It'd be easier. A deep lethargic urge to just not move pulls me down, roots me in place. So easy to just stay right here, wallowing in the loss of everyone.
Again.
That's the worst part, we lost everything when the ship crashed. Friends, family, all my family gone. Co-workers, life as we knew it, gone. You think you know where your life is going then pirates attack and rip those expectations away. The smoke and screams as my world turned upside down then sped towards this shit-snack of a planet.
This is survival. Pure and simple. All complexities get washed away when it takes all you've got to make sure you'll be alive in the next moment, the next hour. When not seeing the suns rise the next day becomes a very real possibility, it strips you down to the core of yourself.
If I will continue to survive, I can't let myself fall into the dark well of hopelessness that wants to claim me. It's there, I can't deny it, all those feelings are real but I have to get in motion. Start somewhere, put one foot in front of the other.
Slow exhale as I walk. Maybe I can help. Doing what I have no idea, but I have to try. It's an act of will to force myself to keep moving. Each step though becomes easier. The black despair is there, waiting, pulling me down with clinging fingers that don't want to let go but I can't give in.
Lana says something and then points at the fading forms of Ragnar and the hunters.
Following her finger I see that a handful of the other Zmaj have joined them.
Visidion replies then Astarot says something. Damn I wish I knew their language. Astarot stares at their retreating backs, his tail shifts side to side with nervous agitation.
"Maybe I can help?" I say, walking up.
"How?" Lana asks.
"Uh, I don't know," I say, blushing as self-consciousness rushes over me.
The black despair returns like a tidal wave, the current of it pulling me down. Tears swell as I struggle to breathe. My chest constricts, my stomach knots with churning acid and I'm sure I will pass out. The faces of my friends and my family swim before my eyes.
No.
I'm not going to give in. I'm alive, I'm here. I can help, damn it I can do this! Closing my eyes tight to hold back my tears, I take a deep breath. Something touches my arm, when I open my eyes Lana is there, her grip firm on my arm. We stare into each other's eyes and in her I find strength. I lost a lot, but it's not over and I'm not done.
"Ragnar, I can talk to him," I say.
The two Zmaj stare at us, causing me a flash of discomfort but that's just as ridiculous as letting my emotions overwhelm me. There are over a dozen Zmaj and a small handful of women milling around. What are we going to do? Sit here and wait for the pirates to take us too?
Lana translates to Astarot and Visidion. They three of them go back and forth. Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I wait for them to reach an agreement. I stare across the desert at Ragnar's retreating form. He stops and looks back and I know, deep in my heart, he's looking at me. The distance is too great for me to see him as more than an indistinct blob but I'm certain.
"Okay," Lana says.
"Huh?" I ask, my attention jerking back.
"Okay," she says. "No one has a better idea. We're counting on you. We need them."
"Yeah, okay," I say, butterflies dancing a minuet in my stomach.
No pressure Olivia, they're just all counting on you.
"Everybody!" Lana yells, then says what I assume is the same thing in Zmaj. "Please load on the transport."
"Why?" Delilah asks. "What the hell's the point?"
"Where are they going?" Penelope asks, pointing at the dim figures on the horizon.
"We're going to handle that," Lana says. "Let's get moving."
The Zmaj look at Visidion and the human women look at each other but no one jumps into motion. Lana's face flushes pink then deep red. She purses her lips and balls her hands into fists.
"Hey," I say, no idea what I'm doing. "I know. This is… awful. Trust me, I feel it too. What are we going to do though? Stand here? Wait for the pirates to come take us? Look, we don't have many options. The best thing I can see right now is for us to join up with the other survivors. Maybe, and I know this is a long shot, but maybe we can help our friends. If we stay here that ain't happening."
Certainty fills me as I speak. I hadn't thought out what I would say before I said it. The words spilled out of my mouth almost like they were coming from someone else, but the moment I said them they were true. True for me at least. Maybe we can save them. At least in moving forward there's hope.
