“It’s very remote,” Zhoryan responded.
“It is, but as you see we still keep all the Xylan ways of civility. I have re-created a Xylan hunting lodge here, befitting any great House of Chronos. I have servants. I can teleport what I need. We are comfortable here.”
Zhoryan continued to eat. It was true. This meal was comparable to eating in the Hall at House Ulmath. “You don’t mind the silence? The lack of a Manager, or Champion. Of a Bride and offspring?”
Pyzon’s lips thinned. “None of those things appeal. I live for the hunt, and yet the form of hunting I was able to partake of within the rest of the four sectors had ceased to interest me. I found I could take down any beast. I’ve had the occasional broken bone attended to, but I always won. No animal was a challenge anymore, and hunting was beginning to bore me. Do you know that when some warriors lose the thing they value most in life, they fall apart? Some even take their own lives. So, as you can imagine, I did not want to fall apart. It was important that I found a new challenge, a reason for living.”
Zhoryan nodded, because yes, he knew exactly how important this was, and how shattering to the family left behind. His own father had once lost his reason for living, and as a result had taken his own life.
“I understand. So that was your reason for coming out here? To hunt in this setting and create a new challenge for yourself? How do you stock this island? What type of beasts are out there?” Zhoryan asked, wondering how he and the female had managed to avoid any of Pyzon’s deadly predators as they’d trekked to the compound.
“Oh, there is only one. I invented a new animal to hunt.”
“A new animal? How did you do that?”
“I thought to myself, what type of animal has the perfect attributes? An animal that is courageous and cunning—an animal that can reason.”
Zhoryan blinked. “There is no such animal.”
“But there is,” Pyzon smirked.
His mouth fell open. “You can’t mean…”
“And why not? This is the perfect hunt.”
“Hunting? Pyzon what you speak of is murder.”
Janet dropped a bone to her plate. “Murder?” she squeaked.
And there was silence in the great hall. The blazing fire in the hearth popped and hissed.
A muscle ticked in the General’s jaw. “I can’t believe someone as seasoned as you would maintain such old-fashioned ideas of honor.”
“Old-fashioned? I follow the Scales of Xylan Law and the Honor Code. Don’t you?”
“You seem to overly value the life of beings who aren’t Xylan.” And Pyzon glanced pointedly at the human.
Zhoryan’s claws fisted. A growl rumbled in his chest.
“See, you make my point. You are too embroiled in the dignity of other species to the exclusion of your own. Surely your experiences in the Xylan military have hardened you towards—”
“My experiences have not caused me to accept the murder of sentient beings.”
“Murder? There you go again, using that word. I am simply creating a new type of hunt, using a different game. In fact, why don’t you join me on the hunt tonight? I have a Creekan. He’s very a strong buck and will prove a good chase.”
“I refuse to hunt sentient beings.”
“How do you capture them?” Janet cut in, her eyes flashing with barely concealed rage. “How do you get these beings to this island and get them to join in as your game?”
Pyzon popped a rare Thern egg into his mouth, letting it melt on his tongue, then answered, “An ancient minefield surrounds this planet, and fortunately for me, it remains unknown to most of the four sectors, and it’s near a medium-usage shipping route.”
“Mines are illegal,” Zhoryan pointed out, “and should be identified and removed per Intergalactic space law.”
Pyzon shrugged. “I need those mines, so their continued placement is unavoidable.”
“Do you even follow the Scales of Xylan Law?”
“When it suits me.”
“This really is ‘Ship-Trap Planet’!” Janet exclaimed. “You allow ships to be caught in your minefield and then you invite the desperate survivors into your compound, and then…what, what do you do next?”
“I like to keep them well-fed and exercised. They are taken care of and in peak physical condition. I can take you there and show you my training school tomorrow. I have a whole crew there right now, in my cellars.”
The general waved to Ivan, signaling the final course. “It’s a game, you see. I suggest to one of them that we go hunting. I give him a supply of food and a good knife, and a three-hour head start. I follow with only the smallest caliber blaster. The being is given three diurnals to evade me. When dawn rises to begin the fourth rotation, and if they’ve managed to still avoid me, their time is complete, and they’ve won. And if they win, I will let them off this planet and return them to the nearest space station.”
“And if you win?”
“Well then, if I win then I finish off my prey.”
“What if someone says no?” Zhoryan asked. “What if one of the males you keep in your cells refuses to play your game?”
“It is unfortunate, but this does happen occasionally. It is then I give them a choice, they can either choose the hunt, or they can choose to go with Ivan. And Ivan was the executioner for the Royal family on Chronos.”
Right then Ivan came forward with a tray of Traq, dessert and more liquor and placed the delicacies in the middle of the table. Pyzon reached forward and poured himself a single claw of amber liquid.
“Has anyone ever won?” Zhoryan wanted to know.
“Not yet,” Pyzon commented. “I have won all of my hunts. But there were a few who proved exceptional sport. I had to bring out the hounds to help me in my search.”
