Marvel's Guardians of the Galaxy

by David McDonald

  “She’s about three feet behind you. She is unconscious—but she is still breathing,” Gamora said. “She went down fighting and one of them knocked her over the head to keep her quiet. She’s young and resilient, though.”

  Their conversation trailed off as the tunnel came to an end and they came out into a huge open space. It looked like a naturally-occurring cavern—stalactites made their inexorable way towards the floor, and the roof—perhaps a hundred feet above him—was rough and pitted. The only sign of artifice was the raised dais in the center of the chamber. It was surrounded by low benches, and their arrangement served to focus the eye on the throne that sat in the middle of the platform. The throne was carved from a single chunk of black obsidian, which caught the light from the fungus that covered the walls here as it had in the passageways, reflecting it and giving everything an otherworldly air.

  A huge and brooding figure sat on the throne, chin resting on its fist as it regarded the prisoners who had been dumped unceremoniously before it. It was not insectile at all, and while perhaps it would not have been as tall as them if standing, its massive frame spoke of terrible and irresistible strength. Quill felt a thrill of recognition as it raised its head and met his gaze.

  “So, Star-Lord, it seems fate has bought us together once more. What brings you to my realm?” Drax asked.

  Chapter 12

  “Your realm?” Quill repeated. “I’m sure there’s a story in that. How did you end up ruler here?”

  Drax gestured, and the humans were lifted to their feet by the servitors and sat gently on the benches—though they had to lay Ansari down on a bench of her own as she was still unconscious. A trio of the spindly insectoids Quill had seen earlier scuttled off and soon returned bearing goblets of water and nectar, as well as a tray of some unidentifiable goop that was surprisingly tasty.

  “After we parted ways, I decided I needed to spend some time away from the easy life we had been living,” Drax said. “I was growing weak, soft. I wandered until I came to the barren lands, living off rodents that I killed myself.”

  “Sounds awful,” Gamora said.

  “It was wonderful,” Drax said, his eyes lighting up. “I felt alive. I had rediscovered the way of life that had made me so strong.”

  Quill and Gamora looked at each other, but didn’t say a word.

  “I continued my wanderings and finally I found myself in the hills. I made camp and closed my eyes. When I awoke I was surrounded by these creatures. I fought them off for as long as I could. It was a glorious battle that went on for many hours, but there were too many even for me, and as the sun peeked over the horizon I found myself carried here, like you. And like you I was dumped before the throne of their king.”

  Drax’s story was interrupted by a moan from Ansari as she sat up, rubbing her head.

  “What happened?” she groaned. “Where are we?”

  Her eyes widened as she took in their surroundings, flinching away from the insectoids before stopping to stare at Drax.

  “And who is he?”

  “It’s okay,” Gamora said soothingly. “This is the friend I told you about, the one we have been searching for. Drax, this is my apprentice, Ansari.”

  “Greetings, apprentice of Gamora. You look weak and fragile to me, but I trust her warrior’s instinct and assume you must be capable.”

  “Ah, thanks, I guess,” Ansari said, then leaned over and whispered to Quill and Gamora. “Is he always like this?”

  “Pretty much,” Quill said. “Tact is not really his strong point.”

  More of the servitors brought Ansari some refreshments. She set to them with gusto as Drax continued with his story.

  “I was meant to be an offering to the king. These creatures believe that they absorb the qualities of any living thing that they eat, and their ruler gets first choice of any sentient being. They had seen the way that I fought and believed that I was worthy to be absorbed by their ruler.”

  Quill couldn’t help himself and started to laugh. The others looked at him quizzically.

  “Stupid joke, but talk about biting off more than you can chew.”

  Drax ignored him and kept on talking.

  “To satisfy custom, the king was expected to defeat me in single combat. When he failed, I took his place,” Drax said summarily. “Well, once they cleaned the blood off the throne, anyway.”

  A terrible thought occurred to Quill.

  “You didn’t . . . eat him, did you?”

  Drax looked almost comically surprised.

  “What? No! He is now my best scout,” Drax said. “He fought with honor, and I accorded him the respect I felt he deserved. What sort of barbarian do you take me for?”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking,” Quill said. “I hope you can forgive me.”

  Drax missed the sarcasm as always.

  “Apology accepted. I had no desire to be king, but it would have been disrespectful to their customs to refuse, and I would not dishonor them in that way.” Drax sighed. “And now I have to rule here until someone defeats me in turn.”

  “Have any tried?” Gamora asked.

  “Thirty-seven so far. I have attempted to be gracious and have killed only twenty of them, and that was because they gave me no choice.”

  “You are a benevolent king,” Quill said. “No doubt about it.”

  “Thank you. So, now you know my story. What brings you here?”

  Quill ran Drax through the situation, explaining what he had been up to since they had parted ways, and letting Gamora and Ansari tell their own parts in the tale. Finally, he explained the mission he had accepted from the Duke.

  “I came searching for my friends, hoping that you might be able to help me discover the secret behind this new nomad strength. And now I discover that you are a king.” He hesitated for a moment, then went on. “I am sure the Duke would welcome an alliance and be grateful for any help you could provide. You seem to have no shortage of formidable fighters.”

