Another nod, but this one was accompanied by a disgruntled huff.
A Verak male with chubby cheeks and a bouncing gait wheeled a trolley onto the balcony. ‘Good Greetings, Great Lady. First meal as ordered.’
‘Thank you. Leave it there, and we’ll serve ourselves. How is your mother?’
‘She grieves my brother, but is soothed by the knowledge he died saving so many of the young ones.’
‘He was a fine male and a fierce Paladin. Tell your mother he is in the Great One’s thoughts.’
‘Gratitude for your kindness.’ He bowed. ‘Good Parting.’ He left.
Fergie ran back to her bedroom and came back with a paper-thin learning tablet. She scrambled back onto my lap, hitting me in the boob with an elbow.
Activating the screen, she opened her education program to show me the progress she’d made during her studies.
The holograms projected into the air included audio cues she mimicked and matched to the Verako and Rä glyphs and the Latin alphabetical languages of Gaelic and English. They were arranged in abecedarian sequence to help my adorable polyglot keep the four languages separate in her head. The order in which she was given a glyph or a word was random, strengthening her ability to call on all four languages concurrently. It meant, however, in day to day conversation she’d begun to switch language mid-sentence. Her tutors assured me as she grew older she’d recognise the need to stick to one language depending on the circumstances. I’d thought she was a genius until I learned Verak cubs spoke dozens of languages with native fluency by the time they reached maturity.
They only used temporary translators for newly discovered words or a sub-dermal device like I wore for those they struggled to pronounce. Even then, after a period of time, they learned the new language that stymied them at exceptional speed.
Beowyn assured me Verak were less intellectually gifted than they were physically, but judging by the technology and natural mental acuity in comparison to humanity, I disagreed.
‘Mankind is young,’ he said. ‘It needs time to evolve before venturing further into the distant reaches of space. In this the Premier is correct.’
I thought if he considered the Verak to be the less intelligent of the known species that Earth was in serious trouble.
We couldn’t compete with the military power of the warrior races and came nowhere near the mental strength of the others. The only area I saw humans outstripping the rest was our capacity to inspire deep and lasting emotional connections.
What kind of advantage that gave us over raw power and superior technology I had yet to discover.
Patrick shared my concerns, especially with the war against the Azteka to come. He’d been like a bear with a sore paw having to accept my “charity” until he’d begun drawing a wage as the Sentinel.
The argument he and Beowyn had over the topic of funds had been hilarious once over but annoying while happening. It occurred over breakfast, and they spent a half-span yowling like cave-dwelling barbarians.
‘You will keep your credits for your House. It will take aeons for you to accumulate enough interest so you can stipend descendants without decreasing your overall worth. You oversee the eastern territories and cannot afford to be seen as weak in any capacity, or it will set off dominance challenges, and the minor alphas are still recovering. I will not have the balance upset because of your pride. That is that.’ Beowyn jabbed a claw at him. ‘I am done with this matter. Do not test me.’
Patrick shot me a fuming look but kept his mouth shut. He slipped a card from his pocket and held it up between two fingers. ‘I was going to invite you to be my plus one to this party, but I think I’ll take your husband instead.’
Éorik glanced at the invite thrown his way. He shook his head. ‘I decline.’
‘Ach, come on. Rowan and Aled turned me down too. It’s Wulfyn. I thought you were friends?’
‘Of a sort. DarkEye is closer to Owyn, of course, being of distant relation.’ He scooped up a spoonful of the salty seaweed grain he preferred over the sweet pastries Beowyn gobbled by the half dozen. ‘I cannot go because I promised my One I would no longer attend such functions without her.’
‘Even if only to watch,’ Beowyn said around a sticky mouthful.
Patrick’s face screwed.
‘It’s an orgy.’ I sipped from my shallow cup of citrusy tea, flicking through the news feeds on my SonCom. ‘You should probably know that. You said last week Wyrhild is getting possessive, right? She might not take kindly to hearing of you tomcatting it at one of Wulfyn’s feasts.’ I arched my eyebrow. ‘They’re infamous.’
Beowyn grinned, reminiscing. ‘Unforgettable.’
I’d thrown a sugared lump of fried dough at his fat head.
Squealing, Fergie copied me.