The women mutter and nod then they move onto the transport. Visidion says something, then Lana replies in the Zmaj language, but the Zmaj men are already following the women onto the transport. It takes time for us to all get on. Even with Ragnar and his followers gone we're packed tight.
The transport rumbles then lifts and we're in motion. Since it's designed for transporting slaves, there is no comfort. No windows, no air, just a dark box and the press of bodies against each other. I miss Ragnar being here.
Why did he leave me?
Self-doubt rears its ugly head again.
I'm being ridiculous. The least I can do is help. The transport bumps and rumbles causing us all to shift.
"Oh!" someone cries out as it lunges violently again.
The sound of metal on metal screeches through the small space, then the transport jerks and I'm smashed against the wall. The floor shifts and I slam side to side. A scream slips out then the world flips.
I can't tell up from down.
My head cracks against something, stars swim in my vision.
I'm being crushed. Can't breathe.
Moaning, screams, tears, need air.
The blackness is as crushing as the bodies pressed against me.
"Anyone hurt?" someone asks.
"Yes," someone else cries.
I try to respond but I can't get enough air. Gasping, trying to inhale, my chest is being crushed. It's impossible. Awareness is fading, pulling me down.
Something is pounding, louder than the moans. Bodies shift and a quick breath of air fills my lungs bringing sweet relief. Another shift and the crushing weight returns. Someone is crying, I'm sure it's not me, I don't have enough air for tears.
Light! Bright, searing white, it burns into my eyes.
"OLIVIA!"
4
Ragnar
Everything has gone wrong. It's Astarot's fault. Everything was fine until he showed up.
"We're at least three days out," Bashir says.
"I know," I respond.
"They're following," Melchior adds.
Stopping, I turn and look. The cloud of dust the transport raises in its passing is heading towards us. Closing my protective lids, I can see the transport itself racing ahead of the streaming cloud.
"What do you want to do?" Bashir asks.
"What I want is to go home," I say.
My chest constricts, making my hearts work harder. Do my friends see what I won't say? What I want? The way she calls to me? The distance doesn't matter, I can sense her approach.
"It'd be easier with them," Melchior says. "Long walk otherwise."
I glare at Melchior until his tail drops to the ground and he bows his head.
"Let them come," I say. "I'll handle it when they arrive."
Without further comment I turn and resume walking. It's foolish, feeling this way. I don't know how she feels but every time I'm near her desire consumes me. My body aches, my cocks become so hard it hurts. Nothing has ever made me feel the way she does.
I can't tell the others, even if I know they'd understand. I've seen them eying females, too.
The ground trembles and all of us stop. Bashir raises his fist then holds up one finger at a time reaching a count of five. Damn it, its close. The sand shifts as the trembling increases. Staring ahead, the line of shifting sand comes right at us. Moving in slow motion, each hunter takes a spear off his back, preparing.
Arawn an
d Errol, the craftsmen who followed, hold still too. They know, we all know. Tajss is full of dangers but nothing is more dangerous that a zemlja. The giant dragon worm that burrows beneath the surface hunts by vibrations. Depending on its age and size it could be a challenge or a death sentence, even for the five of us.
The trembling increases, the sands shifting faster. My breath catches in my throat and I grip my spear tighter. Any moment. It will either pass us by or the ground will erupt and we'll be fighting for survival.
Hot wind blows across my face as we wait, hoping. None of us wants to fight a zemlja. The shifting sand slows, the trembling fades, and it's gone past.
Letting out the breath I'd been holding, I look over at Bashir. He's looking past me then his eyes widen and his mouth opens.
I know, before I turn, I know.
"No!" I yell, whirling.
The transport flies up into the air, tumbling over itself. It slams into the ground then bounces up into the air again. My hearts stop. Air won't come into my lungs. My stomach is a tight knot of fear. Olivia!
My feet slam into the ground as I run. Each step I jump, leaping into the air and spread my wings to glide further, gaining speed.
I don't wait for my hunters. There's no time. She's on that transport. I have to reach her.