  Drax frowned, and steepled his fingers under his chin.

  “It is true that we are friends, and we have been through a great deal together. I haven’t forgotten the harsh words at the ship, but what’s that compared to having saved each other’s lives a score or more times?” Drax asked. “But I take my responsibilities as king very seriously. It is not right for me to send my subjects off to war simply because of my selfish attachments.”

  Quill wasn’t surprised. He couldn’t imagine Drax taking anything lightly, especially when it touched on his sense of honor.

  “Will you come with us, though?” Gamora asked. “You aren’t risking anyone else that way.”

  For a moment Quill thought Drax was going to say yes, but then he shook his head.

  “It wouldn’t be right to abandon my realm,” Drax said. “There is no honor in disrespecting its customs, so I am bound to stay here until I am defeated in single combat.”

  “I understand,” Quill said. The funny thing was that he actually thought he did. He guessed he must have spent too much time with the Destroyer and absorbed some of his notions of honor.

  “I can do something for you, though,” Drax said. “For the sake of our friendship, I will ensure you have safe conduct to wherever you want to go. Your mounts have been captured and they will be returned to you, along with your belongings.”

  As he finished, one of the insectoids began to gesticulate wildly, all four of its arms waving above its head. It was one of the warrior class that had captured them, but decidedly bigger than the others they had seen so far, broader through the shoulders and with a larger set of lashing arms. Its mandibles clashed as it chittered loudly, giving the impression of being less than happy. Drax’s expression grew stonier as he listened, and Quill could see a vein pulsing at his temple.

  “What’s his problem?”
Quill asked.

  “He doesn’t agree with my verdict.”

  “They can understand you?” Gamora asked curiously.

  “Yes,” Drax said. “They have a form of low-level telepathy.”

  “They can read minds?” Quill asked in alarm. He recalled all the uncharitable things he had thought on the way down from the surface.

  “Not exactly,” Drax said. “Verbalizing your thoughts lets them capture the meaning because it forces your mind to shape your thoughts into patterns that they can read, so he knows I plan on giving you safe conduct.”

  “What does he want to do with us instead?” Ansari asked.

  Drax looked at her like she was stupid.

  “Eat you, of course. What else?”

  “Of course,” Quill muttered. “Well, I appreciate the fact you don’t share their . . . appetites. I assume you aren’t going to give him what he wants?”

  “No, I’m not,” Drax said.

  This provoked another burst of insectile invective, and Drax leaped to his feet, the waves of menace that roiled off him making even Quill take a step back.

  “So, you are challenging me?” The insectile creature chittered back a response, and Drax smiled. “So be it.”

  With another gesture, Drax had the servitors clear away the benches. Still more servitors scattered sand across the floor and used a stick to draw a large circle about twenty paces across. Drax strode into the middle of the ring and stood waiting. He moved his head from side to side with a popping of joints, and then began to stretch and flex, working his way through every part of his body. He held up his arms and clenched his fists, the sound of knuckles cracking clearly audible. By the time he was finished, every muscle on his body stood out, clearly defined and bulging. Quill was terrified at the sight and he was standing twenty feet away—he could only imagine the effect up close.

  “So, blades or no blades?” Drax asked the insectoid as it joined him in the ring. Its only response was to fold its slashing arms in against its sides and out of the way. Quill thought it was stupid; if he’d been getting in the ring with Drax he would have wanted every possible advantage—he’d take a bazooka in there if it were allowed.

  Drax nodded. “So be it.” He turned towards the humans. “Perhaps today is the day I am defeated and freed to go my own way. If so, I will join you. Provided I am not eaten by the victor.”

  He bowed to his opponent and dropped into a fighting stance. They slowly circled each other, and then the insectoid moved in on Drax. Its primary arms gave it a reach even greater than the Destroyer’s and it used that to great effect, throwing punch after punch and then dancing back out of reach of Drax’s counter attacks. At no time did it make any attempt to use its slashing arms, instead relying on the terrible power of its fists. Drax blocked most of its blows, but those that landed made a sickening noise, leaving Quill wincing in sympathy. Drax took the first couple of blows without any sign that they had hurt, but as he threw a punch of his own he slipped on the sand, leaving himself vulnerable to a brutal uppercut that hit him right on the point of his chin.

  Drax staggered backwards, his heel coming perilously close to the line in the sand. Quill had no idea what would have happened had Drax crossed the line, but he was sure it wasn’t good. The Destroyer found his balance just in time and threw himself at the insectoid. Now it was his opponent that fell back under the onslaught as Drax landed punch after punch. The creature’s armor took on a rather dented appearance, and in some places the chitin had cracked completely and was leaking a green ichor that added an ammoniac reek to the air. The insectoid staggered back, and then stood, rocking on its feet. Drax drew back his fist, huge muscles bunching under the skin of his arm, but then reached out and gently pushed. Without a sound the insectoid toppled backwards and lay motionless on the ground, only the slight movement of its chest showing it still lived.

  Draw took a deep breath, and looked around at the gathered insectoids.

  “Does anyone else disagree with my decree?” he asked, his voice loud enough to echo from the roof of the cavern. “Anyone? Step forward now and challenge me now, or not at all.”

