Page 76 of Captured By the Dragon Warlord
“Looks like I’ve found what my master wanted,” a voice growls out of the dark as Dalsor steps out of the shadows.
“And I’m guessing your master is not Dexx.”
Dalsor’s already grim expression darkens further, his eyes almost flat, like a great white shark rather than the usual Sarkarnii fire. “Lord Dexx”—he spits out Dexx’s name like a sour fruit—“is not my Lord. He is a speck of dirt in this galaxy compared to the one I serve.”
“As we’ve got that cleared up”—I start to back away from Dalsor—“I’ll be going.”
“Dexx thinks he can destroy the darkness. He is wrong,” Dalsor says. “The darkness is coming for us all, and only those who have proved themselves worthy will survive.”
He holds out his hand, and something which is like smoke but not smoke writhes there, moving and spinning as if it is alive.
It is alive. And it is…not good.
I don’t hang around to get any further information from him, despite how chatty Dalsor apparently wants to be.
I know all I need to know.
And Dexx has put himself in more danger than I realized. I have to get one of the other warlords to go after him. It’s the only way he can possibly escape.
DEXX
The engine signature of the ship which approached us and got into my consciousness is hard to detect, but once I do, I get it locked into the system.
I berate myself over and over for leaving Scarlett. She deserves better than a mate who let her be taken by another species, who was unable to protect her when she was mere nova-inches away.
A Sarkarnii who cannot control his shift. Who is plagued by the thoughts of others, who struggles in bright light. Who is scared and maimed.
I am not worthy of my sweet heartsfire. That she was fated to me has to be a cruel error in the universe. That I have even managed to fill her belly yet another twist which is entirely wrong.
Now she is even more unsafe because of me, because of what I have done. And my clan is no further forward in finding a way out of our nightmare of shift and unshift.
I have not made anything better by my actions. My usual blundering in, killing and taking, has resulted in less than zero.
Now I’m chasing a spirit, a specter which I believe is the cause of all the trouble. Not only is it possibly the stupidest thing I’ve done but it’s the one thing it would expect me to do.
Because somehow, it knows me.
“Nev this to the ancestors!” I fire smoke out, filling the small cabin of the flyer.
I needed my fellow warlords to back me up, not to leave them behind. I needed to have a plan. I needed to be the warrior I expect my warriors to be.
Instead I’m chasing smoke through the galaxy all whilst leaving Vorostor Central and my mate unprotected.
As the initial desire for death has subsided, this is quickly becoming the stupidest idea I have ever had.
“Dante?” I put a call out over the comm. “You still there?”
There is simply space-static. There’s no sign of the warriors in the other flyers. It’s as if they’ve vanished into nothingness. Either I’m out of comm range or he has returned to the planet, both of which make my life more difficult.
Especially as, in a move not entirely unexpected, the flyer loses power and my instruments go dark.
It has found me.
This time I am ready.
“Ah, the Sarkarnii warlord.” The screen glows in the darkness with the image of the creature from before.
“You don’t get to take me and then live,” I snarl.
