“And take this, of course,” Pandora continued, handing a wrapped package to Lauren. It was about the size of her head, the shape bulky and strange. “This is the gift that’s to be traded for the blood. This is all they’ll get in return, so do not offer anything else. Do I make myself clear? Vysantheans do not bargain,” she insisted, as Lauren took the package and gripped it in her arms. From the way she was struggling to hold it, I could tell it was heavy.
“No bargaining, no diplomacy, no surrender,” Navan mocked, his voice low so only I could hear. I tried to suppress a chuckle.
“What was that, Idrax?” Pandora asked sharply, glaring in his direction.
Navan smiled. “I was only repeating your sentiment, Pandora. No bargaining—understood.”
“Right, then get going. Time is not on our side, so I suggest you be as quick as possible,” she said, watching as we walked out of the cockpit and headed toward the blank patch of wall at the far end of the ship’s main space.
Lauren paused halfway. “Do you have a bag for this?” she asked, the heavy gift slipping in her grasp.
Pandora rolled her eyes. She disappeared for a moment, then returned with an empty black satchel, which she threw in Lauren’s direction. “I’d forgotten how weak you humans can be,” she muttered, as Lauren caught it.
“Thank you,” she said, slipping the gift into the bag and closing the flap. She slung it across her body and continued toward the far wall, joining the rest of us.
“You want me to take that for you?” Navan offered, seeing the strain on Lauren’s face.
She grinned at him, shaking her head. “I could do with buffing up a bit. Space travel has made my muscles all floppy,” she joked, shifting the bag’s weight to her hip. I smiled at my friend, knowing she just wanted to feel useful. I loved her for that.
Pandora stayed on the threshold of the cockpit. As Navan pressed the button that opened the bay doors, she pressed a button of her own, and the door to the cockpit slid shut, making her disappear behind a sheet of solid metal.
I was about to put my helmet on when Navan wrapped an arm around my waist, his hand supporting my neck as he swung me low, planting a deep, sensual kiss on my lips. I squealed in surprise and delight, looping my arms around him as I kissed him back, savoring the moment. Only when the bay door started to come up did he release me, setting me back on my feet.
“What was that for?” I murmured dreamily.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all week,” he sighed, grinning from ear to ear. Reluctantly, he jammed his helmet on his head, fastening the suctioned seal into place as the door inched upward. Beside us, Bashrik did the same.
Angie covered her earpiece-filled ear with her hand. “At least we’re by ourselves now—” she started to say, but Bashrik’s arm shot out, his hand quickly covering her mouth. Her eyes flashed with annoyance.
“It’s not the earpieces. Pandora bugged our suits,” he warned. “Even if it might seem like we’re alone, she’s always listening in.”
A second later, a hiss sounded in our ears. “Bashrik is smarter than he looks.” Pandora’s voice crackled through, her tone taunting. “No matter where you are, I will be listening.”
I glanced at the others, seeing my concern reflected back at me. How were we supposed to plot against someone who was always listening in on our conversations? Especially since we’d left the Note on the ship—not that we could use it with these suits on, anyway.
As the bay door slid open, none of us said a word, the rest of us pulling our helmets down over our heads. If we were going to figure out how to desert Pandora on the planet, or otherwise remove her from the picture, we’d have to come up with a way to get around the bugs in our suits first.
We walked down the ramp leading from the bay doors and took our very first step on Zaian soil. Even through the suit, I could feel the intense heat of the planet, the sun glaring through the screen of my helmet. A trickle of sweat meandered down my spine, and the collar of the suit felt itchy on my bare skin. With no way of scratching, I knew it would soon become unbearable, but for now I had to grin and bear it.
The sound of the bay door closing behind us signaled the point of no return, and we set off toward the temple. It was about a hundred yards in front of us, the minarets glinting, the entrance guarded by two towering statues that looked halfway between man and dragon. If I squinted, they almost resembled coldbloods with their wings stretched out, though that comparison probably wouldn’t go down too well with the Draconians.
