Alien Romance Box Set: Romantic Suspense: Alien Destiny: Scifi Alien Romance Adventure Romantic Suspence Trilogy (Complete Series Box Set Books 1-3)

by Ashley L. Hunt

  From somewhere amidst the crowd of gathered Erin-Vulur onlookers, I could hear Vassa speaking. He seemed to have recovered from whatever Joanna had done to him, though he was keeping well away from her as he spoke. His strident practiced orator's tones carried easily over the restless audience, and I could hear him as clearly as if I had been attending a ritual at the amphitheater. "Today," he proclaimed, "you will all bear witness to the wrath of Ravanur! You will all see the righteous indignation of Palamun! A false god walks among us, my children, blaspheming and daring to claim the blessing of our Great Mother!" He turned as if to point his finger at Joanna, thought better of it, and resumed his long-winded castigation. "Today, by the will of our gods, you will see this usurper struck down!" The crowd's response was lukewarm. Though they didn't know what to make of Joanna, her presence- compounded by the return of Nissikul and me- was causing them to doubt. No one liked Vassa, except for his priests, and I thought that even they were just playing along for their personal gain.

  I looked over at Joanna and was surprised to see her dark eyes fixed on me. Even at this distance, I could sense a sort of… hunger coming off of her. She had taken to the role of a god as though she had been born for it. Even if she didn't believe it, I was certain that she had. She stood tall, her stance imperious. Even in her salvaged, tattered ranger's furs, she somehow managed to look even more striking. She was like a perfectly shaped sculpture, covered by an old, crumbling shroud. Even so covered, her beauty and authority shone through like a beacon fire. We held each other's stare for a moment, and the briefest of smiles flickered across her lips as she mouthed the words, "Knock him dead." I looked back at my opponent and watched him pass his narrow, straight-bladed ceremonial dagger from hand to hand. His spear stood ignored, thrust point-first into the ice. I felt my feral grin return. This was a duel to the death. Knocking him dead was exactly what I intended to do.

  Finally, Vassa finished his spirited tirade, exhorting the disinterested Erinye to cheer for "their holy champion." The response was less than impressive. Elder Perwik chose that moment to emerge from a dense knot of rangers, his furs flapping about him in the slight wind. With brisk, sure strides, he marched out between us, an old horn great bow resting with familiar ease in his weathered grip. He wore no quiver of arrows, rather, just one shaft that was fitted to the braided hair string. He looked over at the giant brute of a priest. "Kotikedd! Do you stand ready?" Kotikedd just shrugged and grunted in agreement. Not a very eloquent response. Just what kind of priest was he? Perwik turned to me; the expression on his face carefully neutral. His eyes burned fiercely into mine, and he didn't speak for a moment. I swallowed hard. Being assessed by the Master of the Rangers was never a comfortable experience. I hadn't been able to ask him what he thought of all this, but I doubted he liked it. There were just too many unknowns for him, and rangers hated being lost more than anything else. Finally, having reached some secret conclusion behind those deep green eyes, he asked, "Volistad, do you stand ready?"

  "I do, Elder," I responded simply. If Perwik thought anything about my use of an honorific with him, he didn't show it.

  "Now listen, you two." Perwik glared at each of us in turn. "First, this is a battle to the death. The duel is not over, and the conflict it decides is not resolved until one of you lies dead. Second, you must stay within the circle marked out onto the ice. Should you attempt to flee, I will kill you immediately, and you will thus forfeit the duel." He gestured with the great bow. "Be assured that I do not miss. And should the impossible occur, I have plenty of arrows to correct the mistake." He showed his teeth at both of us. Neither of us moved. But neither of us would attempt to flee, either. "Last," he declared. "I will fire this arrow straight up. When Palamun returns it to the ice, your duel will begin." Seeing no reaction on either of our faces, the Elder wasted no more time. With the smooth grace of a lifetime of practice, he drew to the ear, tilted his aim straight up towards the dark hidden face of Palamun above, and loosed his shot. Then, task complete, the ranger returned his bow to a casual grip and jogged easily out of the circle.