“So the hunted gets a knife and a head start, and meanwhile you get a blaster and hounds. Sounds fair.” Janet commented, sarcasm bleeding through her tone.
“And now would the two of you like to see my other display of heads, in the library?”
Janet gasped. “Oh gods, you don’t mean…”
“No,” Zhoryan interjected. “No, we have no interest in your other display.”
Pyzon shrugged and delicately took a sip of five-hundred-year-old Sipperon. “Well then, I will have Ivan escort you to your room, for I am going hunting tonight. Too bad you can’t join me, maybe you’ll change your mind tomorrow?”
8
Janet threw down her napkin, her eyes blazing. “Don’t bother. We’re leaving.”
Zhoryan stood. “Excuse us,” he explained to the general, correcting the human’s faulty etiquette. “My human is exhausted from the crash. She needs rest.”
Janet meant well, but a diplomat she was not.
Zhoryan wrapped her napkin around his claw and grabbed her arm as she stood on shaky legs. He stared at her with a hard gaze, willing her to shut up and let him take over this charged situation. Her blue eyes flashed with rage fueled by inebriation, but her lips remained closed. Then he dragged her out of the hall.
“You’re going to miss good sport tonight,” Pyzon shouted after them. “Very good sport!”
Ivan waited in the hallway with a blaster tucked into his belt. The giant escorted them up the stairs and to their suite. Luckily, the female didn’t say a word. Although she didn’t need to, her bared teeth and sharp breaths clearly showed every emotion. He kept his hold on her arm, one thin layer of fabric between their bare flesh. Zhoryan dragged her into their room.
The door clicked shut behind them.
And then Janet whipped around, jabbing a finger in his face. “We have to get out of here,” she hissed. “That guy is fucking insane. I can’t believe you, being polite to that asshole. We can’t come back to this room like nothing happened! Like he isn’t going out there to murder someone tonight!”
“This is obviously not what I want either,” Zhoryan responded as he walked to the door and checked the lock, confirming they were again sealed in. “
But as of now we have no way out and have to play by Pyzon’s rules.”
“Why do we have to play by his rules? We can’t stay here,” she raged. “That crazy bastard is systematically destroying ships with that hidden minefield. And then he offers desperate beings refuge, only to take them prisoner. The only reason your ship made it out with just the two of us captured is because it’s a badass Xylan warship.”
This was true. In fact, he was disappointed his warship had been affected at all. Later he’d have to go over specs with his engineering team to find ways to upgrade the fleet so this situation never occurred again. He glanced around the room, calculating their circumstances, and found no escape—for the moment. “What choice do we have?” he asked, genuinely hoping she’d suggest a new solution.
“We…I…” she stuttered and looked around. He could see her calming down; logic and sobriety replacing blind emotion and inebriation.
“We can’t get out the door, it’s locked.”
“Well, what about…” And she raced over to the window, her purple dress flowing behind her legs. He joined her there and they both looked down the sheer wall to the courtyard below. A pack of muscular, four-legged animals moved about on the stone pavers down below. He exhaled, not at all surprised to find another layer of security. “They’re Gorgas,” he explained. “It’s a whole pack. They’re the finest hunting animals in the four sectors. A pack this large can easily take down a one-ton Manta.” The animals’ eyes silently glittered up at them in the moonlit darkness.
“There’s no way out,” she answered bitterly.
His claws fisted. “Not yet.” But he’d find a way. He was getting this female to safety if it was the last thing he did. He’d willingly go to the eternal fires knowing he’d returned her to her family.
She lifted her chin and met his gaze with those intense blue eyes—a color no one on Xylan possessed. She pursed her lips, still clearly annoyed with him. “When we were in the dining hall, why were you so polite to that guy? You found out he’s a murderer who uses that old minefield to trap ships. He rescues beings nicely, like he did with us, and then he locks them up in his dungeon and hunts them to the death. I thought right then you’d lose your mind and attack him, but you stayed polite, like you’re going to let him get away with it or something.”
A growl rumbled in his chest. He walked away, willing himself to not physically lash out at her for this insult, as he would another Xylan.
“Don’t make that sound at me. You’re the warlord who’s letting that guy get away with murder.”
“Are you insinuating that I have no honor?” he warned.
“Well…you’re not doing anything to the warrior who’s killing beings. Is this some weird Xylan loophole I’m unaware of? Is it okay for you to find out someone is a murderer and then let them get away with it?”
His nostrils flared. She no idea the weight of this insult. Literally no one had ever said this to him before, charging him with dishonor, because they knew—male or female—he would challenge that Xylan to an honor battle, immediately. And win. “I formally placed Pyzon’s honor before mine!” Zhoryan roared. “Did you hear what I said to him when we first arrived? I placed his honor before mine because it was the only way a warrior with a questionable background would’ve taken in an Imperial Warlord, and the only way for you to leave here without a single hair on your head touched. Because of this he is allowing our presence. It is the reason we aren’t in the dungeon with the others.”
