ThunderClaw: Science Fiction Romance (Alien Warrior Book 2)

by Penelope Fletcher

  ‘I meant the Commander.’ Anja shot me a stymied look. ‘We did not think he’d ever take a female lover. Not after what happened with his life giver.’

  We stepped into the hall, and both reeled as the heat of bodies rushed to meet us, the smell of sweaty fear ripe.

  Wrinkling my nose, I turned to her as my mind skipped back to my palms caressing rigid keloids, the scars marring a strong back. ‘What do you mean? What happened wth his mother?’

  She pulled up short, golden eyes flaring with alarm. ‘I thought…it is not my place to speak of this. I assumed he had told you.’ She shook her head when I opened my mouth to press her. ‘Please do not ask.’ She looked distraught to deny me. ‘I cannot speak of it. He is my House lead. I would dishonour my family, and I worked so hard to attain this rank within the palace legion.’

  ‘Okay.’ I patted her stiff arm. ‘Never mind.’ I frowned but let it go. I’d rather hear the story direct from the source in any case. My gaze scanned the mass of people gathered in the hall. Trundle beds had been set up on the periphery, but most had clustered together in the middle to offer each other comfort. ‘It looks organised in here.’ Wulfyn had reported unrest. ‘What’s the problem?’

  The words had barely left my mouth before a young Verak boy pushed between my legs trying to escape a liveried servant chasing after him.

  I snagged the runaway by the collar.

  He struggled but quickly gave up when Anja replaced my hand with hers. He stared up at her with big eyes then whimpered, head half disappearing into his baggy tunic.

  ‘Thief! He stole from my alpha’s table.’ The servant snapped his fingers. ‘Give back what you took.’

  I didn’t much like his tone. ‘What did he take?’

  ‘What business is it of yours?’ Huffing, the servant glanced at me, gaze sweeping me from scuffed boots to messy curls. He froze, eyes lingering on my red hair. ‘My Queen.’ His voice was faint. ‘I did not realise.’ He sketched a bow and nervously glanced over his shoulder. ‘I was sent to retrieve the food the cub stole from my alpha.’

  ‘So you’ve said.’ I asked the child to hand over what he’d taken. He looked devastated, but pulled a round loaf from the front of his tunic and slapped it into my hand. I stared at it then at the servant. ‘You were chasing him for this?’

  He nodded slowly.

  ‘You’re acting like he took something irreplaceable. Food will be handed out soon; I’ll make sure of it. Harassing a child for a bit of bread is a waste of your time.’ I handed the bread back to the boy who took it with shiny eyes. I dismissed the affronted servant. I smiled at the child. His ditty horns were coated in the fuzz of babyhood. ‘You do no have to steal.’

  He regarded me with the haughty impatience that seemed native to the Verak. ‘We were hungry.’

  My smile faltered. ‘We?’

  After a pause, eyeing me with suspicion, he decided something about me was trustworthy enough and took my hand. He led me around the throng to a snug, shadowed corner where a group of six young Verak cubs were curled up under a pile of blankets and furs. One of the trundle beds held the youngest of them, their slanted eyes huge in their narrow faces, colourful irises stars swimming in inky black sclera. They were clean and spritely, their fur lustrous with health, but appeared forgotten in the loud confusion of the hall.

  ‘Where are your parents?’ Anja helped the boy to break the bread into chunks, placing it into upraised hands with bitty claws. ‘It is not safe.’

  ‘Gone,’ he told her.

  His blunt manner had me rocking to my heels. ‘They died?’ I softened my voice. ‘In the storm?’

  Eyes darkening for a brief moment, he nodded, chewing. ‘The Paladin’s brought us here.’ He shrugged and devoured his bread.

  I made a mournful noise in my throat, wondering if I should try to hug him or offer words of comfort.

  Verak were pragmatic about death. It saddened them but didn’t burden them with grief as I was used to seeing nor did they accept expressions of commiseration the polite, stoic way a human would. I minced closer opening my arms, but the cub shied away, eyeing me with alarm.

  ‘They will be taken care of once they can be fostered.’ Anja caught my worried stare, interpreting it correctly.

  ‘In the meantime?’ I asked.

  ‘You can request the Great House leads to watch over them.’ She grimaced. ‘They will be busy.’

