Page 30 of Orc’s Redemption (Red Planet Dragons of Tajss #35)

30

ELARA

W e press on through dimly lit tunnels, the oppressive heat gradually giving way to cooler air. The silence between us is thick, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

The discovery of the Paluga’s resting place terrifies me. My mind races with the implications. I’ve seen the massive zemlja—worm-like beasts the size of buildings—burrowing through the ground, devouring anything in their path. They’re terrifying enough, but one that calls the molten lava home? What the living fuck?

No wonder they called it a fire god. I’ve been fortunate enough to never be too close to one of the zemlja, only seeing them from a relatively safe distance, but I don’t think there’s a human alive who hasn’t heard the stories. First-hand from those who were close to one, if they lived to tell the tale, which most don’t.

If anything can break the generations of blood and hate between the Urr’ki and the Zmaj, it’s this. A threat so big, so incredibly terrifying, that whatever their past, it all pales in comparison.

I hope. If it doesn’t…

These two have been more or less peaceful since the discovery, but the rivalry is there. Simmering below the surface and ready to boil over at the slightest provocation.

Z’leni strides ahead, tension coiling in every movement. Ryatuv follows closely, his gaze sharp and vigilant. I walk between them, acutely aware of the charged atmosphere. Elongated shadows dance on the tunnel walls, mirroring the doubts weaving around my thoughts.

After what feels like hours, we reach a small cavern where the air is cooler and the ground mercifully flat. My ribs, wrist, and ankle all ache. Each breath is a sharp reminder of our recent ordeals.

“We should rest,” I suggest, my voice barely above a whisper.

Z’leni nods curtly, kneeling to inspect the area. Ryatuv remains standing, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes scanning the darkness. As we settle, the silence becomes unbearable. The weight of unspoken words presses in and if I know anything it’s that we can’t let this fester.

“We need to talk,” I say, keeping my tone carefully neutral, but leaving no room for argument.

Z’leni looks over, slightly narrowing his eyes. Ryatuv’s gaze flicks to me, then away.

“About what?” Z’leni asks, though I am certain he knows exactly what I mean.

I try to take a full breath, but the pain hits and I wince, cutting it short.

“Mmph,” I grunt, returning to shallow breaths and waiting for the pain to pass. When I open my eyes they are both focused on me. I shake my head as I hold up a hand. There’s nothing to be done, but I appreciate seeing how much they care. “Look, this tension between you two. We can’t afford divisions, not now. It’s dangerous.”

A muscle jumps in Ryatuv’s jaw. Z’leni’s eyes narrow, his fists curling at his sides. The air sharpens, crackling with old hatred.

“I don’t trust him,” Ryatuv says, nodding at Z’leni. “His kind has been our enemy for generations. They are sneaky by nature. Untrustworthy. Leaving traps in their wake.”

Z’leni’s eyes flash with anger and he growls, rising to his feet. His hands ball into fists as he steps up to the taller Ryatuv without hesitation.

“And your kind has done even worse. Killing, indiscriminately. No matter how much we retreat it is never enough for you cold-blooded monsters. You hunt us. Chasing after us. Yet here we are, forced to work together.”

“Forced?” Ryatuv challenges, stepping closer. “No one forced you to come.”

Z’leni rises to his full height, the air between them crackles with animosity.

“I came because I see the bigger picture. Something you are clearly incapable of.”

“Enough!” I snap, stepping between them before the past can swallow the present whole. The proximity of their bodies sends a shiver down my spine, but I focus, and hold my ground. “This isn’t about history or grudges. It’s about survival. The Paluga is waking. If we don’t stand together, we’re all doomed.”

The two of them shift their looks to me and the fire in their eyes dims. Slightly.

“Do you think I don’t have my own reservations?” I continue, my voice trembling with emotion. “But I’ve seen enough, lived long enough, to know that trust isn’t given; it’s earned. And right now, we need to earn each other’s.”

Z’leni’s gaze softens, and then he nods, slowly. Ryatuv exhales sharply, his posture relaxing, just a fraction.

“I’m not asking you to forget the past,” I say, pleading. “I’m asking you to fight for a future.”

A heavy silence follows, but it feels different now, less hostile, and more contemplative.

“We should rest,” Z’leni finally says, his voice quieter. “We still have a long journey.”

