Sorkbhal roared in outrage.
Gleeful, I mentally fist bumped Beowyn.
“Consequently,” the Premier continued, “all trading privileges between the L’Odo home world, Od, and Alliance registered planets are suspended until further notice. Registration of Od is now under review, until our investigation is completed.”
And I’d wondered why the L’Odo might be moved to declare war on Rök.
There was my answer.
I frowned, thinking it’d make more sense for them to declare war on Vayhalun than Rök because we only got them fined, whilst Beowyn got their trading stopped.
“Defendant, you are required to compensate the Rä one million standard credits for each year of his slavery, which he states to be aeon and three. Justice be done.”
“You kill us,” Sorkbhal bellowed. “Without import we will starve!”
“Nothing more than you deserve,” Venomous growled, scowling over my head. “Your reign of terror is no more.”
“Oh my gosh,” I breathed. “Am I rich now? Are we rich now? Finally, fate gives us a break.”
“The ten million standard credit fine for poaching contributes to payment for conservation of your birth world, my Lumen,” Venomous elucidated. “This reduces Earth’s galactic debt substantially.”
I didn’t even want to think about the galactic debt Earth could have when they hadn’t known life existed on other worlds.
Protection by the Intergalactic Council came with a hefty price tag.
“So the money’s not mine? Well, okay. What about yours?”
“Ours. It will go into trust. Should we need to leave Rök, we will have enough credits for what is necessary.”
Fear gripped me and I froze. “Why would we ever need to leave Rök?”
He touched a claw to my lip. “Think of it no more, Rä’Na. We have been avenged, we are free, make love, and my young grows within you. Life is good.”
I smiled when he nuzzled the top of my head, and my mates gave me congratulatory kisses. “Life is good.”
“Next!” the Premier called.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Crossbow latched to his back, Cobra that Strikes sprinted across the sand plain.
Hoofed tracks and paw prints preceded him.
The sweaty odour of frightened animal marked the trail.
Warbling a signal call, he plunged under the shady canopy and into the hinterland.
Granular sand gave way to green, argil soil sprouting chest high blue grass, and wild cereal grain.
The willowy stalks whipped aside in muffled cracklings as he blazed through, and stagnant, marshy air filled his lungs as he urged his body to run faster.
He hurdled a fallen log.
Angled his body forward to climb with the land then dropped to skid down a slope, rolling into a crouch at the base.
Sensitive palm to the ground he centred himself.
The earth vibrated. Life forms moved in several directions.
Cobra’s focus tapered, using his innate skill to fade the natural terrain quakes, movement of the plant life and smaller, scurrying creatures that made up a cacophony of background noise.
All Rä sensed vibrations, but those initiated to the Hunters Caste nurtured the inherent ability into an art.
He picked out the tremors most relevant to his chase.
Grazing six-legged to the east, and a cantering four-legged stalking it; the predator his quarry.
The creature mistakenly considered itself safe deep in its territory, and had ceased fleeing to hunt a meal of its own.
Mouth downturned, Cobra peered over his shoulder.
Running two-legged behind with a hip-rolling gait.
She, Deathly as It Goes closed the distance between them at impressive speed.
The accomplished huntress never did like him to stalk razorbeast alone.
The killer animal had been known to take down inexperienced Rä caught unawares, as had the one he tracked and its mate, but he was no ordinary hunter.
He’d gained the rank of Master, and could singlehandedly bring down creatures thrice his weight.
He’d called the rest of the hunting party off the trail before entering the forest, stalking what spoor indicated was a prime breeding male following its female, yet Deathly had taken it upon herself to ignore his command.
The huntress forgot she wasn’t a Master Hunter yet.
Cobra caught glimpses of sky as he pressed on.
Clouds were bountiful in the pale welkin, the radiant crescent of second moon obscured by the auroral mantle.
Garnet, sapphire, emerald and amethyst vapour streaked the heavens portending a long awaited downpour.
Always Lumen of the Stars gazed at the overcast with awe, her jewelled irises alight, mouth curved in a winsome smile.
She claimed the clouds of Earth were opaque white billows wind blew across a firmament of blue.
Cobra could not imagine such a spectacle.
Snug in their nest, she often regaled them with accounts of remarkable sights he’d strived to imagine, but failed to picture.
Tales of frozen liquid that blanketed the ground in crystallized flakes.
Mountains that spewed stygian smoke, ash and hot, viscous rock.
Great expanses of salt water that covered vast stretches of the planet called oceans.
Using her dainty hands to paint the scenes above her head, she’d try to describe her alien world, laughing at their stunned expressions, and tirelessly obliging their desire for more.
He was astounded by Earth’s differences, while at the same time, surprised by the similarities.
Cobra paused his loping strides to listen to the muted sounds of his prey.
Smiling as more thoughts of his mate intruded, he decided he couldn’t wait to see Lumen react to the rainstorm forecasted for third moon.
He would take her and his nest mates to his sanctuary.
There they could revel in the wonder of nature together as one.
His hearts swelled and ached when thinking of his Rä’Na.