  ‘I’ll keep them with me.’ I did a quick head count. Eight children. More than manageable. ‘Gather up your things. Is this all of you?’ I helped them fold up their blankets.

  ‘Where are you taking them?’ Anja asked.

  ‘To stay with my daughter Fergie. It’s the safest place, don’t you think? They’ll stay out of mischief and be allowed to play and forget the troubles outside.’ We shepherded the children through the palace and into the private wing of the royal apartments.

  I found Rowan, Aled and my Uncle Fergus minding Fergie, so took the time to update them on Patrick’s whereabouts and give my daughter a cuddle, reassuring her everything was okay and extracting a promise to behave for her uncles. She toddled off to play with the other children the instant I set her down on her own two feet.

  Children were resilient as long as they knew they were loved.

  Lumen marched into the room, clothes askew, eyes heavy-lidded with sleep and ranting how she’d left England’s shitty weather only to deal with the deadly alien weather.

  Listening with half an ear, I talked to Cobra about gathering up any stray children he spotted the Paladins dropping off. The sight of Uncle Fergus peering in confusion out the window had me asking Fiercely to transport the elderly and infirm to the apartments as well. It was better if I had them all in one place to keep track of them. The young and strong could remain in the hall overseen by the senior serving staff.

  Happy Fergie would be safe with the Rä and Lumen looking out for her, I snagged Anja and headed to the lower levels; the servants’ domain. Aled and Rowan followed offering to help where they could. My next port of call was the kitchens. The Verak in the feasting hall had been desperate to retrieve the stolen bread. I wanted to know why he’d reached that level of panic.

  We entered the kitchens, a low-ceilinged room with ovens lining the far wall and rows of wooden work surfaces. My eyes narrowed, nose twitching. I could smell herbs and the lingering scent of burnt meat. The ovens were silent, dark and cold. Aled peeled off to nose inside the grain drums, larders and cold-ore stores that were essentially cupboards with piles of the frozen mineral lining the walls.

  Horned Veraks, and yellow-fleshed Baxnonians dressed in knee-length aprons and matching head ties to hold back their knee-length hair and feathers scattered like roaches as I approached, absorbed in cleaning pots, scrubbing surfaces. Everyone refused to meet my eyes and accept responsibility for the lack of cooking. Discovering the head chef hadn’t made it back from visiting relatives on Grand Atoll, I cornered an assistant to tell me what I needed to know. The situation wasn’t great.

  The assistant cook sweated and puffed as he explained between brow mops the state of the provisions. ‘We do not store food. The Great one feels it is wasteful and prefers fresh produce to be brought in locally on a cycle by cycle basis.’

  ‘Is there enough to feed us all until the storm ends.’ I asked.

  ‘Perhaps.’ The assistant rubbed his rotund middle, tawny crest fluctuating in neon colours. ‘Perhaps, perhaps.’

  ‘That’s no an answer.’ I flapped my hands. ‘Knock some soup together and bake some bread.’

  ‘Perhaps. Perhaps.’

  I opened my mouth to start yelling.

  ‘Sìne.’ Black brows climbing his forehead, blue eyes twinkling, Aled tapped his patrician nose with a finger. ‘Who might be able to sort this, hm?’

  I grabbed his arm and gave a little bounce on the spot. ‘Would you?’

  ‘We have to stretch the provisions. Make sure the meals are hardy and will last for a spell. It’s a
big ask.’ Aled smoothed his hands over the wooden chopping board. He surveyed the room with a possessive eye. ‘Rumbledethumps for the babies.’ The wholesome potato and cabbage mash baked with cheese was Fergie’s favourite. I couldn’t see why the Verak cubs and Bravest wouldn’t like it too. ‘Swapping the Earth ingredients for the Vayhalun equivalents will be simple enough. To feed the masses, I’ll do a seafood cawl for mains. Use up the fish and fresh produce. Bare brith for afters. I have everything I need.’

  ‘Stew and fruit bread?’ My tummy gave an appreciative burble. ‘Sounds delicious.’ I crooked a finger. He bent so I could kiss his bristled cheek. ‘You’re a life saver. Send one of your minions to find me if you need anything.’

  ‘Off with you.’ He turned to bellow at the kitchen staff. ‘Right you sorry lot.’ They scurried like mice. ‘This recipe was passed on to me by my tad. God rest his gin-soaked soul.’