‘Oh, no you did no, young lady.’ I took away her sweet privileges for the day. ‘I warned you before about throwing food at the table.’
She looked at me, aghast and accusing. ‘Ye did it first.’
I spent the rest of the day explaining why she had to do as I said not as I did.
‘That’s no fair,’ she wailed. She pouted, and her voice lowered, tone becoming lofty and growling. ‘But you are unreasonable.’
I’d twisted to my husband with a moue. ‘God, she sounds just like you.’
Beowyn had preened.
This interlude resulted in me explaining to Fergie what the phrase “double-standard” and the word “hypocrite” were–why they did not apply to me because I was the mother and she the child. When she didn’t immediately agree with me, I hyperventilated, then had to explain to my husbands why I was in such a state. ‘The next thing I know, she’ll be sixteen and be telling me to go fuck myself.’ I’d called Aled for advice, but he’d listened with half an ear, absorbed in plans to open his own restaurant and too busy to do more than, ‘Um,’ and, ‘Ah,’ down the frequency at me. I couldn’t get a hold of Rowan at all. He flittered from atoll to atoll trying out hobbies from volcykle racing to the native Verak contact sport Volant. My last resort had been a trip to visit my uncle, who made a slow but impressive recovery. Unfortunately for me, I came to call during the favourite part of his week when he received a comm call from Venomous. The Rä sat enraptured while my Uncle stared with blind eyes at the screen and ignored me and my woes to spit random nonsense the warrior soaked in like gospel.
Fergie patted my cheek, scowling.
‘Sorry, wee bit. My mind wandered.’ I rubbed her chubby arms. ‘You’re doing so well. I’m proud of you.’
She beamed and moved to her own chair to attack her breakfast.
Disturbed air and the aniseed scent of my husband proceeded his strong arms around me. His bare stomach warmed my head and neck.
I tipped my head back to accept a kiss he took liberties with, plunging his barbed tongue into my mouth and raking his teeth against my bottom lip, causing a delicious sting.
‘You smell delicious.’ He rumbled happily. ‘You smell like mine.’
‘Good Rising, Da.’
Beowyn released me and turned with a soft look of love. ‘Good Rising to you, my sweetling.’ He sat at the table next to Fergie and helped sweeten her grains and pour her juice. During her happy babbling, she extracted a promise for swimming later in the day.
She had him wrapped around her little finger, and rather than begrudge it, he delighted in it. It was slow going, but Beowyn was finally learning how to moderate his gift giving. Teaching him how to reward his daughter in a non-disastrous manner had become a priority after the “incident”. I’d walked into my daughter’s bedroom and found it filled to the rafters with noisy, shiny toys of every colour, shape and description. Most were of such alien design, I had no earthly idea what they were or if they were appropriate.
‘What is all this?’ I’d bobbed and weaved my way through the childish fantasy of mounds, towers and rows.
Hovering at the threshold of the jam-packed room, Éorik had winced, shooting me a look of apologetic
sympathy that made my teeth grind.
Beowyn had propped his fists on his hips, proudly overseeing his handiwork. ‘My cub’s naming day gift. She wanted all the toys in the world, and I agreed. We had to put the rest in thirteen of the guest apartments, but she can tell a servant to go find whatever it is she wants from them whenever she likes.’
I didn’t know where to start.
He’d cocked his head at the expression of utter horror sliding onto my face. ‘Do not worry. She deserved them because she was a good girl.’
At this ludicrous justification of his actions, I’d stared, mouth agape. I exploded. ‘Have you lost your mind?’
Fergie chose that moment to run past in her nightclothes.
Jangling, glittery sticks were clutched in her pudgy fists as she screamed her unadulterated joy, a slightly unhinged gleam in her eyes.
Resolving that mess had taken years off of my life.
Éorik stepped out into the balcony.
Freshly washed and dressed, his white hair appeared grey where wet.
He braided the silky mass into a coil that snaked over his shoulder and down his armoured front. I’d yet to see him in anything other than his leather armour or naked. Both suited him well, so I doubted I’d ever complain.
He pressed a kiss to Fergie’s curls, then nuzzled Beowyn’s pointed ear.
They drifted together and soon were moaning and panting, gripping each other at the nape, mouths duelling for supremacy.
Blushing, I swotted Beowyn’s firm backside. ‘No in front of the baby.’
