Page 43 of Saving the Alien Chieftain

Rylar’s smile returns, a glimpse of gratitude in his eyes. “I’ve done no more than duty demanded. But I will say you’ve been an outstanding Prospect, Rocks. Your determination and focus bring honor to your entire species,” he acknowledges.

“It’s my love for Krogoth that drives me. I won’t leave him to die, not if there is any chance I can save him,” I assert firmly, my resolve unwavering.

Rylar rubs his chin, deep in thought. “I’ve seen nothing quite like this before. Maybe Krogoth is right and the Gods will bless your Mortakin-Tok on your return.”

“Well, first, I need to worry about that returning part,” I quip cynically, acknowledging the daunting task that lies ahead of me.

“You’re prepared, Rocks. Have faith,” Rylar says, clapping my back heartily so hard it jars my teeth.

Up ahead, the clearing with a small gathering of Klendathians in the distance comes into view. I recognize it as the starting area for the Proving and my stomach lurches at the sight. The reality of what I’m attempting is getting ever closer.

As we approach, Xandor jogs over carrying my bow, arrows and some odd-looking spear with three points, which kind of looks like a trident.

“Hail, Rocks and Rylar.” Xandor waves before he hands me the bow and quiver of arrows. I sling them over my shoulder. “Nice coat. Where’d you get it?” Xandor peers at it closely, his curiosity obviously piqued.

“A kind old man called Harkus gave it to me,” I reply, turning to give him a better look at the coat’s intricate design.

“Harkus? The scholar?” Xandor laughs. “He taught me when I was young. Well, when I turned up, anyway.”

Xandor runs his hand over the coat, examining the material. “A fine gift,” he states before he unfurls the trident from his back. “Here’s another one! An actual gift from me.” He grins, proudly presenting me with the finely crafted spear.

I study the dark wooden shaft, which is decorated with vines of lighter, earthy hues winding their way along the length. The three symmetrical and razor-sharp prongs at the business end of the trident gleam with a metallic sheen. The weapon feels light with an impeccable balance as I hold it in my hands.

“Thank you, Xandor, it’s a stunning weapon, although I hope I won’t need it,” I say, securing it on my back.

“Better to be prepared,” Rylar interjects, nodding sagely.

“You’re welcome. It’s my personal weapon which I brought to my own Proving. I never used the voiding thing since I can just use these instead.” He grins as he extends his long, razor-sharp claws.

“As I taught you, Rocks, given your small size, keep the enemy at a distance. Let them run themselves through on your spear in their rage,” Rylar advises, demonstrating the motion of wielding an invisible spear.

“Rocks, I have another gift for you,” Xandor whispers conspiratorially, glancing around to ensure our privacy. “Let’s just say I might have… lost it, near the bush where I first showed you the cyloillar skull.”

“You go too far,” Rylar chides quietly, turning his attention towards Xandor. “This cheapens the rite. It risks offending the Gods.”

Xandor looks squarely at Rylar and points to a bald Klendathian dressed in white in the distance. “You see Elder Zyraxis over there? He’ll cheapen the rite in the other direction. I merely seek to even the odds,” he counters.

A shiver runs down my spine. “You mean I have to worry about an Elder coming after me, too?” I ask, my voice croaking with concern.

“I’m just being cautious. It might be nothing, but I find it very suspicious he’s come in person,” Xandor says, meeting my gaze with seriousness. “Keep your wits about you, Rocks, but you already know that.”

Rylar studies the Elder in distance. “Fine, but I pray when Rocks arrives at Sunaisor, the Gods do not forsake her because of this offense.”

Rylar pauses before he hands me a long knife holstered in leather that looks more like a machete in my hands. It’s a simple but practical design. “Not as pretty as Xandor’s gift, but equally effective, for the closer encounters,” he states.

“I was hoping it was for the foliage.” I laugh dryly, strapping the knife around my waist. “Thank you, Rylar, I really appreciate everything you and Xandor have done for me… truly.”

“Come, let’s present ourselves. They’ll be calling for the Prospects soon,” Rylar suggests, leading the way.

Together, we all approach the two white-robed elders, flanked by four formidable, armored warriors who stand guard like vigilant sentinels. A little to the side, I spot four other young Klendathians.Ah, my fellow participants in the Proving.Each of them wears arcweave armor covered in fur robes equipped with various basic weapons.

My heart feels like it’s about to beat out of my chest. I try to take deep breaths and calm my raging nerves.

Looking at the youngsters, they appear so tall and strong; standing close to them, I seem like a child. Their faces are completely passive, the same soulless stare that afflicted all the Klendathian youths on the ship. Part of me wishes I could muster the same numbness right now to settle my shaking hands and erratic breath.

Now I’m closer, I recognize the bald tattooed elder as the man who set his goons on us at the Last Resort. My chest tightens with panic at the realization that what Xandor said is likely true. This… Elder appears to have a burning hatred of Krogoth and, by extension, me. I’m determined to not let him goad me into doing anything that will put Krogoth at risk.

Zyraxis stalks towards us, his gaze sweeping over me as if I’m some dogshit he’s just stepped in.

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