Page 48 of Fated to the Alien Chieftain

My heart sinks as I recoil back, shaking my head in disbelief. “This is madness, Krogoth. Our love, our future together. You’d throw it all away.”This can’t be happening!

“You shame him Chieftainess,” Rylar interjects, “Honor demands he does not flee.”

I turn on Rylar with all my burning anger, my torrential sorrow directed towards him. “What good is honor, if it costs him his life?” I demand, tears moistening my eyes.

“It means everything to us,” Xandor says, his face sympathetic. “That’s all we leave behind.”

Even him too?“What about the pain to your friends and loved ones? Do they not matter to your precious honor?” I round on him heatedly. “They just have to pick up the pieces?”

Rylar shakes the stump of his arm. “We have endured enough pain for the entire universe,” he says, his voice growing more heated. “Who has suffered more than us? No one!” He roars, his fervor surprising me. “We pick up our own pieces, Chieftainess. Friends, brothers, their bodies broken, their eyes lifeless. No family to remember how they lived, how they died, but us, their war brothers.” He punches his chest, as do many of the others in the crowd.

It’s not the same. I love him as my Mortakin-Kai, not as a war brother.“If you were his brother, you would not let him do this,” I say, soft as a whisper.

“It’s because he’s our brother. We do not stop him,” Xandor adds softly. “You should understand, Chieftainess. It’s why I prepared you for the Proving, and why you survived it.”

Sorrow rips my heart apart. They do not understand and never will. I look at Xandor with weary resignation, knowing my words will not reach them. “No, Xandor I fought to save his life, not for anyone’shonor,” I spit the last word like it’s a curse.

“Stop this, Roxanne,” Krogoth intones, moving closer to me, pain etched on his face. “Enough,” He whispers as he embraces me, his massive arms a comfort over my shoulders that shake from uncontrollable sobs.

I look down at my trembling hands as tears stream down my face. Struggling to breathe, I fall to my knees, defeated.I can’t change their minds. This is who they are.“I can’t bear the thought of losing you, Krogoth.”

“Should I die, I’ll be waiting for you amongst our ancestors,” Krogoth says softly, his words doing nothing to mend my shattered soul. Time blurs as I cry until there are no more tears left, while Krogoth consoles me with gentle words and touches. The hall grows slightly darker, and an excited commotion catches our attention as we both turn round to see Xandor marching towards us, his face stern.

“The Ravager’s Ruin obscures the sun, Krogoth,” Xandor says, glancing between us. “War Chieftain Gorexius has arrived.”

Chapter 18

Krogoth

Choices

Only a few hoursago, the War Chieftain’s imposing flagship; the Ravager’s Ruin darkened the very skies of Klendathor, obscuring the warmth and light of the purple sun. How many worlds, how many species looked up to the gleaming black and red ship brimming with weapons which resembles a floating colossal shard of a volcano, their last sight before destruction and death rained down upon them?

It had taken only minutes of the flagship’s arrival for our wrist consoles to flash with the notification of a glider being sent to deliver us to the Council of Elders. A positive sign the War Chieftain wishes to speak, and not send his personal elite band of Ravager Berserkers seeking my head. I release a heavy breath,somewhat relieved, knowing if we meet face to face, he can’t ignore my challenge.

Pebbles clutches my arm, trembling slightly despite wearing her golden armor and thick cloak. “This place makes the Draxxi forests look like a holiday resort,” she remarks, glancing around the dark caverns of the Peaks of Scarn with only the flickering fire of the braziers providing fleeting illumination and heat in this abyssal place.

A smile crosses my lips as she squints up at one of the golden statues of a long passed robed elder. Even now, amongst all this turmoil, her curiosity cannot be subdued. My stomach still churns with the gut-wrenching sadness she showed during our Clan meeting. I could offer her no solace, no balm, knowing full well my death is a likely outcome.

I recall trying to prevent her from boarding the glider, reasoning the exposed Peaks of Scarn were too dangerous, but the real reason was to spare her from more heartache and despair for what might come. She had looked at me with eyes red raw from crying and swore no matter what happened, she would be there. My sweet, brave Pebbles. No Mortakin-Kai could ask for more.

Our feet echo through the eerie passageway as we make our way into the heart of Scarn, where the Elders wait, probably more terrified of the War Chieftain than anyone else. They would not be much help. Gorexius does not respect those not forged in the fires of war.

“Did you really escape from this place? I’d prefer a cell than be exposed out there again,” Pebbles asks, shivering.

I nod affirmatively, wanting to say more, but the unease gnawing at my mind robs me of my usual humor. Before long, the sight of the massive black door engraved in golden runes looms over us.

“Wow!” Pebbles exclaims as she rushes over to run her hands over the shiny engravings. “What do they mean?” she asks, her voice echoing in wonder around the cavernous passageway.

One of the enormous black doors creaks open causing Pebbles to leap back with a yelp of surprise. Harkus peeks his head around the slight opening, his eyes darting between the both of us. “Ah, good you’re here,” he says before motioning behind him. “They symbolize wisdom and tradition,” he answers, looking at Pebbles with a smile. “I pray wisdom prevails this day,” he adds, his brown eyes piercing into mine.

“I’m praying for tradition,” I retort with a scoff, noting Pebbles’ gasp as she catches sight of two scantily clad female Argorians, their robes loose and exposed, pulling open the doors.

Her eyes widen in amazement as she gazes into the grand circular chamber, taking in the huge golden judgment rune upon the floor and the raised benches occupied by elders perched atop, their expressions a mix of impatience and nervousness.

Harkus clutches my arm and leans in conspiratorially. “Krogoth, I know you will invoke Krak-Tok given half a chance, as you did before. Now is not the time to play the naïve angry boy, but for calm heads and wise words,” he pleads, his voice earnest.

I shrug off Harkus’ hand as I glance down at him. “What I do, I do for my Clan and for all Klendathor. Gorexius must be removed for us to break free from the Scythians.”

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