A Mate for Oigr

by S. J. Sanders

  Setting coordinates for Vrol, Oigr leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He would need what little rest he could find before he arrived home.

  Chapter 9

  AS DEENA WOKE, HER eyes felt heavy and she had terrible cottonmouth as if she’d enjoyed a blunt before going to bed. That didn’t sound right; she hadn’t smoked in years. Sticking out her tongue, she grimaced and pried her eyes open.

  She needed to get up and get some water.

  Groaning, she pushed herself up onto her elbows.

  “Here, careful now,” a soft voice whispered.

  A dull ache rushed behind her eyes and she closed them against the lighting in the room, her face scrunching up.

  “Your head must hurt. The translator was just put in a few hours ago, and the medic did say you might have a headache when you woke. This may help.”

  Deena felt a warm band sweep past her face and immediately the pain faded.

  She opened her eyes fully to see red stone walls lit with gentle lighting. Heavy tapestries hung on some of the walls, depicting what seemed to be various strange beings. An angular face similar to Oigr’s in shape, but far more delicate and lacking tusks, leaned in toward her.

  Pale yellow eyes peered at her with interest. Deena didn’t have any idea who her visitor was, but it was clear she was a Vrooduk female. She returned the curious stare as they examined each other. Deena had never put much thought into what a female Vrooduk would look like, but she wouldn’t have thought of this.

  Unlike the males, the female had a willowy built with wide, elfin eyes, and didn’t have any hair at all on her head or along her bare arms. It seemed that the bristles were, like the tusks, dimorphic characteristics attached to the males. It was quite alien for her when human culture tended to obsessively connect hair with femininity.

  Everything came to a grinding halt. Wait. This was definitely not her house, so where exactly was she?

  A cool cup of water was placed at her lips, and Deena drank it greedily. Her throat still felt dry but it helped enough that she could talk without sounding like she was talking through gravel.

  “What’s going on?”

  The female frowned, her brow dipping in confusion.

  “Going... on?”

  Communication was obviously going to take a bit more work than she thought. Oigr had understood many of her colloquialisms with such ease that she didn’t even think that others would struggle to understand her meaning.

  She licked her parched lips and smiled hesitantly.

  “Let’s try this again. Who are you? Where am I?”

  The Vrooduk’s lips broke into a wide smile.

  “I am Veenagoral, sister of Malefekoigr, he who is magved of the Wilip Caravan.” She paused and scrutinized Deena thoughtfully. “You likely call him Oigr, yes? You must call me Goral, naturally. You are in one of our principal cities, Dormgal.”

  Deena let out a sigh. That confirmed her suspicions.

  “I’m on Vrol, then.”

  It was a statement. Not a question. Goral gave her a sympathetic look.

  “Indeed, you are on Vrol, the land of sands.”

  “Can you tell me why I’m here? Did Oigr arrange this?”

  A flush of anger and betrayal filled her at the thought of him arranging her kidnapping—and by an asshole who obviously hadn’t wanted the job. To her relief, Goral shook her head and lifted her four hands in entreaty.

  “No, it is not so.” She leaned forward, her face a mask of contempt. “It was our cousin, Elglor. He has always been jealous of Oigr.” Goral’s face fell, marked by sadness. “When my father unexpectedly passed on to dwell among the ancestors, he petitioned to lead the caravan as my brother chose exile.

  “No one expected Father to die. He was as strong as always, and a good leader. To lose him so soon was a blow to us all. Then Elglor makes his demands before even a moon cycle has passed as the caravan is grieving. He said that it was his right by bloodline to lead the caravan.”

  “But why was Oigr exiled?” Had she opened herself up to someone who might truly have a questionable character? It didn’t seem like that, the way his sister had been so quick to reject any idea of trickery on his part when it came to her own situation. But exile? She didn’t want to believe that he could be capable of something so terrible to earn him that punishment. Oigr was a bit gruff, but he had a giving spirit.

