Caveman Alien’s Riddle (Caverman Aliens Book 13)

by Calista Skye

Heidi tames dinosaurs, Aurora is a tactical genius, Delyah is a genius at everything, Caroline saved us from the dragon Troga, Dolly made gunpowder and soap for us all, Mia and Eleanor tamed dragons. And so on. They’re all heroes.

  I’m not a hero at all. I only help the others where I can. I haven’t contributed anything original or groundbreaking. Always a follower, never a leader in any way. And on this planet, there’s not really any place for followers.

  It’s not that the other girls are saying it, of course. I doubt they see it. I try to be helpful and nice. But when our little tribe grew from a cave to a real city state with a chief and an army, I did nothing particular to speed things along. I had no ideas, no special knowledge that could be crucual.

  I would have loved to, of course. But I simply don’t have the skills or the knowledge. Who needs to know about Aristotle or Nietzsche on a prehistoric planet? I mean, I could strike up a conversation about non-Hegelian determinism, but unless the caveman is particularly philosophical and ideally a little bit nuts, the best I can hope for is a blank stare. Which would be true on Earth as well, of course.

  I say ‘good night’ and stagger home to the house that’s now all mine after Eleanor and Ashlynn have set up dwellings with their husbands. I won’t miss the house, even though it’s one of the best on Xren, partly built from bricks and everything. The roof barely leaks at all.

  My backpack is ready for tomorrow, and so is the gun. I doubt I’ll need it, because we’ll have an escort of about a hundred cavemen, but Dolly had it made especially for me and I want to show that I appreciate it.

  In a special pouch on a leather string around my neck are various little items that can be useful, like old-fashioned matches for lighting fires that Dolly has made. It also contains the uncut diamond Eleanor gave me. It will be worth a lot on Earth, we think. It should be, anyway. It’s the size of a walnut, despite only looking like an ordinary pebble.

  I curl up under a not-sheep fur, listening to the subdued murmur of voices from the party area.

  Some of the girls are still there. I will miss them.

  It’s my last night in the jungle village that’s been my home for almost two years now.

  “But I won’t miss the jungle,” I mutter.

  - - -

  I wake up to hard, metallic bangs of the alarm gong. I’ve only heard it when the cavemen conduct a drill, but I know exactly what it is.

  I shake my head, still groggy. Of all the times to have an exercise…

  Then I hear the yelling and the hissing and the screeching, and I realize that this is a very real alarm.

  I get up, bumping into the wall, then grab the gun and peer out the door. It’s a dark night, but there’s definitely movement out there among the houses and various buildings.

  The idea is that the cavemen will keep any enemy from getting inside the village. But a lot of these shapes don’t look like cavemen to me. They look more like…

  One big, man-like shape sneaks past the corner of my house, scales shining in the moonlight. A coldness spreads from my stomach.

  Shit. They’re definitely dragons.

  It feels like my knees will give out.

  There are dragons inside the village. And lots of them, fighting with the cavemen. There’s an ear-rending cacophony of clangs and yells and roars, some of them coming from right outside. There are blue sparks of swords hitting hard scales and chaotic movement everywhere.

  We have never rehearsed what to do if there are a bunch of dragons inside the village. We always assumed that the freaking hundreds of cavemen that live here could keep those bone-chilling shifters out.

  “I guess that was too much to ask,” I seethe as I bolt the door with a thin stick and regret the lack of furniture to push in front of it. Not that it would help much — the door opens outwards. But it might give me time to aim.

  With shaking fingers, I fish a sulfur-headed match out of my pouch, stroke it against a rock by the hearth, and manage to get the wick lit on the gun, burning my fingertips in the process.

  Squatting in the corner, I aim the gun at the door and try to ignore the terrible sounds of battle from outside and the strange feeling I have that the cavemen are losing.

  The battle is so intense that the ground shakes under me. I have to steady myself on the wall to not lose my balance. Good Lord, this is crazy!

