by Lili Zander
I keep a careful eye on her, but she’s right. She can climb the cliffs without our help. “Which way is the ship?” I ask when we reach the ground. The flares came from the lowlands to the west of the Na’Lung cliffs, but that’s a large area, and we need to make speed.
I worry about what we’re going to find when we get there. For my mate’s sake, I hope her companions have survived.
Viola Lewis looks around, her dark eyes confused. “I don’t know,” she says. “Everything looks the same to me. Can you take me back to the spot where the Dwals attacked me? I think I can retrace my steps from there.”
“Of course.”
We set out. I lead the way, and Nyx brings up the rear, our mate sandwiched protectively in between. If anything attacks, it will have to go through Nyx and me to get to her, and that won’t be easy.
I set a brisk pace, and we don’t journey long before our mate is breathing hard, struggling to keep up. As soon as I realize that, I come to a dead stop. “I’m sorry, aida,” I tell her. “I wasn’t thinking. I will carry you.”
“I’m fine,” she says through gritted teeth. “I run marathons. I’ll keep up.”
The translator tells me that a marathon is a race in which humans line up and run for no reason at all. Not to catch prey, not to escape a predator. They just run for fun. What a strange world this Earth is.
“Your legs are shorter than ours,” Nyx points out patiently. “And you need to acclimatize to this world. The air is thick with moisture, and it makes it difficult to breathe. When we got here, the heat overwhelmed us. There’s no shame in asking for help, sweet one.”
“Fine,” she concedes. “But I’m heavy.”
I hoist her on my back, and she wraps her arms around my neck, and her feet around my hips. “You’re as light as a hairus feather, Viola Lewis,” I tell her. Nyx is much better than I am at getting our mate to agree with him. Because he appeals to her logic and doesn’t order her around, the creature inside says bluntly.
Ruefully, I admit the truth of that. As Firstborn, I’m used to barking out orders and expecting them to be obeyed. Even in the exile camp, though I’m not Firstborn any longer, Zoraht traditions are ingrained deep into everyone, and with that comes an instinctive deferral to my wishes.
Our mate is from an alien world. She treats me like a regular person.
As does Nyx. The two of them are the only people on this planet to see me as someone other than the Firstborn of Zoraht.
With Viola Lewis on my back, we make much better time, and it isn’t long before we’re back on the banks of the river. The charred remains of the Dwals are still there.
“We burned them so thoroughly that there isn’t enough flesh for scavengers,” Nyx points out, his voice chagrined.
Viola puts her arm around his waist. “You did it to protect me,” she says. She points to a spot where the grass shows signs of disturbance. “The ship was in that direction.”
I exchange a troubled glance with Nyx. I know from our mate’s story that she was alone when she stumbled upon the river, but the grass is well-trampled.
More than one person has been along this path.
Viola:
Arax and Nyx set a blistering pace. Two hours later, we’re at the ship.
At first glance, Fehrat 1 looks exactly as we left it. For a split-second, hope stirs in my chest. Could the flares have been an accident?
Then I notice that the mattresses that covered the hole in the ship are gone. They’re scattered around the gleaming metal body, and there are giant rips in them as if a creature with sharp claws has torn them to shreds.
Nyx picks up a gleaming obsidian scale from the ground and hands it to Arax without a word. Arax looks at it for a long time, but he doesn't comment.
He doesn’t need to say anything. I’m not an idiot. I’m looking at a Draekon scale.
My heart pounding, I move toward the opening, but both men stop me. “I’ll go first,” Arax says, his hands tightening on the throwing knives he wears in a belt slung around his hips. “Nyx, if something happens, don’t wait for me. Get Viola Lewis back to the safety of the camp. The rains are almost on us.”
Nyx nods grimly. I watch, my throat tight with fear, as Arax climbs up the side of the ship. He looks through the hole, then bites off a curse. “It’s clear,” he calls to us, dropping into the void.
We’re right on his heels. Nyx hoists me up the ship, and I scramble inside, almost gagging from the smell of rotting flesh that assails my nostrils as soon as I step inside.
The ship was in bad shape already because of the crash. But that’s nothing compared to the condition it is in now. Panels are torn, instruments destroyed and worst of all, the doors of the stasis chambers hang open, all except one.
Raiht’vi is slumped against the wall, next to Janet’s dead body, a weapon in her lap. The heat and the humidity have not been kind to the corpse. That’s what I smelt, I realize. Janet’s body.
At our movement, the Zorahn woman’s eyes open. When she sees Arax and Nyx, her eyes widen with panic, and her grip tightens on the weapon. “Draekon,” she hisses. “You took the Earth women already. Have you come back to kill me?”
I watch in horror as she aims the weapon at Nyx, but she’s too weak. She slumps forward, and the gun clatters onto the floor. Nyx kicks it out of reach. “She’s badly wounded,” he says, bending down.
Arax, who put his big body in front of me the instant Raiht’vi opened her eyes, crouches next to the woman. “Open your eyes,” he says, a note of cold command threaded through his voice. “Do you know who I am?”
Mannix and Beirax had addressed Raiht’vi deferentially. Not so Arax. There is arrogance in his tone, and neither Nyx nor Raiht’vi seems to think it’s out of place.
Raiht’vi nods weakly. “Arax,” she says, answering him as if by instinct. “I saw you in the Royal Assembly once.”
Royal Assembly? I get the sense I’m missing something.
“Tell me what happened here,” Arax says to the Zorahn woman.
“My stasis pod was opened by two Draekons,” Raiht’vi mutters, her voice faint. “Some of the other pods were already open, and four Earth women were awake.”
“Which four?” Could Harper, Sofia, and Ryanna be among them? Guilt sloshes my insides when I think of the three women who set off with me to find food and water. Please let them have made their way back to the ship.
“The Earth women’s names are not my concern,” Raiht’vi snaps, with a flash of her former spirit.
Arax gives her a cold look and her defiance wilts. “Paige Watkins, Felicity Rollins, May Archer and Bryce MacFarland,” she replies. “As I watched, the two Draekon opened another pod, and they pulled out the red-haired woman.”
“Olivia,” I say out loud. She was the only redhead on the ship. “She had a broken leg?”
Raiht’vi seems to wage an internal war about whether to acknowledge my question, and she nods curtly. “As soon as the men sighted the woman, they began to change.”
Nyx looks startled. “They shifted to Draekon?”
I remember what Arax told me. Men with the Draekon mutation transform when they see their mates for the first time. It seems that the two mystery men, whoever they are, think that Olivia is their mate.
The Zorahn woman acts as if she doesn’t hear Nyx. I have no idea why, but the two men do. Nyx’s lips tighten, and Arax looks furious. “You will answer his questions as if they were mine,” he grits out.
Raiht’vi’s eyes flash with anger, but her voice is compliant. “Your will, Firstborn.”
Firstborn? Earlier, Arax was able to guess at Raiht’vi’s occupation and status from the color of her garments and the shells she wore in her hair. Now, Raiht’vi doesn’t deign to acknowledge Nyx’s existence, but she obeys Arax even though it’s clear she doesn’t want to.
Zoraht must have a rigid caste system. And just as obviously, Arax is a very big deal.
Later, Vi. Focus on what’s important. The missin
g women.
“If they shifted to Draekon, why is the ship still intact?” I ask Raiht’vi. “They should have torn it apart when they transformed.”
“The beasts had the presence of mind to jump outside,” she replies sourly. “The Draekon took the women,” she says, finishing her story. “I tried to stop them, but I was too weak to fight.”
Arax gives the weapon that Raiht’vi was holding a dismissive glance. “You can’t hurt a shifted Draekon with that.” He strides over to the only unopened pod and pulls the door open.
As I expect, it’s Beirax. Arax sucks in his breath when he takes in the Zorahn’s extensive injuries. When Raiht’vi notices, her teeth bare into a snarl. “The traitor deserves to die for what he did,” she says fiercely. “Because of him, I will rot on this planet for the rest of my days.”