She blinked. “Oh…but how did you know General Pyzon had a questionable background before you even met him?”
“Why else would a Xylan isolate himself from Chronos, in the middle of nowhere? And in the end, I was right. They are here to break the law in isolation.”
Janet sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, her hand over her stomach. “True. And he admires the fact that you’re some kind of fancy hunter, that would be another reason for taking you in.”
“Yes, there’s that.” He took a deep breath and placed a claw behind his neck. “To Pyzon my hunting status is more important than my position. But, because of my vow, I cannot reach across the table and tear his hearts out, even though he is an obvious lazhul. I am locked into the honor code during my stay in his compound.”
“Why can’t you go back on your vow?” she asked. “Aren’t these extenuating circumstances?”
He stared at her in shock, continuing to find other species and their lack of honor…disgusting. “No, I cannot. A Xylan never goes back on a vow that was made and accepted. It has never happened, in all of recorded history.”
She shook her head, muttering something under her breath he couldn’t understand. Then she asked, “Do you think he’s telling the truth? Is there really a two-day delay on the communication array?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Her eyes grew wet and she wrung her hands. “That warrior has a room where he mounts the heads of beings he’s killed. A whole room devoted to displaying and taking pride in his murders.”
His shoulders softened and he stepped over and sat down next to her.
“I’m worried we’re not going to make it off this planet alive and we’ll both end up with our heads on display in Pyzon’s library.”
He stared into her blue eyes. “I will get you off this planet if it’s the last thing I do.”
“I know you take your vow to Kayzon very seriously but—”
Surprise washed through him. He’d actually forgotten all about Kayzon—how his concern for this female was supposed to center on his vow to his friend.
And then she gagged. “Oh no.” Her eyes widened in shock and a hand flew to her mouth. She sprinted for the bathroom, not bothering to close the door. And he could hear her loudly vomiting up her entire meal. Again and again.
“Oh gods,” she moaned weakly. “I’m so sorry.”
He stood near the door to check on her status until he finally heard the flushing of the toilet, then he walked to the side table and poured a glass of water. He stepped into the open doorway of the bathroom and found her using the cleansing unit to wash her hands and face.
“Here.” He offered her the water. “Xylan ale is very strong. There is no shame in regurgitation after your first try. It happens to most warriors at their initiation.”
“Thank you,” she gasped, taking the cup and gulping down most of the contents.
“Now let’s get some sleep,” he said, guiding her out of the restroom.
“Sleep?” She blinked up at him. “How can I sleep knowing a Creekan is being hunted and murdered out there? Did you hear how Pyzon spoke of other species? He’s trying to act like the Hurlians are the xenophobes—meanwhile he’s the worst.”
“Pyzon is a Xylan without honor,” Zhoryan agreed. “A lazhul.”
“He’s a psychopath.”
“That too. But still, we need to recharge if we’re going to escape and free the other beings held captive on this planet. And I don’t think we will be disturbed. So, we must try to get even a small amount of sleep.”
She glanced around the room. “Okay…which side of the bed do you want?”
“I will sleep on the floor,” he responded.
“Are you kidding? The floor is cold stone. The bed is huge and soft. Just sleep on the bed with me. We can put pillows between the two of us if it makes you feel better.” And then she walked over to the dresser, opening drawers. “Aha!” She took out sleep clothing for herself. “I’m going to the bathroom to change. I’ll be right back.”
He shrugged, continuing to not understand why this female always tried so desperately to cover her nakedness while changing. As long as the skin wasn’t in proximity for touching, who cared? Avoiding nakedness was an unusual obsession of species who pleasure mated.
While she was gone he changed out of his borrowed suit and found the sleep pants selected for his use in the dresser. They were made of the finest fabric, very much like the ones he used while vacationing or visiting his h
ome compound on Chronos. He pulled on the pants and looked around for an accompanying sleep shirt and found none.
Of course.
The female returned from the bathroom and he sighed with annoyance. They’d again given her inappropriate wear, the type of skin-baring clothing mated couples enjoyed in their chambers with each other. But this was not the type of clothing an unmated Xylan would choose when in close proximity to other unmated warriors. The blue silky fabric barely covered her breasts and dropped to only just cover her ass. Her arms and chest were completely exposed due to the thin straps on her shoulders.
And they were going to have to sleep next to each other like this, both of them with their skin so completely exposed they might as well be naked.
This was basically the worst nightmare of the unmated.
She glanced over at him and stumbled mid-step, her eyes hungrily roaming up and down his naked chest and thin pants. The delicate smell of her arousal wafted in the air.
A growl rumbled in his chest. He was so not ready for this.
She gave him a rueful smile, shook her head and continued forward. She placed a line of black pillows on the bed between them as a barrier. It was satisfactory.
“Come on,” she said, climbing into the bed and slipping under the sheets, pulling the fabric firmly up to her chin. “See, it’ll work.”
He gave a curt nod and lay down on the other side, still tense.
Zhoryan's Game Page 6