Ahead, the ground explodes and the giant dragon-worm rises into the sky. It's massive, an ancient. Quite possibly thousands of years old to be so large.
It waves back and forth then slams the ground, searching for prey. The transport tumbles over again and the loud crash draws its attention. Its maw opens and it tries to bite. A loud screech echoes across the sands as its teeth slide across the metal of the transport.
"NO!" I scream, waving my spear, trying to distract the monster from my treasure.
I'm hit from behind, tumbling to the ground and rolling over, struggling to break free.
Coming to a stop Melchior is on top of me.
"Get off!" I scream, but he puts a hand over my mouth, forcing my jaw closed.
I swing, punching him in the side of the head. Kicking with my legs and swinging my tail to one side I force him to roll with me to keep his grip. On top I stand and step back. His tail takes me in the legs, sweeping them out from under me. As I fall to the ground, Bashir lands on top, then he and Melchior pin me from either side.
"Let me go!" I scream.
"Ragnar, stop," Bashir says.
"I have to save her," I scream, fighting with all I have.
Almost, I'm almost free. She needs me.
"Wait, she's fine," Bashir says.
Rage fills me and with it comes the gray fog of the bijass. She's mine, nothing will threaten her, nothing will harm her. Not while I draw breath.
They force me to my feet, turning so I can see the transport. The zemlja tries to bite it again, the scraping screech of its teeth echos across the dunes. The transport rocks back and forth then the zemlja lowers down beneath the surface.
The ground trembles, shifting as it digs its way deeper. The hunters hold onto me until the trembling ground stops, leaving silence in its wake. Jerking my arms free, I run for the transport. My long strides and my ability to glide with my wings eats up the ground between me and my goal.
The transport lies on its side, long scrapes gouged into the metal where the zemlja tried to eat it. Leaping, I land on top of the transport in a crouch. It came to a stop with the door facing up. The metal is bent and twisted just enough that I can get a grip on the edge. Inside there are muffled cries for help.
Adrenaline rushes through my body. A euphoric feeling fills me and along with it comes the bijass, stronger than ever. Edicts, I remind myself, holding a line against my primal desire. Sliding my fingertips into the crack, I grip the metal and then pull. Straining, I put all I have into it. A scraping sound rewards my effort but the metal barely budges.
A thump sounds as Melchior lands next to me followed by Bashir. They move in and take what grip they can find. The three of us pull, the metal resists us, but I will beat it. Olivia is in there. Visions of her lying hurt and in pain fill my mind and I hiss with anger, pulling harder.
The metal moves but I lose my grip, stumbling backwards. Spreading my wings I come to a stop on the edge of the transport. Bashir and Melchior reach out, grabbing for me, but I'm able to keep myself from going over the edge. Rage roars in my blood. Nothing will stand between her and I, nothing! Stomping back into place I grab the metal and pull with renewed vigor.
My hunters redouble their efforts. The cold steel bends, slow, an inch at a time. A black hole forms as the steel peels back, creating an opening into the transport.
"OLIVIA!" I yell, the hard sounds strange on my tongue. I've never said her name aloud before.
People cry out, some in pain, some in relief. We pull until there's an opening large enough for a Zmaj to pass through. Looking down into the pale, dirty faces staring into the light, I search for her. When I don't see Olivia the rage rises but no, reason. The edicts, I cannot give in to my primal side.
"Get them out of there," I order, my voice tight as I struggle to contain it.
Bashir drops to the ground, Melchior moves to one side, and I lay flat, reaching in to the dark hole and grabbing the first hand I can. Pulling, another female's dirty face rises into the light. There is a cut on her head and blood is running down her face. She blinks rapidly, saying strange words that make no sense. She is not Olivia so I pass her to Melchior who lowers her to Bashir.
We work as quickly as we can but it takes too long. Each hand I grab, I expect to see Olivia rising from the dark but each time it's someone else. Cursing, I pull them out faster. The males inside are pushing the females out from below, helping them up first, speeding up the process.
