by May Sage
The study published the following year was read by everyone across the universe at least once. The two hundred pages were equally fascinating, but it was the conclusion that changed the world.
Therefore, I deduce that the ailment to which we’ve lost so many amongst us can be prevented, when it is caught in time. At first signs of the symptoms, I’d urge any Klint to be mindful of his or her surroundings.
The insanity is due to the proximity of your mate. Should you lose that individual – to death, or even simple distance – you will turn into a Beast.
Cedar believed every word he’d written – and he was proven right.
Yet, he was confused because insanity never claimed him. Sometime after writing this book, his cerebral functions had normalized and settled. No experimentation explained his own reprieve.
He might have known, if he’d ever left his cell and walked into his garden.
He would have seen Willow resting against his wall every single night.
Part Three
Rule
Twenty-Eight
The Fall
Xian
“Tania, I can’t risk it,” she told the stubborn girl that wouldn’t flee. “I can’t risk you.”
“Why! I’m just…”
“You’re not just anything. I’ll get you out of here. Then, I’ll roam the entire galaxy to find your friends, with an entire battalion, ok? I give you my word.”
Tania looked at her for what felt like an eternity before nodding, and getting inside the speeder.
That’s when the door opened in front of an armed squad dressed in black from head to toes, faces hidden under masks. They were armed with stunner guns and Xian had nothing, completely unprepared for the first time in her life.
Fuck.
They were at the end of the corridor. That gave her twenty seconds.
“Say your name!”
“Wh… Tania. Tania Webber.”
“System, this is operator. Transfer leadership to Tania Webber. Log. To Magneo, first hangar. Full protection active. Log.”
“Control logged. Transfer completed.”
She pushed the girl inside the speeder, locked her in and expulsed it from the ship.
Then, she turned back towards her enemies.
Xian was pretty happy, all things considered. Despite everything others thought she should be, she’d lived her life as a badass, and she would die a badass. There were worse fates.
Besides, she’d have the pleasure of sending half of those cowards to meet their makers, at least.
She could have stayed at the end of the corridor, waiting for them, but it wasn’t her way. Xian ran towards them, screaming a battle cry as she leaped into the melee.
She kicked, punched, avoided blasters, broke bones, put her fingers right where they hurt – in eye sockets, as well as the occasional nostril. Pretty unpleasant for every party involved.
All of a sudden, it stopped.
She was the only one standing. Not the only one alive, of course, but the low-lives at her feet were smart: they’d chosen to stay on the ground.
She’d won for now; but her arm was bleeding pretty badly and the adrenaline rush was already fading. She wasn’t cocky enough to think she’d win another round – and the cowards at her feet had doubtlessly alerted their friends.
Time to go.
Xian prepared a speeder for detachment. It wasn’t responding to her command at first, revealing that the enemy had completely taken control of the ship.
Thankfully, they hadn’t expected her to have the code of the imperial override. She entered her passwords and managed to activate it. Thank fuck. Now, she could follow Tania home, make sure she made it safely. Then, she’d keep her promise and look for the other girls, even if it took a lifetime to locate them.
Tactical retreats were some of her least favorite things, but she was realistic. Now wasn’t the time for heroics.
Soon enough, the speeder detached from the ship, heading to the coordinate she inputted manually; then, she took the time to look at her wound.
Great.
She would have loved if it had been one of those “looks worse than it is” situations, but it really, really wasn’t. The blood was pooling at her feet, soaking her seat.
Check vitals, she ordered her microchip.
She sighed in relief what it said it had nicked a vein, not an artery. On a scale from bad to epic shit-storm, she ranged somewhere along the line of still alive for twenty minutes.
Abrubtly, a huge hit propelled her right on the command board.
“Alert, alert. Transportation compromised.”
No, really? She hadn’t noticed.
Somehow in the midst of the last actions, she’d forgotten to pull her own shields. Now, her defenses were at 20%. Another hit and she’d blow into particles.
She couldn’t hope to prepare for warp and head to Magneo; even if her tiny, half destroyed speeder somehow managed to stay intact, they’d hit her at least once while the ship got ready. She couldn’t stay and fight either – her only hope was a diversion.
Come on, Xian, think.
One of the only systems currently operational was her navigator. One look confirmed they were at the border of two systems she was familiar with – one, because it belonged to the Empire, the other one, because it was inhabited by a horde of heathens worse than your average flesh eating, blood sucking beasts: the Dragnar.
Someone else might have made a go for Tejen, and hope for the best, but she knew better. Her enemy would be prepared for it; and while the empire did have a military presence in all of their systems, they generally weren’t on high alert, complacent as no one really dared attack them.
Dragnes was another matter altogether. No one – and she meant no one – would follow her there. No one would try to shoot anywhere around their system in case the hit was taken as a show of hostility against the barbarians. The flip side of that was the fact that she’d be at the mercy of the Dragnars.