I nod, grateful for the respite. As we settle, I find myself between them once more. Exhaustion feels like a heavy blanket, tugging me downwards, but sleep remains elusive.

After a long silence, something brushes my hand—a tentative, almost shy touch. I glance and see Ryatuv’s scaled fingers brushing against mine. His eyes are closed, his breathing steady, but there is no mistaking he’s awake and that the contact is deliberate.

On my other side, Z’leni shifts closer, his warmth seeping into me. His arm presses lightly against mine, a silent offering of comfort.

My heart pounds, hard. The boundaries between fear, longing, and hope are blurring. In this moment, the world outside the cavern fades away, leaving only the three of us and the fragile connections we’re forging.

I close my eyes, allowing myself to savor the fleeting moment of peace, knowing that new challenges are ahead, but for now, in this small pocket of time, we are together. And that is, for the moment, enough.

I drift into sleep, but it can’t be more than a few minutes when there is a distant rumble echoing through the tunnels. A stark reminder that the Paluga’s awakening is imminent. I startle and sit up. My boys are close in on either side, also sitting upright. My sleepy thoughts take a moment to process the fact that they both have their hands on my back, one above the other. It only takes a microsecond for me to realize how much I like it.

“We need to move,” Z’leni says urgently, all but jumping to his feet.

Ryatuv helps me up, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. I meet his gaze and I see not just a warrior, but a man grappling with his own fears and desires.

We continue the journey in silence. I don’t know if either of them knows the way home or not. I hope they do, but I’ve been afraid to ask. I’m also trying not to think too much about what happens when we get there. That part of the journey remains the most uncertain.

I do know that with each step, the bonds between us are growing stronger. Tempered by fire and the shared determination to face whatever comes next. Together.

Or so I hope. I hope I’m not making this all up in my head. That I’m not blurring the lines between fantasy and reality. Urr’ki and Zmaj getting along? It defies everything that I know about the two species. Much less the idea of the two of them with me. Sharing. The three of us making a?—

The floor buckles then undulates and I’m off my feet. I wave my arms, yelping, as dust fills the air. The rumbling is so loud it hurts my ears.

“Elara!” the boys yell as one.

Hands grab at me, the world spinning in a wild, choking haze of dust. Something cracks. Someone yells. I think it might be me.

Gravity grabs hold and I fall. I curse, heart in my throat, my stomach dropping.

Then I stop mid-air and I’m floating. As the dust settles and the world stops twisting I realize that they have me. One on each side, their hands holding me up. I’m painfully aware that each of them has a hand on my ass.

They’re staring at me, eyes wide with fear on their faces. An uncertain, nervous smile forms on my face almost of its own accord. My heart slows as I look from one of them to the other.

“Well that happened,” I say, not daring to move.

Not wanting to from both fear and a subtle desire to continue having their hands on me. On my ass. On all of me.

The tremors fade, but the air buzzes and every nerve in my body is strung tight as wire. Ryatuv moves first. His eyes going from me to Z’leni then I see it on his face. The realization that his hand is touching Z’leni’s underneath me. That his enemy, mortal or not, is that close.

Z’leni is only a moment behind and he growls. They set me onto my feet, glaring at each other. I sigh, wishing the moment had lasted at least a little longer than it did. Ryatuv grunts, stepping back, then staring at Z’leni as if daring him to say something before he takes my hand.

“We need to keep moving,” Z’leni says, eyes scanning the tunnel ahead.

Ryatuv’s grip tightens, not painful, but possessive. My pulse flutters against my skin. Z’leni gives him a glare then picks up the dropped torch and leads the way.

We walk in silence for a time. The world seems hushed, as if it’s holding its breath. Every now and then I hear a distant crack or low rumble as the earth shifts. It makes me think that the ground is breathing. I can’t keep from picturing what lies beneath the stone. Not just lava, but something alive. Something ancient.

The Paluga.

I wrap my arms around myself as we move. The ground levels out. We pass through another series of chambers that are more open than the suffocating tunnels we crawled through earlier. The walls are carved in spirals, circles within circles. It must be some kind of Urr’ki symbology. Z’leni lingers near one mural, gently brushing off dust with his fingers.

“It’s all here,” he mutters. “The warnings. The reverence.”

The mural shows the Paluga. A vast, coiled shape buried beneath a crumbling city of spires, flames clawing upward like desperate hands. People kneel before it, hands outstretched in both fear and awe. One figure stands tall in the mural, separate from the others. A priest, maybe. Or a fool.

