line, but another Kwee dove from above, landing right in Jruviin’s path.

  He hastily skirted, the beast trampling the Kwee’s arms. In a rapid maneuver, Jru stood on top of his mount, reins in hand, and raised his leg to stomp Trik in the side.

  Hope flared in her chest and the crowd stirred. Apparently, violence was only okay if it was against her mates.

  Jru could kick harder than that. He’d held back, and Trik got off easy. After their time on Tundrin, what she’d seen, she knew he could’ve been more brutal. His foot talons had done some terrible, terrible things on the sands, yet Trik’s bowels remained inside his body.

  No doubt her mate was thinking of the aftermath. They had to keep it civil enough—they still had to depend on Sharn’s willingness to host them.

  Raim collided into the side of the canyon with Trik’s veer. A red gash opened, trailing down the mount’s white side, but he didn’t stop.

  Val’Koy and Jruviin abruptly drove their mounts to the right.

  River straightened. “Where are they headed?”

  “The shortcut!”

  That got the attention of the crowd more than anything. They inched closer, watching two different races in one.

  The shortcut was narrow, not much more than a gorge cut in the rocks. Her men raced, single file, speeding through the narrow ravine. Their instincts drove them to respond quickly on the challenging course.

  Yit had been right. There were hardly any Kwee diving from the sides or running the ravine. The decreased level of danger enabled them to kick their mounts into a faster gallop.