Alien Paladin's Redemption (Warriors of the Lathar Book 13)

by Mina Carter

  He cut her off before she could go through the warnings of how dangerous this was again. He didn’t want to hear it. No matter how dangerous, no matter what the risk to himself, he would rescue Indra and Gracie.

  Rescue his delicate little human female.

  Because she was the one he wanted to claim... the one he wanted a lifetime of love and happiness with. Even children if the lady goddess should bless them in that regard. Even if she didn’t, he would live a happy man with Indra at his side. The fact he’d found his mate was proof that the lady had saved his life during the Vesh not to punish him but because she had other plans for him.

  And he was alone.

  K’Vass had been so badly injured that the AI had ordered them to enclose him into one of the remaining biotubes so she could stabilize his condition and Stephens, although he had sworn he was okay, was too badly concussed to be of any use. It had taken some fancy verbal footwork to get him to agree to “guard” those who remained—Seren during his treatment and Keris, still locked into her unformed body. He’d finally agreed when Miisan had pointed out he might be the last man left standing to save everyone.

  Nyek sighed, goddess save him from human egos.

  He keyed the comm to accept the call from the ship ahead of him. A self-important, clipped voice filled the small cockpit. “Base shuttle. You are cleared to land in shuttlebay one. Touch down and prepare to be boarded. Noncompliance will result in your destruction. Any hostile action toward the boarding party will result in your destruction. Do you understand?”

  “Reading you loud and clear,” he replied, entering in the new course vector that would take him straight into the shuttle bay whose doors were opening in front of him. The back of his neck prickled as he flew inside, every instinct he had screaming this was a bad idea. They were right. Allowing himself to be captured was a bad idea.

  But it was the only play he had—the only play Tavik wouldn’t see coming.

  The hangar bay doors closed behind him and he could almost feel the “clunk” as they did, locking him in. Even with the weapons on the shuttle, there was no way he could fight free from in here. He was trapped.

  Keeping his mind on his task, he maneuvered the shuttle on thrusters to land it gently on the lit pad. Once the landing struts were locked down into place, he cut the engines and sat back in his chair.

  His fingertips traced the edge of the scar on his left wrist as the shuttle access door slid open. Warriors poured in, heavy boots on the deck plating and others breathing his air.

  “Up, blasphemer,” a harsh voice ordered behind him, the muzzle of an assault weapon nudging his shoulder.

  Keeping his hands raised to show he meant no harm, Nyek rose slowly and turned, walking into the back section of the shuttle. Within two steps he was stripped of all his weaponry with his hands manacled in front of him.

  “Move,” the first warrior, whose floor-length cloak proclaimed him to be the one in charge, ordered, motioning to the doorway.

  Nyek inclined his head and obeyed. The quicker they removed themselves from the shuttle, the better. They were all too antsy being shut in this small space with him. His lips quirked. Perhaps not all of his brother’s warriors had bought into the tale of the useless runt litaan. But then again, many of even the strongest warriors had failed to survive the Vesh and he had. So either he was a runt favored by the gods, in which case was very dangerous, or he was neither, which made him excessively dangerous.

  And they weren’t taking chances on which...

  He smiled as they marched him along corridor after corridor, making note of the route. His “captors,” grunt fanatics if he didn’t miss his guess, weren’t intelligent enough to take him in a roundabout route. Either that or they assumed he’d be dead long before he had any use for such information.

  He was marched into the long hall of the ship, and his amusement faded at the scene before him. The biggest, most garish statue of Ursal-Kai he’d ever seen was standing at the far end, a blood-stained altar before it. The corpse had been discarded carelessly to the side, his father in the robes of a high priest holding what looked like a Latharian heart up in supplication.

  “Great god Ursal-Kai,” he bellowed. “Receive this sacrifice and bless this ceremony. Look upon your children with kind eyes and ensure these vessels are fruitful so that more may come to know your glory.”

  The room was lined with warriors down the halls, all chanting praises to the gilded god of the statue while two groups stood crowded around something on either side of the hall.

  “Get your fucking hands off me!”

