Page 27 of Bound to the Alien Orc (Alien Gambits #1)

Chapter 27

W e reach the capital; it is late in the night, and Chieftain Yalrog greets us at the door to his residence, his face etched with worry.

“By the ancestors, you made it! We feared the worst when we heard about the explosion.” Yalrog asks, ushering us inside.

“It was sabotage,” I explain gravely. “We were caved in, and if it wasn’t for Tasha fixing a rig, we wouldn’t have made it out.”

Yalrog’s brow furrows as he leads us to his chambers. “I’ve already sent scouts to survey the damage and search for survivors.”

We sit, the mood somber. Yalrog sighs heavily. “Droilin, the High Chieftain... he has already been alerted to the incident. He’s sending warriors and a representative to investigate.”

My jaw clenches. “Let me guess, he’s blaming Tasha.”

Yalrog nods, his expression pained. “I’m afraid so. But there’s more. One of my miners saw someone fleeing the scene just before the explosion.”

“It’s worse than that, Chieftain. We recognize the description as one of Garrox’s guards. He most likely set up the explosion.” I explain.

I relay to Yalrog what we overheard while trapped —Claws, and another unknown Corsairian assailant who assumed we had perished. “Garrox’s warriors will be here soon. We don’t have much time to uncover the truth and put a stop to this.”

Yalrog retrieves a datapad from his desk, handing it to me. “These are reports from my last meeting with Chieftain Keklor. The Degok mine is nearly depleted. Garrox has kept this secret for too long.”

I scroll through the data, my unease growing. “I need access to all the luminore shipments from the last several rotations, from Degok and Jrosk. Can you arrange it?”

“I’ll do what I can,” Yalrog promises. “But you both need rest. Tomorrow will be trying.”

We’re shown back to our guest chamber, a simple but comfortable room with a large bed. As the door shuts behind us, I sigh, dragging my hand through my hair.

Tasha crosses the room, placing her hand on my arm. She is quiet, but her eyes speak volumes.

I turn to her, drawing her into my arms.

“You must be exhausted.” I pull her closer, her body warm and soft against mine. As I kiss her neck, my tusks grazing her delicate skin. I haven’t thought about how this can help clear Tasha’s name yet. My mind whirls with scenarios where I can use the evidence from Yalrog to help gain her innocence, but it’s still not enough.

“Mmm,” she sighs, her body pressing against mine and prompting distracting thoughts of removing her jumpsuit from my mind.

“I have to admit, it has been a long day,” she says, and yawns.

“Come, get some rest,” I say, and lead her to the bed.

I watch her climb into the bed, her body moving gracefully, and I can’t help but grin.

“What are you smiling at?” She asks, her voice soft.

“Just you little human,” I say, and lay down beside her, pulling her close.

“We need a plan,” she says, her voice quiet.

“I know, but for now, let’s get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

“It has, but I’m glad we’re both safe,” she says, her eyes heavy.

“Me too, my sweet Tasha,” I whisper, and kiss her softly.

She closes her eyes, and I watch as her breathing becomes steady.

But sleep eludes me. My mind whirls with the implications of Garrox’s actions. The mysterious third party, the STI negotiations, the tension between the clans... It all hangs in the balance.

I sigh and twirl a strand of Tasha’s hair between my fingers.

I think back to the feather found in the South Tower and the symbol carved beside it. What role do the Black Eclipse and the Astral Hunters play? And the Corsairian uniform scrap in the mine—are they the broker Garrox mentioned?

I pull Tasha closer, her soft breath tickling my chest. She stirs, murmuring in her sleep. How does she fit into this web of deceit? Why would anyone target her? I feel a swell of protectiveness. I will not let her down, I will not let Morcrest down.

One thing is clear — Garrox no longer serves Morcrest’s interests. His secrets and machinations are a disease, rotting our world from within.

There is only one path forward. Garrox must be removed as High Chieftain. But such a challenge is not undertaken lightly.

But how? A sour feeling returns to my gut.

The Rite of Akar’ath, a duel to the death between clan brothers, has not been invoked in over a century. It requires the agreement of all clan chieftains, a unity of purpose in the face of a dire threat.