A cold trickle runs down my spine. “What do you mean, you’ll rot on this planet for the rest of your days?” I demand. “The High Emperor will send a ship to rescue us, won’t he? He personally guaranteed our safety.”
She laughs bitterly. “This is the prison planet, foolish human,” she sneers. “There is no escape. No Zorahn pilot can navigate the asteroid belt that surrounds this world. Look at the damage we sustained.” She shakes her head. “The High Emperor will pay damages to your people for the actions of the traitor Beirax. As for us?” Her gaze falls to the floor, and her voice trails off into a whisper. “We will die on this planet.”
14
Nyx:
The stunned expression on her face makes it clear—she didn’t know. Our mate thought she could escape from this world.
Arax and I help the Highborn woman back to the stasis pod. Her face is a frozen mask of pain; blue blood trickles from a cut on her forehead. She allows me to touch her, which leads me to believe she’s more injured than she appears to be. Under normal circumstances, no Highborn woman would allow a Lowborn thief anywhere near her.
“What do we do now?” Viola Lewis asks us, her voice disconsolate, once the three of us are alone. “Should we go looking for the Draekons who took Olivia and the others? Should we try and find Harper, Ryanna, and Sofia?” She sinks to the floor, then recoils in distaste as a burst of wind brings another whiff of the dead woman’s odor.
I don’t like the feel of that wind. If the skies open when we are trapped in the lowlands, we will drown.
“Let’s bury the dead while we figure that out,” I say. The Zorahn technician must be laid to rest, as must the dead Earth woman, lest the smell attracts the Dwals. The technician and the Earth woman, deserve better than to have their corpse torn to shreds by the predators. “We can’t leave them like this, aida.”
“You’re right.” Tears swim in her eyes, and she wipes them away with the back of her hand. “Poor Janet. This is not the adventure she intended.”
Arax and I lift the bodies outside, and the smell almost makes me retch. Ever since I shifted, my senses seem keener. Maybe this is part of being Draekon.
We wrap the dead in the broad, triangular leaves of a langobar plant. Arax and I dig a pair of crude graves, using our throwing knives to break the ground. The soil is tightly packed, and the digging goes slowly. The sun is high in the sky by the time we are ready to lower the woman’s body into the ground. “Is it the custom of your people to sing to the dead?” I ask our mate.
She shakes her head. “We make speeches,” she says quietly. “We remember what we loved about them.” The tears fall freely, and her shoulders shake as she sobs. Instantly, we’re at her side. I’m cursing myself for my thoughtlessness.
Some mate I’m turning out to be.
Viola:
I’m not crying because of Janet. I’m not even crying because I appear to be stuck on this stupid, too-hot, too-filled-with-toxic-plants, no-chocolate-in-sight planet.
No, the tears that pour down my cheeks are because this crude burial on this jungle world brings forth memories of my dad. Growing up, it was always the two of us. We were a team. Now, I’m all alone.
Nyx wraps an arm around me. “Viola Lewis,” he says, his voice distressed. “I’m sorry. I know Raiht’vi’s words were a shock. Please don’t cry.”
“That’s not why,” I sniff, leaning against Nyx’s welcoming shoulder, really liking the way his hand strokes my arm. “I haven’t even thought about that yet.”
“Then what is it, sweet one?” Arax crouches next to me, his eyes boring into mine. “What upsets you? What can we do to help?”
Their concern is nice. They’re both so worried for me, and it feels really comforting to know that they care that I’m upset.
“My father died recently.” I wipe my eyes on my sleeve. My top is starting to look quite ragged. I guess it wasn’t built for a spaceship crash, being attacked by predators, and everything else that’s happened to me since I arrived on this planet. “I’m still processing his loss.”
“I can relate,” Arax says, with an understanding expression on his face.
Of course they can. They were exiled to an alien world because they tested positive for the Draekon mutation. They would have had friends and family that they had to leave behind.
We hold each other, and for a space of time, I don’t feel alone.
Arax and Nyx lower Janet’s leaf-wrapped body into the narrow grave. Nyx pulls out his knife and slices a cut in his palm. I gasp, but he doesn’t seem to register the pain. He lets the blood drop down on the poor school teacher’s body. “Night to night,” he says quietly. “Earth to earth. Blood to ashes. May your light find a home in the darkness.”
