by Corin Cain
A surge of fear comes through the Bond from Darok – but it’s nothing compared to the eagerness that spills through the Bond from Hadone. My finger trail against the hilts of my twin curved daggers, reassured by their weight as I’m caught between my triad’s fear, and fearlessness.
“Tomorrow,” Darok nods solemnly. “In that case, let us enjoy this meal – for it might be one of our last” His words fill me with dark prophecy.
Hadone doesn’t share the sense of dread.
“Any meal could be our last,” he scoffs. “When we find a new home for our tribe, we’ll finally be able to fight and prove ourselves.” Hadone is eager as always for battle.
That’s his weakness – never backing down from a fight. I was the one who had to make the decision to leave our tribal home, after Hadone almost challenged the fish-eating Aurelians he’d confronted to a battle to the death.
In our tribe, a challenge is serious business – and those challenged are the ones who chose whether to fight unarmed, or with our people’s lethal Orb-Weapons.
I’d known which of those choices the fish-eaters would have made; because they’re experts in unarmed combat. I chose the shame of leaving our people, rather than give Hadone the chance to fight the fish-eaters; and most likely die at their bare hands.
I suspect Hadone considers that cowardice, but I have no shame in my decision. I’ll happily face death to prove myself worth of a mate; but I won’t waste my triad’s blood on a matter of tribal honor, no matter how badly the grief of what happened weighs heavy on Hadone’s head.
And I say ‘happily’ – but that’s not to say the thought of dying in the cold darkness of a Scorp lair doesn’t chill me. If I had my choice – not that any on our violent world do – I’d rather die beneath the warm sun, after an honorable battle; not in the claustrophobic confines of a Scorp nest.
But perhaps that is precisely why our Orb-God demands it of us – the price we pay for the right to claim our fated mate. Our God is a fickle one, who demands blood sacrifices as the price of our people’s future.
What a way to live. Each generation of warrior-triads must each bring our deity a sacrifice glorious enough to be deemed worthy. Then, the Orb-God opens a rift for the proven triad – to another place in time and space, anywhere in the universe. It’s there the triad will find their fated mate; and be allowed to bring her back to our jungle home.
Alarm suddenly flares through the Bond. Before I can even process the thought, I’ve already drawn my daggers – igniting the Orb-Blades and hearing the familiar, otherworldly hum of our people’s signature weapons.
Crafted from the same material as our deity, each Aurelian’s Orb-weapon is his most trusted companion – and my twin, hand-crafted daggers are no exception. A blade in each hand I turn, half-expecting to find a predator sneaking up on us.
My jaw drops when I see a strange light pulsing through the darkness instead.
It’s a light I’ve seen before – as I’ve witnessed other triads from my tribe prove themselves worthy to our Orb-God. It is the light of a portal opening – a rift right in the fabric of reality, leading to who-knows-where.
It can’t be!
“It’s a trap,” warns Hadone, as I instinctively walk towards the mysterious light. I don’t hesitate, even though his words ring as likely true.
It must be a trap. The only way to open a portal is by the blessing of our Orb-God, in return for a worthy sacrifice. We have not yet earned the right to such a blessing – for the opportunity to meet our fated mate.
So from where, and why, has this portal suddenly appeared?
The stars are above us here on our world, but through the rift, daylight pours in. It’s uncanny – ungodly, even – for it is the dead of night here and yet I see a foreign sun, pale and weak, through the tear in reality.
The otherworldly sun gives off a warm, golden light. I blink, drawn to this strange world that beckons to me through the gap in space and time.
As I draw closer, I see more. Instead of cave dwellings, barely visible from the surface, the world I now see is full of strange, unnatural structures; towering into the sky. Amid them, humans are scattering and fleeing through the gaps between these tall structures; disappearing into the shadowy valleys of the mountainous buildings.
Humans indeed – and terrified ones, at that. They were screaming in raw terror, as if they were animals of prey, stalked by predators I’d not yet seen.
I squint through the portal and see the root of their terror.
They have reason to flee.
Scorp.
Here on our jungle world, Scorp warriors live and breed as they do across the universe. Yet here, they live deep underground in a seemingly endless networks of caves and tunnels that form their nests. They’ve learned now not to come near the jungle home of our tribe, but they are a constant and ever-present threat beyond the borders of our enclave.
Yet every decade or so, a fresh infestation of Scorp warriors descends from the sky; plummeting to the earth in their disgusting egg sacs; the huge, organic vessels that hold a hundred or so of the disgusting beasts, and one ferocious Queen.
These new arrivals know nothing of life here on our planet – and have not learned to give our tribe a wide berth. As such, when the Scorp fall from the sky, every man and child of fighting age grab their weapons. All differences are put aside in our desperate fight for survival against these cruel beasts.
It’s a threat that creates alliances beyond just our own tribal borders. Northern mountain men will fight alongside us Scorp-Blooded warriors, and the southern tribes will volunteer their lethal volleys of arrows to stop the hordes.
But even as I know the deep visceral horror of seeing a Scorp egg sac falling from the sky, my experience pales in comparison to what I’m witnessing now.
