Page 17 of Saving the Alien Chieftain

I gawk at it so long, I barely notice the large clearing with Klendathian males coming and going. Amongst the crowd, there are some other alien species. And even a few females dotted around, which fills me with a bit of relief.

Xandor brings us to a halt, his arms sweeping wide to encompass the bustling scene before us. “Welcome to the Draxru,” he announces. He directs my attention to a lively area where a roaring bonfire sends flames flickering into the air. Around it, people are gathered on furs, engrossed in conversation. “You can grab some food there, and people waste their days jabbering away. Mostly a bunch of lazy znats,” Xandor adds with a scoff.

“You don’t want to stay and join the jabbering?” I ask, smiling.

“No, I need to find Krogoth. Now that we’ve spoken, I have a good idea where he might be,” Xandor says confidently.

I feel a pang of sadness at his words. “Oh… Well, you know him better than I do,” I say dejectedly.I don’t have a clue where he is.

Xandor looks a bit surprised at my words. “I don’t know what’s happened between you two, but I know Krogoth cares about you more than anything,” he says reassuringly, giving me a hearty pat on the shoulder. His strength almost sends me stumbling forward. “Go have fun. You’ll be safe here.”

“Thanks so much for all your help, Xandor,” I say, while giving him a brief hug.

He turns and waves a hand over his shoulder before heading back the way we came, moving at an incredible speed.

Taking a deep breath, I suddenly feel lost without Xandor’s company, like a kid dropped off on their first day at a new school. I gingerly move towards the bonfire area, unsure of myself in this new place. I notice people buying and selling goods, and along the outside of the area are workshops where others are crafting wooden structures or metalworking. It reminds me of being in a medieval re-enactment fair, except nearly everyone is a giant alien man!

Wandering past a raised wooden platform, I find myself in the presence of a storyteller, or perhaps a revered holy man—distinction blurred in the firelight’s dance. With fervor, he recounts an epic saga. I stop and listen for a moment.

“The hour grew late. Our machines turned against us, subsumed by the control of the malevolent Machine God. We Klendathians stood alone against this cosmic destroyer. Other species had fallen and been crushed. They relied too heavily on machines, their bodies and minds weak. We remained strong and proud.”

The speaker’s fervor sends a chill down my spine as I listen intently, hoping to learn more about my new home, Klendathor.

“For countless moons, we battled the foes within and the foes without. Casting aside our corrupted machines, we turned to the old ways and fought the hated Machine God. Only then could salvation be found!

“Yet the Machine God pressed forth. It’s hatred for life sustained it. Endless waves crashed upon us. Only by striking at the very heart of the beast could it finally be slain.”

The storyteller’s eyes mist blue as he recounts the story or myth. I glance among the gathering crowd, their faces nodding solemnly or enraptured in silence.

“It was Dagdorix and Machsin that led the way! Together bonded, they bravely marched into the demonic realm of the Cosmic Destroyer, the hated Machine God, the scourge of all life.

“There they battled with the Cosmic Destroyer in the heart of its own realm. Wielding powers divine, they banished the Machine God and themselves into the netherworld, where they wage the eternal battle, guardians of our world and saviors of all life in the universe.

“Give thanks to Dagdorix of the Star Eyes and Machsin. Honor their memory. Reject the machines, embrace life.”

The gathered crowd erupts into applause as the storyteller finishes, offering a bow of gratitude to the attentive audience. I found myself captivated by the telling. Parts of the story cast my mind back to the terrifying encounter I had with the Scythian Seeker Swarm. There is so much I don’t know about the history and culture of the Klendathians, but this goes some way to explaining their aversion to using technology, at least.

The heat of the great bonfire feels pleasant and inviting as I approach a buffet section containing plates of different meats and what looks like mixed vegetables. I look around, unsure if it’s socially acceptable to take one, or do I have to pay? The buzz of many conversations murmuring through the air makes it hard to ask someone.

“Go on, take it. The food is communal,” the voice of a confident man says. I turn my head to see the handsome face of a blonde and gray-haired Klendathian. “My name is Lorick.” He gestures to his toned, bare chest. “And what name does the exotic beauty before me go by?” he states, his yellow eyes full of intensity.

“Oh, I’m Roxy. Nice to meet you,” I reply, offering my hand to him.

Lorick looks at my hand, pausing for a moment before he pinches the ends of my fingers. “What a fabulous and strange custom. Let’s sit over there.” He points towards an area near the bonfire with empty furs. “If it pleases you, I would love to learn more about you.”

With nothing better to do, I take my plate and follow Lorick. It’s awkward sitting so low on the ground, but at least the pile of furs feels comfortable once I get settled on them. Lorick descends gracefully into the seated position, never taking his eyes off me.

I want to eat the tasty smelling meat on my plate, but I have no way to cut the huge steak. I feel my cheeks heating with embarrassment as I look around for any utensils. “Here, let me help you.” Lorick takes my plate with a gleam in his eyes. He extends his claws with a flourish, as if he’s just performed some kind of magic trick. He then uses his claws to cut the meat into smaller chunks.Ugh,I hope he washes his claws often! It seems a bit intimate, but maybe this is normal on Klendathor?

“Um, thanks,” I reply, taking my plate from him, feeling a bit embarrassed.But this food looks amazing.I greedily begin eating the tender and succulent meat that melts in my mouth.

“You know you are even more beautiful when your face turns red, like ours,” Lorick says, his tone full of mischief.

‘Turns red!’ I was just a little flushed.I look up at Lorick, my mouth almost bursting full of steak chunks. “You really think so?” I mumble out, mocking his over-the-top compliments.

Lorick looks away for the first time. “Ah… Yes, of course! Tell me what brings you here to Klendathor?” His eyes examine me from top-to-bottom boldly. “You know, Roxy, there are females who come here to… How should I put this… Enjoy the vigor of Klendathian males.”

I nearly spit my food all over Lorick. I find his words so shocking. “And you think I’m one of these females?” I ask, resuming eating my meal.

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