Page 68

Alexandra

Farming

M y fingers graze the fresh scorch mark on my forehead, still hot from the ash. I don’t know why, but I really like it.

Maybe I’m losing it?

Living inside a volcanic mountain with giant half-naked alien bodybuilders who seem perpetually on the brink of murder could do that to anyone. Even the best and most beautiful can only hold out for so long.

But there’s something about the heat, those green flumes, and that great statue—Arawnoth, I think it represents—that carries me away to that other realm of fire.

It drives back my darkness, filling me with a strange, burning energy that makes me feel alive.

.. full of purpose. It’s hard to explain, but I crave it.

Beats the hell out of whatever drugs the doctors gave me back on Earth, that’s for sure.

As I make my way through the cavernous tunnels back to our room, no longer needing the distinct glowing crystals that illuminate the black walls for guidance.

I surprise myself—surprise everybody—with how well I’ve adapted to this place.

It’s weird, but I enjoy it here. There’s a wild, untamed energy.

It’s dangerous, primal, and exciting! If only the food were better and I wasn’t at the mercy of a giant, grumpy bore.

If my old friends could see me now—dressed like a medieval gnome, no makeup except for a black smudge of ash on my forehead, like some hobo—they’d probably die laughing. And then I’d have to call them bitches. Well, they always were bitches.

I should care, but I don’t. Maybe being away from Earth, from all the distractions, has numbed that part of me. I just don’t feel the urge to try so hard. Out here, I stand out like a sexy thumb, no matter what I do.

The plush furs beneath my feet and the smell of burning coals wrinkle my nose as I round the crack that is the entrance to our chambers. Of course, our room pales compared to the so-called War Chieftain’s grand quarters.

Ugh , please. It’s such horse shit—our smaller room—his lies. I hear what the aliens mutter between the rituals; they wanted Dracoth to lose, they prayed for it. How can he lead when his own people don’t even want him? Now that I think about it, he’s just like every politician back home.

I spot Sandra curled up on the massive pile of furs that makes up our bed, breathing softly.

It won’t be long before she wakes up, complaining about the heat, begging to go near the entrance where it’s cooler.

Unlike me, she’s suffering in this place.

I feel bad for her—extra bad after whatever happened between her and Dracoth.

She hasn’t said a word, but her wet, raw eyes were enough.

Last night, I woke up to the sound of Sandra crying.

I shake my head just thinking about it. I mean, I tried to warn the silly woman that Dracoth is a confused virgin.

All tangled up in his gigantic stupid head, twisted like a giant red pretzel—extra salty.

But does anyone listen to me? Of course not.

They’d rather jump naked into steamy pools and get their hearts broken.

At least it wasn’t her body. I shudder at the thought.

I’m not going to lie, though—I want to wake her up to get the gossip.

Pretty sure with some gentle coaxing, she’ll spill the juicy details.

It’s for her own good. She’ll feel better getting it off her chest. Without me, she’ll bottle it all up until she’s like an over-shaken can of Sunkist, ready to explode.

Besides, what else is there to do? The giant bore left this morning to ‘ recruit warriors .’ Yeah, good luck with that.

Knowing him, he’ll probably lose more warriors than he recruits.

Honestly, how did my life of luxury go from being abducted by a monstrous alien for some creepy intergalactic marriage to fighting over a bewildered virgin? It’s absurd.

Well, whatever. I’m over it.

Ugh, I’m bored now. I sneak over to Sandra’s side of the bed and carefully tug at the furs covering her. She groans and flails a hand, almost slapping mine.

Nice and quiet.

I give the furs another sharp yank, jolting her awake. Her eyes creep open, sending my heart leaping into panic.

Did she catch me? Oh shit!

I dart to my pile of clothes, pretending to look busy.

“Lexie?” she mutters, her voice thick with sleep.

“Oh!” I exclaim with exaggerated surprise. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I was just getting dressed.”

“Huh?” She rubs the exhaustion from her raw, swollen eyes. “I thought you’d left already… what time is it?”

My chest tightens—my clever ruse almost discovered.

“It’s time to get up,” I reply, hastily rummaging through Sandra’s clothes, selecting the least gnomish offerings.

“You know the giant bore is away, right?” I say excitedly, hoping this might be the wedge of moldy cheese to bait Sandra into spilling her guts.

She doesn’t share my enthusiasm. Quite the opposite. Instead, she groans, cringing deeper under the furs.

