The Golden Heart: Alliance Book One (Alliance Series 1)

by Jessamyne Hunter

  He wanted to scream in agony.

  He wanted to lash out like a wounded beast, but he couldn’t stop.

  Not now. Not when everyone depended on him.

  Gwyndea got shot down and Harok was carrying her. Aoran was rushing back to their ship and Kariary was somewhere out there too.

  Sartak ran into the opposite direction of his crew, leading their pursuers away from them; playing the bait.

  He ran.

  He breathed even though it hurt like nothing else in his life.

  Kellan’s sweet face popped up in his mind.

  He ran faster, pressed on.

  Sartak needed to make it, needed to get out of here alive. But it was so hard. He heard his pursuers’ breaths like they were right behind him.

  A shot sounded, then another.

  Laser rays pierced the forest’s darkness.

  His legs trembled. They landed a hit on his leg.

  Burning pain shot through him, made him growl in desperation.

  His lizard-skin was torn and wounded, and they’d just managed to hit him right there where he was unprotected.

  His blood rushed in his ears and his breath only came in loud rattles.

  Damn! Couldn’t they get tired? They should be tired by now because he was growing tired.

  The fucking shooting never seemed to stop!

  Sartak heard one of his pursuers bellow orders, and in the next moment, gunfire joined the laser rays. Shit!

  Right in front of him appeared a cliff; he rushed towards it and glanced down into the pond of gooey, toxic swamp water.

  He trembled and almost lost his stance. Several bullet projectiles hit his back but fortunately didn’t pierce his skin.

  More shouting. More shooting. What should he do? What should he do?

  Blasted stars! Holding his breath, he jumped. Galaxies be damned if he broke all his bones!

  “Goddess help!” he whispered continually.

  Aoran had made it back to their glider just in time. The doors stood still open and he heard the roars of the outlaws that had been chasing him.

  He wanted to cry and curl up in a corner, but he needed to stay put.

  Hands flying over the navigation desk, he let the glider hover in the air. One hand was navigating and the other was opening the tracking screen.

  Bright dots appeared on the radar and without thinking he sent the glider rushing to the two joined dots.

  Aoran had seen Gwyndea getting shot right in the stomach. He had seen her blood soak her suit and he also remembered her horrified facial expression after she had looked down at the wound.

  First, her eyes had grown big. The surprise on her face when she had touched her belly, her fingers coming back covered in blood.

  Only then, the pain had kicked in. The tears that had streamed down her face…the panic in her eyes as she had sought their crown prince’s glance.

  The pain and realization in her eyes had hurt Aoran more than he had expected. Gwyndea was a friend, and he had almost heard the thoughts running through her head. She’d thought that she would die then and there. When her lips had begun to move, he had known that she’d wanted to tell them to leave her behind.

  But Sartak would never leave a soldier behind. Not ever!

  But before their prince had gotten the chance to make a decision, Harok, who was still not fully recovered from being trapped in a man-eating plant, had offered to carry her. That meant that both of them were not at their best and therefore easy targets.

  “Keep going. I’m coming for you,” he said more to himself.

  He needed a reassurance; he needed someone to tell him he could make it in time, but there was no one else on the ship.

  He hoped the others knew he would be coming to their rescue.

  It felt like hours, but soon he reached the two dots. They were still moving, so he switched on the screens that showed him what was going on outside. He selected the bottom camera.

  When he saw Harok and Gwyndea still running, but no people immediately behind them, he sighed in relief.

  “Come on board!” he spoke into the interphone and startled both of them.

  They hadn’t noticed him before. But now that they looked up into the sky, smiles appeared on their tired faces.

  “You okay?” he asked caringly when Harok lifted Gwyndea over the steps and shoved her inside the glider.

  Gwyndea breathed heavily. Her eyes fluttered as she tried to stay awake. She was still losing blood.

