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

  Thukkar, with the characteristically dry humor of a longtime ranger, remarked, “You look good, all things considered.”

  Nissi snorted, sliding seamlessly into the joke as if she had never been worried for me. “Don’t let it go to your head though, big brother. You still look like half-baked vulyak dwert.” She leaned over towards Elder Perwik and said, in a stage whisper, “We might need to temporarily ban mirrors for the sake of public order.”

  I shook my head, making my way over to sit between Joanna and Nissikul. “Your concern is overwhelming,” I replied. I turned to Joanna. “How bad is it?”

  She winced. “Well, your whole neck is a bruise, as is part of your chest and one side of your face.”

  “That will fade,” said the Deepseeker, emerging from his hut bearing a small black metal box the size of my head in both of his wiry arms. “You should look good as new in a week.” His usual twitching seemed to have temporarily subsided, and the mad light in his eyes was a little dimmer than usual. “And that’s unimportant anyway.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Nissikul said, teasingly, taking in how close I was sitting to Joanna. It had always been her way to release her tension with humor, and Nissi’s sense of humor had always been rather sharp. “The state of my dear brother’s face seems like it might be very important to our Storm Queen here.”

  Elder Perwik choked on the bite of roast mushroom cap he was chewing, covering it badly with a cough. Whether he was trying not to laugh or shocked at the prospect of the brand new god in his village sleeping with a mortal, I couldn’t tell. I ignored Nissikul and tried not to think about that mad morning in Ravanur’s temple. Joanna’s soft, hungry lips. A curious tongue tasting mine… The Deepseeker coughed loudly, a flicker of his usual volatility rippling across his face in a short burst of furious, frenzied twitching. “If you are all quite done, we’re trying to save this people, and all of the rest out there in the Firmament.”

  We sobered quickly, remembering the enormity of the task before us. Perwik grunted and leaned forward, his fingers steeple beneath his chin. “I suppose there is the matter of the Elders,” he began, his face a mask of controlled rage. “Vassa is certainly corrupted- that he dared bring Eater-Spawn here…” He trailed off, apparently to overcome with rage to speak.

  Thukkar reached out with his long knife and skewered a cube of roast dukkar meat. He held it up in the firelight and examined it critically as he said, “The Eater-Spawn must have been changing hosts frequently. Whatever body they choose to puppet typically begins to rot within a fortnight. This is why they’re always piling on more stolen flesh- to bolster their collapsing body.”

  “Either that,” replied the Deepseeker, “or the Eater-Spawn have learned how to use a host more efficiently. After all, the process of taking new hosts is when they’re at their most vulnerable. The less often they have to find a new body, the less of a chance they would be caught.”

  “Regardless,” cut in Elder Perwik, “Vassa is a servant of the Dark Ones, and has been for some time. My rangers have already turned over his hut and found plans in amongst his scrolls, references to a tower like the one you were building.” He nodded toward Joanna as he said this. “So what are we going to do with him? Likely he knows more of what the Dark Ones are planning, and with some… persuasion, he might be convinced to tell us about it.”

  Joanna tilted her head back and forth, weighing the options. “Perhaps.” She nodded over at Perwik. “Are your rangers willing to follow me?”

  The Master Ranger’s expression darkened. “Right now, everyone- and that absolutely includes me- everyone is confused as to what just happened, and what is going on. Until I have a satisfactory explanation as to what you’re doing here and what you want, I will commit none of my rangers to hunt down a threat we’re not even sure it exists.” He met Nissikul’s eyes and she bared her teeth, not even the least bit intimidated by her. “When I see proof, when I see facts- then I will send my people to fight alongside you.” He waited for a moment, just long enough to make it clear that he was completely serious, and would not take attempts at intimidation well. Then he added, in the same bland, unthreatening tone as before, “Akkandaka.”

  “What about Lot?” asked Nissikul, mastering her indignation at Perwik’s tone. “Do we know if he was corrupted by Vassa? After all, he did dispatch Volistad here to make contact with Joanna, and then betrayed him when he returned to report his progress.”

