Page 47

Dracoth

Remember

F ury seethes within me as I leave the frail, weeping females behind in their cell.

Where they belong .

I march through the metal corridors, driven by a barely contained rage that shakes my body and spills Rush from my molten eyes.

Only mere moments ago I was charging down these dingy halls in a desperate attempt to stop the females—I failed.

Now, one of them is dead and the other will soon be lost forever.

The thought tightens around my heart like a fist as hard and unyielding as a mountain.

Ignixis, the treacherous old coward, dares delay my orders, costing crucial seconds and putting my sacred mission in jeopardy. He, the one who convinced me to undertake this foolish quest in the first place, now moves to sabotage it? It makes no sense.

I am the War Chieftain. And I will have my answers, even if I must wring them from his withered, pathetic throat.

The thought sustains me, carrying me towards the command bridge. As the door whooshes open—too slow for the molten fury blazing in my veins—I see the traitor waiting for me. His twisted smile is a mockery of his inaction.

“Hail, young Dracoth—”

“Turn this ship around. Now !” I roar. My voice crashes through the room like a volcanic eruption as my eyes flash crimson wisps that promise violence.

Keth and Nexarn stand rigid, their hands dancing over the ship’s glowing blue consoles.

Ignixis flinches at my words, his mind not yet grasping the pain I am prepared to inflict upon his frail flesh.

“Well, I’m afraid that’s not—”

I dash toward him like a bolt of red lightning, tossing the prattling old fool to the ground before he even realizes I’ve touched him.

He crashes to the black metal floor with a thud, but I barely hear his groan.

My attention is already locked on the navigation terminal.

My fingers fly over the controls, searching for recent ship movements in the logs—finding nothing.

“You cleared the logs?” I snarl, rounding on the crumpled Ignixis, his hands held up like a pathetic barrier of frailty. “Carmen is lost in space because of you!” My fangs bare as the Rush floods through my veins, tightening my muscles into coiled springs of murder.

Ignixis scrambles away, still on the floor where he belongs like a loathsome vipertail. But his lips curl, twisting his ancient tattooed face into a sneer. “Good,” he spits, “let the human wither and die in the void. She was more trouble than she was worth.”

Bitter disappointment cuts through my rage.

Betrayed for such petty revenge.

“Less trouble if you’d helped retrieve her,” I retort, extending my claws, their sharp edges gleaming menacingly in the purple and blue light.

“Wait, wait! You’re making a mistake!” Ignixis pleads. His cowardice on full display now justice comes stalking toward him. He squirms against the wall, shaking his head with frantic disbelief, terror stamped on his face.

“She wasn’t your bonded female! Neither of the two were.”

His words don’t move me. He thinks this excuses his betrayal. That it justifies the dishonor of harming females under my care—he is wrong. Unmoved, I continue my merciless stalking, my face as hard as arcweave.

I wonder if his bones will also prattle endlessly on my belt as he does...

“You need me, Dracoth! I know a way to figure out which of the remaining two females is your bonded mate!” Ignixis offers. He winces as I loom over him, claws twitching to rend him to bloody pieces.

His words give me pause. The females—Princesa and Sandra—have seen too much of me. Both have manipulated me, one even aided in the botched escape. Contempt and anger flare in my chest as I think of them.

Still, perhaps I need Ignixis, if I am ever to select the right female for the Mortakin-Tok. To unlock my power and fulfill my destiny.

I exhale sharply, retracting my claws. “If you betray me again, I will strip the flesh from your bones and add your spine to my belt.”

Assuming the coward even has one.

“Of course, I wouldn’t doubt it,” he mutters, extending a wizened hand, expecting me to help him up. I leave the old gas-cloud where he belongs and turn toward Keth.

“Hail Balsar. Order one of his junker ships to pursue the female.” I know Ignixis couldn’t have wiped their navigational logs as well. Keth acknowledges with a nod, his hands moving swiftly over his terminal.

“Clever, young Dracoth,” Ignixis groans like a broken warship as he struggles to his feet. “A waste of resources—but clever.”

His praise grates against me, like a blind warrior praising another’s keen eyes. “But you are mistaken about one thing...” Ignixis continues, letting his words hang like useless bait. As if I’m interested in what the old gas-cloud has to say.

He sighs dramatically before finally continuing.

“I never betrayed you. I merely act as a loyal servant of Arawnoth. It is by his molten hand I guide you.” He steps closer, placing an ancient, blackened hand on my wrist plate.

“Though you believe I deceived you, my actions are always meant to bring you success. To fulfill your great destiny, Dracoth. You must learn to trust me,” he implores, his tone almost desperate.

I shrug his hand off, the embers of my fury still simmering within. “And my destiny is to abandon females to the void? Is that the greatness you guide me to?” I growl.

“You surprise me, young Dracoth,” Ignixis grins, standing too close.

His eyes glint with some twisted amusement.

“You show such concern for them ,” he spits the word like bitter snarlbroc jelly.

“What has become of the abyssal pit you call a heart? Does it now beat fiercely for these pretty females... You’re not in love, are you?

” He leans closer—a vipertail coiling around my mind.

“Hardly, you old fool,” I snap, shoving Ignixis away. He retreats, but not without a mocking snicker.

“Oh, that’s curious,” the old gas-cloud feigns surprise.

“You’ve never shown such concern before.

.. What about the poor junkers you splattered all over our lovely walls?

Where was the concern for them? Or was it love that drove you to rip out their spines and add them to your belt?

Wait, I know the answer—it was love for the great Arawnoth that drove you!

” He bursts into mad laughter, as if he’s just uttered the greatest joke in the universe.

