by Kyle, Celia
“It looks like a good way to break your neck.” Ivy tugged on Kalinda’s arm. “Come on. Breakfast is waiting.”
They continued down the marked path until they reached the main communal area. The others from their group had already arrived and were seated at a stone table near the back. The rest of the space was filled to the brim with gray and brown-scaled Aterans. All of them stared at the human females, many seeming entranced by them. Several of the lizard-like aliens leaned together to whisper, their eyes never leaving the humans.
Kalinda shivered. The Aterans had assured them that they were guests, not prisoners. But the way some looked at them made her feel as if she wasn’t a person but a piece of meat or a prize to be won. She could only hope she was safe in her new mountain home because it seemed she would be stuck there for a very, very long time.
Chapter Two
Nakan hefted the heavy pickaxe over his head and brought it back down with a low grunt of effort. Gravity and his strength forced the pointed tip to strike deep into the hard rock. A jagged fragment chipped from the stone and tumbled across the uneven ground. He hefted the tool once more and gave it a mighty heave, freeing another chunk from its stone prison. The clang of Red Sands metal on Hard Sands stone filled the mine, the sound echoing deeper into the mountain’s distant chambers.
“There are machines specifically designed to mine the tunnels. There is no reason for the warlord of the Hard Sands to toil in the tunnels.” The voice came from behind him, but he ignored the newcomer.
Instead, Nakan focused on channeling his entire being into each swing of the pickaxe—the only way to distract himself from the thoughts consuming his mind. The thoughts plagued him constantly and refused to leave him be.
“I know you have never been good with machines, young one, but our engineers would be glad to teach you.”
He clenched his teeth and did his best to ignore the annoying speaker. He did not wish to think of the mining machines and their necessity in today’s world of stone farming and gathering. He would not argue the truth—that mining by hand was inefficient. He could not deny that the people of the Hard Sands needed all they could acquire of the minerals and resources found within the mountain—both for personal use and for trade with the other territories on Atera. Only the machines operated proficiently, guaranteeing the prosperity of all his people.
Yet there was something much more satisfying about wielding the pickaxe and doing the work by claw. It was the original way of Eana, the Ateran goddess. Teachings indicated that the health of the individual was raised by using her gifts directly. To have another—or a machine—work in his stead would lessen his worth. There was honor and pride in completing the task by claw, in swinging the pick, in striking the stone with the strength of his own body. Not so with the mechanical power of a Red Sands machine. It had taken many seasons for his people to accept that mining machines would be used without offending the goddess, but Nakan knew many still despised the noisy machinery.
He swung the pickaxe once more and a huge crack formed through the center of the stone. A sense of deep satisfaction overtook him, pride suffusing his chest with the accomplishment. He knew his muscles alone would never mine enough stones to support his people, but at times like this, doing the work manually brought him a deep, spiritual satisfaction.
And distraction from his troubles.
Nakan’s muscles ached from the manual labor, but he viewed the pain in a positive light. It would act as another distraction to keep his mind off all else. He could focus on each burning muscle, each twinge and ache in his joints. Yes, this was the perfect task to keep his mind off other things.
Another, sharper pain struck the back of his head and radiated down his neck. He yelped and spun, one hand going to the back of his head while he sought out his attacker—a hunk of rock rolling across the cave floor and his paladin, Aarom.
“Your sire used to believe he could ignore me, too,” his companion drawled. “He learned the hard way that I am quite stubborn.”
Nakan grumbled and bent to snare the rock Aarom had thrown at his head. Nakan tossed the stone up and caught it once more. “Did my sire allow his paladin to assault him in such a way?”
Aarom laughed. “He did not. There is a reason he was warlord and I his paladin.”
Nakan fell silent, knowing what Aarom implied. He was sure the paladin and his warlord sire had dueled more than once in the paladin’s younger days. Had Aarom won such a duel, he would have claimed the title of warlord of the Hard Sands and taken leadership from Nakan’s sire. Should Aarom wish, he could challenge Nakan in such a way. And despite the paladin’s old age, Nakan knew Aarom was a skilled and cunning warrior.