  Chapter 35

  It wasn’t until nearly half an hour later as Anja and I waited for Wulfyn and Patrick to join us in the Great Hall, did I notice Rowan nestled in my shadow. ‘Hey?’ He usually stuck to Aled during times of strife. I curled my fingers around his. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Just trying to stay out of everyone’s way.’ His eyes were too wide, hand rigid in mine. ‘I want to keep all of you in my line of sight, but you keep separating.’ His breathing was off kilter. ‘I can no…I think it’ll kill me to lose someone else.’

  I placed my hands either side of his face. ‘Why are you down here?’

  ‘To keep you all close.’ Judging by his miserable face, he was aware he made a poor job of it.

  ‘I need you to do something for me. Go to my apartments and stay with Fergus and Fergie.’

  His eyes snapped with anger. ‘I’m no helpless. I can help down here too.’

  ‘I need one of us to stay with Fergie.’ The worry for my daughter was a constant niggle at the back of my mind. I’d rest easier if he were there. ‘Please?’

  He hesitated, popping his knuckles one by one. ‘You, Aled and Trick?’

  ‘Have tasks to complete same as you.’ I bobbed my head towards the door. ‘Go. Make sure Fergie does no run Lumen ragged with her mischief.’

  Rowan chuffed a brittle laugh then grabbed me into a bone crushing hug.

  ‘That was kind.’ Anja watched him hurry from the room.

  ‘That was Clan.’ I crossed my arms. It had been longer than an hour. Patrick and Wulfyn were late. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Don’t fuss.’ They entered through the side door. ‘Got caught up helping the Seneschal.’ Patrick tapped me under the chin. ‘How are things?’

  ‘Manageable.’

  ‘They’ll be better once you hear what we have to report.’

  The Paladin squads had returned to the palace, and as we spoke organised the people in the feasting hall and checked the rest of the palace was secured. Some of the People’s Guard had made themselves known and were providing therapy for those who had been traumatised as well as beginning to tally up the costs of those who would be needing financial support.

  Even I understood the brunt of the work would come after the storm passed. The better we organised now, the less painful it would be in the end. The death toll would be hard to bear but minimal as the Verak had been well prepared to face this natural disaster. The protective barriers, as well as the bravery and training of the Paladins, had saved countless lives.

  Fiddling with my necklace, I inhaled and stared at the rounded tips of my boots. ‘Any news on Owyn or Orik?’ At their silent exchange of glances, I repressed the urge to wilt to the floor. ‘Right. Okay. We’ll hear something soon then. Just a matter of time.’ My voice quivered. I blushed, clearing my throat.

  ‘They were seen by the squads on Grand Atoll.’ Patrick chafed the back of his neck. ‘They helped searched for survivors.’

  ‘Of course, they did. It’s why they left.’ Why they left me.

  ‘Don’t you give up.’

  I kneaded the frown from my forehead, mostly to cover up the glassy sheen in my eyes. ‘Who said I was?’

  ‘Tell that to your face.’

  ‘I’m not giving up.’ They were heroes. I just hoped they realised it was equally important to save themselves. ‘They’ll come back soon.’ I wished I sounded confident. ‘Meanwhile, we are doing well, aren’t we?’

  Everyone was calm. The children, elderly and vulnerable were separated and safe. There’d be hot food to bolster morale. Plenty of Paladins now patrolled the corridors to keep the peace, and Guards offered advice to citizens worried about their futures. It made them feel sheltered and protected more than just physically.

  I released a breath I couldn’t seem to draw to the bottom of my lungs. ‘Everything is under control.’

  Wulfyn licked his lips, nose tipping up. ‘What is that aroma? My mouth is watering.’ Savoury and sweet fragrances wafted up from the lower levels.

  My stomach gurgled. ‘Aled’s cooking.’

  Patrick rubbed his middle. ‘Your idea to unleash him was it?’

  We decided to show our faces in the feasting hall to boost spirits, discussing our next plans of action, which came down to holding the fort and keeping people calm until Beowyn and Éorik returned. Patrick and Wulfyn were mobbed by Paladin reports and Guard members leaving me circling the busy room, marshalling my thoughts. I was pleased to see the servants diligently working to soothe those who’d fled from Grand Atoll. A snaking queue formed around the circumference of the hall, separate to the one formed for those seeking Aled’s concoction.