I sigh, knowing it will not be easy to convince them, especially if Garrox is able to twist the facts to his advantage.

But if I am to take the challenge, I will need allies. Yalrog, is likely to support my claim. But there are Degok clan—Chieftain Keklor might take some convincing, he’s already lost so much. And it will take a few rotations to get to his clan lands.

Tasha sighs, shifting in her sleep, her hand clutching my chest. I pull her closer, a wave of love and protectiveness washing over me.

Yes, Garrox must be removed, and Morcrest restored to its former glory. I will do anything, give everything, to make it so. For her.

As I try to sleep, I absently stroke Tasha’s hair. I feel the glittery clip and I smile; she is my light in this darkness.

“Mmmm,” she murmurs, and rolls over, her hand brushing against my crotch.

I can’t help but groan, and she looks up at me, her eyes dark.

“Tasha,” I groan, as she kisses my chest, her lips soft.

“Shhh, let me take care of you,” she whispers, and takes my cock in her hand, stroking it slowly.

“That feels so voiding good, Tasha,” I moan, as her lips move lower, her tongue licking the head.

She teases the tip, swirling her tongue around it, and I groan, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Oh, Droilin, you taste so good,” she mews, her breath hot on my skin, tickling the spurs at the base of my cock.

I lean my head back and groan, my body trembling. She wraps her lips around the shaft, taking it deep, then uses her tongue to tease the tip. And I can’t hold back anymore. My heavy sack tightens, and my seed erupts, spilling into her mouth.

“Such a good little human,” I grunt, as she swallows, her throat working the cum greedily

“You are too good to me,” I breathe, as she wipes her mouth and crawls up to lie beside me, her body fitting perfectly against mine.

“Get some sleep Droilin, we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow,” she whispers, and snuggles closer.

As the first rays of dawn light the horizon, I know what I must do. For Morcrest, for my father’s memory, for Tasha... I will confront Yalrog and call for the Rite. It is the only way.

I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. My body relaxes for the first time this night. Finally, sleep beckons, but my dreams are haunted by visions of what is coming.

“You present a compelling argument, Droilin,” Chieftain Yalrog says, pacing his chambers. Morning light floods the room as Tasha and I await his verdict. “The evidence against Garrox is damning. But are you certain he is involved in these attacks?”

I meet Yalrog’s gaze unflinchingly. “I am. If we do not act, Morcrest’s fate will be sealed.”

Yalrog is silent for a long moment. “Then the Rite of Akar’ath is our only recourse. For the good of Morcrest, Garrox must be challenged.”

Tasha’s hand finds mine, her touch a silent reassurance. “But what if Garrox refuses the Rite?” she asks, her voice tight with worry.

Yalrog’s expression darkens. “If he refuses, he forsakes his right to lead. It will mean war between the clans.”

I swallow hard, the weight of my next words settling like a stone in my gut. “I will issue the challenge myself.”

Yalrog nods solemnly. “Garrox’s warriors will reach us by dusk. Return to Frosthok and prepare for the Rite. I will contact Chieftain Keklor — we will meet you as soon as we are able. Do not declare the challenge until we arrive. Garrox must not be given a chance to twist this to his own ends.”

“We will leave at once.”

“Stay strong, Droilin. For the future of our clans.”

“We will, and thank you for your support, Chieftain.”

I take Tasha’s hand, and we leave the Chieftain’s chamber, making our way to the front gates of the palace.

“How do we get to Frosthok in time?” Tasha asks, as we head back to our landcrawler.

I consider what route we should take. The trade post is too risky now. I know the Nexus Fist is active there. And I don’t want to risk bumping into that Astral Hunter again.

We could cut across the mountains, but that could take too long. And I’m not sure if I can find another path.

As we climb into the landcrawler, a thought strikes me. “We need to reach Frosthok before Garrox’s guards find us. And I know just the person to help.”

“Where are we going?” Tasha asks, her voice filled with curiosity.

“To see an old friend.”

