Page 59 of Alien's Eternal Mate

“Grhoma Jark! He comes!”

I raced the last dozen feet and skidded to a halt. What looked like a cloud of drifting smoke in the early morning sky was, in fact, the flying front line of an invading army.

“He has hundreds,” Pageus whispered, his eyes wide with fear. “Perhaps even a thousand! Even with the Shunned soldiers joining us, we are vastly outnumbered.”

“Take it easy, Pageus.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Remember the plan. We can win, because we have the defender’s advantage.”

“Let’s hope it’s enough to defeat that unholy host.”

The flying island our village rested upon did not scorch across the skies alone. Many other islands, most of them much smaller, zipped through the air as well. Jark’s forces diverted to one such island, roughly a half mile from our own.

“That rock is moving just a little faster than we are,” Pageus growled. “I estimate it will overtake us in less than six hours.”

“They’ll still be vulnerable to our siege weaponry when they finally do attack.”

“Indeed. But I’m not sure there will be an attack.”

Such a declaration should have sounded jubilant, or at least relieved. Instead, Pageus’ voice held the knell of doom.

I glanced sharply at him, and found his eyes haunted by unnamed fear.

“You don’t think they will attack us? Why not?”

“Because they are sending a single envoy in our direction.”

He pointed at the sky. I squinted--Gro’s body was slightly nearsighted--and discovered a small blot growing steadily larger as it approached the village. A long banner snapped in the wind behind the envoy, bearing the blood red skull of Jark’s tribe.

“What do they want? Parley?”

“Jank does not know the meaning of the word Parley. I fear he will bring a Chieftain’s Challenge.”

I could hear the capital letters on the phrase.

“What is that, and why have I never heard of it?”

“A Chieftain’s Challenge is just what it sounds like--a contest between two chiefs.”

“And you think that Jank is going to challenge you to some kind of duel?” I minced my words mentally before I uttered them. “Are you capable of defeating him?”

“I do not know.” His lips twitched a snarl as the envoy drew nearer in the sky. “But Jank is unlikely to challenge me. He will likely challenge Chief Zey.”

“The Peace Chief? Is that even allowed?”

“Yes.”

I ran a hand down my face and cursed.

“This is ludicrous. And the fate of both armies will be determined by this contest? I don’t suppose that Zey can refuse, can he?”

“Not without disgracing himself and the entire tribe. The warriors won’t follow. They might even defect to Jank’s side.”

“Then what you’re saying is there’s no hope?”

His silence was all the answer I needed. Jank’s envoy grew close enough I could make out details. The envoy’s body was a roadmap of criss crossing scars. One of his arms terminated in an ugly stump just past the elbow. I supposed it made sense. In case someone wanted to kill the messenger, Jank wouldn’t be out one of his warriors.

The envoy landed near the central square. He didn’t stand like someone missing an arm and at a venerable age. He stood as imperious as a King, and his gaze did not waver as he ran it over the gathered villagers.

“Grhoma Jark, his terrible eminence, has graciously decided to avoid needless bloodshed by challenging the Peace Chief of Starlost Village, Zey, to honorable combat.”

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