"Olivia!" I cry out in overwhelming frustration.
"Ragnar!"
Her voice is sweet water after a long hunt.
She is alive.
A hand grasps mine and I grip, then pull and Olivia's head rises from the dark hole. A joy such as I've never felt fills me. There are cuts on her cheeks and one of her eyes is swelling and turning a dark purple, but she is alive. I pull her straight up, rising with her and taking her in my arms.
She wraps hers around my waist and lays her head against my chest. She talks but words make no difference. She is alive. Nothing else matters. Resting my chin on her head I hold her tight to my body. My cock is raging hard and part of me wants to take her here and now, let all see my claim of this female.
That is the bijass and I know it, so I push back. Letting her go, our fingers trail across each other as Melchior takes her then lowers her to Bashir. I pull the other Zmaj out of the transport until Drosdan is the only one left. He is bigger than any of us, so large he can climb out without my help. He is standing in the light looking up then shakes his head, holding up a hand.
"A moment," he says, then disappears into the dark.
While waiting for him to return, metal scrapes on metal, a clinking noise that moves closer to the sounds of a struggle. A wordless cry filled with anger comes out of the hole then Drosdan appears in the light. My brother is slung over his shoulder, struggling against the chains we bound him with.
When the Zzlo attacked the Valley, my brother was with them, at least his body was. He has regressed into the bijass so deeply that he's little more than a primal animal. I can only imagine what they've done to make him this way. Wild, running on instinct. He fought with the fury of a cornered animal. We captured him when we beat the Zzlo and sent them into retreat but I've not had time to help him.
I'm certain, given time, I can bring him back from the dark fog that covers his mind. He, the brother I love, is still in there behind the rage of the bijass. I will reach him.
Drosdan lifts Ryuth with difficulty. Drosdan is big and muscular, but lifting a full grown, bound and struggling Zmaj over your head is no easy task.
I get a grip on the chains that bind Ryuth and pull. He hisses when he sees me, his eyes are red
as are the edges of his scales. Rage has its claws deep. An empty ache pulses in my chest as I lower my brother down to Bashir. By the time I do, Drosdan has pulled himself out of the transport. Our gazes meet and he nods. We don't need to speak, he knows I appreciate his act.
Leaping off the transport, I glide to a landing next to Visidion, the Elders, and Astarot. They're debating our next move. Of course they are, too much talk. That's the problem with all of them. They talk when there is no choice but to act. Shaking my head as I listen, a cold certainty forms in my gut.
I rarely speak at Council, but now I must. "Enough," I say, making a slicing motion with my hand.
"You have something to add?" Visidion asks.
"Yes," I say, looking into the eyes of each male standing close. "This talking is accomplishing nothing. The wounded need tending. We have no transport and no shelter. It's time to gather supplies, tend the wounded, and move."
"Agreed," Astarot says.
Lana walks up beside him, placing her arm around his waist and he puts an arm over her shoulders. Cold, hard jealousy stabs into my heart like a knife. A quick glance and I spot Olivia sitting in the shade of the transport, another female tending to her wounds.
"Ragnar, can you and the hunters form something to carry our supplies?" Visidion asks.
"Yes," I say.
The females have grouped together in the shade of the transport. There is moisture dripping off of them, inefficient and wasteful. None of them look well. They're not adjusted to the heat of Tajss and it's obvious they won't hold up for long.
My choice becomes clear.
"There is epis in your City?" I ask Astarot.
"Yes," he says.
I make my decision. "Bashir, Melchior, get with Arawn and make a travois to carry the supplies. Padraig will pull the most weight without it slowing him. We need to move, go."
They jump to work at my command. Walking after them, a touch slows me. I look down at the small, red tinged hand, then follow it up to meet Lana's eyes.
"The City?" she asks.
I nod and pull away. The wreck of the transport made my choice. I have to get Olivia to shelter and epis. There is no other choice.
Dragon's Kiss (Red Planet Dragons of Tajss Book 5) Page 3