He felt touched by Grandmother’s benevolent hand.
Blessed.
Cobra believed he’d been privileged to be Rä’Vek, he still did, even though his past held great pain.
Maturing after a trifling eighteen solars, he’d clung to the wide-eyed naivety possessed by the young.
Like all a’Rä he’d dreamed of his life partner and worried over becoming male or female.
As a fledgling, he’d wander the verdant oasis adjacent to his guardian’s modest lair.
The solitary walks settled the wilder instincts of his anima, and eased the pain of his parents’ untimely passing.
The cantankerous Rä’Vek who took him in after his kindred perished was a widower.
His Rä’Na had caught the wasting disease that swept Rök aeons past, leaving him alone, and without offspring.
The male was gruff and idiosyncratic, but good at hearts, and opened his lair to a grieving waif without reluctance or stipulation.
What little he had, he’d shared, and the sorrow of Cobra’s departed kin faded from his young mind.
Already a proficient tracker, and prophesied to lead the Caste as Master Hunter, he had worried if he’d thrive as his fated gender.
Would he gain affection for his mate, and would they be fortunate enough to hatch more than one offspring?
Though healthful with imminent opportunities, he failed to convince his adolescent brain his existence would be a happy one.
Losing his kindred as a hatchling meant his self-worth had suffered.
It resulted in an unwholesome inclination to expect less for himself than his contemporaries did, yet with attention, and true affection from his guardian, as the bad-tempered as the ancient male was, he’d grown into an jovial a’Rä satisfied with his lot.
He’d been content to await his life mate, and looked to the future with excitement.
Hailing from the Southern province, Singing Wat
er caught his eye as he’d delivered his plenteous catch to Calm as Thunder’s predecessor, Elder She, Soars Just Truly.
The old Rä’Na hosted a private festival for her visiting kindred, and comm called him to request he bring more meat than usual.
Accepting the invitation to remain for repast, he’d strolled into the garden behind Soars Just Truly to be introduced to the gathering, as was proper.
He’d taken not one step past the threshold when his body rioted, a floral scent hijacking his taste receptors.
Singing Water had glanced up, gasped, and then stilled as her brille unveiled her true eyes.
They’d matured within moments of being within scenting distance.
All Rä considered it romantic.
Many retold the encounter with relish, genuine in their delight for the new couple.
After all, the chances of him meeting her in a social setting had been slim, considering the disparity of their birth.
Cobra himself was caught up in the splendour of finding his mate.
He’d thought Singing Water’s stiff expression had been one of shock.
Unaware of how she felt in truth, elated, he’d proclaimed his intentions to be the best hunter in the Caste before they succumbed to the long sleep.
He told her of his hopes and dreams for their future, for offspring, for affection, assuming her silences were contemplative, misjudging her caginess as shyness.
He was a blind fool.
Shock wasn’t what worked behind her pretty face.
It was disappointment.
Solars older, aloof and quiet, he’d thought Singing Water the most wise and beautiful creature he’d ever beheld.
Now he knew what true beauty was, it made him sick how shallow he’d been, how idiotic.
What he’d taken as maidenly reserve had been a barrenness inside.
An emptiness of heart and soul.
She, Singing Water did not care for He, Cobra that Strikes, not as he’d adored her.
As the solars dragged on, he realised no matter how hard he tried, nothing he did changed the reality she was dissatisfied by Grandfather’s choice for her Rä’Vek.
It broke his hearts.
Yet instead of conceding defeat, he worked himself ragged to earn more gold to trade for whatever she desired.
He hand built a lair three times the size they needed, telling himself they would eventually hatch young.
Rationally, he knew such a thing unfeasible.
His Rä’Na reviled his touch, refused to bear her back.
He’d covered her once; their bonding ceremony.
Worse than the lack of physical companionship, nothing he did, or said, pleased her, not that she ever lowered herself to say as such.
It proved beyond her to sit and talk with him, as his Lumen did, so that they might do better.
Instead they slowly aged in their affectionless subsistence.
Any time he tried to bridge the yawning distance between them, she fled to visit her kindred in another province.
Singing Water’s odd silences, and her unsettling, manic rants were insidious, leaching all that was good and pure from him.
Then a shooting star of light and life burst into his bleak existence.
A peculiar alien female, brave and mischievous.
Lumen of the Stars with her bright smile, and anima-nourishing words, a female that hugged, kissed and petted her males without shame, or fear of shunning.
A Rä’Na who was interested in what her Rä’Veks had to say, and enjoyed silly tales they brought home to the lair.
Cobra had been lost.
His hearts beat for her the moment she echoed his name then offered her delicate hand to shake in the human way.
While he’d gawked, and stumbled his way through a polite greeting, her eyes had been alight with kindness and curiosity.
And the sparks.
He swore to Zython there had been sparks between them.
He’d been shaken to his core.
He didn’t know it was possible to align with one who was not your life mate.
Upon further reflection, he decided it made sense.
Widows took on new mates.
It was rare, but it happened.
Rarer was what happened to Lumen; calling forth two mates when most were privileged to find one.