  A wooden roof rafter crashes down, followed by a couple of bricks landing heavily on the dirt floor.

  The ground is really shaking hard. Back and forth, up and down.

  Oh fuck. This isn’t just the battle. This is an actual earthquake!

  More bricks plunge from the top of the walls around me. The house is about to collapse.

  I crawl over to the door, slide the stick off, and scurry outside, my heart in my throat.

  There is still some battle noise, but it’s drowned out by the pandemonium of wooden huts being shaken apart, girly screams of terror and panic, and hard bricks hitting the ground.

  Somewhere out in the jungle a tree snaps in half with a bang like a gunshot. The treetops rustle like crazy.

  The village is being shaken apart, and everything is blurry.

  More bricks hit the ground beside me, and I crawl away. Not a moment too soon, either — when I’m ten feet away, my whole house collapses with a sickening crash.

  Clutching the gun, I sit on the ground and pull my knees close. This is not looking good. As far as I can tell, there’s not a single house or structure in the village still standing.

  After ten seconds, I realize the earthquake is over.

  And there is someone staring at me.

  It’s a dragon, behind the heap of rubble that used to be my house. He’s dark, but has bright stripes across his body.

  He has a girl in his arms. It looks a lot like Heidi. And it looks a lot like she’s dead. She is pale and lifeless, with a bleeding wound on her head and glassy eyes that don’t move.

  I freeze, more icy terror gripping my heart.

  The dragon drops the girl to the ground and gives me a nasty little smirk. Then he starts walking towards me.

  I lift the gun. “Stay where you are!”

  He doesn’t. My voice isn’t commanding right now.

  But he picked the wrong night to mess with Earth girls. This kind of thing, we have rehearsed. If a dragon is coming towards you and obviously means some mischief, you have to take care of it before he can reach you. They have many tricks, and they know the terror they strike in us.

  It’s deadly serious. We are under no obligation to warn them or play nice.

  The wick on the gun has gone out, but it’s still glowing.

  I aim at the dragon’s chest, quickly wondering if the shot can penetrate that layer of scales over those thick, hard muscles.

  Then I pull the trigger, and the gun hits my face so hard I black out.

  - - -

  There’s cool air on my face. I’m groggy, but I’m pretty sure I’m flying.

  Because this has happened before. That first day on Xren, when I was taken by a dactyl and carried miles away in its claws. This feels a lot like that.

  I should scream, I should kick and fight. But I’m scared stiff.

  It’s night still, and very dark. But I can see the treetops beneath me, shooting past.

  And above me…

  I want to scream, but this is too much to handle and the world quickly pulls away from me.

  2

  - Jennifer -

  The first thing I notice is that I feel cold.

  I reflexively curl up, shivering. But the surface is hard, as if I’ve rolled off the bed furs and onto the dirt floor.

  My eyes fly open.

  This is not my house. This isn’t a house at all.

  I’m lying on the bare ground, and the trees all around are different from those surrounding the village.

  Sitting up, I squint and shade my eyes. The sun is rising, and it’s too bright.

  Definitely different trees.

 
I clench my eyes shut. My brain is sluggish, and I have a headache. But gradually I remember flashes of things that happened. The battle, with the cavemen fighting desperately in the darkness. My house being shaken apart. Seeing the dark jungle from above.

  The dragon.

  I open one eye, very slowly.

  There he is. Blue and striped, standing there with his back to me, a seven-foot-tall dragon in human form, looking out at the woods.

  Scales and spikes, deadly danger radiating from his every movement like light radiates from the sun.

  I gasp. Heidi! He was holding her in his arms! And she was...

  No, I don’t want to think that thought to its end.

  Is it possible that all the girls are dead? All the cavemen? If the dragons attacked us in force, all at the same time, they might have won.

  I’m here with a dragon. And if my memory of flight is right, this is a dragon who can still change to his dragon form, with the wings and the breathing fire and everything.

  He might be the only dragon on the planet who can. Or maybe now they all can, and that’s why they attacked.

