ThunderClaw: Science Fiction Romance (Alien Warrior Book 2)

by Penelope Fletcher

  ‘Excellent.’ He chafed his hands and gave them a maniacal grin. ‘It will no be long now. You told them to arrive about this time for our “training session” aye?’

  ‘Och, no, you did that.’

  Patrick stared at him. ‘No. You did it while I stole the food.’

  Lumen blinked. ‘Stole the food?’

  ‘I’m telling you I did no do it because you were supposed to do it.’

  My cousins stared at each other.

  As one they turned to Aled.

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ he exploded. ‘This fiasco wasn’t my idea.’

  ‘We’re not ever addressing the stealing thing are we?’ Lumen said.

  ‘Are you telling me you arranged all this while I spent the day worrying and getting dressed up and they doona e’en ken it’s happening?’ I could hear myself getting shrill, and it was not flattering, but the oversight was ridiculous.

  They exchanged a sheepish look. ‘Mebbe,’ they said.

  ‘It was supposed to be a surprise.’ Patrick looked nonplussed. ‘We kept the secret too well, I’m thinking.’

  I dropped my face into my hands with a groan.

  Lumen flashed her palms. ‘We can fix this easy. Stay right there looking fresh and dewy-eyed. I’ll be back.’ She hiked up her skirt and bounded towards the palace. ‘I’ll be quick.’

  I looked at my cousins. ‘Never mind. I am grateful. For everything.’

  ‘We know it.’ Patrick ruffled my hair. ‘Sorry, we bollocksed it up.’

  We glommed together and sat on the grass, waiting. I was regaled with stories of how they divided and conquered the kitchen staff, pilfered the stores without being seen, and encountered a grumpy Éorik, who they fooled with their flawless performance of innocence. I jumped to my feet when I heard Lumen’s voice in the near distance, my nerves taking over.

  ‘It was massive,’ she babbled. ‘Gigantic. The biggest thing I’ve seen. It was ten, no, twenty feet tall and had knives for teeth and fire for breath.’

  ‘How terrifying,’ said a foreigner.

  ‘Fear not,’ Beowyn said in a loud boom. ‘We shall slay the beast.’

  ‘I never heard of such a creature on Vayhalun,’ Éorik protested. ‘Are you quite sure, Lumen? You seem overwrought. I should contact Venomous so you might rest. I do not understand why you did not run to him in the first place.’ He paused. ‘Why are you without the escort of your mates?’

  ‘Don’t alarm my mates.’ Her voice rose. ‘Protect me, you powerful males, you. It’s over there. See the light? That’s, uh, embers from its fiery breath.’

  ‘She’s selling it.’ Rowan jostled Aled who whispered, ‘More concerned they’re buying it.’

  Verak thundered into the clearing.

  Fangs bared in a wild grin, Beowyn brandished his sword. Éorik leapt up beside him with smaller blades, their blunt edges held against his forearms, ready to slash. Last to charge was a strange Verak I’d not yet met, armed with a dagger and a wily glint in his eyes. They pulled up short when it was just my gawking family and me.

  Lumen jumped forward waving her hands above her head. ‘Surprise.’ She panted, out of breath as she bounced up and down. ‘Surprise, surprise.’ She turned to me and beamed. ‘Fixed it.’

  ‘But there is no monster here,’ the stranger said.

  Beowyn tilted his head, eyes scanning first me and then the rest of the scene. ‘Quiet Wulfyn.’ A slow smile stretched across his face. His gaze landed on the decorations and faltered. His brows briefly met in the middle them smoothed. ‘Escort those who wish to leave back to the palace.’

  ‘Good Greetings, humans.’ Wulfyn no longer seemed disappointed there was no monster to vanquish. He watched my family with naked curiosity. ‘I have heard rumours about you, but you do not drool nor do you smell.’ He smiled toothily. ‘Do you wish to share last meal with me?’

  Clapping his shoulder, Patrick fell into line with him, Aled and Rowan a step behind at the promise of food.

  Lumen walked backwards giving me big eyes and a thumbs up, and then they were gone, and we were alone.

  ‘No monster to defeat.’ My laughter sounded weak. ‘Only me.’

  Éorik touched the back of a chair. His eyes drifted over the table, the flowers. ‘You did this?’

  ‘My family did near all of it and came up with the idea. I turned up and took credit.’ I passed a hand over my front. ‘Lumen helped me get dressed and brought you here.’