They weren’t exactly an enemy of the Empire – they just didn’t give a damn about anything and anyone in the universe, except their own system; good thing too, or they might have given the Empire a run for its money. With axes, swords and antique shit like javelins infused with nanocites, and lasers, they solely relied on their physical strength during a battle. As they averaged seven feet tall and three hundred pounds, it wasn’t exactly a weakness.
Xian had been invited to one of their banquets once, and she still shuddered when she recalled the “friendly” combat the Dragnar warriors had demonstrated.
They weren’t enemies of the Empire, but she came uninvited, bringing a conflict to their doors, and using their presence. They wouldn’t like that, no doubt about it.
In short, making a bee-line for Tejen was suicidal and Dragnes would probably mean getting punished by savages.
What’s a girl to do?
Beneth
By dawn, he’d already had a long day. They were celebrating the Tunham, thanking the two suns for the kind season and welcoming the long nights; for the WarLord of Dragnes, it meant a lot of work.
The long nights meant that their companions were coming back from their hibernations. Regardless of how many seasons they’d flown together, the Great Beasts needed proof that their riders were worthy each and every bloody time they woke up. His job as the WarLord was to tame the very first Beast who woke up – the strongest of them.
Everything hurt, from his little toe to his hair, if that was possible, and he felt his three hundred years every time he bent down – his back was sore and unkind towards his poor exhausted muscles.
But he also came back to his home on the back of his old friend, Tsargarst.
The dragon hadn’t managed to burn him this time – although he’d tried. Beneth needed to give his thanks to the crafter who’d put together his new shield: that protective field worked better than the last one.
“A bath,” he grumbled, begging more than he was ordering.
&n
bsp; The head of his household, Temra, smiled kindly.
“Already poured my Lord. Will you need a masseuse?”
Just about as much a he needed his next breath.
“Send one who’s inclined to relieve my balls, while you’re at it.”
Right now, what he needed was two, perhaps three days of sleep, but it wasn’t happening considering the fact that the ceremony would start in five minutes, so he could use some other kind of invigoration.
“Very well, sire,” the servant replied without so much as a raised eyebrow.
Beneth was a warrior and warriors fucked a lot – it was as simple as that. The ladies he knew were generally delighted to offer their assistance, but he preferred taking servants, or whores, given the choice. At least, they didn’t expect to gain his affection.
“Ensure meat is brought to Tsargarst; I wouldn’t want him to eat half of my staff,” he smiled kindly, patting the Great Beast’s snout, which was the size of an average speeder.
He’d grown again, during his sleep.
Beneth walked up the steps leading to his home, doing his best to hide the toll each step took on him. He was wondering who had decided the WarLord should reside on the highest home in Dragonia, and considering what sort of torture would be appropriate punishment for this offense when he saw it, burning their clouds as it fell down at full speed through the sky, heading towards the wild lands.
Instantly, as his duty called, any reminder of his pain was put aside. He clicked his tongue three times, and ran to jump right off the three-hundred-meter high flight of stairs, never wondering whether Tsargarst would catch him in his fall.
Twenty-Nine
Stranded
Xian
After crash landing into an unfamiliar territory, spraining her ankle, breaking two fingers, Xian had to say: things could have been worse. She hadn’t bled out yet, and apparently, her arrival had happened at dawn – there might be a chance that she hadn’t been noticed. Right? All she needed was to grab her transmitter and signal her position with a beacon. Under normal circumstances, the Empire might think once or twice before heading for Dragnes, but she knew Calden wouldn’t hesitate; sometimes, it paid to be the Emperor’s first cousin.
She was pretty positive, until she saw that her transmitter was smashed to bits. Then – and she had no idea how she missed its arrival – a dragon landed next to her.
Like, a real dragon. The average size of a Earthen skyscraper, with claws as long as her arms and teeth taller than her five foot seven.
It is rumored that the Dragnar called themselves thus because of their affinity with dragons, her microchip helpfully interjected.
Great. Couldn’t it have come up with that information, like, before she’d decided to land on their planet?
Xian was still staring open mouthed when fangs pierced the metal walls around her and the top of her speeder was ripped open.
The dragon effortlessly crushed it in its jaw and threw it out, making his point rather clear.
You’re fucked, little lady, he could have said.
She’d noticed.
To her surprise, the creature didn’t actually try to eat her alive – it just stood there, wings extended, head back.
Then, it folded its long wings, revealing that it wasn’t actually alone.
If someone had imagined that the man sitting on the dragon’s back might have been less intimidating than the creature he’d been riding, he’d be sorely mistaken. He was imposing, domineering, and more dangerous than just about anything she’d ever seen. Given the choice, Xian would have preferred to take her chances against the dragon.
Even for a Klint, used to lower temperatures, it was cold as fuck, yet the man was pretty close to naked; leather around his wrists, a manly skirt that definitely didn’t make him look even a tiny bit gay, and heavy, fur-trimmed boots.
