Page 83 of Torn from the Alien Commander

Crogon smiles as he approaches, and I notice one of his arms is synthetic. “I hail from Clan Astranix, the great mountains of Aurnith.” He stands before me, towering, almost as tall and broad as my Xandor despite his age.

My eyes widen at his words, just familiar with enough Klendathor geography to know Aurnith is at the very north of the planet, many hundred of miles away. “Wow... please sit and rest,” I gesture towards a nearby chair equipped with metal restraints—necessary for healing the corrupted youths. “You traveled all that distance just to see me?” I ask in disbelief, filled with shame that I worry about my own fatigue when males like Crogon go to such lengths to reach me.

He sighs, sinking into the chair, his bones stiff as arcweave. “Oh, yes, Kor-Kis. A small price to pay to look upon you and receive your blessing,” he smiles warmly at me, as he searches his thick gray furs. “A gift for your greatness. Not just for me, but for all you’re doing for our people.” He extends his massive, worn hand.

I gasp in amazement, taking the gorgeous carved figurine that fits in my palm. “Is this Elerium?” I exclaim in disbelief, examining the intricate model with wonder. Not only is it beautifully crafted, but I almost choke, realizing it’s a voiding statuette of me! Like a holy relic, my likeness looks serene, dressed in flowing robes with palms raised and facing forward. “Did you make this?”

“Yes, and yes,” Crogon laughs, rich and deep. “It warms my frozen face to see that it pleases you.” I’m left stunned by his amazingly generous gift. That it’s Elerium means it’s worth a small fortune and the significance of my likeness almost moves me to tears. Is this how they see me, a divine figure? It’s almost unbelievable, like they’ve mistaken me for someone else or something.

Many of the Klendathian’s I’ve healed give me gifts—sometimes simple credits, other’s sparkling gems, rich fur clothes, jewelry, or yummy delicacies. In truth, I’m already fabulously wealthy beyond my wildest dreams, but I don’t care. Driven by the pure need to help people—I won’t stop. “I can’taccept this, Crogon. It’s too much.” I push the beautiful figurine towards him.

Crogon exhales, casting his gaze downward. “If you reject my gift, then I’m not worthy of your blessing.” He moves to stand, filling me with sadness.

“No!” I move with haste, urging him to remain seated. “Please sit. I love your gift and will treasure it always.” I smile, tucking the model into my pocket, letting it rest beside my pendant. Another precious treasure. “You relax now.”

He closes his eyes as I bend forward, unclasping his rickety old metal prosthetic leg, wondering how it carried him so far. Next, I pat down his massive arm, locating the source of his synthetic replacement. Near his elbow, I find the base, unclasping the pressurized clamps. It hisses in protest as I pull it through the sleeve of his thick fur coat, letting it rest on the wooden floor.

“Do you have any other prosthetics?” I inquire, placing my fingers against his broad, scared face, opening his eyelids, examining his blue eyes.

“No,” Crogon laughs, “the Gods let me keep the rest.” His jest causes me to giggle.

“How did you lose them?” I ask, already assuming the answer. All the disfigured Klendathians suffered a similar terrible fate. I place both my palms on his face, which feels as rough as scouring paper.

“Gorglaxian conquest. Clean shot on our drop pod. My war was over before it began.” Crogon smiles as I massage his wounded face, letting my essence in my bond build. “Much to my shame. I longed to prove myself to my war brothers on the field of battle... But the Gods had other plans.”

“It’s not too late, Crogon,” I promise him. Despite my fatigue, my heart soars, yearning to help him, moved by his commitment and ardent wish—I will renew his body. My hands glow green as my essence extends into his, finding his old wounds—theremnants of his missing limbs. I spill my soul into them, filling the gaps with new life and hope.

Crogon gasps, and a shudder shakes him. Within his circuit, I sense the new connections bridging, melding together with the old. My energies flow through him, washing away years of fatigue, long-healed burns, worn joints, achy tendons, broken teeth, and weary heart, cleansing him in my emerald bliss. His missing limbs begin to form as I surge within him, carried away by adoration, lost to my sacred duty.

I collapse into my chair, my breath ragged, my mind consumed by tiredness. But still, I’m elated, smiling at Crogon, who marvels, flexing his restored hand and wiggling his new toes. “A miracle,” he mutters, standing tall and proud. He rotates his great limbs as he laughs, moving like a male half his age. “Kor-Kis, you’ve given me a new life.”

His hands find his face, and he gasps in shock as Crogon traces the contours of his new features—the real features that were taken from him. Tears spill from his blue eyes and his massive shoulders shake with sobbing. I rush to place a comforting arm around him, my heart swelling with pride and joy. “I never dared imagined you could heal this... Thank you, thank you, Kor-Kis.”

“It was my pleasure,” I say, beaming up at him with my eyes glistening, almost overcome with emotion myself. “Your Gods did not forget about you, Crogon. They brought me here for this purpose.”

I will not fail them.

My words heighten Crogon’s tears of joy as he clutches me in a tight embrace. I stand, unafraid of his touch, feeling the love and adoration radiating from him, bolstering my weary body. “I shame myself,” Crogon sniffles a moment later, breaking our embrace to wipe the rivers of weeping from his restored face.

“There is no shame here,” I smile, gesturing to encompass the massive empty hall. Indeed, many Klendathians have spilledtears after my healing touch. Each one I remember fondly, a treasured memory of happiness that I’ll always carry with me. “Go, Crogon, and spread the word to the others who need my help.”

His expression snaps to solemn as he thumps his chest with a hand and bows his head. “At once, Kor-Kis.” He turns to stalk towards the exit, his powerful strides echoing through the ancient wooden surroundings, a stark contrast to the male who entered only moments ago.

As he leaves, my elation wanes, bringing with it yet deeper profound exhaustion, and that annoying headache is back, throbbing dimly at the front of my skull.Wish I could spare the energy to heal myself!My eyes shift to the beckoning pile of comfortable furs I asked Xandor to set up for me, tucked behind the Chieftain’s chair. I’ve been stealing brief sleeps over the past weeks—but my duties must continue.

It’s tempting as I stare at the furs through blurry eyes that struggle to stay open. But I tear my gaze away, opting to rest my weary head on the enormous ancient table instead.Just one more, then I’ll sleep.As I rest my head on my hands, treacherous tiredness threatens to whisk me off to merciful sleep.

Until a rhythmic tapping catches my attention. Someone must be coming. I should straighten and look presentable, but I struggle to stir from my hazy consciousness. My nose wrinkles catching the scent of food, causing my stomach to rumble and gargle with an aching hunger I never knew was there.

This next guy smells delicious!

I jolt upright, more motivated by the delightful smell of food. My eyes, consumed by fatigue, desperately crave rest. “Oh, great and glorious Kor-Kis, can you rid me of this awful stubbed toe?” Xandor jests, his humorous tone and familiar voice snapping me awake with excitement.

“Xandor!” I exclaim, wiping the sleep from my eyes to see my beaming Mortakin-Kai approaching with a wooden plate of streaming goodies that make my mouth water.

“It is I,” Xandor laughs, “Bringer of food. For all your hard work...” His words and smile fade, replaced by a look of concern as he scrutinizes my face. “You look like you’ve been dragged behind a herd of stampeding boracks.”

I emit a weak laugh, too exhausted for more. “I feel like I have, too.”

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