  “She’ll be okay. I’ll give her a transfusion and inject some of the cell-rebuilders,” Harok said while pressing a button so the ladder would come in again.

  Aoran nodded. That was good news. At least Gwyndea’s life wasn’t in danger.

  He was already navigating the glider to one of the lonely dots when Harok appeared in the doorframe leading away from the bridge to the other sectors of the small ship.

  “You heard of Sartak?” he asked, but Aoran could only negate.

  So basically no one knew how Sartak was. The last he had seen of him had been when he had shouted at Aoran to go back to the glider. Aoran had only reluctantly left his friend behind, but he knew that there was no other option.

  Now his heart was beating in a painfully low rhythm. His limbs grew cold as well as his insides.

  Hopefully, Sartak was as well and lively as when they’d parted only a short time ago.

  Of course, that was the moment when the dot further away from him stopped moving.

  “Mother Cosmos, please! Don’t do this to us!” he pleaded, tears running down his cheeks and dropping onto the console.

  Stand up!

  Run!

  Everything hurt.

  He needed to run, so why was his body still not moving?

  More pain shot through him.

  Everything was dark.

  His body felt numb. His eyes heavy and his face burned worse than wyvern-poison.

  His right foot felt weird, he couldn’t move his toes.

  His left arm felt like it wasn’t there anymore. And his left side? Oh well,…that was an entirely other story.

  He had escaped his pursuers only to run into a big wyvern sized beast with sharp as hell claws. Two slashes and Sartak was down and had luckily passed out.

  He wasn’t fully awake now but was also not sleeping. It felt strange…like floating in an ocean of pain and blood.

  Something tucked at his legs.

  Oh by the stars! That hurt! Stop! Why didn’t the beast stop? Couldn’t it have eaten him while he had been passed out?

  “Sartak? Keep breathing! Don’t die on me! You wouldn’t dare” he heard a desperate voice screaming.

  He wanted to tell that person to stop slapping his face, but he couldn’t move his lips to form words.

  Oh well…he didn’t need to say anything because another voice joined the first one.

  “You’re hurting him. Those claws…they’d left marks in his skull. Go! Kariary is shooting, but we need to get out of here. Bring us home!” the deep voice rumbled…Harok?

  Something pierced his skin, the pain faded, darkness became even darker.

  And then nothing but silence and calm.

  12

  Kellan didn’t listen. He didn’t want to hear what the other person said. He only wanted to see him. Now!

  “Don’t hold me back!” he hissed at Dr. Selarney when the man tried to do just what he had warned him not to do.

  Kellan was furious. He was desperate; devastated and shocked.

  Sartak’s glider had landed almost crashing outside the city. Of course, the king had immediately sent a glider to fetch them.

  Aoran wasn’t addressable; Gwyndea was bandaged and sleeping, and Kariary was crying against her wife’s chest a few rooms down. And Harok…well he had been given the questionable honor of telling the rest of the royal family and the family and relatives of the dead what had happened.

  They’d come across the outlaw’s camp while looking for the missing recon-crew
. The first thing they’d seen was a pile of bodies- Phy’vohranian bodies, all ferociously murdered, their heads used to decorate the camp.

  Somehow the outlaws had noticed them and the wild chase had begun. They’d split up and when they went to collect everybody in again…Sartak was about to get eaten by a hairy beast with massive large claws and crazily sharp canines.

  Leaving the planet and heading home, the outlaws had still followed and shot at them. That was the reason why they’d barely made it. The glider’s shield was broken as well as the hull was deformed.

  Moreover, Aoran had used the hyper-speed function to get them back here.

  Why use such a power-sucking method when the ship was almost collapsing?

  Because they’d feared Sartak was dying.

  His husband…dying.

  “You better step away from that door, or I swear, I’ll cut you down,” Kellan’s voice was strained, his glare deadly.

  His hands went to the twin swords hanging from both sides of his belt. Drawing them, he pointed both at Dr. Selarney’s neck. All this had happened within the blink of an eye.

  Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe he was just tired and worried about his husband.

  It didn’t matter to him.

  He wanted to see Sartak now to make sure he was still alive. He wanted to be with him. He needed to see him still alive. He needed to see it for himself instead of only being told. No one would keep him away from the father of his yet unborn child.

  “Kellan, calm down. Dr. Selarney is just worried about you. Sartak looks terrible. Wait a moment and let the poor man speak dammit!” it was Kohtah who took a hold around both of Kellan’s arms and forced his arms back to his sides.

  “Then he shall speak before I change my mind,” Kellan retorted; tone downright sulky.

  The Xilitarian doctor cleared his throat and cast rather nervous glances at Kellan’s swords. He was sweating large drops of a dark fluid.

  “His whole body is bandaged right now, so the injuries seem more than they are. Nevertheless, they are still numerous. The Prince’s left side of the skull bears large marks of the beast’s claws. The destruction of the left eye is irrevocable. His shoulder was dislocated and his arm broken in two places. He was missing a rib at the left side and we replaced it with an artificial one. The big slashes were being stitched. The right foot was almost crushed, so we tried to puzzle it together as good as possible. I believe he will limp from now on,” the room went dead silent after the doctor had spoken.

  Kellan needed to take a shaky breath; from his throat escaped a woeful moan.

  Face emotionless, he turned around, shaking off Kohtah’s hands.

  When he finally faced the king, he looked at him blankly and said: “Find them. Destroy them. Bring me their heads. Every. Last. Of. Them.”

  He turned sharply on his heels and pushed Dr. Selarney aside to enter the room.

  Opening the door, blinding white light hit him.

  The smell of disinfection spray lingered in the air. The sun was going down right in front of him, and as he walked deeper into the chamber, he made out the big bed with white blankets and sheets. Even the sheer curtains were white just like the rest of the room. And in this sterile world of colorlessness slept his man with his flaming red hair spread out on the pillow like a crown of fire.

  Half of his face was covered by a clear mask which helped to press the stitches together.

  Sartak looked so fragile and vulnerable as he lay there motionlessly. Only his pained breaths showed Kellan, he was still alive.

  His heart sank. His gut clenched and his insides went cold. He felt hot tears in his eyes and when he blinked; drops of grieve and despair ran down his face.

  As he walked towards the bed, he put back is swords. Taking a chair with him, he carried it to Sartak’s side and sat down. He grabbed his husband’s cold hand and brought it to his lips. He gave it a light kiss and rested his cheek against the palm.

  He noticed that someone was talking to him, but he simply denied listening. He had no desire to be spoken to, nor did he wish to have company.

  He wanted them all to leave him alone so he could cry. The pain in his heart was almost unbearable. He had almost lost Sartak, and it was still not sure whether he would really make it. It was also not clear when he would wake up.

  13

  The doctors hadn’t been able to wake Sartak, not even for a short moment. Kellan’s husband just slept like the dead. No reaction, no sign that he had heard Kellan’s words or his pleas for him to finally wake up again. He didn’t even give a flutter of his eyelid.

  Nothing; just nothing.

  It was two weeks since their return from the mission now and Sartak hadn’t shown any sign of noticing anything around him.

  It was nerve-wracking and Kellan couldn’t sleep at night. That was why the doctors had relocated Sartak back into their private bedroom. Dr. Selarney slept in the room Aoran’s girls had occupied before.

  Now the girls were in the royal guest wing together with their kmera. Aoran was here to comfort Kellan and remind him to eat and sleep. Still, the other kmer hadn’t managed to convince him to brush his teeth or to take a bath yet. That would cause him to be away from his husband for far too long for his likings. Kellan didn’t want to leave his side, nor did he want to miss it when he woke up.

  So he spent his days lying next to Sartak; reading to him and telling him about his life.

  Sometimes Barkor and Gorotas would come here with the girls. They thought Sartak would like the stories about Drake and Ser Alexius.

