Page 3 of Warrior
“Ewok, do your people have a god… a deity?” I knew there were mentions of gods and worship in the Star Wars movies and Star Trek, but this definitely wasn’t fiction.
His furry face scrunched like an angry puppy. “I remember my people used to give thanks after a good hunt to the mother.”
I stumbled, and his small hand tightened around my wrist. The top of Ewok’s head hit just below my breasts, but he was sturdy and strong. When his hand slipped downward to hold mine, it felt comforting, and I gave his fingers a squeeze of thanks.
"On Earth, most people believe in one God. We have buildings called churches where people join together to worship—give thanks, and ministers like my husband are church leaders. They help the church members and lead things like funerals and weddings.”
“Weed-eeng?”
I laughed as he turned into a larger tunnel, feeling the sadness of death fade.
“A wedding is a ceremony for two people who love each other and want to live together.”
“Oh, like mates.” Ewok’s face lit up.
“Like mates, “I agreed, although the word had an animalistic connotation to my mind.
“Is God a nice guy?” Ewok gazed up at me with innocent eyes.
“I like to think so,” I said, bopping him on the end of his squat, black nose with a finger. Ewok’s eyes went wide, and his childlike laughter echoed, but it didn’t last long. He froze, using the grip on my hand to pull me behind him.
“What’s the matter?” I bent to whisper directly into a twitching ear.
“I thought I heard something,” he murmured, taking hesitant steps forward.
“A guard?” I hissed. The idea of running into the gigantic hateful, scar-faced man that frequented the common area felt unsettling.
Ewok shook his head. Taking a full step back, he bumped into me with such force I nearly fell.
The thing that erupted from the darkness wasn't a guard. It was something worse.
He was a foot taller than the scar-faced dude, with rippling muscles under golden tan skin. His tawny hair billowed around his head like a lion's mane, so wild and untamed it tookme a moment to register the intensity of his eyes—like small suns swimming in a cobalt sea. He was dressed like my idea of a medieval warrior in black leather pants, vest and boots with silver studded leather straps crisscrossing his massive chest. I had a sudden, irrational thought that he was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen—until he pulled twin axes from over his shoulders.
“Kerzak.” The man grated and lunged for Ewok.
Acting solely on instinct, I shoved Ewok to the side. The alien skidded to a stop to keep from crashing into me, a low snarl ripping from his full lips as his attention shifted to where Ewok lay on the ground. It was only a moment, but all I needed was a moment. Spinning, I raised my shovel, bringing the blade against the side of the alien’s head with a resoundingthwack.
For a moment, the hit didn’t seem to faze him. I was a newcomer to violence, but I’d hit him with all my strength, the reverberation in the handle making the shovel painful to hold. He turned slowly, gazing at me with surprise until the golden irises disappeared in a sea of cobalt, and he fell with the grace of a tree.
Ewok strode to my side, brushing the dust from his fur. He glanced from me to the alien lying face down in the dirt, a deep sigh escaping his lips.
“We’re going to have to dig a much bigger hole to bury this one,kida.”
Chapter 2
Daicon
How did this happen?
The heavy chains tethering me to the wall were thick and cold, the kind of chain used for pulling mining carts full of rocks and tools. The bindings around my wrists and ankles were slack, a sign of shoddy work by whoever bound me. Despite the room's darkness, my eyes adjusted with the help of a faint light seeping underneath the doorframe. I made out a cot, chair, and sink—the only furniture in the room. The air was dank and loamy, like in my memory, but with a faint sweetness that reminded me of gardens and sunshine.
I shifted onto the balls of my feet, feeling the weight of the metal chains along with a dull ache in my skull from the blow I’d taken. My stance gave me some degree of agility, even while bound in chains. The perpetrator was sloppy. They hadn't removed my comm unit from my left wrist—a sign of amateurishness. Little good it did me. This deep underground, I was out of range from the Bardaga—or anyone else.
The last thing I remembered clearly before being knocked unconscious was the baby Kerzak. In the periphery of my vision, stood a human woman. Although I couldn’t tell whether she was real, or a figment of my imagination brought about by the whack to my head.
Daisy.
I imagined her to be pretty—her friend Emmy was quite beautiful. Which is how I got stuck on this inane rescue.