Releasing Éorik, who came to me for a sweet brush of the lips, Beowyn grinned, unrepentant and rubbing his beard as he watched Éorik try to coax me into returning to bed.
They laughed at my disgruntled expression, knowing damn well I was hellaciously busy that day but now wanted to crawl into bed with them until the sheets were damp, and the three of us were sticky and tangled in sated exhaustion.
‘You read the Guardian’s report?’ Éorik asked. ‘I know you have spoken to the Sentinel. Are you ready?’
‘Another moontide.’ I glanced at Fergie and tried to burn the memory of her just as she was into my brain. Smiling. Healthy. I’d need it for what was to come. ‘I need more time.’
He squatted. Taking my hand, he brought it to lay over his heart. ‘Stay.’ His face was solemn, eyes swirling with emotion. ‘I will go to Earth and be your sword. Stay here with our husband and our cub. I will go with a legion and take as many people who wish to be saved. I will bring them here. Your species will live on, free, happy.’ He exhaled. ‘Safe.’
I dug my fingers into the toughened leather over his broad chest. ‘Would you let someone else fight for Vayhalun while you hid? All the while knowing it was your fault it was in danger?’
‘This is not your fault,’ Beowyn said.
‘It’s not Lumen’s fault either. She’s fighting for what’s right too, and I know she’s out of her mind with fear.’ I didn’t think she would ever be okay after seeing Venomous at the mercy of the First. I shook my head. ‘I have to go. Our leaders won’t listen if you show up and command them to submit to your leadership.’ Even if it meant their survival, the governments of Earth would see them as a threat not realising the real threat was coming to destroy them. I let out a harsh bark of laughter. ‘They’ll try to capture you or kill you. What they will never do is believe you.’
‘Even if the numbers of Horde are as few as we speculate,’ Beowyn said, ‘unless the Rä send their warriors we will not be able to hold back the Horde.’
When I first explained I would be returning to Earth to warn them of the invasion I suspected Her Bhyr planned, they had explained to me in horrifying detail the strength of the Horde and educated me in the past wars the Aztekan species had fought in.
In all accounts, whenever the Horde appeared, there was death of such magnitude it was claimed by the Intergalactic Alliance over a score of extinct species was due to their merciless, uncompromising war art.
My husbands wanted me far from Earth. They had forbidden me to go.
I had gone to Patrick, told him what I was doing, and he’d run interference, taking my side and requesting volunteers from his territory to undertake the journey back to our birth planet.
Wyrhild had taken one look at Patrick and offered us whatever we needed. Wulfyn had been more hesitant.
During one of our clandestine meetings where we’d argued for his support, he’d held Fergie, and in that instant realised the extent of the damage to be inflicted.
He’d offered his help.
With three Great Houses leading the peacekeeping effort, many lower Houses offered assistance by way of ships, munitions and fighters.
The King and High Commander had been furious, but what Patrick and I had done was lawful, an act they could not intervene in without far-reaching political repercussions as well as undermining my newfound authority, something they’d spent copious amounts of time cultivating.
That did not mean they refrained from raking me over the coals in private.
‘You went behind our backs.’ Beowyn was so angry the skin around his mouth and eyes was white with strain. He’d heard rumours of my secret meetings from one of the lesser House leads who’d lost his nerve. He then told Éorik, and they’d dragged me from lunch with Anja–one of my principal conspirators–to confront me.
Éorik had paced our balcony. He slammed a fist to the railing before spinning to me. His handsome face was drawn and dark. ‘This is the kind of marriage you want? Secrets and lies?’
‘You forced my hand.’ I’d stood trembling, arms tight around my middle. ‘You wouldn’t listen. I can’t turn my back on where I came from. I would never ask that of you if the situation was reversed. How dare you ask it of me.’ I cut a hand through the air. ‘You know how that day has tortured me. I had to do it with or without you. You made it clear it was without you, so….’ I made a flippant gesture, which set them off again. We’d argued all night but come the first sunrise they were with me.
Leaning over I pressed my forehead to Éorik’s. I smiled when he sighed, and Beowyn growled in response. I didn’t quite get why he found it so arousing, but I did find it unbearably endearing. ‘We can do this. Trust me.’
‘If anything happens to either of you, I will not be pleased.’