  These were the moments when Kellan would brace up and try being normal. He didn’t want the kids to see him so broken. Thus he made up more and more stories, twisting them with ancient hero sagas and folklore. Sometimes he would even watch a child’s movie from Earth with them on a holo-screen or read some children’s tales to them. But when he was alone, he went back to his devastated state.

  He asked Sartak many things, but his man never responded.

  It made him sad and he knew that Dr. Selarney was now not only worried about Kellan’s physical well-being but also his mental health.

  He was aware that he was acting strangely and he knew he should stop this behavior, but he simply couldn’t. He didn’t have the strength to do so, and he certainly didn’t feel like trying harder. It was easier to just lie next to Sartak and hope; maybe pretend things could go back to normal. The mask was gone right now and only the red sore stitches were left, but he would put it back on some time later.

  Sartak’s face looked the same but still very different. If he covered the left side, no one would suspect anything was off, but looking at the left side…

  Where the claws had torn into him, his flesh was uneven, had dents and hollows. The brow was parted into two and his eyelid didn’t close the eye properly anymore. It was broken and strangely curved and the eye underneath it had an odd milky color now as well as a large scratch right over the pupil.

  The bandages around the body were also gone, but the brace for his right foot was still there.

  When he wasn’t doing anything with the children, reading or talking to Sartak, he took care of all the unpleasant tasks.

  From the beginning, he had sent everybody away who wanted to do these things for him. He had only allowed one of them to tell him about what he was supposed to do for Sartak.

  So now he spent the rest of his time, massaging Sartak’s muscles and treating the stitched with ointments. He also washed him, changed his urine bag and even pressed on his stomach where the bladder was to make him pee into the condom urinal- oh and of course changing that thing from time to time was his job as well.

  Right now he caressed Sartak’s face; playing with his hair and lashes. When he reached his lips, he bent over him and gave them a tender kiss.

  Startled, he rose to a sitting position when he heard a knock at the door. Just a second later Aoran entered the room with a huge tray of food.

  “You haven’t eaten sin
ce yesterday. It’s almost evening now,” he said reproachfully. “You must think of the baby. You may not feel hungry, but your child certainly is.”

  Ashamed, he looked at his hands. He knew he should be more responsible. Carefully, he stroked his baby bump which was now larger than he remembered it to be.

  Kellan knew the child grew fast, but this was frightening. Then he remembered that the child would be Phy’vohranian and thus a lot larger than a human baby, so he supposed this was normal. Still, it looked like he was four months into the pregnancy.

  He looked up again when Aoran sighed deeply.

  “C’mon. Eat something. Take a stroll through the city or at least the garden. Move a bit, you’re sitting all day long. And that depressed face…I can’t stand it anymore!” he pulled at Kellan’s arm, so eventually but very reluctantly he rose from the bed.

  Glancing back at Sartak, he felt bad for leaving him just for a second, but Aoran seemed so determined to take Kellan outside or at least outside on the porch that he could only follow the resolute kmer.

  A few hours and strolls around the palace gardens later, Kellan needed to admit that he felt a lot better now.

  The weight that had pulled him down lately was not as heavy as it was this morning. His mind was clearer, and his head wasn’t aching anymore.

  Maybe they had been right. Staying in their bedroom and watching his sleeping husband wasn’t the best thing to fight his worries. He hadn’t even noticed how depressed he was. And seeing himself in a mirror had shocked him.

  Kellan looked like someone living on the streets but dressed in fine clothes. His hair was a greasy disaster, and he…well reeked a little.

  Aoran dragging him outside had opened his eyes. He couldn’t go on behaving like a termagant and disregarding his hygiene. Kellan should really stop being so pathetic. He had never before behaved like that, not even after the incident with Sky and Verxas.

  “So, does that mean people can talk to you again now?” Kohtah had asked him, tone terse and rather unfriendly when he had met him in a hallway.