“Went that well, huh?” I say, hopping onto the bed beside her. I toss some clothes over her like a veil of misery. “Here, put these on.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sandra grumbles bitterly from beneath the covers, her words threatening to sour my good mood. But I’ll get it out of her eventually. I rub her back, making soothing noises.

“Thanks, Lexie...” she mutters, her voice muffled.

“Shit! We’re supposed to meet that farmer guy!” She suddenly jolts upright like she’s been electrocuted.

I recoil at her sudden movement—and the horror that I’m ‘ supposed’ to do anything dirt-related.

“Wait. What?” I ask, incredulity rising as my heart skips a beat.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Sandra says, now bouncing out of bed like she’s late for a flight. She rushes over to the stone basin. “I’m roasting,” she complains for the millionth time, dunking her head under the cool waters with a moan of relief.

Oh, she definitely forgot to mention that little detail between all her crying.

“Listen, Sandra, ‘ we ’ and ‘ farmer guy ’ don’t go together. I’d rather go back to that awful training room,” I snap, glaring at her back.

“Ack, it’ll be fun! Something different! Plus, it’ll get us out of this volcano,” Sandra replies, scrubbing her face and hair so vigorously it looks like she’s trying to tear them off. Honestly, terrible for her skin.

“I like this volcano...” I mutter, speaking before thinking. “Ugh, whatever. Is this farmer guy at least hot?” I ask, while a delightful image of a muscular, rough, and ready Klendathian with a cowboy hat and a cheeky smile forms in my mind.

“Umm...” Sandra turns with a sly smile and a laughably steamy ginger head. “Yeah...” Her gaze drops. “Oh, yeah, he’s gorgeous, Lexie. Totally your type.”

The image in my mind solidifies with crystal-clear clarity.

“Come on then, hurry up! Let’s meet this hunk!

” I almost shout, giddy with excitement.

Wait... Sandra doesn’t know my type. Hell, I’m not even sure what my type is anymore.

My grin morphs into a narrowed-eyed suspicious glare directed at Sandra.

She only smiles while dressing, looking as innocent as a new credit card.

Once Sandra is dressed, we head through the rocky tunnels, navigating the hazy steam with ease.

We make good time, walking with confidence, the route now familiar to us.

Some aliens pass us, offering polite nods and greetings of respect.

What they make of us being here, or this bizarre arrangement, I can only guess.

From what I’ve seen, we’re the only females around, which gave us the heebie-jeebies at first. It felt like being the only two women in a singles bar full of roided-up space jocks.

But I’ve been pleasantly surprised. Despite towering over us, they greet us with smiles, offer treats, and even guidance.

The only downside? They’re all old and terribly maimed or disfigured.

I let out a sigh, shaking my head. You can’t have it all, I guess.

The tunnel leads upward, and soon the howling wind from the entrance echoes through the passage.

I already miss the sizzling heat from the lava rivers below and instinctively pull my furs tighter.

Sandra, in contrast, lets out a relieved sigh, savoring the cooler air with each step.

Streaks of daylight pierce through the rock, illuminating the area in purple hues.

Two massive Klendathian’s stand guard like ash-covered statues, equipped in thick metal armor. Above us, fierce alien faces are carved into the black granite, glaring down as if challenging any who dare enter.

This must be where Dracoth learned his permanent scowl.

The guards give us the faintest of nods as we pass.

Ash drifts from their long gray hair, which reminds me to nudge Sandra.

But she’s already wrapping her face with a strip of leather like how I would use a scarf on a ski trip.

I don’t mind the ash, though, finding it pretty, like goth-inspired leaves fluttering through the air, carrying a salty-charred taste that puts pleasant heat into my lungs.

We continue onward, our eyes scanning the narrowing entrance, marveling at the monstrous craggy teeth that line either side, floor, and ceiling.

It’s like we’re exiting the gaping maw of some ancient stone dragon.

The wind picks up, swirling my long blonde hair as we finally step out of the jaws, leaving the shadow of the mountain behind.

I shield my eyes against the shifting ash and embers, struggling to make out the landscape ahead. I see endless black-gray crags, towering mountains, and even volcanoes spewing molten lava and billowing clouds of smoke into the atmosphere.

“Um,” I shout over the howling wind. “I don’t see any farms, Sandra!” I ask, already feeling my stomach sinking with worry. “Unless they’re farming lung cancer.”