  ‘No King rules alone yet he often is credited as such.’ Beowyn took a quick step then stopped. ‘You did this for us?’

  Rubbing my earlobe, I nodded.

  Éorik sat.

  I scrambled to join him. I tucked my hands between my thighs.

  Beowyn looked between us, the current of emotion flowing across his features indecipherable. He dropped into the remaining chair.

  We faced each other and stared.

  I cleared my throat. ‘Thank you for coming. I know you’re busy.

  Starry eyes averted to the tenebrous sky, and to the culms of the violet grasses buffeted by the briny wind swirling around the tor.

  Lips thinning, I gave myself a moment to feel duped. It took the next breath for me to let go of the resentment. I often obfuscated when unsure of how to proceed or unable to decipher the messier areas of my emotional palette. Avoidance was at times a great boon and a severe pain in the ass. I’d experienced a taste of my own medicine, and wasn’t it a sour brew? ‘Why are you avoiding me then?’ They hesitated to speak. ‘Beowyn?’

  ‘I have made my wishes clear.’ He was all but pouting. ‘Now I am giving you space to settle our cub and grow comfortable in your place as my One.’

  ‘What about you, Éorik?’

  ‘You needed time to think. I, too, give you space.’

  It was thoughtful of them, but after the blow that was the harem, I needed them all over me. ‘Thanks, but I’m okay. I’d like to move forward.’ Not waiting for a reply, hoping they’d go with it, I poured drinks from the chilled jug. ‘How was your day?’

  ‘Aggravating.’ Éorik sipped the fermented nectar and grunted his appreciation. ‘I investigated complaints of missing ferment from the cellars, edibles from the stores.’

  Dishing out the ill-gotten gains, I froze. My eyes darted to the now conspicuous food trolley. ‘Um.’

  Beowyn raised his cup, features tight with suppressed amusement.

  ‘It was your kin the whole time.’ Éorik snorted. ‘I consider myself a keen observant but,’ he shook his head, ‘they looked me in the eye and lied when I asked if they knew about the thefts.’

  I set down the jug, blushing. At least he sounded impressed rather than mad. I’d be furious in his position, having wasted a day chasing after troublemakers. ‘Under the theft and brazen lies, you see how their hearts were in the right place?’

  ‘They raided our palace.’ Beowyn was all tousled mane and roguish smile. ‘I am not sure why they did not ask the servants for what they needed. What is mine is yours and therefore theirs, but, truth, I am proud of their skills.’ He stroked my hand on the tablecloth. His gaze slipped to the side then back again. ‘But I must ask for you to explain something.’ His resonant voice grew hesitant. ‘Your human ways often confuse me, sweet, but most times I untangle the meanings.’

  I squeezed his fingers. My voice was soft. ‘I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, Owyn. Ask.’ He must have wanted to ask something important for his face to contort itself as it had.

  He lifted our joined hands. ‘I do not wish to hurt you.’ Uncurling my fingers, he brushed dry lips across my palm.

  My breathing hitched. A shiver tripped down my spine at his sensual touch. ‘You can tell me anything.’

  ‘Why is my great grandsire here?’

  I slow-blinked. ‘Beg your pardon?’

  ‘My great grandsire, Berwyn,’ he pointed at the centrepiece, ‘is on the table amongst the blooms.’

  Éorik set down his cup, crossing his arms and leaning
in. His head cocked. ‘An Earth custom is to bring the remains of the dead to trysts?’

  ‘Remains?’ The metal tip capping his polished horn glinted. Gorge rising, my eyes snapped to the dulled one jutting from the flowers. ‘The horns–.’ My voice cracked, and my eyelids squeezed closed. ‘The horns scattered over the palace are decorative.’ My eyes opened, pleading to be exonerated.

  Éorik winced. ‘Who told you this?’

  ‘They were, oh God, they were attached to the skull of a Verak?’ I gripped the table edge to prop myself upright. ‘To your dead kinsmen?’

  Beowyn eyeballed me like I’d taken leave of my senses. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Ye can no say of course and act like we were supposed tae ken such a thing.’ I sounded shrill again. Was I being punished? Had I murdered kittens in a previous life? I flung out an arm, a wave of heat climbing my face. ‘Why are the bones of your ancestors lying about?’

  ‘We keep our kin close.’ He thumped his chest. ‘In life and in death. They are no longer with us in a psychical state, but we want them near in their spiritual one. It is comforting to know they are with us. Guiding us.’

