Page 29 of Saving the Alien Chieftain

Rylar continues, “We’ll do some drills later to identify a melee weapon that fits you best.”

He pauses, his hand beneath his chin in thought. “I’ll handle the basic physical training and weapons practice. It’s as much as I can manage with my other training duties. On alternate days,Xandor, you can take her out for field training,” he finishes, looking between Xandor and me. “Are we all in agreement?”

With this clear plan of action, I dare hope that maybe I can pull this off. “Yes,” I reply.

“Agreed,” Xandor says, nodding.

“Good, let’s get started. We have a lot of work ahead of us,” Rylar declares, moving to leave the room.

And not much time.

Chapter 12

Krogoth

Darkness

Damn them! Why haven’tthey come to take me yet?

This waiting, not knowing, is a greater torment than facing my death in the volcanos of Scarn. How many days has it been since the judgment? Two, three, maybe more? There’s no way to know for sure surrounded by all-encompassing darkness, the sun’s light denied to me.

I hold out my hands in front of my face, but I cannot see them. It’s like my body doesn’t exist anymore, simply a consciousness trapped in an endless void of blackness. The cold damp stone walls, likely carved into the deep bowels of the Peak of Scarn, is little more than a narrow tunnel, not tall enough for me to stand, and barely long enough for me to lie in.

I contemplate ripping apart the metal bars that serve as doorway to this bleak suffering. I remind myself that I submitted myself to the will of the Council of Elders. But never, in all my time fighting the countless battles and hunting enemies on distant gods forsaken planets, have I ever had to endure such indignity. A bitter irony that I must suffer such dishonor at the hands of my own people. May Arawnoth drag the withered old cowards to the deepest depths of the Netherworld.

Worst of all is the likelihood that every moment I remain alive, it becomes more likely my poor Pebbles has not left Klendathor.She wouldn’t dare attempt the Proving?I hope and pray that she makes the right decision after reading my message, that Xandor or Rylar have taken her back to Earth safely. I can’t bear the thought of her falling for the twisted Zyraxis’ trap and attempting the Proving… If she dies because of me… may the Gods torment me for all eternity.

Picturing her beautiful face brings a smile to my lips, so innocent as she looks up to me, her hazel-colored eyes sparkling and full of wonder, so precious as always. The smell of her lightly floral scented, soft skin fills my senses as I brush my hand through her soft brown hair. Please, Gods, let her be on Earth. Maybe she’ll meet another who loves her as much as I do, and in time she will forget the pain I’ve caused her. A stab of wrongness permeates within me at the thought of her being with another. My bond abhors the very notion.

The buzzing of znats around my shit-pot shatters the light of my fantasy and snaps me back to the obsidian darkness of the present. Instinctively, my hands shoot out, trying to squish the annoying insects. In the pitch-black void, I can never be sure if I’ve managed to catch any, but I assume not when, after a few moments, the buzzing resumes… They always return, my nemeses in the dark.

To pass the time and stop my mind constantly ruminating, I perform push-ups and other exercises as best I can in this agonizingly tight space. I reached many tens of thousands of repetitions…Was ityesterday? Or perhaps the stretch of time before my last fitful sleep.However, it’s not long before my mind returns to other thoughts, such as what will happen to my clan after I’m executed.

Clan Draxxus is already frozen out from having elder representation on the Council since my father’s rebellion and now, with me soon to be executed for treason and no heir from my line, the elders will aim to plant a pro Scythian sycophant in my place. How would my war brothers react to such an action? If they rise up in protest, the survival of our clan hangs by a thread, our numbers already decimated by the unending wars. I slam my fist into the wall in frustration.

None of the clans can afford another civil war, our populations already teetering on the brink of extinction, at the mercy of the Scythians for fresh blood. It wouldn’t be long before the only Klendathians left are hollowed out, murderous lunatic clones. What are the Scythians’ intentions? How do they expect these altered youths to be battle ready when the entire civilization collapses? Is that their intention, to destroy us slowly?

I lose count of the push-ups I complete but continue regardless. Just as I’m about to rest, I hear steps echoing in the distance, drawing nearer. I freeze on the spot, surprised and eager to know who encroaches on my darkness. My pulse rises, thinking that finally they’re coming to put an end to my misery. Perhaps Pebbles has returned to Earth. It’s not long before a soft blue glow is cast onto the rocks as the steps grow louder. I shrink back while averting my gaze as the light stings my eyes.

The voice cuts through the darkness, a twisted blend of mockery and triumph. Zyraxis. Hopefully, he’s here to lead me to my execution.

“Look how you scurry from the light like the overgrown znat you are,” he sneers, his words dripping with venom. “I knew spending some time in Scarn’s Abyss would cool your hot blood.”

I shield my eyes with my hand, struggling to adjust to the blinding blue light emanating from his wrist console. Zyraxis sniffs the air, his disdain obvious. “Stinks of your shit in here,” he jeers, his laughter echoing off the cold stone walls. “I hope every time you catch that disgusting aroma, you regret attacking me.”

As my eyes finally adjust to the light, and I’m able to see that Zyraxis is alone with no guards, my heart sinks in the realization he’s only here to gloat and mock.Pebbles, please go back to Earth!I decide there is no point speaking to him, as it would only fuel his bloated sense of triumph even more.

“Go on, say something!” Zyraxis demands, his voice echoing through the rocky confines of the cell. I remain silent, unyielding, and he waits, tapping his foot impatiently. After a few tense moments, he sighs in frustration.

“Maybe Scarn’s Abyss has already driven you into madness?” Zyraxis muses, his tone heavy with mockery. “Surely the mighty Krogoth wouldn’t succumb so quickly?”

Zyraxis strokes his tattooed chin thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on me. “If you apologize for your vicious assault on me,” he begins, his voice laced with false civility, “I’ll have you moved to the guest quarters.” He gestures upwards, his smirk anticipating my response.

I know better than to trust any offer that spills from the lips of this loathsome traitor.

Zyraxis laughs dryly for a moment. “You know the others wanted you to be kept in the guest quarters as befit your station as Chieftain, but I ordered the guards to bring you here instead.”He sweeps his arms wide, encompassing the cramped, barred tunnel around me. “This is your station. Befit for a traitor.”

My hands shake with fury at his words, but I ruthlessly suppress it. I will not give him the satisfaction he seeks.

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