Page 58 of Warlord's Mate
The preserved bladders they stored water in had all been sliced but one. It had fallen under an overturned table and was nearly full. He gave one last look to Cayen. He was hard and disgruntled but had been loyal. He’d be missed.
Jorrick hurried back across camp, kneeling by Wyvind’s side and put the water bladder to his mouth. He drank until he started coughing again, then wiped his mouth. “My thanks, warlord.” He inhaled a few deep breaths and propped his arms up on his bent knees. “The attack was from Allok’s group and I think another encampment was with them. There were too many to only belong to Allok. I couldn’t tell who they were, though.”
“Are you sure it was Allok’s men?”
Wyvind nodded. “Yes. Kr’Atek was with them.”
Jorrick clenched his jaw before looking around camp again. Kr’Atek among those who attacked could only mean it was Allok that had done this. He’d made war on his camp and—
This is what you wanted. The words whispered inside his head as he tried to count those that remained.You wanted a war. You took Mar-see in the arena to get one.He rubbed a hand over his face. “Is this all that remain?”
Wyvind nodded. “They took everyone else.” He met his gaze, an odd expression filling his eyes, his voice soft as he said, “All the females are gone except Jityria.”
Jorrick knew what that look in Wyvind’s eyes meant. Mar-see was gone, along with all the others. He stood. “Where is Jityria?”
“I’m not sure. I saw her right after the others were taken but I haven’t seen her since.”
“Stay put. I’ll go see who else is alive.” He found three others laying amongst the rubble. Two more were gasping for their last breaths and so many dead, including Vikram. Something in his chest clenched tight seeing him lay there. He knelt at his side, lifting his hand to close his friends eyes. They’d met the day he’d been pushed off the transport and left here. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t have done for him and it seemed Vikram had thought the same. He’d given his life to protect their camp.
He stood and turned a slow circle, taking in the destruction. So many gone. Those Allok hadn’t killed, he’d taken, his Mar-see being one of them.This is your fault. All of it. Every death another stain on your soul.
He lowered his head and ran a hand over his face.It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
He’d wanted a war for so long he could almost taste it most days and now that he’d gotten it, he’d do anything to take it back.What of Mar-see?Taking her was part of his plan and had he not wanted his revenge, he would have never taken her. And his life would be more bitter because of it. She made it worth waking up every morning. She’d made him forget his need for revenge. He shouldn’t have forgotten. Now Allok had brought the war to him. He just hadn’t been here to participate and now his camp was gone. The people he’d promised to protect were taken or dead and the woman who’d finally made him feel something again other than a burning need to kill those who’d wronged him had been taken and the odds of getting her back were slim. There weren’t enough warriors left to fight to get her back. His revenge had cost him everything. It had cost everyone, and he had no doubt, Mar-see would pay for his sins in ways too painful to even fathom.
Marcy grimaced and tried to move her hands, the ropes around her wrists digging into her flesh. They were being led deep into the woods after being herded out of camp like cattle, pushed and shoved along the way, which caused them all to stumble. They were tied together, a length of rope wrapped around their wrists, then connected to the person in front and behind them so when one went down, they all went down.
She lost count of the times they’d all toppled like dominos. Her body hurt all over. Every time she fell, she’d been roughly pulled from the ground by someone and felt up until she was ready to gut the next fucker who touched her.
The number of dead they left behind had been staggering. She looked over her shoulder and could barely make the camp out in the distance. What ever remained of it was still burning if the thick cloud of black smoke behind them was any indication.
She glared at the orange alien from the arena. Kr’Atek he called himself. He walked by her side, barking out orders to the others as they tromped through the forest.
Krista was behind her, followed by the other females. All but Jityria. The need to claw her eyes out made Marcy’s vision go fuzzy and if she ever saw her again, she might just do it. The bitch had given her to—whoever these aliens were. Shoved her at Kr’Atek and ran. The aliens that hadn’t been killed were rounded up and taken. The only ones left behind were those too weak to be of any good.
The smell of wood smoke still filled the air, the stink from the burning camp lingering long after they’d gone. They walked for what felt like miles before she spotted another camp through the trees.
Their captors made them go faster until they reached the perimeter of their camp. It looked nothing like the warlord’s encampment. As primitive as his had seemed, it was a five star resort compared to this one.
There was nothing but ramshackle tents made of poorly stitched together pieces of cloth. They were scattered through the trees as if the alien who built it didn’t care where he put it. A lone wooden structure sat on one end of a small clearing and if she had to guess, she’d say it belonged to whoever ran this camp. Everyone seemed to notice them at once and a cheer went up. Loud shouts and chants followed, an assortment of aliens running into the clearing to look at them.
They were pushed and shoved, grabbed and fondled as if they were nothing more than—
Marcy blew out a breath and looked at Krista. Their eyes met and she saw defeat in her friends eyes. She knew what awaited her. The warlord had made it clear in his camp that no female would be touched without consent. Marcy doubted that would be true here. If the look on the faces of those watching them were any indication, they were as good as fucked. Literally.
A shrill whistle filled the air. The aliens quieted, some shifting away to the outer edges of the small clearing. Marcy saw an alien appear at the doorway of the single hut. He was tall, as most of the aliens here were. He was the warlord of this encampment. The ornate robes he wore said as much.
He looked nothing like what she suspected the other warlords on Prison Moon One to appear. Jorrick was a massive wall of muscle. This guy, had he been on earth, would have been bullied and pushed around as if he were nothing. Here, they feared him. She could see it on the faces of those who suddenly dropped to their knees at the sight of him.
The warlord strode out of his hut on legs so spindly she wasn’t sure how they held him up. His head was misshapen. He had no hair and his skull was elongated with bright red veins that ran from front to back. He was almost skeletal in appearance, his bones pushing against his dark pinkish-red skin, but he didn’t appear weak. It might have been the look in his eyes that told her he wasn’t. They were an odd shade of red and something in the way he was staring at them said he had plans for every one of them and none of them were good.
His gaze landed on her. He smiled, his teeth sitting in a neat row that even from a distance she could see were pointed on the end. Whether they grew like that or he’d filed them down, she wasn’t sure.
“I’ve been waiting on you,” he said. He continued across camp, his steps slow as he approached. “Had Jorrick not stolen you from me…”
His entire body shuddered so fast, it looked like an optical illusion. Marcy blinked, not sure she saw it, or if her mind was playing tricks on her.
“You were to be my prize,” he said. His voice sounded almost—synthesized. As if it was being made by some device rather than actually spoken. The sound of it raised the hair on her arm. He cast a glare in Kr’Atek’s direction, disapproval of him obvious even from the distance he was from them. He was slow to turn away but when he did, something inside her head felt—tight, as if there wasn’t enough room inside her skull.