  Indra’s scream made his blood run cold, and with a start, he knew what he was witnessing. It was a bedding ceremony... a ritual so archaic it had fallen out of usage generations ago... but they’d bastardized it. Rather than an expression of love and commitment between two people, it had become a public spectacle.

  “Bless these females so that they might conceive the next generation of warriors to worship and serve you.” His father droned on, hands raised toward the statue as he swayed from side to side.

  “Hold her down, little draanthic... you will submit!”

  There was a crack, the sickening sound of a fist meeting softer flesh and a cry of pain. Nyek lost it. With a roar he threw off his guards, sliding a blade from a sheath at one’s waist before running him through with it.

  “Leave her alone!” he bellowed, charging up the hall. Even with his hands chained in front of him, he was a formidable foe, cutting down the warriors who charged him in wide arcs of glittering metal and bright sprays of arterial blood.

  But there were just too many of them. He didn’t make it within ten feet of the platform before they rushed him en masse. Snarling and lashing out, he made them pay for every inch they forced him down, until he was on his knees, a blade at his throat.

  “Well, well... I really didn’t think you’d have the balls to show your face here, runt.” Tavik climbed down off the platform, tucking himself back into his leathers.

  Nyek snarled, heaving against his captors as he cast a frantic glance toward the woman on the bed. It was Indra. He could see her foot, but that was it. The heavy manacle around her ankle made his fury surge again. They’d chained her like an animal. Then he noticed she wasn’t moving and his heart almost stopped.

  He snapped his head up, spearing Tavik with a piercing look. “If you’ve hurt her, then... Liaanas help me, I will take you apart, bone by bone.”

  The warrior with the blade held to his throat pressed harder, and blood welled, running down his chest. The threat quelled his movement. He couldn’t save anyone if he was dead.

  “Look at the little runt, still with his puny chest all puffed out pretending to be a warrior.” Tavik laughed, his hands on his hips. His gaze latched on to the blood dripping down Nyek’s chest with avid hunger and he read his own death in his brother’s eyes. With a pang of sadness, he realized this was all Tavik had ever wanted—to remove him from existence. It wasn’t enough that he be banished, gone forever from their family. No... he read the truth in Tavik’s eyes.

  He wanted Nyek dead. Destroyed.

  Stepping forward, Tavik slammed a heavy fist down into his jaw. Nyek saw stars for a moment, agony flaring like a star going supernova, but then he dismissed them and looked up through his hair.

  Tavik grinned like a maniac. “Let’s show this blasphemer a taste of Ursal-Kai’s justice. Shall we? Strip his skin in the Jovarth, and then string him up to watch what happens as his female is used for the glory of Ursal-Kai... if he survives.”

  “Oh. I was rather hoping that you would say that.”

  Nyek began to laugh as they dragged him away. The laugh deepened as the first of the blades cut into his skin, and pain flared to match the pain in his head as he unleashed his surprise from the shuttle.

  He closed his eyes, shutting out the physical pain as they used blades on his body. It wouldn’t be fast. The Jovarth was designed to keep the victim alive as long as possible,
to make them suffer as long as possible. For a Vesh, though, suffering was an old bedfellow. He laughed as they tortured him. Chuckled as they drew lines of fire down his skin with their blades. Praised Liaanas as it felt like they were taking him apart piece by piece. The deep, rich sound rolled around the hall, disrupting the ceremony going on.

  “What the draanth is wrong with him?” Tavik snarled, as he strode over to where Nyek was pinned down and bleeding.

  Nyek just laughed at him. “Poor little daddy’s boy,” he crooned. “Jealous of something you could never have... never hope to achieve... True faith and honor.”

  Tavik flinched. Nyek smiled. He’d hit his target.

  Tavik was jealous of him. Always had been. Always had to have what Nyek had, no matter how small, no matter how insignificant, or destroy it so Nyek no longer had it.

  “Kill him, kill him now!” Tavik screamed, his voice high pitched with rage. “Rip him limb from limb and offer him to Ursal-Kai!”