The closer we got, the more intricate and vast the temple became. It had seemed way smaller from the safety of the ship, but now it rose up, the front façade at least ten times taller than me, and that was without adding the height of the minarets. It was one of those buildings that you wandered toward with your face turned upward, craning your neck to see as much as possible. In the center of the outer wall, sandwiched between the two enormous half-man, half-dragon statues, stood a door, around half the height of the building itself.
“Do we just… knock?” I asked, as we reached the gargantuan entrance. I’d never seen a door so huge. “Door” didn’t seem to be an impressive enough word for what was standing in front of me.
As soon as I’d spoken, the earth trembled beneath our feet. Ahead, the door opened of its own accord, the grate of stone on stone shivering up my spine, just like the feel of the rubbery suit material had done. We watched, glancing nervously at one another, as it creaked open, and a female creature stepped out of the shadows.
For a long while, she said nothing and simply stood there, letting us take in the sight of her.
Her sapphire robes gleamed in the sunlight, the silky fabric shimmering in a way I’d never seen a fabric shimmer. Angie stared at it with an almost hungry look in her eyes, her mouth hanging open. However, it was the woman’s face that caught my attention. She was entirely bald, her skin dappled with green scales that stopped where a natural hairline might have. Her smooth, pale green forehead led to reptilian eyes the color of amber. Underneath one eye, she had the textured skin of healed scarring, which spread out across half of her face, right down to her jaw—the remnant of a terrible burn, by the looks of it.
I wondered what her full dragon form might look like, my imagination running wild. I pictured her with gigantic wings outstretched, like the statues that lined the temple roof, her whole body covered in the same emerald scales that ran across her hands, arms, and head.
“Welcome. I am Freya,” she said, at last. Her English was perfect, although her voice carried a strange lilt; the Draconians were evidently using a universal language technology similar to that of the Vysantheans, but her resulting accent sounded thicker than Navan and Bashrik’s. Where theirs were almost British-sounding, Freya’s was even harder to compare to an existing Earth accent. It was somewhere between Russian and Spanish, by my limited guesswork.
“My name is Riley. This is Navan, Bashrik, Angie, and Lauren,” I replied politely. “We’re here to establish peaceful negotiations between our group and your people,” I explained, hoping she wouldn’t instantly refuse at the sight of Navan and Bashrik. Considering the coldbloods’ bad history with the Draconians, it wouldn’t have surprised me.
“As you can see, we’re an unusual mix,” Navan added, his tone friendly. “These females are from distant territories, while myself and my brother hail from Vysanthe.”
“A cold place,” Freya remarked shortly, her face giving nothing away. She was impossible to read. Even so, I got a good vibe from her. The warmth in her demeanor was hard to ignore, even if she didn’t say much.
“We hope our origins won’t deter you from speaking with us,” Navan went on quickly. “You see, we aren’t like the ones who came here before. We don’t want to take any of your resources, and we don’t want to stay. We simply have a small request.”
“Life goes on,” she said softly, her amber eyes lifting to the sky.
I looked at Navan. “It does, Freya. In fact, that’s
one of the reasons we’ve come to you. We need your help, so our lives can go on,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound like an idiot.
We were met with silence, though it didn’t feel cold or ill-meant.
“We’re ambassadors, sent by the queen of Vysanthe to offer something in exchange for your assistance,” Navan continued.
“Which queen?” Freya asked, her face still blank.
“Queen Brisha,” he replied.
A hint of displeasure rippled across Freya’s face. “Spilling blood to manifest destiny.”
I wondered what kind of face she’d have pulled if we’d said Gianne. Would she have responded better or worse? I guessed we’d never know. Saying that, it was understandable that Freya harbored some resentment toward both the Vysanthean queens, since they were descendants of the royals who’d sent the miners to Zai. However, I didn’t quite understand what she meant by Brisha “manifesting destiny.” I wracked my brains, and the words brought up a vague memory. Manifest destiny had something to do with the belief that one nation spreading through other lands was both justified and inevitable. Was that what Freya thought Brisha believed—that her expansion of territory, to absorb the South and to spread out across the universe like an infection, was justified and inevitable? It surprised me.
