Page 22 of Written in the Stars

“Fuck.” A’Lun spoke the word with a calm finality, backing away from the counter and dragging me with him. “You human bitch, you let him get away.”

Dazed, it took me a moment to understand. Drask had taken the momentary distraction I provided to step in among the shelves, hidden from view. The haphazard arrangement of Written in the Stars meant he could, if he was careful, sneak up on us.

I grinned wildly. This was well worth being pistol whipped for.

“You’re done now, you know that, right?” I tried to twist around to look at my captor as he backed away slowly, but he tightened his grip and kept me under control.

“I’ll kill her, you hear me? Come out or I’ll kill her.”

“No, you won’t.” I’m not sure where my calm certainty came from, but I knew things were going to be alright. Drask had a plan, and that plan was working. “I’m all that’s keeping you alive. Kill me, and you die before my body hits the floor.”

A’Lun snarled wordlessly, and an answering growl came from among the shelves. It echoed in the confines of the shop, making it impossible to pinpoint, and my captor’s grip shook. He dragged me back faster, pulling me toward the door.

We stumbled on the scattered books, A’Lun looking frantically for a target. Drask’s echoing growl seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, and if it unnerved me, I had to think it terrified the gangster.

With a thump, he walked into the door. A ragged sigh of relief escaped his lips.

“Open the door,” my captor snarled. When I hesitated, he added, “Open it, or I shoot you in the legs. You’ll probably survive.”

I shuddered at the thought and fumbled for the button. The door slid open behind us, and A’Lun pulled me out into the corridor, his focus still on the shop and the alien mercenary who’d be coming for him.

That was a mistake. Someone shouted, and I heard the loud clang-thud of metal striking flesh. A’Lun grunted in pain, and as his grip on me loosened, I pulled free to dive through the door. A glance over my shoulder showed me a riot.

Jyrx, of all people, stood at the front of a small mob made up of my neighbors, the market’s storekeepers, and some of our customers. They’d come armed with a motley collection of tools rather than weapons, but what they lacked in equipment they made up for in enthusiasm. Jyrx swung a skillet, smacking the pistol from the gangster’s hand, and the crowd closed in around him. None of them were warriors, but they’d lived their lives in this lawless station and all knew how to fight. Right now, tenacity was all they needed. Their sheer numbers were enough to drive A’Lun back, cursing and lashing out fruitlessly.

Maybe he’d have been able to recover. Given time, he had the skill to rally and take them out one by one. But Drask didn’t allow him the space he needed. Striding past me, his fury wrapped around him like a cloak, he snarled a challenge at the cornered gang leader.

“Face me in a fair fight, A’Lun. One on one, no weapons, just warrior against warrior. Or are you a coward when you don’t outnumber your enemy six to one?”

I peeked around the doorway to watch A’Lun squirm. I had the impression that he absolutely was a coward, but he was as frightened of running away as he was of fighting. There were enough witnesses that he’d never recover his reputation if he turned down the challenge.

He looked around, eyes darting around like a trapped animal, then shook his damaged right hand in Drask’s direction. “That is no fair fight. I am injured.”

Somehow, Drask managed to laugh and growl at the same time. He pointed to a bloody wound on his torso. “You set on me with five others, and I did not come away unscathed. But I will face you, for the honor and life of my beloved. Face me or die a coward.”

A’Lun grimaced and looked around again before nodding reluctantly. It was his only way out, and he knew it.

There was nothing formal about this duel. The two warriors edged toward each other, and I joined the other shopkeepers to watch. My heart pounding, I tried to reassure myself that this would be easy. Given Drask’s injury and blood loss, I wished I could get him out of this.

That was impossible, though. Drask would risk his life for me, no matter what it cost him.

A’Lun made the first move, leaping forward faster than I could follow. Drask’s reactions were better than mine, and he ducked left out of his foe’s way. A gasp went up from the audience around me as we caught up with what had happened.

I stayed silent, hands covering my mouth, stifling any noise that might distract my alien warrior. The two spun and pounced, attacks and blocks coming in blurs, too fast for my eyes to track. A hush fell over the small crowd, followed by a collective sigh as the warriors spun apart again.

Both breathed heavily, but Drask held his head up and snarled defiantly. A’Lun’s arm shook as he held it out to ward off my beloved, and his eyes darted around, looking for a way out.

Drask advanced, confidence oozing from him, fury blazing in his eyes. A’Lun backed off, trying to keep a distance between them, but it was futile—Drask’s long legs devoured the distance, and the gang boss soon realized that he couldn’t retreat faster than Drask advanced.

I saw it in his posture. Finally accepting that he wouldn’t trick his way out of this, he relaxed, pulling himself together. The tremors in his arm ceased, and I clenched my fists tight, struggling not to shout a warning. Drask had to have seen the change in his foe, and I didn’t want to distract my champion.

A’Lun charged, and I saw none of the hesitation he’d shown before. This time, he was all in. Win or lose, he’d decided to end the fight.

Again, they merged into a blur of attacks and parries too fast to see. It lasted perhaps five seconds and felt like an eternity. But when the end came, it was decisive.

Drask caught A’Lun by the throat and slammed him into the corridor wall. Clawed fingers digging into the gangster’s neck, he pulled him back and repeated the slam three more times before dropping A’Lun to the deck. The gang boss kicked and lay still.

The quiet was deafening as he turned to face us, battered and bloody and grinning. Before I realized what I was doing, I’d tackled him with a hug that staggered him, and the assembled crowd cheered wildly.

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