Through the portal, I see that many Scorp egg sacks are falling from the sky. Not just one, or two – but dozens of them. There’ll be more Scorp Warriors pouring out into this distant world than I’d thought – and certainly hoped – I’d see in a lifetime.
Through the portal I witness humans running, screaming, and I even feel vibrations through the rift; as massive projectiles that look like an avalanche of boulders are somehow shot into the air; as if from the world’s most powerful bow.
Yet despite these humans’ ferocious weaponry, I know it will not be enough. They’re doomed.
“Wait! It is a trap!” One of my battle brothers yells out, and I can’t tell if it is Darok or Hadone. The words barely register as I step forward, feeling my spirits rising in battle lust.
I’m going to stride through this portal. After all, this is how I was meant to fight – in the open air, with the sun on my back as I battle against insurmountable odds. My hands grip the hilts of my Orb-Daggers. Every tattoo I’ve earned in honorable battle gleams in the light of this alien sun, as I launch myself through the portal and take a step towards my destiny.
I have no fear. No doubt. The Orb-God has seen fit to grant us the chance to prove ourselves in battle – and if I die, I’ll at least die under the hot sun, not beneath the cold ground.
“We must go! Our God is giving us a great chance to test ourselves in glorious battle!” My voice rings with complete conviction.
If this is some trick or trap, then I gladly accept my death. I will not lose this chance to fight for my mate.
3
Hadone
Where Forn leads, I follow.
It’s been this way since I once stole honey-fruit from the tribe and he took the beating for it. I can see the horrors through the portal, but he doesn’t flinch. Forn strides confidently through the portal – straight into the hellscape beyond – and I detect no hint of fear in his aura.
I feel that same certainty. I can’t stop myself from grinning at the sight of oncoming war. Death has called to me since the tragedy of the fish-eating triad’s mate, Ginger. I don’t deserve breathe and life for what I did to her. I deserve to die in violent battle – and
so I embrace every opportunity I get to do so.
Our Orb-God opens portals to many strange planets for worthy triads to find their human mates – but only after they have offered a suitable sacrifice.
I’ve never seen nor heard of a portal like this, opening in the middle of nowhere and seemingly for no reason. That much is disquieting. Our customs are rooted in tradition – and deviation from that tradition is suspicious.
According to the lore, a triad must kill a great beast to prove themselves worthy of the Orb-God. Those that survive the battle return with the head of the conquered beast; to offer it as sacrifice to the huge, pulsating Orb-God that dwells deep within our ancestral cavern home. Only then will our God open a portal to another world for them. The portal may open directly in front, or out in the plains, but it would never randomly appear in front of an unworthy triad.
It’s unheard of for a portal to open without that sacrifice – without a triad having proven themselves deserving first.
That would be enough to make me suspicious – but what lays beyond the portal is equally unsettling.
I stare past Forn in horrified awe at the strange landscape that lays before me.
There is a magic in this place – and something throwing massive, flaming arrows into the sky that burst into fire and smoke when they hit one of the descending Scorp egg sacs.
“This will be a fight that goes down in the histories forever,” I telepath to my triad as I grab the hilt of my war-hammer, feeling the familiar grooves along the handle of my powerful Orb-weapon.
Until I activate the blade, my weapon looks like a simple, thick, fire-tempered stick. Yet I merely have to telepath my need to have the weapon, and it activates the Orb-power within and the huge head of the weapon shimmers into humming reality, seemingly from nowhere. The blue-black, double-headed, otherworldly form of the war-hammer has ended many a Scorp warrior. Today it will end many more.
“Down in the histories, ” says Darok from behind me, “if we survive to tell the tale of it.”
I don’t have to see Darok’s face to know he’s wearing a thin-lipped grimace. He throws his half-eaten meat into the ground and stands, his Orb-Blade drawn. Darok’s Orb-Sword shimmers in the night; manifested from a blackness darker than the deepest cave, yet emitting an eerie, blueish aurora. Our Orb-weapons seem to hunger for a fresh kill; as if the somehow sentient weapons are more eager than even we are to do battle.
If this portal is taking us to our mate – if she is somewhere in this hellscape – then I’ll find her. I’ll kill for her. I’ll even die for her if needed – but no matter what, I’ll feel her before I am claimed by blood and violence.
That’s all an Aurelian can ask - to feel our mate before we’re killed in battle. One touch of her skin, one gaze of her eyes, and I’ll die satisfied. What is life worth, otherwise? I’ve been hungry my whole life for my chance to meet my fated mate. If this is a trap by some Void-Demon to lure us into death, I’ll accept it. In fact, the only reason I still allow myself to live is the thought that she may be out there – and that my mate might finally have an end to my pain.
I don’t know what she looks like, but I know she’s through the portal. I instinctively know that the greatest battle of my life waits for me there. In the life or death tangle of blood and blade, I forget myself for a moment.
“Formation!” Forn barks, and I move instinctually – taking my place to his right. Darok stands grimly to his left, haunches up and his trap muscles flexed. Suddenly we hear a woman’s voice – a high-pitched scream – traveling through the portal. Her desperation forces me to act.
I rush forward, and the three of us leap together through the portal.