  ‘And it is not just bone,’ Éorik said. ‘The corpse of the departed is burned while mourning kin scrapes the horns of their inner flesh. Cold ashes are poured into the cavities during a ceremony to honour the Allbeast, and the open ends sealed with a silver disk. One is given to the mother-kin, the other to the sire-kin.’

  Beowyn lifted the ridged, curled horn. He flipped it upside-down, presenting it to me as if a priceless treasure. ‘The silver is engraved with an epitaph. It helps the descendants to know their kin. Feel closer to them without having met them.’

  I strained my eyes to read the inscription in the flickering candlelight, the slashing glyphs faded with age.

  Here sleeps the hunter,

  Berwyn ThunderClaw.

  He died as he lived,

  rutting.

  ‘I was named after him.’ Beowyn’s chest puffed. ‘My mother said I resembled him greatly. He was known as a masterful tracker. ThunderClaw Dyna was a lesser House during his leadership, but I have raised it high.’ He gave a lopsided smile, eyes uncertain. ‘Have I made him proud?’

  ‘Of course.’ Éorik glanced at me knowingly when I stared helplessly at Beowyn’s pensive expression, stuck between a sob of horror and morbid giggles. ‘You are the Great One.’

  Taking in their solemn faces, their dignified tones, I realised the custom was important to them. Sacred. A ring of looted horns surrounded us. ‘Oh, God.’ I patted the air. We were in the middle of a graveyard. A graveyard of my husband’s revered ancestors, people my clan had stolen to use as ornamentation. Had they treated the urns with respect? Slapping a hand to my mouth, I remembered Patrick saying Fergie helped pick the ‘gewgaws’. By that comment alone, I knew little care had been taken. ‘Oh, my God.’ My bairn had inadvertently disturbed the dead. I clutched Beowyn’s claws to my chest. Sorry didn’t cover the enormity of our mistake. ‘We assumed they were trinkets, no memorials.’ My voice was thick with tears. ‘We did no mean it. I wanted this to be special, memorable, no macabre and offensive.’

  ‘But it is memorable,’ Éorik said.

  I made a cross noise.

  ‘No harm was done, my sweet.’ Beowyn cupped my cheek, exasperated. ‘It is oddly kind to include them. Perhaps their spirits embrace us even now.’

  Hairs on the back of my neck rose. I surreptitiously glanced around.

  Was that a cold patch?

  A ghostly sigh or merely the wind?

  Sorry, I mouthed to the hereafter and hunched, half expecting a wrathful alien relative to smite me.

  Slouched in his seat, Beowyn inhaled the sea air and released it with a smile. ‘A pretty spot this.’ Dark brows lowered. ‘Strikes me as familiar.’

  Éorik sat ramrod in his seat. ‘Owyn is this not like the time we found the–.’

  A shadow blotted the moonlight and a reptile twice my size, ten feet snout to tail landed beside me with a whomp, whomp, whomp of leathery wings.

  Balanced on three webbed and taloned toes, its stocky body shifted ponderously as it waddled to a stop.

  Veiled by a nictitating membrane, a slitted eyeball peered at me before rolling to glare at the Verak. A serrated beak with a hooked tip let loose a whopping screech that hurt my ears. Rancid, rotted fish breath wafted over us, slimy spittle flecking our clothes, our skin, the table. It flapped its iridescent wings, lissome tail whipping the air over our heads before hunkering down.

  ‘Good thing we feast later this night.’ Beowyn wiped a viscous glop from his cheek. ‘My surprise for you.’

  ‘Oh,’ I whispered.

  ‘It is the reason the thefts were noted,’ Éorik said. ‘Otherwise, it would never have come to my attention.’

  ‘Of course,’ I whispered again.

  Crusty onyx-scutes brushed my thigh. I breathed through my mouth and tried not to move. It stank. It smelt like hot, brackish swamp.

  Blocky head shoved under its pinion, it raked its bill over its back, itching the edges of bony scutum, sending crepe-thin patches of skin floating into the air.

  ‘Kimmijion nesting grounds.’ Beowyn barked a laugh and fell back in his seat. ‘Our hunt master has searched for a wild nest for solars. The meat is juicer. To think one hid in my own wilderness.’ He looked the beast over. ‘But a fine male specimen. See the deadly spike on his tail? I saw a smaller male disembowel a warrior with a single flick. Do not be frightened, my One. They attack when threatened. I wonder. Where are the females?’ He brightened. ‘Lah, here they come.’

