Page 32 of Chieftain
Wave after wave of sickness spilled from her lips, soft gasps and moans interspersed with retching sounds. I'd never felt so helpless. With one hand, I held the curls back from her face while offering her first the water bottle, then a clean cloth from my pack.
“I’m sorry.” Emmy groaned, gazing at me with red-rimmed eyes as she held the cloth weakly to her forehead.
It wasn't much, just a scrap of lightweight fabric Orzon saw the need to place in my pack.
The water in my metallic bottle was icy—it would remain so thanks to Vaktarian technology. I slid the cloth from her hand, wetting it and bringing the coolness back to wipe her face and neck. She slumped against me, breath coming in quick, short pants.
“I didn’t think it would be this hard to breathe,” Her voice was thick and gruff as the smoke wound around her vocal cords.
I rinsed the cloth again, folding it before pressing it into her hand.
“I am sorry little human. Hold this over your nose and mouth. It should help.” Emmy complied immediately, eyes widening as she drew shallow breaths.
“Better?”
She nodded.
“It is not far now.” I nodded to the din before us, wrapping my arm around her waist. The urge to swing her up in my arms was painful to deny, but I didn’t think Emmy would not like that. She liked to stand on her own two feet. Still, it would make travel easier for her. I tightened my grip, intending to lift her and deal with the consequences when the fog before us shifted in such a way that sent a shiver of foreboding climbing up my spine.
My hands went immediately to the blades at my back, and I moved to shield Emmy just as the Kerzak sprang from the darkness.
Chapter 10
Emmy
I would have screamed, but that would have necessitated taking a deep breath, something neither my body nor psyche needed.
The bear before us wasn't the creature I'd bumped into at the tavern. This was a smaller version, but even so, he was massive, the width of his shoulders taking up most of the narrow alley. The air cleared. Not even the fog wanted to wait around for what came next.
“Leave the human Vaktaire, and you will live.” The series of low growls translated into my brain.
Khaion stepped fully in front of me, shedding his cloak. His back and shoulder muscles bunched and rippled under the tight black vest. The Kerzak might be thick sinew and bulk, but Khaion was built for battle, his body sculpted and honed through years of training. The simple flex of his arm as Khaion reached for his blades was a movement that was as beautiful as it was deadly.
The Vaktaire tilted his head, bringing his face closer to mine, although his gaze never left the Kerzak.
“If I am injured, find the mother. She will help you hide until Charick arrives."
“Don’t get injured,” I hissed, not wanting to accept even the hint it could happen.
The Kerzak roared the sound a weapon in and of itself. It reminded me of the ear-splitting cry of the T-rex in one of those Jurassic Park movies and made my eardrums rattle painfully.
“Run, hide,” Khaion hissed at me.
The grizzly-alien launched himself, and I suddenly found myself on my butt, looking upward at the clash of alien and metal.
The Kerzak attack was the most violent thing I'd ever seen—and I'm no stranger to violence. As a district attorney, even in my small town, I watched more videos of assault and murder than I cared to remember. I'd also been a victim of violence—criminals who took a last stand before succumbing to our justice system—one such incident devolving into a hostage situation lasting for a terse forty-eight hours.
The Kerzak fought wildly, roaring as he struck out with blade and claw. The creature was wild, relying on brute strength in battle. Khaion was no slouch. While the Kerzak bested him in size and brute strength, I’ve never seen anyone move as purposefully and swiftly as Khaion.
Since my ex was a professor at the University of Georgia, sporting events tickets were easy to come by. Over the last thirty years, I've witnessed astounding feats performed by some of the world's greatest athletes.
Khaion put them all to shame.
He was otherworldly.
Watching Khaion face off against the Kerzak was like watching a brutal ballet, his every movement perfectlychoreographed for maximum outcome. Watching Khaion fight was beautiful. Knowing he fought to protect me—there were no words, only a fluttering warm settling around my heart.
Below us, machinery thrummed and gurgled. The clash of blade on blade was a clang of thunder punctuated by angry roars. The sound melded together, creating a symphony that perfectly accompanied the violence. From down the alley, a faint sound, like the thud of heavy feet, as the mist seemed to swirl and give way in beckoning.