Over the years and across the universe, it had been called a Shendyt, a Kilt, a…
I get it, she replied to her microchip. She’d stick to skirt.
The man jumped from the dragon’s back, without a care for the fact that it must have been a forty meter drop, and skillfully landed on his feet.
Of course he did.
Xian was torn between shivering and drooling when he approached. The tanned, muscular barbarian with long, dark red hair, was one fine piece of masculine beauty, to say the least.
By the time he’d made it in front of her, she recognized him. Hell.
One hundred and nine years ago, he hadn’t been quite so imposing – just as huge, just as gorgeous, but less raw around the edges.
He’d been one of the men sparing for her entertainment. Unsurprisingly, he’d won, making his adversaries bleed with his fists, before laughing, hugging them and tapping their backs when they’d surrendered.
It had been a long time and her current chip didn’t have the data associated with their encounter, yet she recalled his name.
“Beneth Tharshen.”
The man raised an eyebrow.
“I do not believe we’ve met,” he said in his tongue.
She was so glad she’d learnt it, although at the time, she’d grumbled about having to assimilate so much information for one day of socializing.
“We haven’t, not really.”
While she’d certainly noticed him, he’d stuck to his kind, while her company had been greeted and entertained by diplomatic delegates. She opened her mouth to explain it all when out of the blue, she felt it all.
The pain just about everywhere, the nausea and the dizziness caused by the lack of blood.
Like a freaking damsel she most definitely wasn’t, Xian, the most kick-ass Klint female of all, fainted at his feet.
Beneth
Enemy. Spy. Uninvited. Sacrilege. Outlander. Unwanted. Death!
Beneth closed his eyes and tuned them all out.
“Given the state of her ship, she may simply have been in an emergency situation,” the mediator stated.
He nodded, thankful for this tentative suggestion.
Beneth wanted to believe it. The problem was that he also believed everything else. She was an uninvited outlander, who’d landed on their sacred day, interrupting their most important ceremony, so yes, she was a sacrilegious one at that.
Yet instead of calling for her blood as he had every right to, he’d shared his, once it was clear she was a Klint: they were entirely compatible, which meant her body accepted a transfusion from his without any issue.
The girl was hurt, badly, but not fatally. Thanks to her advanced rejuvenating system, the wounds were already closing – when she awoke, she would be fine, save for a little limp, perhaps.
“She should die for delaying our ceremony,” one lady spat.
Alright, enough. Beneth got up and everyone shut it.
“The only thing delaying our ceremony is this council,” he stated. “Let us adjourn it and begin now, before the day is out. We’ll talk of the intruder once she’s been questioned.”
On this note, he went out, without checking whether anyone was following him. No need: everyone would.
Xian
She was awoken by the most heartbreakingly beautiful sounds she’d ever heard – thousands of voices, humming a soft, low song that warmed her heart. Good thing, too, as it was freaking cold. As in, there were icy stalactites inside her room. Drawing the fur on her bed around her shoulders barely helped.
Eventually, the singing stopped and soon after, her door opened, letting in colder air – she hadn’t believed that to be possible.
The man at the door looked at her and frowned – it was his thing, apparently.
“If you’re cold now, you won’t survive the winter.”
Because that wasn’t the winter?
A non-issue as her goal was getting out of there as soon as possible.
The problem was that while she had a goal, she didn’t really have a plan to execute it yet.
Ideally, the barbarian would just let her give a call to the other si
de of the galaxy.
“You’re in… how to express that.”
“Deep shit?” she offered.
Xian was fond of saying it like it was.
“Yes, I do suppose the sentiment is accurate. My people want you dead for trespassing, interrupting our ceremonial day, being a foreigner…”
Yep. Deep shit just about covered it.
“Yet I’m still alive. Is there a special burial procedure I need to wait for?”
“I do not appreciate wise-ass, wench.”
“Dude, did you actually say wench?”
There was a slight chance she might not have heard that correctly.
“You have a pretty young face, a fuck box and no qualification in this place. So yes. I called you wench.”
She didn’t know how to even begin to process half of what he’d just said.
“Well, perhaps, but I’m not the one wearing a skirt, am I?”
Xian did her very best to keep the smirking down to a minimum as the herculean creature straightened his spine, puffed his chest and glared at her.
“This is the traditional attire of the WarLord of Dragnes, woman. I do not wear skirts.”
She’d graduated from wench to woman, now. They were getting there.
“Oh, really? My bad. I must say I rather like the cut and the color, though – do you mind if I try it one of these days?”
On that note, Beneth closed the distance, getting right in her face. A tiny part of her was telling her she’d been stupid for poking the beast, but mostly, she was pretty happy to get under his skin. For all his grunting, she didn’t peg him as the kind of guy who’d hurt anyone for kicks. The fact that she was there, in that large, luxurious room, and not rotting away in some dungeon while awaiting death, spoke a lot of his intentions.
