Caveman Alien’s Riddle (Caverman Aliens Book 13)

by Calista Skye

  “Be quiet, dragon scum,” the chief says, going pale and not smiling. “Your time will come. Very soon.”

  They tie Caronerax to a tree at the edge of the clearing, but they take me with them to the campfire they’re building. They sit me down on the grass. They don’t tie me, but every time I try to move or get to my feet, I’m roughly pushed down again.

  The cavemen give me curious glances as they set up for their feast, letting their gazes unashamedly wander down my body. It’s quite unpleasant, and a cold ball of dread grows in the pit of my stomach as the sun sets and night begins. The cavemen in the slayer army never do that, only giving me short, friendly smiles when our paths cross and otherwise ignoring me completely.

  The hunters bring back turkeypigs and not-sheep, and soon the meat is being grilled over the fire on large skewers. The men sit down in a large ring, and the atmosphere is filled with excitement and tense expectation. They send me invasive glances and make jokes that are pretty innocent to an Earth girl, but are extremely lewd by Xren standards.

  The chief sits down next to me and strokes my cheek with a proprietary air.

  I pull away from him. “What are you going to do?”

  “Wonderful things,” he says and once more reaches out to touch me.

  Again a draw away. “But not so wonderful for me, right?”

  “That is entirely up to you. We know women can greatly enjoy the act of mating. In your own tribe, warriors mate with women often. Some warriors, that is. Only a handful. While the rest must listen to the sounds of the mating. Womanly sounds of great enjoyment! I have heard it, myself. No, this will be wonderful for you. For the other women only have one man each to mate with them. Whereas you have all of us! Truly, you are rich!” He waves his hand to indicate all the other men in the circle, and they all laugh.

  This is a planet without women, and some things I take for granted must be explained. These guys probably don’t know how things work.

  “I do not want that,” I state loudly. “I will not mate with any of you. Not on your life. The women in the tribe only mate with their husbands! They are married! No man will mate with a woman who is not his wife. Nor will a woman mate with a man who is not her husband.”

  I think I hear a low snort from over at the edge of the woods where Caronerax is tied up, but I’m probably mistaken.

  “Trying to mate with a woman who does not want to mate with you is the worst dishonor,” I continue, trying to keep my voice steady. “If you try, you will always be an outcast. Your tribe will be hunted to the last man. You will be slaughtered like a pack of rekh.” I am maybe exaggerating, but I think that’s fair, under the circumstances.

  “Perhaps,” says the chief, accepting a grilled meat skewer from another. “But I think not. First, nobody will know. Secondly, even if they knew, we are a tribe. We are not harmless. On the contrary, we are fierce and feared among the other tribes. And third, any other tribe that had a woman fall into their midst would do the same.”

  I get colder. “What do you mean, nobody will know? I will tell everyone I meet about the dishonor of you and your tribe.”

  “Undoubtedly, you would spread the tale of your ecstasy wide and far, so it is better for all if you don’t get away from us,” the chief says matter-of-factly. “For that reason, and because we might want to enjoy your pleasures more than only tonight.” He holds the skewer out to me, offering it.

  “You will never enjoy my pleasure,” I vow, ignoring the food. “I’d rather die.”

  He shrugs and bites into the grilled meat. “I think we can prevent that. We shall protect you as well, don’t worry.”

  I glance over at Caronerax. I can barely see him in the dark. Only his yellow stripes shine in the light from the fire.

  “Why are you doing this?” I finally ask. “Your men look healthy and strong. Their blades are shiny, their clothing whole. You must have been a good tribe recently. Why turn to dishonor?”

  “These are strange times,” the chief admits. “Women on Xren! Marrying men from other tribes, mating with them. Women giving birth, as well. To girl children! The holy mountain Bune is suddenly gone. Dragons arrive in their hundreds.”