Nakan was not certain he could defeat Aarom in a duel should it ever come to pass, but he did know Aarom had no interest in the mantle of leadership. He was sworn as Nakan’s protector and advisor. For all the time he had known the other male, Aarom had never shown ambition to be anything more than paladin to the warlord.
“Why do you bother me?” Nakan tossed the stone aside. “I am working.”
“You are brooding,” the older Ateran corrected him, a smirk on his thin lips. “You have been this way since you returned from the Heart Sands with those creatures from the stars.”
Nakan snorted and ran a hand over his smooth, scaly head. He turned his back on Aarom, unwilling to meet the paladin’s gaze as he lied. “I am not brooding.”
Aarom laughed and he found he disliked the sound. “You are, young one. You have not slept, and you missed the chime for morning meal. You swing your pick at rock instead of facing your duties to the clan.” He sighed and shook his head. “There is a great deal to discuss. Events move swiftly since your sire’s death. Things are tense and even more so with the arrival of these strange creatures.”
“They are not creatures. They are gifts from Eana.” Nakan resumed his work. He hefted the pickaxe and took a mighty swing. “The goddess sent them to us in a vessel from beyond the stars, just as the seers have long predicted. They are guests of honor.”
“Rumors spread from the males you took to the Heart Sands,” Aarom murmured. “They state Drazan of the Red Sands found his kode among them. Rumor is these ‘humans’ are able to stir an Aterans’ blood.”
Nakan remained silent and focused on putting his energy into another swing.
“Rumor is,” Aarom continued, “there is a female with hair the color of an ambroze stone who draws our warlord’s eye. They say he was unable to look away from her through the entire journey from the Heart Sands.”
Nakan paused and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. His thoughts went to the human female, Kalinda. Her ambroze-colored hair shimmered in the light of the twin suns, framing her angelic face. Nakan had never seen a female with hair. Aterans—both male and female—were bald since they were covered in scales. It had been an even greater surprise to see a female with hair the color of the ambroze—one of the rarest stones in the Hard Sands. He had been captivated by the sight of her. From her hair and her gentle curves to her soft, pink flesh—he had never been so drawn by a female in his life and he wondered if she could truly be his kode.
“I do not wish to discuss the females.” Nakan opened his eyes and returned to his work.
Aarom harrumphed. “Then let us discuss the state of the territory. There has been a great deal of unrest since your sire’s passing. The lesser warlords to the south and east grow agitated. There are numerous reports of minor skirmishes between the lesser warlords of different sectors in our territory as well as between our warlords and those of the Red Sands. The problem is bad enough if our people continue to fight among themselves, but it will be far worse if they antagonize the Red Sands into true battle.”
“And what is your proposal? What shall I do about these unruly?” Around any other, Nakan was loath to admit uncertainty and weakness, but Aarom could take his full honesty. The truth was, Nakan was overwhelmed by all his sire’s responsibilities. His sire’s untim
ely death had left Nakan to inherit the Hard Sands far sooner than he ever anticipated. He would never admit it to another, but he was not prepared to lead. He did not know the best path for his people, but if any of his lesser warlords saw his doubt and perceived it as a weakness… his very life would be in jeopardy. Any of them could challenge for the Right of Ka’Eana—an honor duel for leadership of the Hard Sands. To fail in the ritual combat would cost him leadership as well as his life.
“Your sire would have visited the troublemakers and shown them his strength.” Aarom did not hesitate when providing his answer. “He would have challenged any warlord who could not get his territory under control.”
“I am not my sire.” He raised his chin. “I do not believe strength alone is enough to usher ours into the next age.” He knew he was a strong and skilled warrior, but at the same time, he was not as strong as some. He knew many lesser warlords in the mountain had physical prowess and skill in combat along with a need to defeat him in battle. That did not mean they had the wisdom needed to rule. Nakan hoped he had that wisdom though doubts constantly plagued his mind.
