by Jake Stone
“You’re not worried they’ll come back?” I ask.
“Sceraptists are tribal,” she says. “They hunt in packs of no more than a dozen. And by the looks of things …” She casts her gaze around the cavern, taking in the countless number of dead bodies that litter the floor. “I think we should be okay.”
“How do you know so much about them?” I ask. “I don’t remember them from any of the books at the monastery.”
“Because they weren’t in any of the books at the monastery.”
“Well, if that’s the case, how do you know about them?”
“Because,” she says, finally turning to face me. “I’ve seen them before.”
I frown. She’s seen them before? Angling my head to the side, I narrow my eyes at her. But she turns away, hiding behind the veil of her shoulder-length blond hair.
It’s then, as I remember that beautiful night on Dardekum when Petronelous recounted to me the story of a young girl whose planet had been ravaged by Zendal and his minions, that I realize what she’s talking about.
According to the story, only a single girl had survived the invasion, one with a will to survive and a strength that would one day forge her into a Battle Saint.
Was this the first time she’d seen those wretched bastards since her family was killed? I can only imagine the emotion she must be going through. Sadness? Hate?
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She whirls on me, suspicious in her gaze as if I’ve just poked her with a sharp knife. But I hold her stare, unable to hide my concern. I want her to know that I care, that she can speak to me if she needs to, that if there’s something that’s bothering her she doesn’t need to bare it by herself.
But she doesn’t reply. Instead, her features soften and I see the beautiful blue of her eyes fill with an emptiness that breaks my heart.
“Go help Zorel,” she orders me. “I’ll continue here with the ammo.”
“Are you sure?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Xander.”
“Fine,” I say with raised hands, startled by the abruptness of her reaction. “As you wish, Captain.”
I make it only a couple of steps before I hear her voice behind me.
“And Xander?”
I stop to look back at her.
She examines me for a second, a deep sigh escaping her lungs, as she struggles to speak. She wants to tell me something, I realize, something hard for her to reveal. Then, pausing, she changes her mind and the stoic captain returns. “Make sure you shoot straight, alright?”
“Will do,” I say, turning to leave.
Chapter Eight
We’re not safe here.
But there is shelter, and we need to regroup to tend to our wounds before setting off again.
Zorel and Chun Hei finish with clearing the cavern, making sure that all of the scerapists are dead. They stab the carcasses with their blades, piercing their organs and slicing off their tales. Petronelous, using her immense strength, makes quick work of the holes by collapsing them with large boulders. I stand along the side, watching in silence.
“How’s it going, Sexy?” Zorel says as she joins me.
“The captain wants us to secure the area,” I say, balancing my rifle over my shoulder.
“Fine with me,” she says with a smile.
I activate the helmet of my armor, feeling the series of plates slinking over the back of my neck and over my head, covering me under a dome of steel. Zorel does the same, and we venture toward the far side of the cavern where we discover a narrow passage that leads into a subsection of the cave.
“This is…interesting,” I say.
“Let’s check it out,” Zorel replies in a giddy voice.
I watch as she leads the way, seeming fearless in her curiosity. I always feel better when I’m with her. A powerful elemental, who can go toe-to-toe with some of the bigger demons, I know that she’ll have my back if things get dangerous. But the real reason is that she’s funny. She can look death in the eye and laugh. But I know it’s only a mask, a shield she uses to hide the underlying sadness that still festers from a tortured childhood.
It’s been close to a year since our time on Dardekum when she took me to that vacant district, and we spent the night together. Since then, we’ve had our momentary trysts at the monastery. Still, no matter how many times we have sex, I’m still made nervous by her beauty.
“It’s warmer here,” Zorel says as she continues through the tunnel.
I check the temperature gauge on my heads up display and see that she’s correct.
“I guess it’s because we’re farther away from the entrance and deeper inside the mountain?”
“No,” she says. “We’re not that far out from the entrance to be experiencing such a rise in temperature.”
I do the math in my head, using approximations, and realize with the roll of my eyes that she’s correct. But how? How can the temperature be so much warmer here?
We walk only a few yards before we come to a narrow passage leading into a smaller cavern. Using my infrared, I scan the area, pleasantly relieved when I see that there are no holes or stalactites where monsters could be hiding. In the middle of the cavern, though, I spot a pool of green light pulsating with vibrant heat. It shines brightly on my screen.
“What is that?” Zorel asks.
“Water,” I say in astonishment, my gaze lowering to the steaming pool that rises from the ground like a raised jacuzzi.
“Water?” Zorel asks, confused.
According to the temperature readings of my helmet, the water is around 100 degrees Fahrenheit. The approximate temperature of a hot bath.
“Very warm water,” I reply.
To my shock, Zorel recoils her helmet, her thick blond hair cascading down the shoulders of her armor.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Relax,” she says, erupting a ball of crackling electricity in her palm. The bright glare of light disrupts the infrared of my visor, and I’m forced to recoil my helmet to keep from going blind.
“Ow, what the hell, Zorel?”