We continue to drive, the terrain becoming bumpier the further we travel, until we reach the edge of the jungle.

A familiar hut comes into view. “Drexan!” I call out. “I need a favor, old friend.”

Drexan’s ramshackle hut sits nestled between the edge of the jungle and a rocky outcropping. Surrounding the hut is a graveyard of vehicles in various states of disrepair. Rusted landcrawlers with engines cannibalized for parts and a few whole battletreaders along with one or two stripped down to skeletal frames dot the landscape, looking more like metallic bones than mighty war machines.

“Who is Drexan?” Tasha asks, her brow knitted.

“Drexan is an old friend from my guard training days, and we sparred each other many times in training. He is a lot like you–likes to keep machines. I think he has one that might be of us to us,” I reply, as I help her down from the landcrawler. “You’ll see,” I say, and lead her to the hut.

Drexan emerges from his hut as we approach. He’s still a hulking warrior, covered in tattoos and wearing an eye patch.

His weathered face splits into a grin as we draw nearer. “Droilin! And who is this lovely creature with you?” he asks, eyeing Tasha appreciatively.

“This is Tasha. My heart,” I say simply. Drexan’s eyebrows raise, but he claps me on the shoulder.

“About time you found a female to make an honest male of you,” he chuckles. “Now, what’s this favor you need?”

“We must reach Frosthok quickly. It’s a matter of great urgency.”

Drexan’s eye gleams. “I have just the thing. Come, I’ll show you.”

He leads us to a large, imposing vehicle, which shows every physical scar of the war it survived. “A battletreader,” Tasha breathes, her eyes wide.

“Indeed,” Drexan confirms proudly. “This beauty hasn’t seen action since the war, but she’ll get you across Morcrest in no time. Your landcrawler should fit nicely in the cargo pod.”

“Are you sure it still works?” Tasha asks, and Drexan chuckles.

“Do not fear, tiny human. The battletreader is in perfect working order.”

“Thank you, Drexan. You are a loyal brother.”

“It is no trouble, Droilin. Now let’s get you on the road.”

“Ok, so it works...but is it safe?” She asks, eyeing the large vehicle that has seen better days. The paint is chipped, and there are some cracks in the windshield,

“Don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe.” Drexan says with a grin.

“That’s what Droilin said about the mine.” Tasha says skeptically.

I chuckle as I jump into the machine, its metal hull cold and solid. I turn on the engine. It sounds like it’s a dying beast.

Tasha looks at me, her eyebrows raised.

“Don’t worry,” I reassure her. “This is normal. Once it warms up, it will run smoothly.”

The vehicle lurches forward, its gears grinding, before stalling out.

I try again, and again, but the battletreader remains immobile.

Drexan sighs, shaking his head.

“I’m a brilliant machinesmith. Do not worry tiny human.” he says confidently.

“Perfect working order my—,” Tasha mumbles and gets to work looking under the machine, which dwarfs her tiny frame.

Drexan looks at me and chuckles, “Got yourself a feisty one, eh?”

I shake my head, but I can’t stop the smile from forming on my face. Tasha is certainly not one to back down.

As Tasha gets to work out of earshot, I fill Drexan in on what has been happening.

“Garrox’s actions, his secretive dealings with the STI and this unknown broker... it’s a disease, rotting our world from within. Tasha’s life is on the line, and I fear for Morcrest’s future.”

Drexan’s brow furrows, concern etched into the lines of his weathered face. He glances over at Tasha, her attention fully absorbed by the repairs on our vehicle. Lowering his voice, he leans in closer. “Droilin, what you’re suggesting... challenging the High Chieftain’s rule... it’s no small matter. The Rite of Akar’ath hasn’t been invoked in over a century. Are you certain this is the path you must take?”

I meet his gaze. My resolve is unwavering despite the fear churning in my gut. “I am. Garrox’s treachery runs deep, and if I don’t stop him, Morcrest will pay the price. And Tasha...” My voice catches, the thought of losing her almost too much to bear. “I can’t let her suffer for his crimes. Not like my father did. I won’t let history repeat itself.”