Instantly, cool air hits me. I breathe it in as the portal blinks shuts behind us, leaving my blood-brothers and I stranded in this strange hellscape of a world.
The air here is acrid – like breathing in when wind blows smoke from the fire into your face.
The first hint of doubt hits me as soon as I breathe in this poison air. If this is a trap laid for us by a Void-Demon, then we truly are in hell.
My feet have landed firmly on top of a tall structure. There are many like it, with windows carved into the flat surfaces. Humans lurk within. I watch as a man points at us through a window, his face screwed with hatred. He slams the cover shut.
The streets below this towering structure teem with life as men, women and children scream and point up at the falling Scorp egg sacs.
The men should be grabbing weapons and preparing their defense. Instead, they run in terror, like children.
There is clearly no leader on this planet – no warrior-elite. Against the teeming descent of these Scorp egg sacs, these humans will have no chance of defending themselves.
I brace myself as a Scorp egg sac, the size of a small cloud, smashes down a stones throw from where we stand. The structure itself shudders, and my head pounds as powerful projectiles shoot up into the air from all around us; noise and thunder rumbling in the sky, as though we’re caught in a raging storm.
Across the way, we watch as razor-sharp pincer claws rake against the surface of the egg sac that’s just landed. The blade-like appendages rend the organic material, and like some gigantic cockroach giving birth, Scorp Warriors flood from the gaping holes and pour out into the streets below.
I grip the handle of my war-hammer and heft it.
This truly will be a battle worthy of the histories.
4
Darok
Fear hits me in a wave as I witness the mass of Scorp pouring into the streets.
I was not blessed with the mindless bravery of my two battle-brothers. Their auras are strong as I sense their courage through our Bond – burning in my mind like twin, raging suns. The shame of my cowardice flourishes in darkness, so it’s some consolation that the powerful auras of Hadone and Forn buoy me up.
Ignoring my fear, I join the formation and we move as one – our feet pounding on the roof of the structure in unison as we leap forward without hesitation.
My stomach drops as I fly through the air. Together, we thud down on hard ground twenty-feet below. These streets are constructed from packed stone – some kind of hard rock that gives me sure footing. I judge the landscape. It will be tight quarters in these narrow confines, with barely room for all three of us to stand abreast. That’s not a bad thing. The tight confines might be our only salvation against the horde of Scorp Warriors.
This is a trap, I’m sure of it – but I chose my fate. Where my blood-brothers go, I follow.
Women and children scream, and my anger surges – overpowering my fear. I have no way of helping the sick members of my tribe, but I will not allow the helpless to suffer on this world as well.
I glance around. The wall of the structure to my right is cracked at the bottom – with a hole big enough for a small animal to hide inside. Two tiny children are shuddering there, hiding in the nook. I marvel at them. I’ve only seen Aurelian children before – all male – and these tiny creatures look so helpless and scared compared to the strapping children of my race. They’re smaller even than a human female.
I can help these small humans.
A mass of Scorp Warriors pour down the street towards us. I position myself in front of the crack in the wall, keeping my body between the children and the onslaught. I hold my Orb-Sword in front of me, the blade humming with eagerness as three of the Scorp charge.
These ones are younger hatchlings – barely eight-feet-tall, and still groggy from their landing. In deep space, the Scorp lay dormant – their protection against the vacuum of deep space. When they land on a planet such as this one, it takes them time to fully awaken.
That disadvantage will serve me well.
I brace for the Scorp attack. The barbed tail of the first Scorp darts forward, but I easily dodge the dripping stinger and lop the creature’s arm clean off – spraying hot, red blood over the both of us. Beside me, Hadone’s war hammer crushes the second Scorp with a grisl
y crunch – the beast’s carapace cracking beneath the Orb-end of his powerful weapon. Forn too leaps forward, his twin blades seeking chinks in the armor of the third Scorp – and then easily cutting it to pieces in front of us.
I’m covered in blood and filled with fear as a huge mass of Scorp Warrior reinforcements pour down the street. The tremors of my muted terror ripple through the Bond, to my great shame. My battle-brothers can taste my anxiety as I witness the unstoppable wave rushing towards us.
I spare a glance to my right. The two small humans, one male and one female, are looking at me with awe – as if I’m some great hero from the sagas and not a coward. Someday, I’ll have a mate who looks at me that same way.
The little girl points with a trembling hand at the wall of a nearby structure, constructed of wood and not stone.
They want to go in there.
I reach into the nook, half-expecting the children to cower away from me – yet they come closer. I scoop up the two small humans in the crook of one arm, keeping my blade at the ready in the other.
With the two small children in my arm, looking at me with hope, I feel myself becoming the person they think I am.
5
Forn
The encroaching wave of Scorp warriors is crashing down towards us as inexorably as a falling tree. Only a fool would stand against it. We’ve just dispatched three of the beasts, but I know the wave of reinforcements will spell my end.
I spare a glance behind us, and snarl as I witness twenty more Scorp rushing at us from the other side of the street.
The Scorp-venom in my blood – embedded beneath my skin as part of the ritual of manhood – surges up inside of me; and my heart pounds so hard I can barely think.
So, this is it. Face death honorably – or die like an animal.