  The Deepseeker shook his head. “I doubt he is infected. He did what he was supposed to do when he attacked you, Storm Queen. With respect, if he had succeeded in killing you and your spirit, he would have effectively preserved the secrecy and security of the prison.

  “Prison?” Perwik asked, confused.

  "I refer to the Dark Ones frozen to Ravanur's breast in death," the Deepseeker said, correcting himself. "In any case, Elder Lot's failure to carry out his mandate as protector of this tribe from otherworldly threats is reason enough to strip him of his title. After the mess that the little one-armed storm-daughter over here made of the attack, his support among the people is not very solid. He will never command complete respect ever again, and with a Dark One created abomination serving as his champion in a trial by combat, there is a good chance that one of his own Stormcallers will kill him. We will need a new Master Stormcaller."

  Perwik shrugged with the effortless indifference of an old ranger. “We already have one.” He tilted his head towards Nissikul. “Far better than the last, Elder.”

  Nissikul opened her mouth to say something, then immediately closed it, flabbergasted. She made a few short squeaking sounds, and then finally seemed to regain control of her voice. “But- but I’m the youngest of the Stormcallers. I’m certainly not the most powerful. How can I lead all… all of them?”

  Perwik laughed, unconcerned. “You will find a way, Elder. The position is not always given to the old. Seeing how thoroughly we were led astray, I think that some fresh eyes would be good for the tribe. Besides, I dare say your youthful foolishness was taken with your arm, was it not?”

  Nissikul looked down at the stump of her arm and sighed. “I do have to be… more careful. But that still leaves Lot. We can’t just exile him, he’s a Stormcaller and could cause major problems for the tribe if we send him out into the cold. The cold certainly won’t kill him. But we can’t just execute him. The older Stormcallers are already going to resent me being their master. If I also execute the man they followed, I might have a schism on my hands.”

  Perwik grimaced. “I’ll talk to him. He’s a creepy, conniving old spawn of a burug, but perhaps I can make him see reason. He’s smart enough to know what kind of position he’s in. He should already know that his time as a leader of this tribe is over.”

  “What about the priests,” I asked, ignoring the somewhat startled looks of the others. They were all acting like they thought my head might fall off at any moment. “They’re the most disgraced by this mess. Right now they’re trying to save face by waiting on the Akkandaka-”

  “-which I appreciate,” cut in Joanna from around a mouthful of roast dukkar and mushrooms.

  I suppressed a laugh and continued. “But given enough time, they could become a problem again.”

  Joanna shook her head and held up a finger while she swallowed her food. "...Sorry. No, we don't have to worry about them. As soon as we're done here, I'll put the fear of… well, the fear of me into them. A reminder to do what Great Mother Ravanur says should be good for them. Besides, we know where her temple is. We can use that as the carrot, and the fear of my wrath as the stick.”

  Everyone blinked around at her. I coughed awkwardly, and asked, my tone apologetic, “Uh, Joanna, what’s a carrot?” This took some time to explain. It turned out that a carrot was a kind of food from Joanna’s home. We still didn’t understand the phrase, and Joanna ended up explaining several radically different concepts from her language before finally letting out an exasperated sigh and giving up.


  The Deepseeker, a ghost of amusement flickering across his ancient face, clapped his knobbly hands together with a loud crack. “Excellent. Nissikul is the new Elder of the Stormcallers, the Storm Queen here will handle the priests, and Elder Perwik remains the Master of the Rangers. As for my own seat on the council, I believe young Volistad here will make for a fine replacement.”

  “Elder, I understand why Nissikul could be the Elder of the Stormcallers, but what good would I do replacing you on the Council? You’re here, and uncorrupted, and besides, you’re the only Deepseeker. I don’t know anything about what you do for the tribe beyond make blessings, and I couldn’t even do that. Why me?”