  I silently get up on all fours. It’s a small clearing, and the edge of the woods is twenty feet away. If I’m really quiet, I can crawl backwards and get away from here.

  “To use your own words: stay where you are.” His voice is deep and smooth, and it stops me cold.

  He’s still looking the other way. Is he talking to me?

  Inching backwards another foot, I stare at the back of his head, covered in an anarchy of long, metallic-blonde curls like the angels in old-fashioned paintings. Except those usually didn’t have dense, black stubble like this guy.

  “You really should obey your superiors, female,” he growls, half-turning his head.

  I consider bouncing up and running for it. But I’m still groggy and I don’t know if I can trust my knees to not buckle under me. So I keep going, slowly crawling backwards.

  The dragon sighs deeply, then spins around, walks over to me with long steps, and grabs my arm, pulling me up to a standing position.

  I whimper with pain and fear, then find myself staring up into the weirdest eyes I’ve ever seen. One is deep blue and the other is a bright yellow. One has a star-shaped pupil and the other is triangular. It’s so alien it stuns me.

  He stares me down. “You have a lot to answer for, little human.”

  So do you, I think. But it seems unwise to say it out loud.

  The dragon lets go of me, and I drop back to the ground.

  Looking up, I notice that his broad, unreasonably muscular chest has a dark spot where a golden liquid is seeping out. That has to be the famous ichor the dragons have instead of blood.

  A spark of satisfaction flashes through my mind. At least I injured him with my gunshot, not just knocking myself out.

  But of course that probably got him mad, and if there’s something I’d prefer to avoid in this world, it’s to make a dragon mad.

  “I can treat that wound,” I finally croak, getting back to my feet while the world rotates around me. “It might fester.”

  I support myself with hands on my knees, taking a break before I straighten up and have to see those eyes again. My head pounds, and I’m feeling the effects of drinking too much only a few hours ago. I’m nauseous and dizzy and scared out of my mind. I want to cry, but I doubt it would do much good, and it certainly won’t improve the headache.

  “It’s festering right now,” the dragon informs me. “You shot me with something really nasty. Be assured that my revenge will be more cruel than that.”

  What did I shoot at him? Just a handful of metal scrap and gravel from the ground, the way we usually load the primitive black powder guns. Their barrels aren’t smooth enough to shoot actual bullets — we have to treat them as shotguns with a really short range.

  I think back to the moment I pulled the trigger. Did the barrel rip open? Is that what hit me?

  Prodding my face with one hand, I immediately locate the tender spot on my forehead.

  Shit, that’s sore. I hope I didn’t get a concussion.

  “What do you want with me?” I manage.

  The dragon studies the long claw on one blue finger. “It is not your place to ask questions of a superior being.”

  I gaze up at him. He’s similar to Kyandros and Aragadon, but seems stronger, more in control. More commanding, in a sense. Certainly, he’s a lot more vital than the dragons without hoards.

  He is jaw-droppingly beautiful, despite his blue scales. Perfect and striking at the same time, with more than enough manliness to be unique and not like a generic fashion model. He’s wearing only beige pants and black boots that go up to his knees. He has an old-fashioned aristocratic air about him, something that none of the other dragons have.

  No, I can’t stand here marveling at the perfection. He’s not perfect. He’s not even a supernatural being. He’s an alien, that’s all.

  “You killed Heidi.”

  He gives me a sharp look. “What was that? Speak!”

  “You killed one of the girls. In the village.”

  He sighs theatrically. “It must be such a pitiful existence to die so easily. And to be so dependent on your puny bodies.”

  I have no idea what he means, and I’m not going to ask. I have to concentrate on getting away from him. Kyandros and Aragadon are scary, but at least they haven’t murdered one of us.

  Looking around without making it seem obvious, I try to get a feeling for where this is.

  There’s a forest, but it doesn’t remind me of a jungle at all. The trees are almost all pine-like, with long needles instead of leaves. The air has a vaguely pine-like smell, too, like the deep forests of Canada. And the air is plainly colder than back at the village.