“Sorry,” she says with a wince. Increasing the electricity in her palm, she creates a wondrous ball of light that slowly rises into the air.
“It’d be nice to take a dip right now, huh?” she asks.
I glance at the steaming pool, my once trembling body now aching for some relaxation. “It does look nice, doesn’t it?”
“Do you remember the healing lakes at the monastery?” she asks, her lips twisting into that mischievous smile of hers.
“Of course I do.” How could I forget? They were one of my favorite places to go after a long day of physical training. Steaming lakes infused with the scented herbs of healing plants and potions, the water would relax our bodies, reducing the inflammation and bringing a calmness to our thoughts. I loved it so much that I was there practically every day. And so were the women.
“Do you remember that time after everyone went to sleep when you and I—”
“Yes,” I say, quickly meeting her gaze and remembering that awesome night long ago…
It had been after a long day of training, when Zorel and I had snuck out to visit the healing lakes of the monastery. Traipsing down the side of a hill, we were careful to stay out of view from the monk’s tower, our hands locked together, both of us silent, but giddy.
“Hurry,” she’d urged me, reaching to unzip the back of her black bodysuit.
I’d watched, frozen, as she began to strip, revealing the hour-glass frame and heavy breasts that had caught the attention of every recruit at the monastery and even some of the monks.
Back on Dardekum, she’d worn a white bodysuit beneath her armor. Now, it was black, and it was so damn sexy juxtaposed to her thick blond hair and tanned skin.
“Are you just going to watch me?” she asked.
What an idiot I’d been at that moment, just standing there, ogling her like some pervert. Shaking my head, I hurried to unzip
my suit, yanking it down to my ankles and tugging it off my feet.
Her mouth formed a tiny O when she saw my chest, and her gaze immediately lowered to my cock which was as hard as a rock then. How pleased she’d looked.
“I see that the good priests have increased the size of every muscle,” she said.
“One of the many benefits of becoming a Battle Saint,” I replied with a grin.
Laughing softly, she turned her gaze to the lake by our feet, a pool of hot water that glittered in the dual moons hovering overhead. Branches of nearby trees loomed all around us, guarding us from the tower’s view, while also forming a natural arch of golden leaves that framed the moons overhead. It was beautiful.
But still dark.
“Watch,” Zorel said, cupping her hands to form what looked to be an electric butterfly. “The monks have been working with me.”
“I can see,” I said, my head angling in wonderment.
“But I’m still having trouble,” she said.
Zorel stood back, as it rose from her hands, watching in admiration as if the butterfly had been created by someone else, and at that moment I saw the look of true innocence in her eyes.
The butterfly crossed through the air until it reached the center of the lake where it remained there, flapping its beautiful wings.
“I feel dirty,” she finally announced, her eyes narrowing mischievously at me. She squatted by the water and traced a figure eight in its surface, smiling as waves gently poured out. “I think it’s time to get wet.”
She stood up, unflinching, as she showed me her large breasts and shaved pussy and I felt a firebomb of lust explode in my chest. I wanted to rush out and grab her, to press my lips against hers and sink my tongue into her mouth. But I didn’t. Instead, I just watched in silence as she lowered her glorious body inch by inch into the relaxing pool.
“Wow,” she breathed, her eyes wide in shock as her skin was enveloped by the hot water. Lying back, she gave herself over to the welcoming sensation, and the electric butterfly hovering overhead began to dim.
“How is it?” I asked in a whisper.
She opened her eyes, beaming me with a wanting gaze, and I felt as if I was staring at a starving wolf. “See for yourself.”
The water steamed against my skin, but it was a welcoming feeling, one that instantly relaxed the taut muscles that had been so brutally battered from being punched and tossed around all day.
I descended deeper into the water, relishing its feel, grateful to be alive and in the presence of such a beautiful woman.
“I told you,” Zorel said, a lazy smile breaking through the water’s relaxing spell.
“Not bad,” I said.
I sunk into the water, letting it rise past my shoulders and we stared at each other in our malaise, each of us wondering when and if the other would move. The last time we’d been intimate, she was the instigator. Now, it was my turn.
She looked up as I crossed the water, gasping as she touched my chest, and I felt the greed of her lust as she began to massage my muscles. Holding myself above her, I leaned in to press my lips against hers and instantly felt the warmth of her wanting mouth.
Under the water, I felt her hands tightening around my cock, pumping it up and down, moving it with such sensualness that it threatened to make me come. Not yet, I told myself. Pulling my cock away from her, I slid between her legs, sinking the tip of my cock into her tight pussy.
Zorel gasped as I pushed myself inside of her, careful as I gauged how much she could take. But she wasn’t worried. Instead, I winced as she dug her nails into my back, beckoning for me to go deeper.
“Fuck me!” she breathed.
I wrapped an arm behind her waist and thrust deeper, overcome by the sheer pleasure of her walls tightening around my cock.
Thrust after thrust, I fucked her as hard as I could, my mouth sucking on her neck, as my left hand cupped her right breast. Water splashed around us in a wild frenzy, and the electric butterfly hovering above us began to pulse in long moments of dimness and brightness. Just by its rhythm, I knew she was about to come.