  I fought the urge to crane my neck upward and watch for the arrow's imminent return. Instead, I dropped into a crouch and took my spear into both hands. Kotikedd shifted into a combat stance; his eyes locked on mine. He did not reach for his spear. Instead, he flipped his knife into a reverse grip and waited. It was as I suspected. He had fought and probably killed before. This was Vassa's personal killer, the Erinye who hunted and murdered any heretics that threatened the priest's authority. It wasn't much of a secret that such an inquisitor existed, but the monster before me had to be a master of stealth and execution since I had never heard of a single death being attributed to his work. An assassin was a duelist, even though most of his foes would have been caught by surprise. This was going to be a difficult fight. The murmuring of the crowd turned to a roar. I leaned forward, ready to charge. I could hear the arrow cleaving the air as it fell. Everything seemed to slow to a crawl, and I heard Joanna speaking in my mind. When had she learned to do that? Four words. Just four. "Give them a show." The arrow crashed into the ice, and I burst into a sprint. Oh, I would give them a show.

  The first clash almost killed both of us. I came in at a sprint, ducking low and coming up behind my spear in a twisting thrust towards the sky, meant to get under Kotikedd’s guard and skewer him before he could properly react. Apparently, he hadn’t expected me to go low, because the moment I had charged, he had shifted into a stance meant to receive a leaping attack. When he realized he was wrong, he gripped his knife in both hands and dropped his weight into a stab for the back of my neck. Both of us, sensing that death was near, dodged each other’s strikes by the width of a hair. I took a shallow cut along my cheek; Kotikedd bled from a long scratch across his bare chest. We both backed away quickly, resetting and taking new stances. We eyed each other with new respect, both of us acknowledging that the other wasn’t an amateur. That accord wouldn’t last, though. Only one of us was getting out of this alive.

  I began my next attack with a short, controlled jab at the inquisitor's face. He swept the point aside with his forearm, but I had expected that. Turning the momentum of the parry into a spin, I brought the spearhead around in a vicious slash at his skull. He dodged this strike, but, failing to take into account the versatility of the pole arm, was not fast enough to avoid the butt of the spear as it smashed hard into his chest. The crowd roared in approval. Kotikedd, however, was not impressed. He rocked with the blow, but even as he reeled, he snapped his free hand up and seized the haft of the spear. Used to being stronger than his prey, the monstrous assassin tried to rip the spear out of my hands. Unfortunately for him, I was ready for this. I lunged forward with the spear and used his own momentum to drive the spear butt into his chest again. He grunted and let go, and I quickly backed out of range. I circled him warily, keeping him turning, looking for my opening. I just needed a single opportunity. One slip, one mistake, and perhaps my spear would find his heart.

  Kotikedd, however, had other ideas. He had had enough of being on the defensive. In between my steps, as I tried once more to circle behind him, the inquisitor snatched his short spear out of the ground and flung it at me side-arm. He wasn't trying to skewer me with such a throw, however. The moment the iron left his hand, he was charging forward, his knife aiming for my throat. The whirling spear was still dangerous to me, and I was forced to bring my own spear up to deflect it away from me. Kotikedd lunged forward into that opening, stabbing as fast as he could for my chest. I hunched up my shoulders and took two painful stabs to the broad muscles of my upper arms, but the point didn't find my neck. Caught off balance as I was, the spear was useless to me. I let it fall from my hands and hit the assassin hard in the abdomen with my palm. The blow wasn't placed very well and did little more than back him off a step, but it was all I needed.

  I drew my knife, but Kotikedd didn’t wait for me to get the little blade all the way out. He came for me in a flurry of varied
swipes and stabs, forcing me to dodge and weave rather than attack. The man had the right idea. If he kept me on the defensive, he could wear me down. I couldn’t let that happen. Kotikedd’s knife thrust towards my throat, and I slashed my blade across his thick fingers, starting a line of blood up from the colorless skin. He howled but did not drop the knife. But the pain slowed him enough for me to get a hold of that arm. I twisted and backed away; forcing him to straighten the limb and controlling the knife he gripped there. I could end it right here. Pull him close, knife under the arm, stab in the side of the neck for good measure, back off and watch him bleed. But no, Joanna had spoken. She had some plan, and she needed me to do my part. Give them a show. Alright. Theatrics were fine.