Perhaps his hearts had been broken in the truest sense.
His anima, sensing power enough to heal his emotional hurts, aligned him to her out of self-preservation, as was its purpose; to protect.
Many Rä called her deformed.
Hideous.
They fixated on her squeamish-inducing ‘weaknesses’ and ‘unsightly hair’.
Bewildered, he failed to comprehend the nasty reaction.
To his brille, she was exquisite.
Cobra came to the realisation he saw her as such because he’d glimpsed beyond the corporeal and straight to the spirit.
What he’d experienced upon meeting her humbled him, entranced him, and so when he did scrutinise her earthly form, he’d been so besotted, her physical appearance mattered not.
Truth, once he did start noticing it, he was attracted to her generous contours in ways that had him hard and aching without surcease.
Aghast at his salacious thoughts, he’d tried to capture the heart of his Rä’Na with renewed fervour.
He even tried to cover her after years of abstinence, thinking it was time they behave as was right.
She’d recoiled and barred him from their nest.
Lumen became all he thought of.
He collected anecdotes and news of her wherever he could find, attending festivals and conclave at the Senate Quarter, knowing discussions about the outrageous offworlder Venomous One and Fiercely Comes the Night mated would be abound.
When the infamous males approached him, to offer the honour of being her lesser mate, it seemed mighty Zython took pity, granting a lowly hunter his most fevered dream.
Oh, there was still shame.
He lusted after Lumen in a way that was forbidden!
But he’d be part of her life.
He’d experience the joining of their bodies at least once, and get to watch over her as only a lesser mate could.
He knew she did not feel for him as he did her, but he was used to that.
Existing on the fringe of her life was enough, more than he’d dared wish for.
He’d hoped in time she would look upon him with favour instead of disdain.
When Fiercely had comm called in a blind panic with the tale of her missing in the wilderness, Cobra swore his hearts stopped beating.
Terror unlike he’d known had stolen the warmth from his blood, and he’d feverishly prayed for her return as he rushed to do all he could to find her, knowing if it was true, and she was in the Empty Quarter as a sandstorm rolled in, it was already too late.
Seeing her safe soon after, he’d almost fallen to his knees in worshipful thanks to whatever powers worked in her favour.
The bonding ceremony had been the best and worst rotation of his lifecycle.
Finally, he was a part of Lumen, his hearts sang the joy of it.
Solicitation of her attentions would not be perceived as wrong.
He’d joined their bodies, an unsurpassed span of ecstasy, and for the first time in solars, he’d felt whole.
The beating had been worth it.
Most had not understood why he had been so forgiving, but they could not know the passion she inspired.
Truth, Venomous One guarded her jealously, but she was worth it.
To feel what he’d be missing near ended him.
To witness Venomous and Fiercely locked into a passionate embrace with the female he adored, and who would never feel the same in return, cut so deep, he feared he’d bleed out on the alter of their marriage.
To have her so happy, and delighted with them, for her to glow so magnificently as she rounded with their young ... bittersweet.
All was
as well as could be, and his secret was safe.
So he’d thought.
Singing Water noticed his fascination, and reacted in a way he’d never deemed possible.
Anger gripped him in a chokehold when he contemplated the plot she’d colluded in with Venin Stings the Sweetest.
During the terrible session at the Senate Quarter, when Scholar Wise are the Brave exposed her perfidy, for a sickening heartbeat, he worried if his deviant lust for another had driven her to madness.
Cobra realised he’d given himself far too much value in her eyes.
She did not care for him, let alone his affections, she simply couldn’t abide the notion he no longer yearned for her.
She knew the strength of his honour, knew he would never behave improperly.
Her actions were not prompted by irrational qualms the sanctity of their union was under threat.
All she’d had to do was speak with him.
Explain she’d noticed his fascination, and ask him not to be Lumen’s lesser mate.
He would have submitted.
She had been his Rä’Na.
Instead, Singing Water lashed out at Lumen rather than her usual whipping post.
Him.
Her misplaced envy and spite ended in a senseless act of maliciousness that still gave him chills.
As Fiercely had claimed, she was rotten.
Spoilt by her privileged upbringing, and embittered by the truth he would not rise to the Senate; the most powerful rank a Rä could attain on Rök.
Cobra set aside dark thoughts of his past, and lowered to a crawl.
The lucent, rotund stalks of low growing kakt’kakt and blossoming vines masked his presence.
A resinous blend of smoked wood and leafy herbs, his scent, blew downwind.
It transformed his advance to an unearthly dance, each twitch precise, each pull of breath deliberate.
Ripe, sweet aromas filled his nostrils as a sticky kakt’kakt spike tipped with a paralysing toxin grazed his hardsuit.
He craned his neck to peer over the protruding stem.
Covered in pustules, it oozed whitish acid from its barbed spine clusters, and its bristly stalks were festooned with orange and purple buds.
Come the dawn, they exploded outward in dramatic orgies of colour.
Allotrope seeds nestled within the sprouted blooms melted in the sunlight to drip clear amrita nectar.
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