  “We’ll discuss it later,” grumbled the old shaman, some of the madness coming back into his face. “It’s complicated, and involves secrets of the trade.” He held up the black metal cube that had been sitting in his lap. “With all that out of the way, we have more important things to discuss.”

  Joanna nodded. “Right. You implied that it was possible to kill all of the Dark Ones.”

  "It is," the Deepseeker confirmed, stretching his mouth into one of Joanna's smiles, showing off his yellowed, chipped fangs. "But I need a very special ingredient to make the magick I need to do it. It's very rare and may be hard to find. In fact, there is only one of its kind in all the world."

  “And that ingredient is?” Joanna’s expression was skeptical. Ravanur had said, flat out, that killing the Dark Ones permanently was impossible. How could a single blessing, whether it was magick or teck, do anything to harm the old imprisoned gods beneath the ice? I wouldn’t have believed him either, except that I believed him when he told me that he was Palamun. The eighth Palamun, whatever that meant.

  The Deepseeker scoffed. “Surely you have guessed.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Just tell us, old man.”

  The shaman wrinkled his nose at me and sighed. “Fine. The unique ingredient you need is the Akkandaka’s traitor spirit.”

  Joanna growled a little in her throat. “He’s not a traitor, you old fox. He was consumed. Taken. He was overwhelmed by the Dark One. And even through all that, he was trying to save my life. Watch your tongue, lest I take it.” I blinked and swallowed hard. Joanna didn’t know it, but she had just threatened one of my people’s most venerated gods. I hoped Palamun wasn’t the immediately vengeful type. But fortunately, the Deepseeker didn’t seem at all bothered by Joanna’s threats.

  “Fair to say,” the Deepseeker said, raising both hands in placation. “In any case, I need him. I need him free of the Dark Ones, as intact as possible. Without him, there is no plan to destroy the old gods. Without him, the glacier will remain, and the Erinye will die out, as we have been for many, many years. Containment will be the only way to resist the call of the Dark Ones, and they’ve broken through that before. If the day ever comes that the Erin-Vulur or someone else isn’t around to plug a breach when it happens, the gods will escape. We can’t just wait and hope for good luck. If we are going to try to win, really win, we have to capture your spirit friend and convince him to come back to your side.”

  Joanna's face was pained. She was just starting to accept the fact of her spirit, Barbas' death. She had just come around to the idea that he was gone, that the thing trying to destroy our world wasn't her friend. But now, I saw the dangerous light of distant hope kindle in her eyes. She tried to suppress it, but there was a part of her that leaped at the idea that Barbas was able to be saved. To my eternal shame, I felt my own heart sink even as hers was buoyed upward. She loved Barbas, somehow. I didn't fully understand what had existed between them. But what I did understand was that if something resumed between them, there would be no place for me with her. For a moment, I entertained the idea of sabotaging the process, when we found Barbas. I could damage whatever blessing was meant to hold him, make him unsuitable for the Deepseeker's weapon, and ultimately destroy him. Then the shame fell upon me redoubled, and I swallowed hard. No. This wasn't about me or what I wanted. It wasn't even about Joanna, and what she wanted. This was about the future of my people, and I would not jeopardize the existence of the Erin-Vulur over my jealous urges.

  Just then, a messenger came panting up to our impromptu council at the Deepseeker’s fire. Perwik acknowledged the young ranger with a wave. “What is it, ranger Zetteret?”

  “Message,” he managed between gasps for air. “Urgent message. There’s some… something at the main entrance. It’s asking to speak to the Akkandaka.”

  …

  Joanna

  I strode towards the main entrance, flanked on my left by Nissikul and with Volistad on my right. They were in full regalia, Volistad in his crystalline combat armor, Nissikul coated in black witch-plate and bearing a great black hammer. I wondered if in a thousand years there might exist a legend concerning all of us. Volistad would be painted as my prophet, the holy warrior who was invincible so long as his faith remained unshaken. Nissikul would be his opposite, but not his nemesis. She would be some kind of angel of death, clad all in black and trailing thunder and lightning. And me? Who knew? Would I be remembered as a good god or a bad one? How long would I live before something finally killed me?

