Tracked on Predator Planet (Predator Planet Series)

by Vicky L. Holt.

“Very well,” Naraxthel said and moved back to sit beside his heart mate.

  The logical part of my brain suggested I should be appalled at this scenario. What if I had no interest in a permanent arrangement? And yet I knew that was ridiculous. I was very much interested. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment, but Hivelt had become dear to me. Precious.

  And then I realized I had just admitted to him that I was a cold-blooded killer. I made fists. I took deep breaths.

  What had he told me? I bore the wounds of those I killed?

  Yes.

  Every day.

  I sunk to sitting, removed my helmet, and bowed my head.

  Great Spirit, I began.

  Hivelt grunted and groaned as his tormented body thrashed beside me.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I concentrated harder. Great Spirit. A deep breath. Tears coursed down my face as I prostrated myself. It was foolish of me to pretend that You didn’t know I had defiled the bimaadiziwin, the Sacred Circle of life. I can never make amends. I can never repay. What am I to do?

  The Great Spirit didn’t say anything, but images of my father played out in front of my mind’s eye. His gnarled fingers holding a stone arrowhead while he pressure-flaked the edges, his rippling forearm muscles when he hefted logs, his furrowed brow when he stitched a sole with sinews, and his mouth always frowning in concentration, his eyes narrowed on his task. And yet I knew he wasn’t mad. Stern, yes. But I always knew he considered my instruction to be his calling in life. Even if it hadn’t been, it had been what he had chosen, and I could forgive him for all the rest because I knew he had loved me. I paused. What if …? What if I could be forgiven?

  I gasped and breathed in the mineral dust of the ground. Rolling over on my back, my head turned to see Hivelt’s contortions had also eased, yet he didn’t move. Trusting he was okay, I reached my hand to his and grasped it. A gentle pressure squeezed back.

  “Hivelt?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I stared at the sky, feeling the thrum of energy in my blood but letting my thoughts drift. I recalled watching Hivelt exercise brute strength and sheer force of will to pull my ship away from the cliff’s edge. That was the moment something had shifted inside me. I lay for a long time, reliving that moment.

  I drifted off to sleep.

  Kneeling before the Goddesses, my arms were lifted away from my body because my wrists were strapped with leather bindings. A cool breeze blew across my back. I looked up at the Goddesses, expecting anger. Condemnation. Lashes upon my back.

  “Why do you kneel there?” the younger, smaller female asked.

  “I killed,” I said, my voice stony. The well of my tears had run dry.

  “What are these bindings upon your wrists?” the elder one asked. “We did not put them there.”

  My brows arched in surprise. I looked to my right, noting the aged and brittle leather that banded my wrist. It was cracked. Ancient. And it was stamped with my own name.

  “Remove them,” she said. “Take them off, now.”

  I gasped and watched as the bindings fell away.

  “Now, stand before us like the Warrior we need you to be,” the Elder Sister Goddess said.

  I stood at once, and a scabbard appeared at my side.

  “The suns have set on that day,” the Younger Sister Goddess said.

  “When the suns rise again, we have a work for you,” they said in unison.

  I stared at them, trying to memorize their beauty.

  A roll of thunder shook my bones. The Thunderbird rose from behind the mountain top and descended in a flurry of golden feathers. He alighted on the Goddesses’ right.

  Mishibizhiw stalked from velvety curtains behind the Goddesses, prowled to their left, and sat, a bored expression in his leonine eyes. His tongue emerged and licked his entire scaly snout, and then he yawned, his formidable teeth gleaming in sunlight.

  My heart swelled to be in their presence. “I …” I couldn’t speak. I deserved to be buried under a mountain of rubble. What was I doing here, on a mountaintop, with Deity?

  Elder Sister Goddess’s voice was thunder. “Pattee Crow Flies!”

  I closed my mouth. A tear slipped out.

  She pointed to me and spoke. “You. Are. Loved.”

  I woke with a gasp, my eyes stinging and my heart pounding. Sweat coated my skin, and my eyes felt swollen from a long bout of crying, but my face was dry.