  The grass is a different type, darker and shorter. And if I’m not mistaken, there’s a large cluster of huge, colorful mushrooms at the edge of the clearing. I never saw that in the jungle. The climate here is totally different.

  I didn’t think my heart could sink any lower in my chest, but it somehow manages. This is far away from the village. As far away as Canada is from Florida, at least. As far as Finland is from Africa.

  The dragon definitely flew. And he flew far, with me in his claws. Just like that.

  A shot of anger energizes me. “Why did you kill her? Why did you take me?” I demand. “You have no right. I shot you in self-defense.”

  “Right?” he asks, puzzled. “What right do you have to step on the grass? To break a twig off a bush? To pick that flower and put it in your hair? You never think twice about it. That is what you are to me. As low as a strand of grass that you step on without being aware of it. No right comes into it. Except that whatever I do is right and you must accept it because you have no choice.”

  I discreetly reach up and search my hair for the little red flower I put behind my ear last night, finding it at the back of my head, badly entangled in strands of hair and crushed by my head when I slept.

  “That’s not the same,” I try, not at all in the mood for a discussion about existential ethics. “I’m a sentient being. It’s wrong.”

  Yeah, that’s the extent of my argument right now. And I majored in philosophy.

  He doesn’t look at me. “Nothing I do is wrong. Now be quiet.”

  The dragon is squinting against the rising sun, then slowly turns, gazing at the treetops in every direction as if searching for something.

  Then he spits an intense curse and kicks up a big divot of dirt that flies thirty feet away. “This damned, pitiful human form! How do you ever get anything done?!”

  In a flash he’s right in front of me, moving faster than my eye can follow.

  I take a step back in sheer shock at his speed. “It works for us. Can I help you with anything?”

  “Can you do anything? Nothing of importance, certainly. Except maim with your cowardly gun. You are a menace! A criminal!” His eyes burn holes in my very soul.

  “I don’t und
erstand,” I gasp, taking another step backwards.

  He towers over me, a dark and terrible being made extra scary because of his unspeakable beauty. “You shot me, making sure to load that infernal device with poison. Now my powers are less!”

  “There was no poison!” I squeal because of his intense presence that forbids me from focusing on anything else. “It’s only rocks and iron!”

  “Iron wouldn’t do this!” He strokes his hand across his little puncture wound and shows me the palm, smeared with dark gold. “It wouldn’t penetrate my scales!”

  Shit. Was there more than rusty iron in the handful of scrap I poured down the barrel of that primitive blunderbuss when Dolly helped me load it? The metal and gravel came from many places, and of course there would be traces of other elements.

  “I don’t know what it could have been,” I say, trying to regain control of my voice. “I didn’t mean for it to be poisonous.”

  “A likely tale,” the dragon sneers. “You will pay dearly for what you did.”

  I look away. It’s not like I’m going to apologize for defending myself.

  Okay, let’s see. I’m alone with a kidnapper. Many of the other girls have been, too. And what they do is try to get the guy to think of them as individuals, not as objects.

  “My name is Jennifer,” I state as loudly as I can. “What is yours?” I glance up.

  He’s got his back to me again, holding his hair out of his face looking at the treetops. “You must know my name, little female.”

  I shrug. “Maybe I should. But I really don’t.”

  He slowly turns, dropping his cascading locks. “You don’t know my name? How is that possible?”

  “Well, I’ve never seen you before.”

  “But there are two dragons in your pitiful little village! Renowned enough in their own ways, I suppose. Surely, they must have talked about me in hushed tones? Surely, they must have told the tales of the mightiest dragon of all, the magnificent Caronerax?”

  “Is that your name? Kronerax?”

  “CARONERAX!” he yells so loudly I’m sure it makes the treetops sway.

  “Okay, sorry,” I offer, my ears ringing. “Caronerax. Maybe they mentioned you. I wouldn’t know, I don’t talk much to the dragons.”