  Dozens of the reptilian avians landed on the tor, nestling into the grasses until we swam in a slumbering sea of them, the smell making me heave.

  A spiked tail slithered past my ankle. I opened my mouth to scream.

  ‘Mammy?’

  ‘Look, Orik, my cub was under there.’

  Chapter 27

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Uncle Fergus. Why did you give her sweets when we’re going to dinner?’ Putting my daughter down, I spotted a water feature. ‘She has blue gunk smeared all over her face.’ I wet the edge of my tunic in the fountain basin. I rushed back then froze. ‘Where did she go?’ I spun a circle then spluttered to find Fergie galloping through the ornate doors ahead of the pack. ‘Shite. Grab her.’

  They tried. Bless them, they tried, but the speed and agility of my child at that moment were of a triathlete on the brink of Olympic ascendancy. She ducked and wove around her flustered uncles until she dashed into the banquet hall and roared, curling her fingers into claws and stomping both feet like a miniature giant.

  ‘Och.’ Patrick grinned. ‘She’s pretending to be a razorbeast.’

  Chortling, Aled snatched Fergie off her feet and held her under his arm like a rugby ball. He jounced her until she trilled a laugh, kicking her stout legs so the whole world could see her nappy.

  Decorated with a lavish hand, the loggia was festooned with flowered garlands and ribbons. Wooden poles jutted above the gathering. Ended in metal spikes and bearing swallow-tailed pennons pinned to embellished crossbars, the tapered triangles and streamers were a rainbow of colour, their mythical beasts displaying strange attitude. A lengthwise wall opened to the endless sky. Caryatids supported steep arches, the pointed curves framing the seascape, and the beguiling idols lead the weak-willed to a watery doom. Leagues of dark water appeared to float the palace as if one could step from flagstone to sea then walk the shoals unheeded until claimed by ocean depths.

  Rowan whistled as he strutted. ‘Fancy. Think they’ll miss the cutlery?’

  ‘Mebbe.’ Patrick grinned, attention turned elsewhere. He clasped wrists with Wulfyn, who turned to introduce his stately Verak companion.

  ‘Keep your hands to yourself.’ I ran my hands along the crispness of my gold and silver tunic, smoothing it along with my hips. Its standing collar made my scrawny neck elegant, its cut lending my skinny frame the illusion of curves. ‘It’s
rude. We’re guests.’

  ‘Isn’t this technically your home?’ Rowan asked, dressed in boots, leathers and a finely woven shirt in the resplendent style of our alien hosts.

  ‘You’re right.’ I glared. ‘I better no catch you thieving my nice things. I’ve no even seen them yet.’

  ‘Aled and I are thinking of buying property on the southwestern side of Grand Atoll. One of the rural plots. We have to conserve funds.’ He peered around. ‘What’s the point in wasting credits and buying new when the family has decent stuff lying around?’

  ‘Eating utensils loaned to you for the duration of a meal is no stuff just lying around.’ I spared him a puzzled look. ‘Why are you and Aled moving in together when you have apartments here? You don’t need to go to the expense. Are you no happy with this place?’ I circled a finger in a widening spin to indicate the luxurious room in the majestic palace we now called home.

  His ears pinked as his chin tried to merge with his neck. ‘Just nice to have a corner that’s your own. A bit of privacy never hurt nobody.’

  I inhaled so I could tell him to cut the crap, but my nostrils flared, and I sneezed. Snot landed on Rowan’s shoulder. He gawked at it then at my pretzeled face. He cracked up laughing.

  Enveloped in the nose tingling scent responsible for my sneeze, Ryki drifted into view. A sweeping ruby gown encrusted with jewels twinkled in the soft light. Was that a coronet nestled in her upswept ochre locks? ‘You should not be here if you are unwell.’

  I wiped my sleeve under my nose.

  She cringed. ‘You are,’ she flapped a hand at my middle, ‘damp.’

  Scowling, I looked to where she indicated. A wet patch darkened my tunic. I peered at in confusion until I remembered the fountain. ‘Ach, shite.’

  ‘You brought your offspring.’

  I’d heard Fiercely describe Bravest as his offspring so often the term no longer seemed strange or anything but loving. Spoken from the Concubine’s painted lips, it sounded cold.

  ‘It’s important she learn how to conduct herself at such functions.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s her welcome feast too.’