  Something tight clamped on my hand.

  Hivelt!

  He lay still, but his grip on my hand bordered on painful.

  I squeezed him back and pulled myself to sit near him.

  He didn’t move, but his chest rose and fell in even breaths.

  I looked over to Naraxthel and Esra.

  He paced with a glove up to his helmet. Perhaps he spoke with his brothers.

  Esra watched me, so I waved to her.

  She nodded.

  I put my helmet back on so we could speak in private.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey.”

  “You all right?” she asked.

  I exhaled. “I think so? That was scary. He’s okay, though, isn’t he?”

  “He is,” she said. “Naraxthel might say he’s better than ever. Tell me,” she said and paused. “Do you … are you uneasy? Unsure about the whole thing?”

  “Are you?” I asked her back.

  “We need a girls’ night out,” she said. “I have some baggage, and I think it’s fair to say you do too. But all the mistakes I’ve made in my life up to this point?” She waved her hand to indicate the planet, the sky, all of us. “I consider them the steppingstones I needed to tread to get here. I’ve never been surer of anything. I’m supposed to be here. With Red.”

  I looked at Hivelt’s helmet. I wanted to see his face with a yearning ache in my chest, but maybe he needed it a while longer. “I can’t explain it, but I am okay with this. With him. I just don’t know if he’s okay with me. I’m not the romantic type, you know?”

  “It’s just as well,” she said, deadpan. “A bouquet of flowers picked here would probably kill you.”

  47

  Wisps of a vision drifted from me, and a tether pulled me back to reality.

  Pattee’s hand.

  The burn of a thousand suns had crested my chest and split my spirit in two before the Goddesses had used a white-hot needle to stitch me whole with threads of fire thorns. The pain was gone, now replaced by a swell of gentle warmth, like the steam rising off a healing bowl of soup. It cooled in my breast then, a healing spill of water filling all the ragged tears and stitches until every trace of discomfort had evaporated.

  Pattee squeezed my hand and grounded me to the soil where I lay.

  Shaken, but acutely aware of what had happened, I drew out the moment before I would look at my heart mate with new eyes, knowing there would only ever be this first time. Reliving the separation of my heart and heart-home quickened my breaths. When I thought I would die endlessly, even within the walls of my dream place, Pattee would find me at every precipice and bring me back. Her strength, her bravery, her intelligence, her soul had dragged me back, and now I would follow her to the shadows of the Mountain of Eternal Death.

  I blinked in the light, questioning if she was beside me in truth or if I had imagined her hand.

  My eyes widened to see her, and I sat up.

  Her brows etched concern and her lips thinned, watching me like a rodaxl raptor.

  My heart beat a steady rhythm. All was well inside my body.

  Pattee looked frayed.

  “Did I frighten you?” I asked her, my voice gentle.

  “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “But fear forged becomes strength.”

  Ah. Not only was Hivelt’s heart mate beautiful and strong, but she was also wise. She would not delve into such an unknown wilderness without careful preparations. She may even try to run and hide. But I would find her. “I fear you will reject being my heart mate,
” I said. “This fear will embolden me to convince you.”

  “Then I will watch and wait for your efforts,” she said with a half-smile.

  I grinned, though she could not see it. I released her hand with reluctance and disengaged my helmet.

  I felt her silver eyes caress me. She reached a hand to touch my face, but I stopped it. “Allow me to have my ritual washing before you touch my filthy skin.”

  She raised a single brow. “You don’t look filthy.”

  “With my heart in the new place, I am a new Theraxl. I wish to cleanse the residue from my past life,” I told her, tugging her fingers with a slight pull. “After I am clean, I will begin my efforts in earnest.”

  She shivered before my eyes, and I detected a hint of morning dew. Good. The fragrance of arousal stirred my blood. She was not immune to Hivelt’s desire. Perhaps she would not run from me at all.

  I stood and found Naraxthel and Esra preparing a meal. “Have you spoken with our brethren?” I asked.