  One of the guards blinked. “But the Jovarth is not complete, my lord... Ursal-Kai will not be appeased—”

  Tavik drew the blaster from his hip and fired. There was a dull thud as the body landed next to Nyek. He turned his head and smiled into the wide-open eyes.

  “I wouldn’t worry,” Nyek told the corpse as the pressure at the back of his skull built and built. “They’ll all be dead too in but a few, short minutes.”

  The warriors around him exchanged glances. Although they didn’t move a muscle, he felt their unease whisper among them on the air. No one took the Jovarth so calmly. They screamed and fought. They begged and cursed. They did everything... apart from smile.

  And he was smiling as Tavik screamed, “Kill him! Kill him now!”

  “Oh, but they can’t,” he said, pitching his voice to carry. “For I am vengeance and retribution incarnate.”

  He sat up abruptly, the warriors around him stumbling backward, some landing on their asses to then scramble away. No one wanted to be near him.

  “I am a messenger of the Lady Liaanas herself.”

  His voice boomed as he climbed to his feet. His body hurt but he barely noticed it. “An agent of the divine, touched by the light!”

  Raising his arms, he revealed the vicious scars down the insides of his wrists and forearms. “I sought death... and I was granted life. For this moment and this moment only. I was sent here by the goddess herself to pronounce judgment on you all!”

  He spread his arms like a dark angel of justice, head down as a heavy, metallic clunking behind him announced the arrival of his surprise from the shuttle. Twin Cabal drakeen flanked him, their lethal arms extended to match his pose and loaded with weaponry.

  “None of you will leave this hall alive,” he whispered, lifting his head to look through his hair. “Now run...”

  18

  Screams of pure terror and panic filled the air. They were the screams of men dying...

  Indra came to, feeling like an elephant had kicked her in the jaw. She must have gotten blinding drunk last night in Kimmy’s bar on Astra Row... which meant now she had a hangover to contend with as well as her rounds on the street to do. As well as dealing with whatever shit was happening right now in the gang’s base of operations. Great, just great. With a groan, she tried to lift her hand to rub at her jaw but the movement was halted halfway.

  “What the fuc—?” she breathed, blinking blearily at the manacle on her wrist. There was blinding drunk and there was letting some one-night stand tie her up drunk. She was never drunk enough for the latter.

  A deep laugh filled the air and she spun around as much as she was able with the manacles on her wrists and ankles.

  Memory came flooding back. Prison, Madison, the Lathar, being captured...

  “Nyek,” she breathed, heart leaping as she spotted him not far from the platform she’d been chained to. Covered in blood, he fought a crowd of warriors. His twin screamed directions from the top of the altar opposite. Her heart froze in her chest for one terrible moment as he went down, the rest piling in on him.

  No... he couldn’t be... a tear slid from the corner of her eye. He’d come for her. He couldn’t die now.

  With a roar the pile of warriors rose up like a volcano erupting. Nyek burst through them all, his arms spread and light catching his blood-covered blades.

  “Kill him! Strike him down now! For the glory of Ursal-Kai!” Tavik screamed from his perch on the altar. The old guy in the fancy robes was nowhere to be seen.

  She wriggled on the platform, yanking at her bonds, but they were too tight. There was no way she could break free.

  She heard a crash as something heavy landed on the platform with her. Squeaking, she curled up as much as she could, trying to cover her head. When she managed to peek over her arm, she found herself face to face with a tank bot. It was from the base, the sigil of the Cabal on its forehead unmistakable.

  “Oh thank god,” she whispered. Relief washed through her. For the first time in her life, she could have kissed a machine.

  It lifted up on its back legs like a praying mantis about to strike, front legs tipped with lethal blades raised. She didn’t hesitate, pulling her hands and feet toward herself and stretching out her chains for it.

  At her nod, it struck, faster than she could see, and sheared the chains through.

  “Help Gracie!” she ordered as she rolled off the bed, diving for the nearest body and relieving it of the blade in its outstretched hand. Armed, she felt much more confident, snarling as one of the fanatic warriors rushed her.