“I believe she is the lesser of two evils, where the queens of Vysanthe are concerned,” Navan said, but Freya just looked at him, her intense amber eyes seeming to bore into his soul.
“Anyway, we were wondering if we could come inside and speak with the Draconian leader,” I chimed in. Vysanthean queens were clearly a touchy subject.
“I am the high priestess,” she said, bowing low, strange ridges showing up along her spine and jabbing through the fabric of her robe.
I attempted my own bow. “You’re the leader?” I asked.
“I am she. Come,” she instructed, turning to go inside. However, she paused on the threshold, looking over the five of us. “Your suits,” she said evenly, offering no further detail.
For a moment, I was confused, and saw similar bewilderment on my friends’ faces. And then it came to me. “You want us to take our suits off?” I ventured. “Why would we do that?”
“Show me your trust,” she replied simply.
Navan took a step forward. “Freya, we’ve come to you unarmed. That should be enough to make you trust us, surely?” he countered, his voice tense.
Freya shook her head, though she said nothing in return.
“If you’d just give us a moment, Freya, we’ll need to discuss this,” I said, gathering the others into a circle. Again, she said nothing, her amber eyes simply staring.
“We can’t take our suits off. That’s insanity!” Bashrik hissed, condensation blossoming against the screen of his helmet.
“Well, we can’t go in there if we keep them on,” Angie retorted.
Bashrik scowled. “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to worry about a plague designed specifically to kill you!”
“I say we trust them,” Lauren said, shifting the strap of the black satchel and ignoring Bashrik. “I’ve read a lot about Draconians, and they’re a friendly species. If they created the plague, they did it to fight back against an enemy. We aren’t an enemy, and they won’t see us as one. As long as we don’t pose a threat, they’ll treat us accordingly,” she said confidently, instilling hope in me.
I looked at my friend. “I agree with Lauren. They’re pacifists. I think we’ll be okay.”
“Navan, will you talk some sense into them?!” Bashrik said, evidently feeling ganged-up on.
Navan sighed. “I think they’re right, Bash. If we want to get into the temple, we need to take the suits off. I think we can trust them,” he said, prompting Bashrik’s scowl to deepen.
Our earpieces crackled to life with Pandora’s voice. “It’s your funeral. If you do take your suits off, keep your earpieces in. I’ll be able to hear you and speak to you through those. I want to hear everything these scaly morons have to say,” she remarked, before the line went dead again. So she could hear us through the earpieces, as well as the suits. Was there no escaping this woman?
“Fine, then it looks like we’re taking our suits off,” Bashrik muttered. “But, I’m telling you now, if I get sick I’m going to blame every single one of you!”
Tentatively, I reached up for the edge of my helmet, preparing to take it off. My hands were shaking, my heart racing. We were stepping into the unknown, putting our lives into the hands of strangers. Alien strangers.
I looked at Freya as I lifted the helmet off my head, feeling the warm rush of the Zaian breeze on my face. Although strange, her eyes were somehow kind. Yes, they were a pacifistic species, but we had to avoid offending them, in case they unleashed their plague. Because now, we were completely at their mercy.
Chapter Seven
It was nice to breathe properly again, even if there was a possibility that the air was rife with disease. The planet’s surface was warm and tropical, the atmosphere bordering on humid, the sun beaming down, feeling hot on my face. After a few moments without my helmet on, Navan fumbling with the straps on my back, it began to feel a little overwhelming, like being in a sauna, but I wasn’t about to complain. I was pleased to be out of the freezing cold. Here, there was no biting wind, no frosty chill penetrating down to the bone. Zai was the antithesis of Vysanthe.
All around the temple, the fronds of vast fern-like trees hung down, small creatures jumping from bough to bough. From what glimpses I saw of them, they looked similar to monkeys, but their fur was brightly colored, their eyes peering curiously out at us from the shadows of the jungle. Enormous flowers popped out among the wide leaves, the petals almost as big as me, in various shades of shimmering crimson, pink, and vivid fuchsia.