  Instead of stabbing for an artery, I gripped my knife tightly in my fist and swung backhand. I didn’t touch him with the blade. Instead, my knuckles crashed into his face, crushing his nose in a shower of blood. Then to add insult to injury, I let go of his knife arm and leaped forward, planting both feet in the center of his chest and kicking them out with all of my strength. I turned the motion into a neat somersault and flipped back out of danger, ending in a crouch. Kotikedd reeled, his face a mask of blood and rage, and the crowd screamed with amusement. Insults and epithets began to fly thick and fast from the gathered Erinye, and they were all aimed at the gigantic inquisitor.

  His jaw tight with pain and humiliation, Kotikedd roared, a full-throated, booming, bestial roar that put any such sounds I might have made to shame. He threw his knife aside and pounded his fists on his chest in primal challenge, locked wild eyes on me, and bounded forward. To my surprise, when he came for me, he actually went to all fours, taking the momentum on his over-muscled arms and hurtling forward.

  It was such an unexpected tactic that I didn’t set myself properly for it. Instead of using his own momentum to flatten him, as I should have, I was hit squarely in the gut by his colossal shoulder. The air whooshed out of my lungs, and I struggled to catch my breath only to have it smashed out of me again when we hit the ground. I still had my knife, though pinned as I was, I couldn’t do much with it. I stabbed feebly at Kotikedd’s back, and he utterly ignored it. The inquisitor had gone berserk. The only way to stop him now would be to kill him. He might not even feel pain.

  I felt the tickle of fangs at my throat. Oh no, you don’t. I thrust my hips up as hard as I could and pulled hard at his pelvis, sending him lurching forward. With Kotikedd's center of gravity shifted, I had a little more room to move. Seizing my advantage while it lasted, I got my legs up in front of me, between my body and the assassin's over-muscled bulk. Ordinarily, this movement would do little more than encourage my assailant to roll off of me, but the Deepseeker had fundamentally changed me. He had brought me back to life and made me stronger, tougher. He had given me a new heart, and that heart was full of rage. When I kicked, Kotikedd didn't just roll aside. Instead, he was launched fully off of me, rising a good two spear casts into the air and tumbling back to crash awkwardly to the ice.

  I wasted no time, immediately rolling to my feet and taking stock. The knives were nowhere to be seen. There was, however, a spear lying discarded on the ice not five spear casts from me. Kotikedd was getting to his feet, eyes still swallowed up in madness, his face a mask of hate. I felt something warm and wet trickling down my neck and shuddered. His fangs had drawn blood. A moment more and he might have ripped out my throat. Show or not; this was getting too dangerous. It wasn't wise to fight a berserker, whatever the cause. They didn't react like normal people, didn't pay much attention to pain. The only way to stop a berserker like Kotikedd was to kill or concuss him, and I wasn't going to do that with my fists or claws.

  I sprinted for the spear, aware as I did that the mad inquisitor would be right behind me. As I did, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye, and against my better judgment, I looked. Vassa. He was stalking through the crowd, creeping towards Joanna, his face slack and empty of expression. All eyes were on Kotikedd and me, including hers. She wouldn't see him coming. I could see the glint of a knife in his grip as he slipped through the distracted audience. The gathered Erinye, however, weren't the only ones that were distracted. A gargantuan paw closed on the back of my neck, and I was lifted straight up off of the ground. Vulyak dwert. I wouldn’t be getting out of this one unscathed. But that wasn’t important. Joanna was important. Kotikedd’s grip tightened, and even as I reached up to seize his wrist, I felt his dirty black claws begin to pierce my flesh. I met the eyes of my god, those wide, beautiful hot-coal eyes, and screamed, “Joanna! Behind you!”