  The man on the other side of me leans forward. “All the prophecies were wrong! Do the Ancestors even exist? The shamans are all at a loss. Nothing has happened the way it was foretold, all is different. Many tribes are in doubt about everything now. And then your tribe, the alien tribe, wanting warriors to fight the dragons. Why? What is the purpose? It is well known there is only a handful of women among you that are unmarried. But a single tribe can have a thousand men! Who will they marry, after they have defeated the dragons, with great danger to their own lives? What is their reward?”

  “To hear other men mate with their wives,” the chief scoffs. “That’s all they are offered. I was in your tribe, woman, eager to fight with the best warriors from the other tribes. Thinking there must be a woman for each of us. There was not. The women there never looked at us, never went close to our camp. They kept themselves apart, mostly out of sight. You yourself did. I remember you well, walking in your village and laughing with your friends. All we knew about you unmarried females was that you all wanted to leave Xren. And we asked, what then are we supposed to fight for? There aren’t enough women for all, or even for a single tribe, unless we share them. And now they all want to leave? There will be no women, then. For what purpose are we now leaving our own tribes, leaving the Lifegivers, leaving the life we love, to go and fight dragons? Yes, I asked. I asked the legendary Juri’ex, the owner of the longest sword on Xren, himself married to a glorious alien woman. He didn’t reply. He simply said that if I didn’t think I was slayer material, I could leave. I did, because it was obvious what the true answer was: there is no purpose. There is no reward.”

  There’s a murmur of assent around the fire.

  “The purpose is to live in peace,” I tell them, becoming desperate. “To live on a Xren without bad dragons. Some dragons are good, but many are bad. If the warriors don’t slay the bad ones, they might take over the whole planet and make your lives miserable, and maybe try eradicating all of you. But if you fight for the good cause, then more Earth women will come. Many more. Hundreds. Thousands. That is why we want to leave — to go and get more. We are happy on Xren! And there are thousands, hundreds of thousands, of unmarried women on our planet. They will also be happy here. But they will not come here if there are bad dragons!”

  I’m laying it on pretty thick, but I feel totally justified in making all this up. This is looking like a bad gang bang in the making. “When the Earth women get here, a good warrior can expect a good wife. Two, even. Three. As many as he wants! You all want a wife, right? Imagine having many wives, many women in your cave, all yours and willing to mate with you!”

  The cavemen look at each other, then at me, clearly interested.

  “When will they get here?” a man on the other side of the fire asks. “And how?”

  18

  - Jennifer -

  My bullshit story might be working. And I should not blow it by being too unrealistic.

  “After we leave,” I invent, “there will be a year before we can return. We will return on a spaceship similar to the one that brought us here. That was built by the Plood, but we have the same thing, except much bigger. We will bring thousands of new women. Then another batch, and another. Every warrior on Xren will have a wife! Or as many as he wants. Old and sick warriors, as well. A short year from now.”

  The warriors lean forward, hanging on my every word.

  “Even a man who has lost a hand?” asks one, holding up the stump of his left arm.

  “Even a young one?” asks another, who must be barely past the Stripening.

  “Even one who has only a broken sword?”

  “Everyone,” I say with emphasis. “There are many women on Earth. As many as there are stars in the sky.” I point up, where there are some bright points visible between the clouds. “
And all they want is a good husband! Any husband,” I quickly add. “But the dragons must be gone.”

  It’s quiet around the fire as the cavemen consider the possibility of having several women each.

  Then the chief chuckles. “That would indeed be a fine development. But I wonder why this is the first I hear about that plan. It would seem a perfect answer for Juri’ex to give to my question. Could it be that you are making it up, little woman?”

  “My name is Jennifer,” I state loudly. “You will call me by that.”

  “You paint a pretty picture for us, woman,” he pointedly ignores me. “And if it is indeed true, then I’m sure your friends don’t need you to help them make it happen. No, we will keep you here, in our tribe, mating with you whenever we want. Then, if your far-fetched story turns out to be true, we will accept the new women. And if it doesn’t, then we have lost... nothing.” He lays one arm around my shoulders, and with the other he cups my chest outside the dress.