  “Yes. They took down a stray talajofal and are smoking the meat in preparation for our journey,” Naraxthel said. “They await us at Moon Shield, still.”

  “Good,” I said. “I must divert my path to the Cave of the Ancients.”

  Naraxthel nodded. He looked at Pattee. “Will you go with him?” he asked.

  Her eyes rounded and her cheeks darkened, but she recovered. “I will.”

  My smile grew wide. “You throw fuel on the forge fires,” I said, leaning close to her ear.

  She cleared her throat. “I do. But first, I expect you to tell me all about this place we’re traveling to.”

  “As you wish. Let us not delay.” I turned to Naraxthel, who handed us each a portion of sister bread. “We will catch up to you by nightfall.”

  “Very well. May the life of Shegoshel shine upon you and your offspring,” he said.

  “May the death of your enemies bring peaceful slumber,” Pattee spoke for me, her hand grasping mine. She and Esra shared a hand signal: making fists and touching knuckles.

  I hadn’t seen them do this before. It must be a traditional human greeting.

  We veered from the northward course to the east. I pointed out the mountains in the shape of the mud-beast’s back. “We travel to hills at the base of those mountains,” I said. “There is a Cave of the Ancients and a small body of water. I will complete my washings there.”

  I glanced at Pattee’s face; I could see that she mused about something with consideration.

  “Please ask me your question,” I said. “All that I have is yours, even my thoughts.”

  I liked seeing and smelling her skin fill with blood at my words. I would endeavor to cause this condition daily, now that she was my heart mate.

  “What does it mean to be a heart mate? You said your people hadn’t had them in hundreds of years.”

  “A fair question. The myths say that heart mates cannot be separated henceforth,” I said. “From the stories, I assume it means we travel together. Live together. And raise offspring together.”

  “What of your people? When they find out two of their mighty hunters have found heart mates among human women, won’t there be an upheaval? A social uprising, perhaps?”

  “I cannot see the future, but I know with certainty that the Ikma would prevent such knowledge from reaching the population. Doubtless she would accuse us of lying, and then proceed with raxfathe.”

  “What is raxfathe?” Pattee asked.

  “It is a disemboweling ritual. It is accomplished while the victim is kept alive by our Healers so they may watch the Ikma play with their entrails.” I clenched my teeth. It was a filthy ritual.

  “That’s, uh. Um,” she said but couldn’t finish her sentence.

  “It is barbaric,” I said. “It is why you will never leave Ikthe. I am pleased that you adapted so well to life here.”

  She laughed, but it was without humor. “If nothing else, I can make the best out of a situation in which I have no choice.”

  Her words lanced at my tender heart. Was she unhappy, then? To be chosen as a heart mate when she had not, in fact, been given a choice? I considered a jotik. Of course she had a choice. I would not club her over the head and drag her to my crumbling rainworm-infested cave. And she had chosen to come with me now.

  I remained silent. I marveled how her statement could have hatched a quarrel if I had been the kind of hunter prone to angry outbursts. “Have you more questions?”

  “I do, but I am trying to figure out which ones I should ask and which ones I should leave unanswered,” she said. “I hope you understand I am curious about you. About your culture, your planet, and your family.”

  “Hunters have no family,” I said. “But I am happy to answer all of your questions. Let us leave no cave unexplored.”

  “Your daughter is your family,” she said, looking ahead to the foothills. Her countenance shifted from light to heavy.

  Too late, I recalled her tales of growing up with not a mother or sister-clan, but a sire. A father, she called him. I frowned. “It is not our way, Joaxma.” I reached for her hand.

  She fiddled with her tool belt instead of holding my hand.

  I huffed and stared ahead. I tried to remember what Afarax looked like. Her name meant green gift. Her mother named her. “The mother and Afarax receive first bounty from my many hunts. They are well cared for.”

  “That is good.” She stole a glance at me, then looked away. “I am sorry. I, of all people, should know what it’s like to have one’s ways questioned and judged.” She gave a gusty sigh. “Do you miss her though? Your daughter?”