“They didn’t worship it,” I whisper. “They feared it. Tried to appease it.”

Z’leni nods slowly. Ryatuv stands behind me, silent but present. Always present. I turn to face them both.

“We can’t let this happen again. Whatever they did, whatever mistakes they made, we have to do better. Be better.”

“And what does that look mean?” Z’leni asks. “Trust the Zmaj? Let them destroy our last city in the name of survival?”

Ryatuv’s jaw clenches.

“I am Zmaj,” he says defiantly. “And I have no interest in destroying your pathetic excuse for a city.”

“No?” Z’leni snarls. “And your warriors? Your endless blood hunts?”

Ryatuv takes a step forward, standing tall and towering a good head and half over Z’leni.

“And what of the Urr’ki who kill Zmaj? Who leave their filthy traps for us to stumble upon? Who desecrates our dead? What of them?”

Their voices echo too loud in this fragile place. I step between them, heart pounding, hands raised.

“Stop!” My voice cracks like a whip. “Just stop. This isn’t who we are. Not anymore.”

They freeze, breathing hard, their gazes locked on one another over my head. I place a hand on each of their chests, one warm, one cool. Both their hearts hammer beneath my palms.

“We’re here because we all saw the same thing. Because we know what’s coming. If we don’t find a way to work together, we’re all dead. Human, Urr’ki, Zmaj, it won’t matter.”

Ryatuv looks down at me, his eyes storm-dark and flickering with emotion. Z’leni’s mouth tightens, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I don’t trust him,” Z’leni mutters.

“I know,” I say gently. “And I don’t blame you. But maybe… maybe trust comes later. Maybe we start with truth.”

The silence stretches. Then Ryatuv speaks.

“I was taught all my life to hate your kind. To see you as cruel, manipulative, dangerous.” He shifts slightly. “But I’ve seen you risk everything to help Elara. You could’ve run. You didn’t.”

Z’leni tilts his head. He frowns deeply, and a low rumble emerges from his lips before he grunts

“And I was taught to see your kind as savage. Unthinking. But you threw yourself after Elara when she fell when you didn’t have to. And… you’ve fought well.” Z’leni says, the final admission feels as it had to tear its way free of his throat but now it’s out.

My voice wavers as look at both of them.

“So maybe it’s not about forgetting the past. Maybe it’s about choosing the future.”

They say nothing, but something shifts. I feel it like the tremor before a quake. Like the heat that rises from deep below. And then Z’leni takes my face in his hands. It’s gentle, reverent, and a little desperate.

“Elara,” he murmurs. “You make me believe things I shouldn’t.”

He leans in. My heart stutters. His mouth brushes mine—a breath, a promise, a dangerous hope. Heat spirals low in my belly. Not far. Just enough that I can see the vulnerability in his eyes.

“Elara…” Ryatuv says, voice low. Rough.

I turn to him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t reach. But the way he looks at me… by all the gods ever named, it’s like standing too close to a fire. All that emotion, held tight in his big, battle-scarred body.

“I will not take what is not freely given,” his voice is rough stone and velvet. “I will fight beside you. For you, even if…” he hesitates, staring at Z’leni with a frown so deep it lines his face, “it means standing alongside him.”

My breath hitches. “I don’t want to choose between you.”

“Then don’t,” Z’leni says simply. “Not yet.”

Ryatuv nods once. “We survive first. The rest… we’ll figure out.”

Another distant rumble echoes down the tunnel, breaking the moment. We look at each other and I think they feel every bit as awkward as I do. Words seem too small and even if they aren’t, I don’t have any. Biting my lip I nod.

We resume walking.

When we stop next, it’s near what looks like a collapsed transport track. Some old Zmaj or maybe Urr’ki construction, half-eaten by previous lava flows. We huddle in the shadow of a fractured support beam, catching our breath. Z’leni leans against the wall, head tilted back, his eyes closed. Ryatuv crouches beside me, his gaze still on the path ahead.

I can’t stop watching them. Can’t stop feeling everything I’m not supposed to feel.

I love them. Or I’m falling. Whichever or whatever it’s terrifying.

But maybe, just maybe, it’s the only thing strong enough to carry us through what comes next.

Every step echoes with the promise of survival… of the threat of failure.