Page 29 of Bound to the Alien Orc (Alien Gambits #1)

Chapter 29

I burst into my childhood home, my heart pounding, my blood roaring in my ears. The familiar surroundings, once a source of comfort, now feel foreign, tainted by a betrayal that hangs thick in the air.

“Tasha!” I bellow, my voice echoing off the walls. “Tasha, where are you?”

Silence.

A deafening, suffocating quiet which sets my nerves on edge.

I stalk through the house, my fists clenched, my muscles coiled, ready for a fight. The mementos of my parents’ life—my father’s favorite chair, my mother’s apron draped over the back—blur past as I search, room by room, for any sign of Tasha.

But she’s gone. Vanished.

Rage boils in my veins, white-hot and all-consuming. I should never have let her out of my sight. Not even for a moment. And now...

The creak of a floorboard behind me shatters the stillness. I whirl, my hand flying to my blade, just as five of Garrox’s warriors storm into the room. They surround me, weapons drawn, their stances aggressive.

I recognize their uniforms — my fellow guards, males I once trusted with my life. The betrayal cuts deep.

“Stand down, Droilin,” the eldest of them growls, his voice cold as the steel of his blade. “It’s over. You and the human are under arrest.”

A snarl rips from my throat. “Where is she?”

A trainee steps forward, his face twisted in a sneer. “The human is with the High Chieftain, awaiting justice for the sabotage—”

I don’t let him finish. My fist connects with his jaw, the satisfying crunch of bone against bone reverberating through the room. He crumples to the ground, blood spurting from his shattered face.

The eldest guard raises his hand in warning to the guards. They tense, eager to attack me as their grips tightening on their weapons.

“Enough, Droilin!” the eldest roars. “Surrender, or —”

“She is innocent!” I roar, my voice raw with fury. “I will not stand down. Not until she is safe.”

The warrior’s face hardens. He levels his blaster at my chest, the whine of the charging weapon filling the air.

“Then you leave us no choice.”

He fires. The blast slams into me, a sledgehammer of pain that drives the air from my lungs. I stagger, my vision flickering, but I refuse to fall.

Another blast. This one takes me to my knees, my body screaming in agony. Through the haze of pain, I see the warriors closing in, their faces grim.

“Get him outside,” the eldest commands. “The High Chieftain is waiting.”

Rough hands seize me, dragging me to my feet. I struggle, but my limbs are weak, my strength sapped by the blaster fire.

As they haul me out of my childhood home, my mind races, the memories of my parents, my father’s legacy, flashing through my thoughts. The unfairness of it all, the cruelty of Garrox’s betrayal, ignites a fire in my belly.

I will not let him win. I will not let Tasha suffer for his crimes.

The warriors drag me through the streets of Frosthok, making a spectacle of my capture. Garrox wants to humiliate me, to break me in front of my clan.

But with each shove, each jeer from the gathering crowd, my resolve hardens. I will not be cowed.

As we approach the central square, I catch sight of Garrox, standing tall on the raised platform, his golden tusks glinting in the sun. And there, beside him...

“Tasha,” I rasp, my heart clenching at the sight of her bruised face, the tears streaking her cheeks.

She meets my gaze, her eyes wide with fear and desperation. The guard holding her, a brute with scars running across his throat, tightens his grip, making her wince. Claws.

White-hot rage spills through me. I lunge forward, a roar tearing from my throat, but the warriors yank me back, their hold unbreakable.

Garrox sneers, his lips curled into a mocking smile. He gestures for the warriors to bring me closer, his gaze never leaving mine.

He is enjoying this. Reveling in my humiliation.

They force me to my knees before Garrox, slamming my head against the steel platform. Stars explode across my vision.

Garrox leans in, his breath hot against my ear.

“I knew you were a traitor, Droilin. I should have rid the galaxy of your line when I had the chance. Your father was a weak fool, and so are you. But don’t worry. I’ll enjoy killing you just as much as I did your father.”

I grit my teeth, the sting of his words like venom in my veins.

“Your reign is over, Garrox. I will stop you,” I growl.

“No, you won’t,” he hisses. “I have your female. Her life is in my hands.”

The crowd jeers, the sound deafening. But I block it out, focusing on the only thing that matters.