Beowyn snorted. ‘As if our Royal Defender would allow it.’ He stretched out on a lounger to crunch his candied breakfast meat, humming to himself as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Leaving me with a scorching kiss to the lips, Éorik moved to sit between his cocked legs, accepting bites of food and discussing his duties.
Tipping my face into the breeze, I luxuriated in the sloppy sounds of Fergie’s chewing, Beowyn’s snarky observations of the lower Houses and Éorik’s low, rumbling laughter.
I let my mind tumble over my plans for the day, picking at my breakfast.
Beowyn sat beside me to caress my cheek. Hand settled in a proprietary fashion on my nape, Éorik stood behind us. His face tipped down to fuss at Fergie for throwing her food at the birds.
Lumen had been right. Nowhere was perfect. My life wasn’t perfect.
Perfection could kiss my skinny, freckled ass.
Oda rose over Vayhalun, brilliant in her fiery glory.
‘Lah,’ Beowyn murmured, ‘but I feel the Ancestors.’
I smiled as my eyes closed. I saw them. They ringed a Highland Brae, Calluna at the knee. Skirl rung the air, and rebellion stirred their hearts.
My spirit cried out with the ghosts of my kinsmen.
Freedom.
Then
Screaming, bloated stomach and loins awash with clotted blood, the vessel convulsed. Cocked legs sprawled, spidery toes twitched. Lifeless voids stared into the underworld.
Slimy offspring cut from its carcass was stillborn.
Erd Oğan grabbed his breeder by the ankle and pulled it from the frozen plinth. Its skull cracked against the rough ground then split. S
teaming grey matter smeared across the ice as it was dragged outside and tossed onto a pyre.
The bitter disappointment that was its legacy joined it.
Hel Bhyr–Avatar of Destruction and First of the Horde–crushed the prayer beads he’d stroked in his fist.
Another female dead. One of the last, and no babe.
Glowing torches pierced the gloom of the cavern. Modern crafts were not welcome in the holy cradle. They made do with tools from ancient epochs.
Pillars of black ice carved with runes of power and archaic incantations sparkled as they chilled the mineral-scented air. Flowstone reached gnarled claws from the crystalline overhangs to the hunched, blue-skinned backs chanting prayers on the frozen bed.
Warriors knelt between quartzite karst, prostrated beside mirrored pools of water disguising bottomless sinkholes, and squatted next to gravity-defying helictites, translucent formations that grew so large as to be razored columns.
Brushing dust from his palm, the First turned to address the gathering that bore witness to the failure. He raised a fist. ‘Another son lies breathless. Another son joins Him before his time.’
Thwacking their broad chests, the males grunted. Storm-grey ovals beamed from ursine, brutish faces that had known nothing but war and hardship, a gift to the male blessed with His mighty fury. One softness embraced was a frantic season of rutting into their chosen vessels. Horde seed used to take root. Creation would bless them with sons or curse them with daughters. No more. As the aeons passed less offspring survived to adulthood, then less and less survived birth until almost none survived past planting. Hel Bhyr himself had never taken a vessel. It had not been time, but now he reached the middle of his life cycle, and there was no choice. He had gone to the farms. He had looked inside the pens at the emaciated, decrepit females he was expected to breed the new Avatar upon and had recoiled. He sought a solution. Verak controlled their fertility and would never accede to Sacrifice after birth. The Baxnonians were revolting. Promiscuous. Weak of spirit. He would not contaminate Horde so. Rä matured only for their biological match, so were useless to them. For this endeavour, he admitted to himself the warrior race would have been the favoured choice. Other species on the Register could not procreate with the Azteka. They could not sustain Horde seed within their bodies or died while a warrior rammed into their juices. All seemed lost. Then the human was found by the Avatar of Zython and hope stirred in his breast. There was the solution. Humans. He had been unable to access She, Lumen of the Stars without revealing their looming extinction, but the Verak King had found his One, also a human. Hel Bihter–thought lost to Horde–gained access to the Queen’s cadre, and though the male had changed after his exposure to the human Queen in a way Hel Bhyr could not quite understand, he was no fool. It was a sign. It had been easy to press them to give him what he wanted.
ThunderClaw: Science Fiction Romance (Alien Warrior Book 2) Page 53