  …

  Joanna

  Volistad’s warning was cut off as the monstrous brute of a priest shook him violently by the neck. There was a loud snap, and the berserker tossed the ranger aside. He tumbled across the ice, limp. No. I didn’t believe it. I stood and stared at the sprawled, ragged body and tried to process what had just happened. Only the sudden drop in temperature around me reminded me of the danger. Behind you. I spun and came face to face with Vassa, the elder priest. His arms were still outstretched, one hand reaching for me, the other gripping a bone dagger. I raised my arms instinctively in self-defense, and then frowned. He wasn't moving. He stood there, frozen in place, eyes wide. What- Nissikul stepped past him, her face tight with rage. She still wore her witch-plate, but she had let the helm dissipate. Her eyes were the same twin black abysses as usual, but tears had frozen in tracks down her face. Her breath came up in a cloud of fog all around her, and even with my new affinity for the lethal cold of Chalice, I could feel her anger in the precipitous drop in the temperature.

  Vassa groaned through clenched, frozen teeth, and his eyes moved frantically back and forth. Holy shit, Nissi. The enraged Stormcaller had encased him completely in ice. She met my eyes as she stepped past the transfixed Elder. “Can’t kill him. Not yet. The duel isn’t over.”

  “What?” I pointed out at the field. “Didn’t you hear that monster break his neck? Volistad is dead!”

  “No,” Nissikul said firmly. “He isn’t. I can still sense his thoughts. He’s alive. He’s in a lot of pain, but he’s alive.”

  I looked out at the field. The gigantic priest had thrown back his blood-smeared head and was in the midst of a teeth-rattling roar. The crowd was, surprisingly, not roaring with him. They seemed more shocked than anything else. We were standing on a precipice. I could feel it. One push and the assembled Erinye would swarm us and tear us apart with the kind of frenzy only a mob could muster. But if we played things right….

  "Akkandaka," Thukkar said, struggling through the crowd to reach me. “Joanna,” he corrected, seeing the look on my face. “That thing out there isn’t a priest.”

  “I know,” I said, “He’s a berserker. Probably this coward’s hit man.” I gestured to the frozen Vassa, who tried to say something. Only a muffled, wordless moan came out.

  “No,” Thukkar hissed impatiently. “He’s not Erinye. That’s one of the Children of the Eater King. I would stake my life on it.” Around us, the gathered Erinye were turning towards me, and I could see dangerous glints in their eyes. I tried to ignore them. I didn’t have much time. In my mind, the images of being torn apart by a howling mob were replaced by memories of trying to kill a minotaur with an old billhook. I could see Lot pushing towards us through the crowd, Elder Perwik at his shoulder. Lot’s face shone with triumph. The Master Ranger’s expression was more restrained, but there was violence in his eyes. He fully expected me to fight. That’s why he wasn’t calling an end to the duel. He wanted to be within a striking distance when he did. Everything was about to fall apart. There was, however, a chance that I could still turn this around, however slim.

  I looked back at Thukkar. “Convince your master of this.” I looked over at Nissikul. “Keep Vassa here. I have questions for the high priest whose assassin is a Dark One’s abomination.” I shot one last look over at Perwik, who frowned as Thukkar forced his way into his path. This had better work.

  I
stepped through the crowd, keeping my movements calm and unhurried. I couldn't rush to Volistad's side, much as I might have wanted to. If I ran, if it looked for a second like I was fleeing, the whole tribe would be on me in seconds. As it was, the gathered Erinye were confused. They stood nervously in their furs, watching their Elders and watching me, not sure of what was happening. Many of them were still staring at the mad priest, who was bounding back and forth around the circle, sometimes walking like a man, and sometimes falling forward onto his arms like a pale, hairless ape. I guessed that the thing inside the priest's body had spiked its host's adrenal glands for a burst of hysterical strength and endurance. Now, it must have been having trouble bringing that rage back down. The spectacle was bizarre to watch, and I figured that the unnerving sight was part of why everything hadn't turned into a mob execution just yet.