  “Take your filthy hands off me,” I hiss, recoiling and trying to get up.

  The chief easily holds me down. “In fact, I think it’s time we become the only tribe on Xren where every man may mate with a woman. I am the chief, and I will go first. Then in order of age, starting at the oldest. I believe that would be you, Baliduz’ar.”

  “Yes,” the man on the other side of me says, his voice hoarse. “You go first, chief. We will all observe, and then we will take our turns. Let us also not forget the scout party that discovered the dragon and the woman on the other side of the swamp and signaled us to be ready. They will be here in a few days, and we must not wear this woman out before then.”

  “Of course,” the chief says, pawing at me, his eyes glassy. “We are only twenty-eight here. Each man will only mate once tonight, to save the woman for the others. Lay down soft furs,” he commands. “No need for this to be the least bit uncomfortable.”

  “Stop it!” I yell, as some men get up from their places and gather around me, curious hands and fingers touching me and stroking and pinching.

  “Rejoice, woman,” the chief says hoarsely and gets to his feet. “Your married friends only have one man to mate with. Whereas you now have almost thirty. You will scream out your joy all night.” He takes me in his arms and lifts me.

  I kick and hiss and slap and punch, and most of my strokes connect. “Get the hell away from me!”

  But the chief effortlessly ignores me and carries me to the heap of furs a couple of yards away. “Such an energetic young woman,” he wheezes as he forces me down on it. “I can see you are eager for this to happen.” He fumbles with his short pants, where there is an obvious bulge.

  I go crazy with fear and anger, screaming and clawing and scratching and kicking wildly.

  Even so, I distantly notice the stars are gone and the night has suddenly gotten much darker. A hard rainfall right now would be extremely welcome, but those clouds came really fast.

  Suddenly, an unearthly howl of sheer fury resonates among the trees and throughout the clearing, and everyone freezes.

  “It’s only the dragon,” the chief hisses, freeing his stiff manhood from his pants. “He’s tied, he can’t interfere. I will kill him when I’m done with the woman.”

  “Caronerax!” I call, curling up into a ball and making sure not to look at the naked man next to me. “If you can get free, this is the time! If not, remember that I love only you!”

  Someone pulls my dress off me, not too gently. They grab my hands and pull me onto my back, holding me tight.

  Shit. This is it. A total nightmare is about to become real.

  The chief grabs my ankles and spreads me open, drawing in a trembling breath. “Holy Ancest—”

  He stiffens, his eyes roll back in his head, he sways for a second, and then he collapses backwards.

  For a moment, everything is quiet.

  Then the clearing explodes in a chaos of screams, thuds, metallic noises and strange, chilling shadows in the flickering light from the fire.

  I curl up and cover my ears and eyes.

  When things calm down again, all the cavemen are on the ground, lying in strange positions and looking dead.

  And in the air above me is a dark, ghostly blob, balancing on a hundred thin, strong tentacles.

  Three eyes on stalks are looking at me from above.

  “Marshie,” I wheeze.

  A brown tentacle snakes along the grass and curls around my upper arm, gently pulling me up and releasing me when I’m standing on trembling knees. Then it strokes a lock of my hair behind my ear, in the same way I often do myself if I have no hairpins.

  “Thank you,” I manage, not sure if I’m out of the woods yet. “That was close.”

  The swamp monster makes her way over to the tree where Caronerax is writhing and hissing and spluttering and cursing.

  I run over as fast as I can on legs that are still weak.

  “Stay still,” I urge him. “I will free you.”

  His wrists and ankles are dripping with ichor where the steel wires have cut into him. As I untie them, I notice they’re not that tight — it’s his own movements and attempts to get free that have done the damage, and the wires cut all the way in to the bone.

  When he’s finally free of the wires, he takes a step past me and shields me from Marshie.

  “What do you want?” he seethes up at the shadowy blob.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” I say and stand next to him. “It’s just Marshie. She saved us.”

