Red Sands: Warlords of Atera Page 6

  “Traze, warlord of the Living Sands.” Drazan raised his chin and met the other warlord’s eye. “I greet you in peace and welcome you to the Heart Sands.”

  “Drazan, warlord of the Red Sands.” Traze met Drazan’s eye. “I greet you and welcome you to my camp though you know why we are here.”

  Direct to the point. Part of Drazan appreciated the approach.

  Drazan glanced over his shoulder at Telu and then his guards, wondering what the Living Sands delegation may already know. Had his warriors spoken with the Living Sands males and revealed the human females? Or were they still in the dark, knowing only that Eana had provided Atera with a glorious gift without knowing of the gift itself.

  He knew he could not keep the secret for long—if it was still a secret—but he would be careful as he divulged information. At least for now. “The gift from Eana that fell from the stars is a vessel. I have not yet had the opportunity to unlock all it holds. My warriors and I will do so at first light.”

  “You think to keep this gift for yourself?” Traze hissed. “This is not the Red Sands, Drazan!” Traze gestured at the pale sand that surrounded them. “You are not warlord of these sands. My warriors and I will explore the vessel ourselves.”

  Drazan growled, fists clenched. He struggled against the urge to reach for his blade. “We arrived first. I have right to first claim and I will not be denied that right.”

  Traze leaned closer, staring Drazan down. “You would claim the gifts and deny your brothers from the south?” He shook his head. “I never believed you to be selfish. Surely you do not believe Eana sent this bounty to you alone? Do you believe the goddess has favored the Red Sands above all others?”

  Drazan ground his teeth. Part of him knew Traze was correct. It was foolish to think he alone had the right to the goddess’ bounty, but that voice was doused in the flames of his anger—his fury at being challenged.

  He bared his fangs, growling at the other warlord. “Do not think to speak to me in such a way, Traze of the Living Sands. Were we not in the Heart Sands I would strike you down for your insolence. Tradition dictates I have right to first claim and I intend to hold that right until we examine the vessel and learn what is inside.”

  Traze narrowed his gaze and Drazan was sure the other warlord knew that he lied. Did he already know Drazan had claimed one of the females for himself? Drazan had to admit that his unexpected bond with Sheri was a big portion of why he was so determined to stake his claim over the vessel. He had little interest in the other females, but his kode had expressed concern for them. