Page 25 of The Blind Hordesman

I cry, choking on tears and mud. I cough but can’t catch my breath. I gasp for air. Panic chokes me even more.

The weight lifts from my back, and boots appear in my line of vision. I gasp and gasp, coughing. Sitting up, I wipe my face. My fingers come away muddy. Seer stands there, the armor across his chest, belly, arms, and face burned. A breast plate falls off, exposing his skin. It’s seared and smells like someone barbecued him. On my right, my home burns. I run toward it, thinking I can still save my sisters, but Seer grabs me. I scream and struggle against him, but he holds me, and it’s not until I hear him grunting in pain that I stop. He releases me, and I turn to look up at him. Soaked, dirty, desperate again, I wipe the dirt from my face.

Rain washes the blood off his. More blood wells from the burns, but he says not a word, just stares down at me and whistles, the same sound I’d heard before.

In the burning camp, Alphas spring up from under the ground. Those weren’t firepits they were digging. Those were holes in which they could take cover.

Seer smiles. “Those drones come from the east. Pack what’s left of our tent. You’re never coming back.”

* * *

My home burns until morning. When the rain kills the fire, survivors work to find people trapped in the cellar. Hounds go inside first, then Alphas, who dig through the rubble and carry out bodies. Some of those bodies are small, and I cry for them and the Alphas who suffocated in the cellar when they ran for cover from the kitchen.

Two Alphas survived.

They’re just lying in the mud, chests expanding and relaxing.

Seer’s hound took a hit to his flank. He lies on top of Seer’s destroyed tent and whines as quietly as a mouse, though the burn must hurt him just as much as Seer's own burn hurts Seer, who moves around as if he’s won the lottery. I don’t understand what there is to be happy about. I keep crying because the surviving Alphas pile the bodies of my sisters and set them on fire.

Next to me, Cockster peeps.

I glance at him as he approaches the hound and pecks his nose. The hound doesn’t snap at him, but closes his eyes. Tremors run through his body. I spring up and rummage through the destroyed tent, find my cage, and take out as many furs as I can carry. I cover the hound and lie down next to the animal that saved my life. “You’re gonna be okay.” Tears cloud my vision. Reluctantly, I pat the scales over his big ears that twitch under my touch.

Time passes, and, exhausted, I fall asleep.

Chapter 11

Seer

My Omega survived, most of my males survived, and Ayo’s gonna make it.

The third drone took off east, where it came from. Despite the attack and loss, I have a lot to be grateful for, and my males need to see we’re still perfectly fine. This means I can’t whine like a pussy about my wounds, and it means I walk around the camp getting to know the new setting while barking orders as usual. This is not our first brush with enemy, not our worst either, and it certainly won’t be our last.

The imposter will not face me alone. He will not respond to my challenge. He will fight until all his males or my males are dead. This is not the Regha way, and since the twat sent fucking drones after me, I know he’s playing a dangerous game, one I have to adjust to or die. So I called Dreikx and told him I need tech support.

I am too proud to beg, but I will do anything to spare my males and win this war. My chair survived the carnage, as did my sack, the cage, the furs, but not the drawings. That’s fine. In the middle of our destroyed camp, and after we honored the dead, I move the chair next to my sleeping Omega and plop into it, waiting for my division heads to assemble. Three males approach and sit on the cloth that was my tent. I tap my com unit, and Dreikx picks up immediately. “Seer.”

“Yup. Listen, I had a situation.” I tell him what happened.

Dreikx surprises me. He doesn’t pause to think or respond with something smart. Instead, he says, “Permission to land in the camp?”

“Granted. How long till you get here?”

My males snarl and erect their armor, and I know Dreikx has appeared. He and Sotay made the space gate their bitch and are capable of space-jumping instantly from one location to the next.

“I am here,” Dreikx says.

“Welcome.” I spread my arms.

“Report,” he says.

The crown I presume he wears on his head makes him feel like he can order me around. “Have a seat.”

“I’m okay standing. You’re severely injured.” Footsteps approach. “I will return with a medic.”

“Negative. Stand, sit, what the fuck ever, but no medic.”

“Your males need a medic.”

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