“Is that so?” Aarom’s penetrating stare remained focused on Nakan. “I wonder where this attitude of yours originated. Could it have anything to do with the gifts from Eana?”
“I do not wish to discuss the females.” Even if Nakan would not admit it aloud, something about the gentle fragility of the humans had touched him in a way he had not expected. The beauty of the female Kalinda filled with the desperate urge to protect her and keep her safe from any and all. It did not matter that he knew her not at all. It was difficult, even now, for him to remain in the mine rather than seek her out to stand at her side.
“What would you do? If not ruling through strength, what will you do to bring stability to the Hard Sands, young one?”
He considered the question for a long while, continuing to hammer his pickaxe against stone before stopping once again. “Our people prosper more in times of peace than war. We should encourage trade and development of our economy. If our people have the wealth they require to meet their needs and to develop luxuries, art, and culture, they will be content. There will be no unrest.”
“Perhaps you are right.” Aarom shrugged. “We have been struggling to keep up with orders of stones to the Living Sands. Particularly the deahmid stones. Our mines are running dry. If you could discover a new source, that would help our people.”
Nakan stiffened. He had been dreading this conversation with his paladin. Ever since he took over the mantle of warlord of the Hard Sands, he had been expected to follow in the path of every warlord before him. He had undergone the ritual of bir Gamas—the Stone Sense. He had been infused with the energies that were found in some of the rarest gems in the Hard Sands. The ritual was supposed to give him the ability to sense the locations of the rare gems and ores within the mountains. When not engaging in war, the warlord of the Hard Sands was expected to use his ability to locate new deposits ripe for mining.
Yet since completing the ritual, he had not sensed anything. Even during the simplest of tests of his ability, he failed again and again. He had instructed a warrior to hide a gem in a room so he might engage the Stone Sense to locate it, but not once had he experienced a stirring in his soul. There was no sensation of any kind that would indicate the location of the hidden stone. If he could not locate a single gem within a room, he had no chance of locating a new mine.
Standing there, he tried once more, just to see if anything had changed as he toiled. He knew there were deahmid embedded in the stone wall before him. He closed his eyes and reached out with his senses, searching, searching, searching… He attempted to clear his mind as he had been taught and put aside all distractions so he could see what had been hidden.
But the sense would not come. Clearing his mind of distractions was impossible. Not when he could think of nothing but the beautiful Kalinda.
He growled, frustration overtaking all else, and tossed the pickaxe aside. It clattered against the stone wall, an echoing clang reverberating throughout the mine.
“If you wish to turn your mind from the human females,” Aarom chuckled, “perhaps you should venture through the mountains. Survey your domain and see what you can discover.”
“Perhaps.” Yet the word was a lie since he did not believe he could force himself to lose Kalinda’s nearness.
“It is a better use for your time than hammering at rocks.”
Nakan harrumphed. He knew Aarom only meant to distract him. It would have irritated him if he did not know the paladin was correct.
Aarom laughed. “Even if your senses fail you, there are other tools. Survey the mountains. We need a new source of deahmid. If we are unable to meet our obligations to the Living Sands, they will cut off all trade. We need their food and Healing Sands. If our agreements with them are lost, the people will be in turmoil. War would be unavoidable.”
Nakan ran a hand over his scaly head again and sighed. Perhaps his paladin was right, but he struggled to organize is thoughts. Hunger had him intent on wondering when the next meal would occur instead of how to keep his lands from war. Skipping breakfast had been an error on his part.
When the second chime announcing a mid-morning meal reached him, he decided it was time to cease brooding and go eat.
Perhaps, he thought, Kalinda would be in the communal cavern. As much as he could not afford to be distracted by her, the thought of seeing her again stirred his blood and he quickened his steps.