Tasha.

Garrox’s voice booms out over the square, dripping with disdain.

“Behold, citizens of Frosthok! My once-loyal Personal Guard, Droilin, now revealed as a traitor to his clan, to all of Morcrest!”

A hush falls over the crowd, their collective gaze burning into me.

My heart hammers in my chest as I survey the scene, taking in the gathered crowd. They look upon me with disgust, with scorn. Murmurs, a mix of shock and anger rippling through their ranks.

“This coward conspired with the human to sabotage our luminore mines, to undermine our very way of life! And for what? To line his own pockets? To curry favor with our enemies beyond the stars?”

Garrox’s words are laced with hatred and contempt. He is playing with the crowd, inciting their rage.

The murmurs turn to shouts, the masses seethe with fury. They buy into his lies, his poisoned words.

Garrox paces the platform, his gaze sweeping over the assembled Morcrestians.

“He thought he could escape justice, thought his treachery would go unnoticed. But he was wrong. And now, he will face the consequences of his actions!”

The crowd roars, their bloodlust unmistakable. I feel the weight of their fury, but I don’t take my eyes off Tasha.

Her face is pale, her body trembling, but her expression is fierce. She meets my gaze, her eyes full of fear, but also hope.

My brave little human. I will save her, no matter the cost.

“It is you who betrayed Morcrest, Garrox,” I call out, my voice hoarse but strong. “You are the one making secret deals, sacrificing our people for your own gain!”

The High Chieftain rounds on me, his face contorted with rage. He seizes the massive ax from the guard beside him, raising it high.

“Silence, traitor!” he bellows. “I should have known you would follow in your father’s treasonous footsteps. But no more. Today, your name will be stricken from our history. Your honor, forfeit. Your life, mine to claim!”

He brings the ax down in a vicious arc, aiming for my neck. I close my eyes, bracing for the killing blow. Tasha’s scream rips through the air.

But the blow never comes.

A blinding flash of light illuminates the square, followed by a deafening crash that reverberates through my bones. Shouts of alarm and confusion erupt from the crowd as they shield their eyes and stumble back.

Through the haze, I see a massive shape materialize — a battletreader, its armored hull rusting further in the heat of the suns. It screeches to a halt in the center of the square, throwing up a cloud of dust. The side doors swing open and an older figure emerges, his weathered face set in grim determination.

Chieftain Yalrog.

He surveys the scene, his amber eyes flashing with anger as they land on Garrox. Behind him, more figures pour out of the battletreader — Chieftain Keklor, flanked by his warriors, their luminore blades glinting and their blasters at the ready.

“What is the meaning of this?” Garrox demands, his grip tightening on the axe.

“Stop this madness at once!” Yalrog’s voice booms across the square. “The truth will be heard!”

Garrox snarls, his grip tightening on his axe. “You dare interfere, Yalrog? This is a Frosthok matter!”

Yalrog strides forward, his presence commanding. “This concerns all of Morcrest, Garrox. Droilin’s accusations cannot be ignored.”

The High Chieftain glares, his jaw clenched.

Murmurs ripple through the crowd, confusion and unease obvious. Garrox’s eyes dart around, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.

“Lies and slander!” he roars, trying to recapture the crowd’s outrage. “The ravings of a desperate traitor!”

But his words are met with a chorus of dissent. The crowd is restless, the atmosphere charged.

I meet Tasha’s gaze, a silent message passing between us. I can feel her love, her faith in me, even through the chaos.

Yalrog faces the crowd, his voice strong and clear. “Then you should have no issue with Droilin speaking his piece.” He turns to me, his gaze steady. “Rise, Droilin. Let your truth be known.”

The guards step back, their faces uncertain. Slowly, I push to my feet, my chains clanking. I meet Tasha’s eyes, drawing strength from her unwavering faith.

I square my shoulders and raise my chin, meeting Garrox’s defiant glare. Then I face the crowd, my voice ringing out. “Garrox has deceived you all! He conspires with off-world forces, making secret deals that bleed Morcrest dry!”

Gasps and cries of disbelief. I press on, the words tumbling out in a rush of long-suppressed fury.