  Not a single antenna twitched, nor a mandible clicked, as every insectoid stood absolutely still. Quill would have done the same in their place.

  “Excellent,” Drax said. “Then it is resolved.”

  He turned to the humans. “You are welcome to enjoy my hospitality for a few days. There is no need to leave now.”

  Quill looked at Gamora and raised an eyebrow, and she nodded slightly.

  “It’s a very generous offer, Drax,” Quill said. “But time is running out, so if it’s all the same to you, I think we should hit the road.”

  “As you wish,” Drax said. “I commend your dedication. I will have you taken to your mounts and given as many provisions as you can take with you. I hope this helps.”

  “It helps a lot, Drax,” Gamora said. “Thank you.”

  She reached into Quill’s saddlebag and pulled out his map, then walked over to Drax.

  “Humor me, though. I am not saying you will, but just in case you do change you mind, let me show you where we plan on meeting the Duke.” She placed a hand on Drax’s shoulder and led him towards one of the tables. She laid the map out and began to trace lines with her finger. “From here, you would take this road and meet us here.”

  Drax laughed. “If I did decide to join you, I have a much quicker way of traveling. The tunnels extend much farther than you would expect. If it weren’t for your flying beasts I would send you that way.” He turned away from the table and walked towards his throne. “But it is inconsequential. I have spoken.”

  While Gamora and Drax had been conferring, the servitors had been busy retrieving all of the companions’ belongings and putting together bundles of provisions. As soon as the travelers’ saddlebags were full, they were loaded onto the backs of servitors and a company of the insectoid soldiers formed up around them.

  “Farewell, my friends,” Drax said. “I wish you glory and honor in your coming battles.”

  Quill raised his hand in a casual salute, and then followed the insectoids out of the cavern. The journey was much more pleasant this time around, which probably had something to do with the fact that Quill was moving under his own power and not hanging upside down. They took a different set of tunnels, curving slightly to the left and climbing steadily. Quill soon realized that they were being taken to the top of the hill in which the nest rested, the tunnel corkscrewing around the outside of it. As they progressed, the solid walls began to feature wide, low windows that looked out over the desolate plains. It wasn’t much of a view, but the sunshine and fresh air was a welcome change after the dark closeness of the tunnels below. By the time they emerged blinking onto the flattened top of the hill, Quill was starting to feel like his old self, and had even munched on some of the provisions they had been given. The fungus wasn’t actually that bad—if you were hungry enough.

  As promised, their mounts were waiting for them. Quill had no idea how the insectoids had managed to recapture them, but he suspected that his inkling of a link between them and the race that had tamed the beasts might not be too far from the truth. Whatever the case, he was duly grateful—with their steeds they had a real chance of making the rendezvous on time. Not that he relished the idea of telling the Duke that so far, he had not only failed to discover anything more about the enemy, but had only bought him two warriors and some flying animals. As they ascended, Quill tried to put such thoughts from his mind. The wind streaming through his hair and the sight of the insectoids dwindling beneath him on the ground were experiences to be savored. He could deal with his worries when the time came, but for now he was going to enjoy what fleeting pleasures came his way.

  Chapter 13

  “So, what do you think of them? I want your professional opinion—don’t hold back.
”

  Quill took his time answering, trying to work out the right way to phrase what he had to say. Things were . . . delicate with the Duke. There hadn’t been a scene when Quill had joined the army’s march without any new intelligence—no threats of execution or banishment, and there had been no objections to him taking his place on the Duke’s council. In fact, his first morning back he had been woken far too early by a spotty-faced page and summoned to a meeting. Quill had expected to be facing a hostile reception—perhaps even a tribunal—but instead the Duke and his advisors had simply made him part of the discussion about the disposition of forces and military tactics.

  Despite all that, there was a coldness in the way the Duke spoke to him that had never been there before. He was scrupulously polite, nothing in what he said or how he acted that Quill could broach with him, but it was not the same. Quill wasn’t sure whether it was that the Duke had found out about his relationship with Karyn, or simply that he felt Quill had failed him—and in fairness, Quill knew that he had failed—but in either case, Quill was very conscious of treading carefully around him. When the Duke had asked him to come along for an inspection of the army, Quill had eagerly agreed. It was a lovely day for riding, the sun shining, oblivious to the carnage and suffering that would unfold over the next few days, warming the wicked and the righteous alike.

  “Well?” the Duke asked, the first notes of impatience appearing in his voice.

  “Sire, these are good troops, there is no doubt about it. The core of seasoned veterans you have built are of the highest quality, and the levies you have called up seem to be solid men. I am especially impressed with how well equipped they are; you haven’t stinted. A lot of civilian levies only carry what weapons they can find or, more likely, they carry farm tools.”

  “But?” the Duke asked. “I can hear that there is one.”

  “Sire, they aren’t ready. You have the makings of an army here, a very good army. But right now, all they are is a group of men marching in the same direction,” Quill said. “The levies don’t understand half the commands they’re given, and the veterans don’t see comrades, just farmers. They need time to train together, to come together as a cohesive group.”