  We climbed the twisting ice tunnels up out of the crater of the great entombed mountain, following the jutting peak as it grew up from jagged cliffs and jutted into the sheets of ice above. The passage seemed longer coming up than it had felt going down, but that made sense. Especially when I considered that I had been carrying Volistad's mostly dead body in my arms the whole way down- my only focus being to get him somewhere safe and warm. I looked over at him now. Though I couldn't see his face through his crystalline helm, I could imagine those awful bruises encircling his neck. I couldn't believe he was alive. When I asked him about it, he just shook his head and said, "We'll talk about this with the Deepseeker. He can explain it better than I can." I supposed that I just had to accept that. I had my secrets, and so did he.

  We broke out of the winding tunnels into the surface cave that served as the main entrance and exit from the village of the Erin-Vulur. Not twenty paces from the mouth of the tunnel, four Erinye rangers stood, arrows on the strings of their bows, not quite aiming them at a single figure that stood stock still and antenna straight on the ice fifteen meters away. To one side of the little knot of archers, four more rangers stood ready, with great hammers on their shoulders in preparation for a devastating first strike.

  It took me a moment to realize what they were all watching with such trepidation. It was a man, or at least a crude facsimile of a man, constructed entirely of tarnished, coppery metal. It bore no weapons, and only wore a tattered, colorless shroud around its shoulders for protection. It stood completely still, apparently unconcerned with the eight warriors all determined to destroy it if it so much as moved an inch. I approached, putting a hand on the shoulder of one of the archers as I passed. “It’s alright. I can handle this thing.” Reluctantly, the rangers backed off, lowering their weapons.

  As soon as I came within five meters of it, the metal man animated, suddenly. Glowing green lights came on in its copper skull, and I shuddered. They were the exact same shade of green as… as.... Its stance changed, its movements becoming a little more fluid, a little more natural. Lights came up all across its body, and thin beams of illumination began to stitch themselves together into the shape of a man. It was Barbas, exactly as I remembered him from the night before he had… before he had been taken. He smiled, his single green eye bright and inviting beside its empty silver cousin; his handsome dark face enhanced rather than marred by the war scars he had adopted. He bowed, his movements elegant and graceful in the tailored white Armani suit he had chosen for the occasion. His lips, full and intriguing, parted. That voice. It was exactly right. "Hello, Gorgeous," he said and broke my heart.

  Memories swam through my mind in a rush. I could taste Barbas' lips; I could feel him moving inside me. I remembered the "vacation" of my trip through the stars, asleep within my Bullet as it c
arried me here. It had carried me here, to my personal frozen hell, but that journey had been sweet, bright, and wonderful. I recounted to myself the nights spent dreaming of the cabin and that evening in the library in Barbas' mind. And then- then I remembered the boat. WE ARE BENEATH. Being torn from my armor to freeze to death, naked and alone. I heard myself cry out, desperate for some reason, some justification for this savagery. And then I saw Barbas’ face, cruel with indifference, smirk down at me as he turned away from me. Where seeing him had awoken a little flicker of flame inside me, the ice came in a great impenetrable sheet and smothered it. Whatever he had been, the thing before me was a monster. It had used my trust against me. It had tried to kill me. Barbas was dead, regardless of what that old tech shaman had said. At the very least, he was dead to me. My voice was as frigid as the passing of the Great North Wind as I growled, “What do you want.” It wasn’t a question.

  Barbas’ smile grew brittle. “Whoa, let’s not be hasty, lover.” He took a few steps, putting a little more distance between himself and me while somehow managing to make the movement look casual and unmotivated by fear.

  I raised an accusing finger, opening my mouth to pour forth my anger when I realized that ice crystals were actually forming on my skin. I clenched my teeth, sucked in a long, slow breath, and tried again. "To what do I owe the dubious pleasure, demon?"