“This weather is going to kill me,” Bashrik muttered, as Angie undid his straps. We’d made a funny sort of circle, with Navan undoing my suit, Bashrik undoing Navan’s, Angie undoing Bashrik’s, Lauren undoing Angie’s, and me undoing Lauren’s. All the while, Freya watched us, giving nothing away. There wasn’t even a hint of amusement on her face, even though I knew we looked ridiculous.
It seemed the coldbloods were struggling the most with the humidity, the sweat glistening on their brows, their breath coming in pants. I could hear Navan behind me, suffering under the heat of the Zaian sun.
“Are you okay?” I asked him, worried.
“I will be. My body just needs the chance to regulate,” he explained, his cheeks flushed, sweat dripping from his face.
Trusting his word, I breathed a sigh of relief as the restraints loosened, giving me room to wriggle free of the thick rubber. I knew it was the only thing protecting us from the coldblood virus, but the suits were really freaking uncomfortable. Sitting down on the hard, dry ground with a thud, I pulled off my heavy boots and took off the suit, dumping it on the floor, before tugging the boots back on. After all, we didn’t have any other shoes.
“Everything is sticking to me,” Angie muttered with a grimace, peeling the damp fabric away.
I laughed. “Welcome to paradise.”
“Yeah, let’s see what these scaly weirdos have in store for us first, before we start acting like we’re on vacation,” Bashrik whispered sullenly, prompting Angie to jab him in the arm.
“Just once, I’d like to hear something positive come out of your mouth,” she chided. He immediately went silent, making a show of lacing his boots back up. Even with his head dipped, I could see his cheeks flushing red, and I knew it wasn’t because of the heat.
Once our suits were dumped in piles on the ground, each one looking oddly like a melted person, with the helmets resting on top, we moved back toward the temple entrance. Freya was still standing there, in exactly the same position.
“Now may we come inside the temple?” I asked anxiously.
Freya gave a small nod. “Welcome,” she replied. With her glorious sapphire robe billowing behind her, she swung around in a half-circle and mad
e her way into the shadows of the temple. The rest of us followed behind, feeling sticky and decidedly less glamorous than the striking Draconian high priestess.
The silence that enveloped us as we walked into the temple was more powerful than anything I’d ever experienced, the reverent quiet settling on us like a palpable blanket. It wasn’t frightening, the way the isolation chamber was, and it wasn’t stuffy and strict like a library or a church back home. This silence seemed to bristle with energy, the whole temple thrumming with it.
Cavernous ceilings arched over our heads, with scenes painted in bold, geometric patterns across them. The vast space was illuminated only by candles that flickered in twisting candelabras shaped like coiled lizards. On the stone floor, brightly colored rugs crisscrossed in a seemingly haphazard arrangement, the majority taken up by kneeling Draconians quietly at worship. Their mouths moved in silent prayer, their eyes closed, their palms pressed to their shoulders, their heads dipped. Some of them were rocking slowly, while others didn’t move a muscle.
Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the soft hum of singing. It was low and mystical, and the haunting sound sent a shiver through me. It seemed to reach into my very soul, causing the fine hairs on my forearms to prickle; there was something undeniably sad about the way they were singing. Touching my cheek, I felt the telltale damp of unexpected tears.
“They could do with some lights in here. I can’t see where I’m walking!” Bashrik remarked loudly.
“Shush!” Angie hissed, jabbing him in the ribs this time. Cowed, he held his side, a wounded expression on his face.
“I was only saying,” he murmured.
Angie shot him another look, warning him to be quiet. He held up his hands in surrender, before moving his fingers across his mouth in a zipping motion.
Lauren was sticking close to Freya, clearly eager to see what else lay ahead. Her eyes were wide with wonderment, taking in every part of the temple, her head turning this way and that at an alarming pace, a goofy grin spreading across her face. With all the books she had read about Zai, even if they had been a bit vague, I guessed being here was like seeing the words come to life. Endless tomes were good, but nothing beat seeing the real thing.
Hotbloods 4: Venturers Page 6