Page 28 of Fated to the Alien Chieftain

Assault

Ijerk upright fromthe ground, gasping for air.How am I still alive?I pat my body, looking for the huge wounds which were just burned into me. To my amazement, I find nothing but torn clothes and exposed skin.But they killed me?I remember the scorching agony of being swarmed and cut open by a dozen cold metal murderers.

“Good as new, Patriarch,” Dranuxia says, her voice a little strained. She rushes over to tend to another warrior who clutches a torn ankle.

I watch in wonder as her hands and eyes glow radiant blue. The gash in the warrior’s leg knits back together with impossible speed.She can heal with her hands and it’s faster than our healing pods?I examine my own hands with wonder, recallingthe amazing power I used to crush the horde of drones. Some of the older tales spoke of the Gods having strange powers while on the mortal plane. It seems the stories were true after all.

This new room is much more cramped, with low ceilings and close-in walls, giving me a sense of claustrophobia. The enemy knows of our presence now. It’s crucial we forge ahead before they can send their entire force at us. Getting to my feet, my warriors shift nervously on the narrow walkway, as some nurse wounds and tend to their guns.

I stand completely unarmed, my gun long gone, smashed to a thousand pieces like so many of those machines.How can I fight if I don’t even have claws? What about these strange powers?Flexing my fingers, I look at the iris door as I project my will to close it. My eyes mist purple, drawing from the same source that Rush comes from. The metal sheets of the iris slam together loudly in an instant.

I jolt back in shock and amazement, my pulse rising in excitement.The power of my favored God Dagdorix of the Star Eyes is in my control! If I had known sooner, we would not have lost any warriors. Clenching my fists with renewed determination, I will avenge them by facing this Machine God, the legends speak of.

“Come, we must hurry,” I command the group, not pleased with the cowardice many had shown during the attack.I would harden their resolve by sending them on a Proving Pilgrimage.But those are ideas of another time and place.

Dranuxia stands up, having healed more wounded now. She takes a long breath, brushing herself off. Marching over the narrow walkway, I glance around cautiously. My warvisor gives no sign of danger; however, the machines already proved stealthy. Dranuxia and Arawnoth march quickly to catch up, eager to walk behind me. Most likely some kind of hierarchy demands it.

“When did you learn to fight like that Patriarch?” Arawnoth asks, his tone curious.

A pang of shame blooms in my stomach, recalling my awful performance because of this weak body. “I fought poorly... I’m not feeling like myself.”

Dranuxia chimes in excitedly, “You fought like a brutal savage! I’ve seen nothing like it.”

I scratch the back of my head.They’ve seen nothing compared to real savagery.“If I had my claws.” I glance down, examining my hands.Did ancient Klendathians not possess them?

“Hah! Claws, very good Patriarch.” Arawnoth slaps his leg, his humor overly dramatic and sycophantic.He would benefit from a Proving Pilgrimage, too.

Dranuxia titters, bringing a hand to cover her already masked mouth. “Our claws are removed at birth. They’re so unsafe and uncivilized, don’t you think?” she asks, tilting her head.

A flash of anger ignites within me, that they dare mutilate the young to suit their own weak ideals. “Our proud sons and daughters, neutered like docile boracks unable to express their birthright as warriors?” I shoot back.

Dranuxia gasps, while Arawnoth scoffs, “Come now, Patriarch, we have evolved beyond such concerns. Sure, you can crush your enemies with but a thought,” he says, as his eye slits glow red and fire dances between his hands, “And I can melt mine.”

“What about her?” I nod towards Dranuxia. “And the others?” I gesture to the soldiers following closely behind.

Dranuxia bustles in, “Usually we have our disruptor cannons...” She pauses, her head cast downward. “I’d rather die than have to resort to claws, like a primitive,” her voice defiant.

I shake my head, wondering how the proud Klendathian warriors of my time ever emerged from people like these. Their powers and technology have weakened them, corrupting their spirits and their very bodies. It’s little wonder we turned awayfrom this path to more noble ideals. “Let us hope it doesn’t come to that,” I state flatly.

We march on in silence for a time; the group moves slowly, watching each pulsating tube and cavity for any hint of treachery. Before long, I’m in-front of another circular door, like the previous one. With little effort, I propel my thoughts into it, forcing it open in an instant.

My heart drops looking into the next room, if such a place could be called a room. Dozens of paths lead in various directions, some look inaccessible without crawling along the walls, others so small even Pebbles couldn’t squeeze through. Others look fairly wide and long, while others are winding and tiny, and there’s every combination between.

“Oh, my,” Dranuxia gasps, looking from behind my back.

“Never thought I’d say these words,” Arawnoth says as he glances between the different paths, “but I miss the company of Exarch Ecneius.”

Dranuxia giggles and playfully taps Arawnoth on his arm. “You’re awful.”

Awful is picking the wrong path and being vented into space.I study the different paths intensely, hoping for some clue or insight.Maybe the widest long one? That seems the most obvious choice, but the machines would expect that, and might lay a trap there. Assuming the machines expect an intruder? At least we could defend better in the open space. But then the drones transverse through small tunnels, so maybe that’s the right choice?I let out a sigh, my mind twisted in knots.

Might as well pick one at random, leave it in the hands of the Gods...A smile crosses my lips.I’m playing that part.Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift, wondering if Dagdorix might possess a useful ability for this predicament. I take a deep breath and try to ignore the anxious shuffling of the other warriors as I open my awareness.

I begin to feel foolish having stood here motionless for some time, and consider stopping, when a strange thought springs to mind. That someone important to me is in danger. Their fear and nervous emotions tug at the back of my mind, filling me with a need to reach them. It’s a similar feeling to the draw I felt towards Pebbles when I was held captive in the Peaks of Scarn.

It must be Machsin. Of course, Dagdorix, and she would be bonded together.I need to save her! The powerful concern I feel for a stranger is disconcerting. I find myself hurrying towards a straight, narrow path as an odd compulsion guides me. “This way.”

We travel through the narrow pathway that quickly emerges into an immense room, the ceiling and walls so far away the warvisor has to zoom in order to see the end of them. Dotted throughout are thick columns of metal, embedded into each column are thousands upon thousands of tubes of green liquid, that bubble as if being heated.Some kind of virus bomb?

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