  Goral huffed a bitter laugh. “To understand the reason, you must realize that Vrol is an unforgiving place. It is a hard life for us here, and so we keep to ourselves. Our gods designed us to be few and adapted well for life here. Sometimes this makes some among us believe that no one else should be on Vrol but the Vrooduk.”

  Suddenly, all the pieces fit together. Oigr’s decision he had to make, the cry of a babe.

  “He left, didn’t he?”

  Goral nodded.

  “He did. As son of the chieftain, he was responsible for our relationship with traders who came to deal goods among us. He developed a great friendship with an Indivi trader. The last time the trader visited, he had with him a small male, very young. I believe only two or three revolutions. The trader’s mate had died in a great plague that swept over their planet. His sorrow weighed heavy on him throughout his time on Vrol, but worse, his ship was attacked soon after he left. We don’t know all the details, but we do know that before he died, he managed to reset the coordinates to return the ship, and his orphaned son, to Vrol.”

  “What happened?”

  Goral shook her head. “My memory is... vague. I was quite young still at the time—I’d only seen eight revolutions—but I remember my brother holding the youngling and arguing with our father. The people, you see, would never accept an offworlder among us. The people say those who are not of Vrol are rejected and consumed by Vrol.”

  “So, it was a choice... Care for the baby or remain.”

  “My brother was the heir of our caravan’s chieftain and he chose to go into exile so that he could care for his friend’s youngling. He took his private ship and left us. I never saw him again,” she finished.

  Deena fell silent. Oigr had shouldered the responsibility of another’s wellbeing for years and paid the price of being separated from his people for it. It was unbelievable—and it was honorable. Sacrifices such as that were rare, but it fit with what she’d come to know of Oigr in their short time together much more than the paranoid workings of her mind just minutes earlier.

  “If Oigr went into exile, why did your cousin come after him?”

  Goral laughed.

  “For all his planning, Elglor hadn’t anticipated that the spirits would prove to be an obstacle to his leadership. It has been many generations since they have objected to decisions made for the caravan, especially in matters of succession. The high spirits of Vrol said he would not be chieftain until he earned the right from Oigr. That Oigr was the way of succession.”

  “So he came to Earth, hunting for Oigr, and when he couldn’t find him, he took me.”

  “That is accurate. I am surprised, however. Elglor has neither patience for offworlders nor kindness in his heart toward females. To speak the truth, I do not know how his mate tolerates him. I would have expected him to kill you to provoke Oigr into returning to get his vengeance.”

  “But why me? I’ve only known Oigr for a day.”

  Goral’s brow rose. “You must be passing through the courtship rituals far quicker than custom allows on Vrol.”

  “That’s the second time someone’s mentioned courtship rituals, but I don’t understand what you’re talking about at all.”

  “You know nothing?” Goral gaped.

  Deena shook her head.

  The other female pursed her lips. “He must not have considered that you would not follow similar rituals. We do not have a lot of experience with outsiders, and though he has been in exile for a long time, he may not have attempted courtship despite the many revolutions that have passed. That is the only explanation I can think of.”r />
  “I’m under the impression that he more or less lived for his charge.”

  “Yes, that sounds like Oigr. He was always fiercely protective. How I missed him when he left.”

  A loud, deep voice boomed through the house. “Goral? I am home, love. Is the female awake?”

  A delighted smile crossed Goral’s face as she called back.

  “Yes, she is awake. We are speaking of Oigr. Join us, Melglog.”

  A giant male stepped into the room, ducking his head to clear the beam of the doorway. He stood close to a foot taller than Oigr, with a slightly thicker torso. He beamed in such a friendly manner at Deena, that she couldn’t resist returning the smile.

  “Greetings, Oigr’s female. I am Melglog Veena. I am pleased to see that you have awakened. I knew that Goral would take better care of you than the females Elglor wished to leave you with in the female compound.”