“Don’t stop!” she pleaded, her fingers digging deeper into my back.
I moved as fast as I could, gripping her ass, balancing her steadily against my thrusts.
When she finally came, I felt the spasm of her pussy around my cock, and the butterfly above us burst into a myriad of colors, transforming the dark night into a psychedelic crescendo.
The tightness of her pussy did wonders for me as well, and before I knew it, I’d come inside of her, emptying the bulk of cum I’d been holding for weeks.
How our movement had slowed at that moment, finally coming to a complete halt. We held each other there in the warm pool, exhausted, yet wholly renewed.
She kissed me hard on the lips, a reward for a job well done, and I held her tight, her body soft but taught in my hands. She sunk her tongue into my mouth and I felt a zap on my lips. I grimaced as I pulled back.
“Oh no,” she said, her hands cradling my face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said with a laugh. “I guess your lust is dangerous.”
But she didn’t laugh.
“What is it?” I ask.
“My power…” she said, lifting her hand safely above the water and lighting a string of electricity that danced in her palm. “… it’s growing.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“And it doesn’t scare you?”
“I told you,” I said. “I trust you.”
The side of her face tugged up into a sad smile. “I still remember what the kids used to call me, Broken plug.”
I sighed, recognizing the pain that still haunted her. She’d been ridiculed for her powers from a young age, eventually isolated like some quarantined patient. Her only defense against it was to develop a sense of humor. Could she ever break free of it?
“You’re not broken,” I said to her in a whisper, my hand caressing her cheek. “And you never were.”
“Thank you, Xander.”
“If only we could go back to that night,” Zorel says, drawing me back to the cavern. She sashays toward me, halting only inches from my face.
Our lips are about to touch, when, from the opened entrance, a harsh wind blows into our tiny cavern, like a witch’s breath. The feel of it chills the skin of my face, and I give a little shiver. But the force of it is great enough to wipe the walls clean of dust, and it’s then that I notice the markings on the wall.
“What the…”
Lowering my rectifier, I move in closer to take a better look. The markings are drawn crudely, written with something like chalk. Stepping closer to get a better view, I ask Zorel to move her light over my shoulder.
“What do you see?” she asks.
My eyes narrow as I study the curved lines and organic shapes. At first, they seem trivial, some sort of scribble drawn by children, but as I examine it further, recognizing the round shape of the cavern behind us, as well as the sub-compartment of where Zorel and I are standing, I suddenly realize what it is.
“It’s a map,” I whisper in excitement.
“Are you sure?” she asks, moving in to see for herself.
“Yeah,” I say decisively. Reaching out, I begin to trace the curved passages with my fingers, careful not to erase any of the lines. “There seems to be a network of tunnels within the mountain.”
“Who drew this?” Zorel asks.
My gaze wanders along the wall as I search for a clue, some type of signature that will answer her question. But there’s nothing. Finally, as my gaze drifts to the floor, I find the symbol for the Republic, a pyramid with the corfew drawn inside of it scribbled just beneath.
“The expedition,” I say. “Who else?”
Zorel gasps. “Great work, Sexy!”
This is good news. We’ve found our first real clue as to the whereabouts of the expedition. Perhaps with the help of the women, we’ll be able to figure out their exact location, and what to
do. Taking in a deep breath, I straighten. “We need to tell the others.”
“Agreed,” she replies.
I turn around to march away when I hear Zorel’s voice again.
“Um, Xander?”
I stop to look back at her. “What is it?”
“Looks like there’s something else here.”
Following her gaze, I’m surprised to find the image of a tall figure drawn in the same white chalk as the map next to it. But there’s something different about it. It looks rushed, frantic as if the hand that drew it was trembling.
Looking closer, I realize that the drawing is that of an old woman with long shaggy hair looming over a group of people who appear dead. Below that, I’m struck as I see the outline of a bloody hand pressed against the rock, with the words, “Beware the ghosts,” written next to it.
Feeling a shiver along my body, I exchange a glance with Zorel, whose skin quickly goes pale.
“What does this mean?” Zorel asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “But we can’t worry about that now. We need to go.”
Chapter Nine
We rush back to the entrance, anxious to tell the others of what we found.
The sound of our steps announces our arrival and the women look up from a small fire they’ve made out of a low-grade incendiary device. Their faces look ghoulish in the flickering light, their eyes and mouths like sunken slits of darkness.
“What took you so long?” Atia asks, hefting one of the supply bags over her shoulder. “For a moment there I was worried I might have to send someone to go looking for you.”
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Leaving,” Atia says. “The storm is dying down, and we must return to the mission.”
“We can’t,” I quickly say. “We found something.”
She looks at me. “What are you talking about?”
“Drawings,” I say. “Inside the adjoining cavern.”
She looks to Zorel for confirmation, her eyes narrowed, and the elemental replies with a grave nod. “Maps,” she elaborates.
Petronelous’s head swivels in my direction. “Maps?”