“He has driven the Degok mine to the brink of collapse, silencing Keklor’s pleas for aid. He sabotaged the Jrosk mine, willing to bury our kin alive for his insatiable greed. And he framed my father, his own guard, for treason. All to seize power and line his pockets with blood money!”

The crowd’s anger takes on a new tenor, confusion giving way to dawning horror and outrage. They turn accusing eyes on Garrox, their faith shaken.

Garrox’s face contorts with rage. “Treasonous filth! I’ll have your head for these lies!”

He raises his ax; the blade glinting in the suns. Before he can strike, Yalrog steps forward, his voice commanding.

“They are not lies,” Yalrog intones gravely. “I have seen the proof with my own eyes. Droilin speaks true. You, Garrox, are the only traitor here.”

Keklor steps forward, his weathered face hard as granite. “The Degok clan stands with Droilin. Your crimes will be answered for, Garrox.”

A wave of anger sweeps through the crowd, the tide turning against the High Chieftain. Their voices rising in a tide of condemnation. Garrox glances around wildly, his support crumbling. He looks at his guards, but they remain stoic, their eyes fixed ahead.

“I will not stand for this insubordination!” he screams, spittle flying between his tusks. “I am your High Chieftain!”

“Then prove it,” I rasp, my eyes boring into his. “I challenge you, Garrox, to the Rite of Akar’ath. Let the spirits decide our fate.”

A hush falls, the weight of my words sinking in. The Rite, a sacred duel of honor, has not been invoked in living memory.

Garrox’s eyes bulge, his face purpling with apoplectic rage. He knows he cannot refuse, not without proving his dishonor before all.

“You dare...” he seethes, his body quaking. Then his lips peel back in a vicious grin, madness dancing in his eyes. “So be it, whelp. I accept your challenge. At sundown, we dance the blood rite. And I will send you screaming into the void, just like your mongrel father!”

With a roar, he raises his ax, and brings it crashing down, the blade biting deep into the steel platform. A deafening silence descends over the square, the air thick with tension.

Keklor’s voice cracks out like a whip. “The Rite is sealed. Prepare yourselves — at dusk, Morcrest will bear witness.”

Garrox turns on his heel and storms off, the crowd parting before him like prey fleeing a predator. Claws scurries after him, dragging a struggling Tasha. I lunge forward, a wordless roar erupting from my throat, but Yalrog’s firm hand on my shoulder stops me.

“Patience, Droilin,” he murmurs. “You’ll be no use to her dead. Save your strength for the Rite.”

I sag, despair and fury warring within me as I watch Tasha disappear into Garrox’s compound. Electric fencing snaps to life, encasing the structure in a deadly barrier.

I turn to Yalrog and Keklor, gratitude and urgency warring in my chest. “I cannot thank you enough for your aid. But Tasha...”

“We’ll ensure her safety,” Keklor assures gruffly. “Garrox may be an honorless serpaxian, but even he wouldn’t risk the Rite’s sanctity with overt treachery. It’s you we’re worried about — Garrox will stop at nothing to see you fall.”

I nod grimly, the weight of the looming battle settling on my shoulders. “Then I must prepare. When I meet Garrox in the circle, I cannot falter.”

Yalrog clasps my arm, his grip firm and steady. “You carry the hopes of Morcrest, Droilin. May the spirits guide your blade.”

As the Chieftains depart to ready the sacred battlefield, I am left alone with my racing thoughts. In a few short hours, I will face Garrox in mortal combat, the fate of my love and my world hanging in the balance.

I clench my fists, a wave of emotion crashing over me. The unfairness of it all, the injustice of Garrox’s machinations. But also, the honor of this moment, the responsibility that rests on my shoulders.

My father’s legacy, the legacy of all Morcrestians, is at stake. I think of Tasha, her fierce spirit, her unwavering faith in me. I will not fail her. I cannot.

Taking a moment, I look up at the sky, the twin suns beginning their descent, casting long shadows across the settlement. I make a silent vow, “By my blood and honor, I will end this. Garrox’s reign dies with the setting sun.”

My jaw set with grim determination, I stride off to seek the counsel of the elders and prepare my body and blade for the fight of my life.

For Tasha. For my father. For Morcrest.

Tonight, justice will be done — and the Rite of Akar’ath will drench the sands red.