Drexan nods, understanding in his eyes. “The human female... she means a great deal to you, doesn’t she?”

I swallow hard, my heart clenching. “More than I ever thought possible. Drexan, if I fail, if Garrox emerges victorious... he’ll kill her. Or worse. I can’t let that happen.”

Drexan places a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. “You carry a heavy burden, my brother. The fate of our world, the life of your female... it’s a lot for one warrior to bear.”

The responsibility presses down on me. “I know. But I have to try. For Morcrest, for Tasha... for the memory of my father. I can’t let Garrox’s evil go unchallenged.”

Drexan is silent for a long moment. When he speaks again, his voice is low and solemn. “I will pray to the ancestors for your success, brother. May they guide your blade and strengthen your resolve. And if there is anything I can do to aid you in this fight, you need only ask.”

Gratitude swells within me, the support of my oldest friend a balm to my troubles. “Thank you, Drexan. Your words mean more than you know.”

He claps me on the back, a sad smile on his face. “Just promise me one thing, old friend. Come back alive. I don’t want to have to console that pretty little human of yours if you fall.”

I manage a chuckle. The sound strained. “Ah, I’ll do my best. I have too much to live for now.”

Drexan nods, his expression turning serious once more. “The Rite of Akar’ath is a battle to the death, brother. Garrox will not hesitate to strike you down. You must be prepared for anything.”

I square my shoulders, my jaw set. “I know. When the time comes... I’ll be ready.”

Drexan’s eyes shine with a fierce pride, a warrior’s respect. “I know you will, my brother. You have the heart of a true Morcrestian. May the ancestors watch over you, and may your blade strike true.”

We clasp arms, a gesture of brotherhood and solidarity. As Drexan takes his leave to assist Tasha, I feel a renewed sense of purpose, a fire burning in my veins.

I will face Garrox in the Rite of Akar’ath. I will expose his treachery and end his reign of terror. And I will do it all for Tasha, for her love.

Failure is not an option. I will emerge victorious... or I will die trying.

I barely have time to process my conversation with Drexan when Tasha emerges, her clothes covered in dirt and grease.

“The fuel cells are degraded,” she announces. “And the filter is clogged. We’ll need to replace them.”

Drexan nods. “I have plenty in my stores. I’ll get some.” He disappears inside his hut, and I help Tasha clean up.

Her fingers brush against mine, and I can’t help but kiss her, the stress and anxiety of the past day bubbling over.

A cough breaks us apart, and we see Drexan watching us, a smirk on his face.

“Here, these should work.” Drexan says, as he returns with a couple of cells.

Tasha inspects them and nods.

“These will do. But we need to replace the filter too. It’s clogged.”

Drexan helps me replace the cells, and Tasha works on the filter. After a few minutes, the battletreader is up and running again, its engine purring like a giant beast.

Drexan pats the metal hull, his face proud.

“See? I told you it would work,” he says, his tone smug.

Tasha laughs and shakes her head.

“Perfect,” I say, and start loading the landcrawler into the cargo pod.

“Thank you, Drexan,” I say, gripping his arm. “Your aid means more than you know.”

He waves off my gratitude. “Anything for a brother in arms. Now go, get your female back to Frosthok safe.”

“Let’s do this,” she says, her tone determined.

Tasha and I climb aboard, the battletreader roaring to life under my hands.

I push the throttle, and the machine lurches forward, its powerful engine kicking up the dirt as we drive off.

“We’ll be at Frosthok by sundown, just as Drexan promised,” I say, as we speed across the plains, the jagged peaks looming ahead.

“This machine is incredible,” Tasha marvels, as we approach the mountains, the steep cliffs and narrow passes offering little challenge to the battletreader’s powerful engine.

“It is,” I agree, and push the machine to its limits, climbing the slopes and weaving through the passes.

As we near the summit, the winds pick up, the storm clouds threatening to unleash their fury.

“We’re almost there,” I say, as we descend the other side, the valley opening before us.

“I see Frosthok,” Tasha points, as I make out the mountain mine in the distance.

My stomach clenches at the sight, knowing what awaits us.