  “Female compound?” Deena asked in disbelief.

  Melglog and Goral exchanged a look.

  “Among the Vrooduk, our settlements are arranged into three regions. This was suggested by a seeress, generations ago. It promotes peace among our people where there was once chaos and bitter competition, especially when it comes to mating, since our kind breeds fewer females than males. A natural population control for our planet, from what I understand. Unmated males and females dwell apart in their own compounds when they come of age, and the third is the family compound where you are now. Social interactions are regulated by the respective families and through social protocols.”

  It sounded just shy of Victorian in Deena’s opinion, but if it worked to keep the peace, she could understand why they adhered to such strict structures.

  “Thank you. I certainly appreciate you taking me into the comfort of your home, though it violates your customs.”

  Melglog shrugged. “Goral is the sister of Oigr. It was her right to petition to serve as your host as Oigr once served for visitors to our planet. The elder seeress confirmed her right and you were transported to our home immediately.”

  “It is an honor to host Oigr’s female.” Goral couldn’t contain her pride.

  “Thank you,” Deena said. She still didn’t understand the whole courtship process or the rules governing it that suddenly had the Vrooduk seeing her as his female, but she decided not to object. “I am Deena.”

  “Malefekdeena,” Melglog said with a small bow.

  A flush spread over her cheeks.

  “Just Deena. The thing between Oigr and I is...” her mind circled trying to find the correct word “...a bit of an unknown.”

  Goral smacked her mate on the arm.

  “She knows nothing of our ways. Humans do not have the courtship rituals that the Vrooduk do.”

  The male stared at her askance. “But how do they know when their mating bond is established? How do they harmonize their spirits?” He fastened his eyes on Deena as if hoping to root them out from her.

  Deena squirmed under that penetrating golden gaze.

  “I don’t know. I mean, we go on dates, spend time together, and just hope we click, I guess.”

  They seemed to pity her, but then Goral let out a gusty sigh and grinned.

  “Do not worry. You are with a Vrooduk male now. You will see,” she said with a small wink. “No one would have believed that Melglog and I would mate, with him coming from an esteemed lineage of starship builders for Vrol rather than from warriors as is the custom. All the males laughed at his courtship efforts, but then I was laughing at their looks of dismay when he and I harmonized. When you harmonize with Oigr, you will know.”

  “Why? I mean, does it do something to me?”

  Goral patted her hand in a sisterly fashion.

  “You feel closer to them, but really how it strengthens is up to you, and if it thrives is also up to you. Harmonizing of souls is not once and then done. It is a constant dance between two beings.”

  “That sounds... beautiful,” Deena admitted. She let herself imagine how life would change if she and Oigr harmonized as Goral said. Shame filled her that she even considered such a thing. If they harmonized and became mates, he would once again be forced to choose between his home and her. She was an honored visitor, a guest, but she would never be welcome on Vrol. He had the opportunity, now that the child he raised was grown, to take his place once more among his people and lead them as he was always meant to do.

  A loud boom of lightning interrupted her reverie and she nearly jumped from the bed. Goral placed a calming hand on her arm.

  “That sounded a bit close,” Deena joked nervously.

  Goral nodded.

  “It is almost the festival of spirits. Our people will soon honor the wild spirits of Vrol as the season of storms comes upon us. We give offering so that their lightning shall not burn our homes, nor the sandstorms sweep through our cities. We also propitiate the spirits of the dead so they do not seek mischief upon us during this time. It is a very dangerous time as well as an auspicious one.”

  Deena shivered. It reminded her of Halloween just as Oigr had insinuated, yet there was something about it that seemed to have more teeth to it. Something about the raw savagery of the planet from her dream and by the ominous words of Goral earlier. Vrol consumes. Surely their spirits would too if given the chance.

  The other female set a hand upon hers.

  “Come. You can assist me. We will see to the protection of the house. If the spirits wish to bark at us, then we will send out power to make them flee.”