  Curious as to what refreshments were on offer, I moseyed around the tables. My jaw cracked with a yawn, and a wave of dizziness had me longing for a bed with cool, crisp sheets.

  Built from stone into the mountain and having lots of high ceilings and airy rooms typically kept the palace cool, but the fiery heat of the storm left the humid air sweltering.

  The warmth made my drowsiness worse. My lashes fluttered, and my eyelids scraped against my eyeballs, burning at the corners. I squeezed them shut and gave them a good rub with my index fingers, reminding myself to dig in and scoop them out would cause blindness. They wrenched open, and I was at the front of a line I hadn’t intended to drift into.

  Movement brisk with purpose, a flush-faced servant shoved a wooden cup into my hand. ‘Move along.’

  My fingers automatically clamped around the vessel. I tried to hand it back. ‘Ah, no, I don’t need–.’

  ‘No dawdling.’ Eyes cast downward to his task, the male pointed to the person behind me, an air of frazzled distraction in his gesture. ‘Next?’

  Biting my tongue, I shuffled down the line, equally tired and haggard people slouched either side of me. The server didn’t have time to deal with my shilly-shallying. Another servant dropped a mossy lump into the shallow bowl then added hot water with a dollop of syrup. As it steeped, the plant bud bloomed into a myriad of delicate petals. I sniffed the steam wafting from the lucent teal liquid. Mint and aniseed and a saccharine twang from the nectar.

  It was a hell of a lot better than the fusty pong accumulating in the feasting hall from the sheer number of sweaty bodies crammed into it.

  I sipped the flowery concoction, and my eyelids fluttered. I craved a strong black brew, but this would do.

  I felt a pang of loss for my simpler rituals from Earth as the weight of responsibility pressed hard on my head and shoulders. I hadn’t asked for the right to rule, but it was hard to be resentful when I’d come to Vayhalun to avail myself of the planet’s bounty.

  What kind of person would I be to crumble when the going got tough?

  It wasn’t anybody I wanted to be.

  I squared my shoulders and let the worry flow over and around me. I wasn’t weak. I refused to drown or break.

  I was afraid because my husband and lover were missing and stressed at how far from of my comfort zone I operated, almost to the point of flailing in the dark, but I’d do my best and earn the right to call Vayhalun h
ome.

  I finally did something my daughter could look back on and say she was proud to have me as her mother.

  ‘But you are here.’ Talons clamped my shoulder and jerked me around. ‘The Guardian said as such.’ A brown, wrinkled face bright with relief peered into mine. White-yellow horns were thickly ridged and longer than any I’d seen, the blunted points ending far past his temples and nearer to his slashing cheekbones. The greying fur on his face was patchy in places revealing crinkly skin. ‘I am the Seneschal. Wulfyn says you are Alpha and will perform the next public announcement.’ He waited, expectant, heavy brow lowering. ‘Yes?’

  Pinned to the spot by his direct, assessing gaze, I clutched the pannikin. ‘Um.’ An indistinguishable blur of time later, I clutched my tea, standing in a side room with a wall at my back and floating lenses pointed at my face, orbiting me like moons. ‘I don’t think I’m the right person to be doing this.’

  I was wan, my lips were swollen from being chewed, and my clothes were stained and rumpled. My greasy hair stood on end in clumps from raking my fingers through it over and over. I looked like a dodgy drifter. Queens were supposed to be stately and graceful. I swayed like a drunken pirate from sleep deprivation, my blinks long and slow. How was I meant to send a message of strength when a light breeze could take me out?

  I shook myself all over. ‘I thought the communications were down?’

  ‘Intermittently,’ Anja replied. ‘The flares cause distortions in the magnetic field around the planet. It corrupts the frequencies.’

  ‘This might all be for nothing?’

  ‘It’ll be sent on the emergency frequency. All SonComs able to receive the transmission will. It overrides the settings and blasts on loudspeaker.’ She looked satisfied. ‘It is useful during riots and situations such as these.’

  ‘I still don’t think I’m right for this. I’ve never done any public speaking. What do I even say?’

  Wulfyn gave me an encouraging head bob. ‘You need only let people know you rule us now.’