Page 4 of Captured By the Dragon Warlord
All my crew know respect, none more so than Dalsor. I insist on games once a month so my warriors can demonstrate their strength, then I take on the victor.
No one has beaten me. This is how a warlord gains his respect and keeps it.
“I have digging to do in the northern quarter,” I growl. “Send in a Paralnyi to the female before I return to attend to her. No warriors are to enter my quarters.”
“Yes, Lord Dexx.” Dalsor bows and slams his fist on his chest, backing away, although keeping his eyes on me.
I have been known to lash out without warning. It keeps good warriors ready for anything. But on this occasion, I allow him to leave without an injury.
All my clan have some ability to read thoughts, or in the case of my warriors more emotions, since we came through the wormhole. My ability is better than all of them, given I can read their minds in their entirety, and not just my clan, all of the Sarkarnii, whilst being able to block my clan members from reading me.
My command is by reputation.
However what it gave us with one claw, it took with another.
We must stay in the dark. We must shift for at least twelve nova-hours. If not, the mutations arise once again. My shift is beckoning, and I need to get down the mine to use the Sarkarnii I become to the best advantage. Until I can shift back again, I cannot deal with the female in my quarters.
I reach the central shaft, unfurling my wings as I get close, and the wind whistles up and out at me. For a nova-second, I hang there before shifting the rest of myself and diving down into the very bowels of Vorostor.
Several of my warriors pass me, able now to return to their biped forms. I don’t envy them. I always preferred my Sarkarnii form even before I was forced to take it. The one time I couldn’t shift was the time I lost my eye.
I have never resisted the urge to shift since. Part of me wonders if that is the reason my crew and I have ended up with this mutation, whereas the other Sarkarnii seem to have gotten off lightly in comparison.
We may never know. But what I am aware of is the moment I picked up the human, the moment she was in my arms, onmy shoulder, belonging to me, was the first moment of silence inside my head I’ve had since we crash landed on Vorostor.
And it was pure bliss.
SCARLETT
I’ve wriggled around for hours and hours, rolling onto my tummy, off again, attempting to contort myself into all the weird shapes I can, but other than managing to get my arms from behind my back to in front of me, I’m unable to undo the bonds either at my wrists or my ankles.
Finally I fling myself on my back with a shout of annoyance. Not that the big Sarkarnii who brought me here cares in the least. Presumably I could shout myself hoarse and he wouldn’t care.
“Fuck the Sarkarnii,” I grumble. “Fuck all of this.”
“I expect that is what you are here for.” A voice comes out of the darkness, prim and clipped.
“What?” I sit bolt upright. “Who’s there?”
“I’m going to raise the lighting in here, so shield your eyes,” it says.
I turn my head into the wall and then decide this could be a trap, so I turn back again. The room gets gradually brighter, and I’m able to see I am, where I thought I was. A set of Sarkarnii living quarters.
And standing in front of me is a raccoon.
“What the f-?” I scramble back a ways, not that I’m able to go far with feet and wrists bound.
“Do not be alarmed,” the raccoon says.
“I AM alarmed. You’re a talking raccoon. I’m talking to araccoon!”
“I am not a raccoon. I am a Paralnyi.”
“Other than being a raccoon, what is a Paralnyi?” I ask as the creature approaches me and starts fiddling with the bonds around my ankles.
“To you, Scarlett, I am what is going to stop Lord Dexx from eating you alive.”
“How the hell do you know my name?” I snarl at it as the bond pops free from around my ankles.