  All six eyes are trained on us.

  I force a smile and wave. “Thank you, Marshie!”

  The swamp creature lowers her main body-slash-head and focuses her six eye stalks on the dragon.

  I jab my elbow into Caronerax’s side. “Give her a smile.”

  “She’s a monster,” he mutters. “I don’t want to lead her on.”

  “She understands the situation,” I whisper. “Be nice to her.”

  The dragon reaches out one hand, palm upturned and dripping with ichor.

  Slowly, Marshie raises the end of one tentacle from the ground and puts it in his hand.

  He curls his fingers around it. “Thank you.”

  The tentacle withdraws, then carefully reaches forward again, the tip of it stroking along his hair and face, briefly pausing at the hairpin, then down to his chest, prodding the scales and gently passing underneath the injury that’s now seeping ichor again.

  For three heartbeats Marshie looks at us. Then she calmly withdraws all her tendrils and tentacles and moves away, in the direction of her swamp, not making a sound.

  “Goodbye!” I call after her, waving.

  To my joy, she apes my wave with one of her tentacles before she vanishes in the dark night.

  Caronerax turns to me, his face dark, and looks me up and down. “Are you injured?”

  “Not on the outside,” I tell him. “But I was scared.”

  “I am too weak to protect you,” he seethes. “Ridiculous! Pitiful! I was taken prisoner and tied! By simple humans!”

  “They threatened to kill me,” I remind him. “You had no choice if you wanted me to live.”

  “In my dragon form, I would have… I would have…”

  “You would have burned them all to a crisp before they saw us,” I finish for him. “I know. But remember that you are not well. You did more than anyone else could have.”

  Grabbing his hand, I hold it up. “And you have even worse injuries now. We have to find more of the healing paste. But I don’t want to stay here anymore.” I’m trembling all over, and not from cold.

  “Wait here,” Caronerax says and quickly walks around the clearing, checking on the cavemen and taking all their weapons. “Most of them are still alive,” he reports when he returns, dumping all the swords and spears on the ground. “Only one or two are dead, with split skulls.”

  He picks up one sword after the other, breaks each blade over his knee, and tosses the pieces away.

  He brea
ks the spears, except one, which he gives to me. “I think you need this. Clearly, I’m incapable of protecting you properly. Now let’s go.”

  I grab my fur pouch, and we quickly make our way out of the clearing and into the woods, walking as fast as we can, not saying a word.

  Neither of us want to stop that night. We walk until morning, take a short break when we come across a creek where I can drink, then keep walking.

  In the morning sun, I can tell the woods are definitely becoming more jungle-like. There are no pine trees anymore, and it’s getting more clammy and humid among the trees.

  I should probably start to look around for familiar places, or landmarks I have heard of or seen on the big map the girls have made. But I never paid the map much attention. I was always focused on only going home to Earth.

  That was my problem, I suddenly realize. I was too busy dreaming of home. I never made the effort to get to know Xren. I blocked it off, kept it at arm’s length as much as I could. No wonder I never made any lasting contributions to the tribe — if you want to improve the place you’re in, you have to see it first. I never saw it.

  Until now. I see this planet fine now. And while it’s scary and dangerous, it is also pretty rewarding when you get things right. I think I got things pretty right with Marshie. Simply following my instincts and sensing that she was just another lonely girl. That saved me, and probably Caronerax, too.

  Our route takes us straight up a hillside. On the top it drops off into a sheer cliff on the other side, and the view is great.

  In the distance, I see something I recognize, due south.

  “That’s Bune,” I say calmly and point. “See that white peak at the horizon?”

  “The Inferior ship,” Caronerax says. “Where you will go so you can leave the planet.”

  I look up at him. “Do those things bother you?”

  He gives me a quick smile. “Nothing about you bothers me.”

  “But this bothers me a great deal,” I state as I take his hand and lift it. The deep cuts from the steel wires are still seeping ichor and not healing. It’s quite alarming.