  My face heated. “I am sorry, Pattee. I did not think of her much until just a few days ago. When I realized my Ikma planned I would never see Ikshe again. In that tik, I thought of my Afarax and wondered who would provide for her. Who provides for any of the hunterless children? I have not questioned the ways of my people until this expedition.” I growled. “And now I find myself questioning all things.” I made fists. My boots fell with each step I trod. “Will you help me, Pattee?”

  She frowned. “What can I help you with?”

  “Help me to find a better way. A way that does not call for the raxfathe for any perceived enemy to the queen. A way that allows me to teach Afarax the ways of the Ancient Ones, much like your father taught you.” I stopped walking and faced her, removing my helmet.

  VELMA continued translating via Pattee’s helmet.

  Her brows wrinkled, and she blinked, a small frown on her face. “My people believe that all life is a sacred gift. Not only that, but that we are all connected,” she said. “The plants, the animals, the Earth … the planet … give us sacred gifts. It is our responsibility to receive these gifts.” She gestured all around us. “With thanks and gifts of our own. When I killed those men, I ignored the ways of my people. I took their lives in exchange for my anger. And when I came here, I was forced to kill again. This time, I tried to remember. I thanked the animals I hunted or trapped for the life they gave me. I did not take more than was necessary. And over time, I will make offerings to restore the things I took from the planet.” She searched my face. “I can’t tell you how to live. I can only share what I have learned in my life.”

  “Afarax was my gift, indeed,” I rasped. “But I did not receive her with thankfulness. I expected her as my rightful due as an Iktheka,” I said. “Truly, the Goddesses call Hivelt to repentance.”

  Pattee reached for my hand. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Here.” She grasped my hand. “I won’t withhold it again just because I’m troubled. I’ll never forget how you held me after I told you about my crimes.”

  My heart softened. Holy Goddesses. Is this feeling of tenderness how you feel about all your creation? My heart feels as though it will swell and burst. “Pattee,” I said. “When you arrived on my planet, you also became a new person. If you desire, you may join me in the ritual washings.”

  I studied the play of muscles under her skin. She consid
ered it, and a tranquility settled her features. She nodded and allowed a hesitant smile. “I will.”

  48

  We arrived at the Cave of the Ancients after the second sun dipped below its azimuth. I hadn’t known what to expect, but a cave veiled by a waterfall and a pool of turquoise water wasn’t it. Huge, ropy vines draped from towering trees, and lush greenery enfolded the pristine place in its bosom.

  “Hivelt, this is beautiful.”

  “It is.” He began removing his armor, piece by piece.

  The sight of the writhing tendrils roiled my stomach; I looked away, biting my lip. I had thought I was strong. These guys willingly allowed living things to bite and burrow into their skin every time they replaced their armor.

  “Pattee, a warning,” he said. He stood free of his armor, wearing a black mesh undergarment covering his pelvis and upper thighs, a sort of tight boxer brief.

  I tore my gaze away from the thousands of star-shaped scars that covered his skin from neck to feet.

  “Do not let the beauty of this place deceive you.” He pointed out the huge, pink blossoms that swayed from the breeze created by the waterfall. “Do not disturb the blooms. They have poison.”

  I blanched when I counted over a dozen of them in the foliage around the water.

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes, the bark of these red trees releases tiny fibers that work their way into the skin. They cannot be washed out; they dissolve over time, but it causes painful itching.”

  If I was worried Hivelt was going to try and seduce me during his “ritual washings,” I needn’t have. I could feel adrenaline rushing through my veins just by looking at the dangers he pointed out. I stood at the bank of the water, my bottom lip between my teeth. I felt vulnerable when fully suited and helmeted; he was expecting me to enter the water in my underwear.

  Hivelt walked in up to his waist with a handful of black leaves. He hummed and scrubbed himself with the leaves. They foamed into a soap. His eyes remained closed.

  I could have ogled him, but it seemed wrong. Instead, I stared at the water, the lifeblood of this planet full of predators.