I watch him, fascinated. This must be a Zorahn ritual, because Arax follows, cutting himself as well. “Journey safely into the void, friend of our mate.”
Then it’s my turn. I approach the grave. “I didn’t know you very well, Janet.” I stare at the leaf-covered body. “But you always had a kind word for everyone.” I take a deep breath and step back, and Arax and Nyx fill the grave with soil. I stand back and watch, oddly consoled that we’re having a funeral for the high school teacher. It feels cleansing.
They bury Mannix next. “What now?” I ask them after a few moments of quiet reflection. “Which set of women do we go after?”
“The ones that are alone,” Arax replies decisively. “The others are with Draekons. They will not be hurt. But the unaccompanied women are in danger in this world.”
“The Draekons that took Olivia and the others,” I ask him hesitantly, almost afraid to hear his reply, “Are they friends of yours? Do you know who they are?”
He shakes his head, but his expression is uncertain. “I don’t think it’s our exile batch,” he says. “It’s time to move the camp to higher ground. Everyone is busy hunting for food and laying stores for the rainy season.”
“Your exile batch?”
“We were the fifth.”
Nyx looks up with a peculiar expression on his face. “You think it was another exile batch?” he asks. “Could another set of Draekons be only a few days away from us?”
“We don’t have time to look,” Arax replies at once. “The rains are almost here.”
Nyx nods reluctantly. “You’re right,” he admits. “Let’s go after the three women who are alone.”
“What about Raiht’vi and Beirax?” The two Zorahn are alone in the stasis pods. Defenseless. “Should we leave them alone?”
“We can’t take them with us.” Arax’s voice is regretful. “They’re too badly hurt. Especially the man.” He cups my chin with his hands and looks into my eyes. “We will come back for them.”
His hands are rough and callused, and when he touches me, a shiver runs through my body. “Okay.”
“They will be safe enough,” Nyx reassures me. “The Dwals cannot open the stasis pods, and the Draekon aren’t interested in Zorahn.” He extends his arm to me. “Viola Lewis, let me carry you.”
A giggle breaks out. I’ve slept with the two men. Each of them has carried me on their back. Whenever they call me Viola Lewis, it feels so s
trangely formal. “My friends call me Viola. Or Vi.”
Nyx winks. “What do your mates call you?”
I blush red, and both of them chuckle at me.
I smile at the two aliens. They’re being so nice to me. Arax is obviously highborn. He barks out orders and expects them obeyed, but at the same time, he’s protective and tender. Nyx seems less intense, easier to smile and laugh, but he too watches out for me.
If we find a way off this planet, I’d be sorry to leave them behind.
“You can’t carry me around everywhere,” I tell Nyx. “Let me walk for a little while.”
He gives me a doubtful look. “Please?” I ask again.
To my surprise, it’s Arax that nods. “Come on then,” he says with a smile. “Let’s go find your friends.”
15
Arax:
We set off again after a quick meal. The women’s trail is easy to follow, and we make good time. Viola keeps up without too much difficulty, which startles me. “Do you need rest?” I ask her after we’ve been walking for a distance.
Her face is shiny with perspiration, and her hair sticks to her head, but she shakes her head. “I feel fine,” she says. “I haven’t run in ages, but I guess I’m not as out of shape as I thought.”
I study Viola covertly. It might be my imagination, but I’m willing to swear that her body is changing. Her muscles are sleeker and more defined. Her skin seems to glow. Even the injury on her forehead has healed without a trace of a scar.
Her body is getting ready to bear Draekon youngling. That’s the only possible explanation for the changes she’s undergoing.
Should I tell her?
An innate sense of caution makes me hold my tongue. Viola has received wave after wave of bad news. First, her ship was deliberately crashed on this planet. Then, half her companions were taken, and the three women she set out with to explore this world are missing. They might even be dead. We buried one of her compatriots, and she’s just discovered that she’s stuck on this world until the end of her days.