  “Die, human scum!” he bellowed as he attacked, his blade raised high over his head.

  She didn’t think. She just reacted. The blade, a s’tovik very like the one she’d trained on with Aastan, felt like an extension of her hand and arm as she swept it in a wide arc. The warrior’s face held a stunned look as it parted company from his body, bouncing away across the deck. Bile rose, but she had no time to think. She had to protect Gracie as the bot cut her free. So she moved like a machine, cutting down each and every warrior who rushed her, the maniacal gleam of fanaticism burning in their eyes. They would not offer mercy so she gave them no quarter, wielding her blade with lethal precision until the deck around her ran red with blood.

  “For the glory of Ursal-Kai!”

  She heard him before she saw him and whirled to see the biggest warrior she’d ever seen run across the deck toward her. The metal beneath her feet vibrated and she turned, knowing this was it. He was too big, too strong… she would be cut to ribbons.

  But fuck it, she wasn’t going down easily.

  “Come on then!” she snarled at him, resetting her grip and lifting her blade to attack.

  Before she could skewer him through, he stopped abruptly, a look of shock on his face as he was lifted up. Slowly a blade tip emerged from the center of his chest, blood flowing from the wound down the front of his body. He slumped and another faceplate appeared over his shoulder for a second before the Cabal bot cast him aside.

  There were two tank bots.

  “Cabal for the win!” she shouted, making it to Gracie’s side as the bot spun away again. The two women watched as the bots and Nyek laid waste to the warriors in the hall.

  Finally, none stood apart from Nyek and his brother, still on the altar.

  Nyek advanced, a soft, chilling smile on his lips.

  Indra shuddered at the wounds he’d sustained—deep slices down his torso and back and myriad other cuts and bruises—but he barely seemed to notice them, spinning his blades around his wrists as he stepped into the circle in front of the altar.

  “Come, Tavik, let us finish this once and for all,” he invited, spreading his arms wide. “Surely you are not afraid to face the runt?”

  Runt? She almost spluttered a laugh at that. How could his brother consider Nyek a runt when they were identical? Not to mention that he’d almost single-handedly cut down all his brother’s warriors?

  Tavik was pale as he dropped down from the
altar and stalked toward the circle. “You are an abomination before Ursal-Kai,” he snarled. “And I will gain ever-lasting glory for dispatching you from this life to the next.”

  Nyek laughed and beckoned him on. “Come then, brother, if you think you can best me.”

  He’d barely finished speaking before he moved. Nyek danced around his brother, his blades cutting glittering, lethal patterns in the air. Within seconds it was obvious his brother was nowhere near his equal as a warrior, and within a minute Tavik realized it as well, his face ashen as he staggered back, bleeding from wounds identical to the ones across Nyek’s torso.

  “You are not a warrior,” he gasped as Nyek’s blade snaked out and his went flying across the floor of the hall. “You are no agent of Liaanas. You’re... a demon. A scourge sent to destroy. No mortal can best you.”

  Nyek stood over his fallen brother, chest heaving. Indra couldn’t see his face, but she read the set of his shoulders and the determination in his spine.

  “Demon or not, brother,” Nyek snarled as he raised his blade. “You messed with the wrong female. My female. And I claim restitution.”

  With a single, brutal twist, he swung. Indra jumped, hand over her mouth as blood splattered the side of the altar in a fan of scarlet. There was a dull thud as Tavik’s head hit the floor.

  “Oh shit, he killed him,” she heard herself murmuring. “He really killed him.”

  Then Nyek turned and her ability to think high-tailed it out of the window.

  “My son… blessed of Liaanas. You are returned to me in glory!”

  Indra froze as the priest crawled out from behind the altar, his robes dripping with blood. Staggering to his feet, he stumbled toward Nyek, a wide smile on his face.

  “I knew the god would not forsake us! You have been returned to me as his champion, ridding us of the false one,” he said, spitting toward the fallen corpse of Nyek’s twin. “Ursal-Kai be praised!”

  Nyek paused, his face unreadable as his father reached him. The older man took Nyek’s face in his hands, tears streaming down his own.