Chapter Three
Kalinda slowly made her way along the rough stone wall of the communal cavern, a large clay bowl cradled in her hands. A series of niches had been carved into the cave wall, each holding its own bowl of food available for anyone to select for breakfast. There was a mixture of meat, mushrooms, leafy vegetables and some kind of oatmeal or porridge though she still couldn’t figure out what it was made from. And all of it—as far as they could tell—was safe for humans to eat, even if it all wasn’t appetizing.
She’d discovered the flavors were bland and foreign without even salt to give everything a little oomph. As far as she could tell, Aterans didn’t use spices or any other kind of condiments.
“I’ll starve to death before we’re rescued,” she murmured to herself and sighed before scooping a bit of the porridge into her bowl. What it lacked in flavor it made up for by the fact that it was pretty filling. If only she could force it all down.
“What I wouldn’t give for a pizza.” Ivy joined her, filling her own bowl. “Or ice cream. Gimme some potato chips.”
Kalinda groaned, salivating at the thought of the snack. “Don’t talk to me about potato chips.”
She added some small beans to the side of her bowl and wondered if the Aterans had any vegetables that were potato-like. Maybe they could make their own version of chips.
She carried her meal to the table occupied by the other human woman and settled into a seat, ignoring the numerous stares focused on her. Every Ateran in the room watched them, not that she could blame them for their curiosity. If she was on Earth and a ship filled with aliens crashed, she would have been damn curious, too. Though on Earth, humans had known about the existence of aliens for decades, ever since humans left the solar system and joined the galactic community. From what she’d gathered, the Aterans had never seen someone not of their species before and they didn’t even try to hide their fascination with the human women.
While Kalinda focused on forcing her food down, her TransComm Implant went to work, translating the alien conversations around her and bringing them to her ears. The aliens huddled at other tables and whispered to each other, only shooting their table occasional looks. They probably thought Kalinda couldn’t hear them—most of the others couldn’t—but her implant was different from everyone else’s. She was an engineer and she specialized in communications tech. She had modified her implant to not only translate foreign languages but to also enhance audio and record it for later playback. Though witho
ut a computer to store the files, she didn’t think she’d be able to use the recording feature on Atera.
One of the groups of males at a nearby table discussed the human women in more detail than she’d like. She overheard one say, “I wonder what lies beneath their coverings. Do you think their bodies are like those of our females?”
His companion replied, “The goddess has blessed them with abundant gifts. They must have been sculpted to be pleasing to look upon.”
That had made Kalinda shiver and she pulled her tattered clothing tighter around her body. She still wore the same outfit she’d worn in the stasis pod and she considered it little more than pajamas—a light tank top and thin, generously cut pants. Meanwhile the Aterans wore little to no clothing and didn’t seem to have an ounce of modesty. She wanted to ask them for something clean to wear, but based on her observations, she doubted they’d have anything to offer. Most of the males she’d seen wore little more than leather belts and straps for their tools and weapons. Some of the females wore light, sheer fabrics, but they hid so little the women might as well have been naked.
She kept her head down and picked at her food, struggling to keep her worry at bay. Except the more she heard, the more she became concerned about her safety. None of the Aterans had been directly threatening, but… But every male seemed fixated on the human women. They spoke of their soft pink skin and the curves of their bodies. She didn’t like the idea that so many males obsessed over her body. It made her wonder if one of them would act on his urges.
Kalinda glanced at the others at the table. They spoke in hushed tones, whispering about the strange place they found themselves in and about their odds of getting rescued. She opened her mouth and then snapped it closed, swallowing her words before they could escape. She didn’t want to voice the thoughts that whirled in her mind.
Thoughts of escape.
She remembered the branching tunnels she’d spied on the way to the communal cavern. She had no idea where they led, but she needed to find out. It would be suicidal to simply run through the passages seeking escape, but she could start exploring. If she searched them, she might find an escape. Then she could gather the others so they could all find freedom.