  She winked and pulled Deena up, and led her through the house until they reached another room with no furniture except for several tables that reminded her of her ritual space. Melglog had chosen not to accompany them.

  Reaching inside a chest, Goral removed what seemed to be an effigy with a terrifying face. The body seemed stuffed with rough fibers, but the face itself was hollow. Goral removed the top of its head and set it aside as she opened another box at the corner of what Deena could only assume was her altar. From this box, Goral pulled out a wick and a lamp. She set these on the table between them and stepped away to retrieve a metal container with a spout.

  “The old ways work best for the magic,” her companion whispered. “Some magic is not quite so temperamental, but when dealing with this, we take special care.”

  Goral poured oil from the silver container into the lamp as she intoned her prayer. Deena felt the energy rise around her as the spell began to manifest. Suddenly, she reached forward and gripped each of Deena’s hands in her own, her pale-yellow eyes burning with power. Deena could feel the rush as if it were running through her like a living conduit.

  “Your power to mine, our power joined. We drive away the darkness that the spirits may invite. We set the blaze of our sanctuary and illuminate the night.”

  Deena felt the power surge within her as it passed from Goral to her and back again. She added her voice and the words layered in a complex vibration, raising the hairs on her body as the power circled again. They repeated the spell and it rushed through them, compressing and expanding. Goral’s free hands threw herbs on a metal disc that heated the material, releasing streams of smoke. The spicy scent was unidentifiable and yet seemed to do its part to charge their magic further. The metal lamp between them seemed to take on a sheen, and Deena watched as Goral’s free hands ignited a flame on the lamp.

  The power pulsated with enough force that Deena felt blown back on a psychic level. She stared in awe at the flame that Deena lifted and placed within the head of the effigy before sealing it again. Its menacing smile was lit up in a fashion eerily like a jack-o’-lantern, yet more twisted and somehow more horrendous. Perhaps more suited to driving away the spirits of this world than the whimsical faces that often decorated so many pumpkins at home.

  She watched as Goral picked up the solid effigy and followed her out of the workroom. Melglog was waiting just outside the door and relieved his mate of her burden, pressing a kiss to her temple before continuing ahead o
f them to the front of the house. He sat the effigy on a small table to glare menacingly toward the door.

  For the first time, Deena realized that there were no windows. There was only the door. That seemed at once both logically unsafe—what if there was a fire?—and strangely comforting. Standing around it, Goral passed offerings before it that Melglog handed her and before long the table was heaped with sharp-smelling cheeses, discs of what smelled like incense, loaves of thick bread, and woven banners that bore a language she couldn’t read, likely the markings of a spell in the Vrooduk tongue. In a beautiful glazed bowl, there were various small cake-like objects.

  Goral, seeing Deena’s interest, took two small cakes from the nearby serving plate and handed one to her. Deena watched as Melglog took another while his mate spoke sweetly.

  “We entice the spirits to part with us on good terms. The effigy protects our house and keeps them from their mischief, but we give them lipsom cakes, special sweets that we make to share with them that feed our souls and theirs.”

  Deena watched as the Vrooduk pair brought the cakes up and ate them, and then followed suit. The cinnamon-honey flavor of the glazed pastry hit her tongue with undertones of what tasted almost like cardamom and nutmeg. She finished it in three bites, licking her lips with satisfaction.

  Goral giggled. “You enjoy lipsom like any Vrooduk. Are you sure humans are not kin of ours, maybe in some far-gone time before time?”

  Deena blushed and shrugged. “There are some speculations about human origins from the stars, but I can’t say for sure.”

  Her new friend hummed and inspected her. “Other than the strange hair, your coloring, slight size, and your odd lack of arms, you do bear a close resemblance to us. Fascinating.”

  The wind outside the door chose that moment to howl as lightning continued to crash in the near distance. Goral drew her brightly embroidered shawl around her.