Page 10 of Sol Survivor

“Ulvus has declared challenge.Do you accept, Drafe?”Elder Bavu met Drafe’s gaze, but laughter twinkled in his eyes.All knew, he had no patience for Ulvus or anyone in his family.

Drafe grinned.“I do.”

“Let the rite of Uhann proceed.”At Elder Bavu’s announcement, the crowd cheered.

As one, they shoved past Drafe.Just south of the village, stone pillars had been settled into the dunes in a circle.Over the centuries, as the sands shifted, more stones were added.How deep they went, no one knew, not even the symbiotes.

When Kael drew Larya against his side, Drafe faced them.He smiled, cupped her cheek, and slapped Kael on the shoulder.“May Osnir bless your mating.”

“May Kreta whisper your name in fear.”Kael gripped Drafe’s shoulder.

“Make him suffer, Drafe,” Larya whispered, her paling eyes belied the strength in her words.She feared for his life.

Drafe grunted and strode through the water-carved tunnels to the circle.Many gathered, eager for entertainment.The symbiotes robbed them of storytellers when everyone knew the history of the Meorri from the first symbiotic relationship.Merchants who traveled between tribes brought fresh stories.Meorri discarded most of their tales as nonsensical.A sky village, tribes with too much water, food in abundance, slithering or flying predators?He huffed.Absurd.

Ulvus waited in the center of the circle, spinning his Cainus sword.Drafe’s family could never afford such a blade, but one day, he would bless his son with the finest.Perhaps, if Osnir smiled upon him, hi3s mate wouldn’t be a Meorri but from a land blessed with much.

“Only you would escape judgment,” Ulvus hissed when Drafe entered the circle.

Raising his sword, Drafe spread his feet, preparing for Ulvus’s usual charging like an enraged hudu.Drafe smirked.Ulvus was the size of one and as awkward on his feet.

A silver object darted across the sky, close enough to stir up spiraling eddies and plumes of sand.Drafe squinted, his symbiotes hurrying to shield his eyes.Through thin film, all watched the craft descend.Like a single drop of water, it glimmered in iridescent silvers and grays.Its door slid open, and two Ivoy stepped out.Their orange bodies glowed in the morning suns’ light, and their dark blue garments flapped in the breeze.They descended, marring the sand with their footsteps.Tall, with long limbs and bulbous heads, they moved with efficiency on four-toed feet.Masks hid the top half of their faces.Visible were two holes for a nose and a small mouth drawn into a grim line.

They paused on the outside of the circle, alongside a smiling Bavu.He chatted away, bobbing his head whenever the Ivoy spoke.Drafe strained to listen above the shifting sands, despite it being futile.Only Bavu spoke Ivoyan.An Ivoy stepped closer and gestured with his four fingers for the match to commence.

With a roar, Ulvus charged.

Drafe stepped to the side without looking at him.Settling his gaze on his challenger, he waited and watched.Ulvus pushed his foot deep into the sand, preparing to lunge.Drafe sighed, wishing this was done, that he was en route to Ivoy, the heat of the suns no longer baking his head, shoulders, and his future optimistic.He could serve as a warrior or spend endless years mining the salt plains.His stomach churned as a weight settled on his chest.

Ulvus grunted and swung his sword.

Drafe leaned back, the whisper of a breeze trailing the blade’s path.

Another strike, another dodge.

Sidestep, duck, back step, and repeat.

For every attack Ulvus made, Drafe evaded.

“Stand still, you son of a Kreta whore.”Ulvus panted, his great shoulders jerking.He whipped his sword from side-to-side.Sweat glistened on his skin, and his yellow eyes paled.

Just a little more.Drafe smirked.“Why?Not everything in life is handed to you, Ulvus.This time your mother cannot help you.”

Ulvus growled and lunged again.Instead of stumbling past Drafe, he switched tactics mid-charge and caught Drafe in the stomach with an elbow.He grunted and raised his sword in time to catch Ulvus’s downward swing.The force of the colliding blades rippled down his arms.He pinched his lips to smother a moan.It would do no good to reveal a weakness.

Swing, swing, backward leap, duck, roll, and block.Exhaustion tugged on his limbs, but Drafe refused to concede, to allow Ulvus a victory of any kind.At the edge of the circle, he fought for air, his lungs burning, crisscrossed wounds bled clear blood while sweat dripped off his chin.Ulvus stood on the opposite side, worse than Drafe.

A horn blew, marking the end of the first half.Drafe strode across to Kael and Larya.He handed Kael his sword and accepted the offered water pouch.After squeezing five droplets on his tongue, he faced the circle for the last battle.

As if a phantom finger ran down his spine, he shivered.Ulvus drank deeply from Drafe’s stolen water pouch.On the edge of the leather was his father’s star.Fury rattled his bones, and he ground his teeth, almost biting his tongue to remain silent.He had to win the challenge first before accusations flew.

“Is that Father’s—?”

Drafe gave Larya a slight nod.Her cheeks paled, and she twitched, her hands forming fists.Kael wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her against his side.

Without his sword, Drafe strode into the circle and waited.Closing his eyes, he fought for calm and willed his anger to subside, for now.He trembled with restrained energy, and the urge to kill the male gripped him.Kreta whispered her seduction, how best to take his life, how Drafe would be doing the Meorri a great service if he killed Ulvus.To do so would make him an exile.

Drafe rolled his shoulders, his arms burning from meeting Ulvus’s strikes.His symbiotes scrambled to heal his cuts and fuel his attacks.He was so tired.What he longed to do was sleep for days.His cool home called to him, his bed a few strides away.

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