“Balsar has dispatched a ship as you requested, War Chieftain,” Keth declares, his voice monotone.

Good .

I feel a flicker of relief, studying the glowing blue scanner, watching one of the ships break off in pursuit.

Perhaps they will reach her before she gets herself killed.

A brave fool, that one. It’s a shame she rejected my protection, and a greater shame that I ignored my instincts and let her out of the cell—a mistake I won’t make again.

“I can’t wait for her return,” Ignixis mutters near my ear, startling me with his sudden closeness.

“Already I miss being shot at, and that gibberish she would scream endlessly.” He pauses to stare at the navigational screen as I frown down at him.

“Ah, such sweet music echoing through these halls.”

Sarcasm. The lowest form of humor. I should expect nothing more from him.

“Was it this hatred that drove you to betray me?” I rumble.

“Hatred?” Ignixis arches a naked brow, his smile twisting into something mocking.

“You speak of hatred? You, who is shrouded in hate, clinging like a cloak you can’t remove, suffocating you with every breath?

” He shakes his head slowly, his gaze unwavering.

“It matters not if I hate these females. Like your father, I wield hate as a weapon. But it does not wield me. In your blind rage, you would kill me—your ally, your mentor—and doom us all.”

I suppress a sigh, regretting giving the old gas-cloud the opportunity for another one of his tiresome rants.

“Ignixis. You know why I let you live,” I command, my voice cold as blades. “Tell me which female is my bonded mate,” I demand, recalling the thin excuse that spared his life.

Ignixis’s eyes narrow, and his smirk fades into a more serious expression.

“Oh, you are impatient, young Dracoth.” He takes a slow breath.

“Before I answer, remember that everything I say and do is to aid you... correct?” he glares at me, expecting a response I do not give.

“No? Then I refuse to answer. Should you murder me in on one of your childish rages.”

“Very well. Now speak,” I challenge, unexpectedly eager to learn which female is destined to be my Mortakin-Kis.

“Give me your hands,” Ignixis commands, extending his own gnarled fingers toward me. I grimace but hold out my arms, expecting some stupid trick or jest. “Hmm, interesting.” He scrutinizes, turning my hands over. “Now open your mouth.”

My anger flares, “This is foolishness, non—”

“Do you want to know or not?” Ignixis cuts in sharply, his piercing green eyes boring into mine.

“How else do you expect me to divine the ancestors that reside within you?” I hesitate, having no reply.

I shake my head before opening my mouth.

“Hmm,” Ignixis tiptoes closer, peering inside. “Smells like dead junkers.”

My face twists with fury that he dares dredge up and mock the sacrilege he committed upon me. I raise my fist, the sinews groaning with rage.

“It’s the one with orange hair!” Ignixis blurts, halting the blow I aimed at his guts.

Sandra... The name ripples through my mind. Of the two, she is the most... tolerable, though I cannot deny my preference for Princesa’s fuller curves.

“Dracoth, tell me what you’re feeling now. This is crucial,” Ignixis urges, scrutinizing every line of my face with a sharp gaze. “Do you feel disappointment, relief? A spark of love or a shadow of despair? Anything!”

“I feel...” The images of the two females flash through my mind, bringing with them a torrent of conflicting emotions: frustration, contempt, and—worse yet—shame.

Too much shame. Searching deeper, something else stirs.

.. a curious flutter of excitement. Sandra, with that submissive intense stare and wet lips.

Princesa, her beautiful nakedness pressed against me. Strange. Alluring. “...Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Ignixis echoes, incredulous. “That was a lot of silent brooding for ‘ nothing.' ”

I slowly shake my head, and Ignixis throws up his hands in exasperation. “If it were not for your rages, I’d swear you were as hollow as the other youths.” He rubs his chin, grimacing. “Perhaps the Scythians stripped you of all but your anger?”

“Silence, you old fool,” I snap, my patience fraying under his insinuations and pointless taunts. “You’ve failed to deliver on what you promised.” I sneer, flexing my fingers, longing to deliver my promise of punishment.

Ignixis shows no concern, his face twisting into something smug.

“Have I?” he lets the question hang, as he turns to pace, fluttering his black robes—time wasting theatrics.

“There is a method... one that is guaranteed to work...” His expression changes, uncertainty, and something almost like sadness shadowing his features.

“Though it may cost me dearly...” he whispers.

“I care not what it costs you , Elder. ” I glare at him, my eyes flashing.

“You wound me, boy, ” Ignixis snaps, his face twisting into a snarl, the venom of his soul oozing out. “Fine. You shall have your answer—after we reach Klendathor.”

“Klendathor?” I scoff. “What use is that, when the Mortakin-Tok will have already provided the answer?”

“Will it?” Ignixis smirks, his head tilting forward.

“You know everything now? Even the minds of the Gods?” He cackles, his shifting emotions unsettling me.

“It would almost be worth seeing you fail, Dracoth. Daring to bring two females to the steps of Lanaisor, only to be struck down by the Gods for your arrogance.” He erupts into a fit of scathing laughter.

My gaze falls to my hands. His words extinguish my spark of hope—a vain hope that I could let the Gods decide. But instead, they would punish me for my indecision. I grit my teeth. I need the old gas-cloud’s help more than I’d like to admit.

“Is that doubt I see in our mighty War Chieftain? ” Ignixis mocks, his voice laced with glee at my momentary hesitation.

I curse myself for letting even a flicker of uncertainty show.

“Trust in me, Dracoth, and I will guide you to glory.” He approaches, standing before me, his face and tone solemn.

“Remember this moment when the time comes. Remember my vow.”

“Remember the sacred words.”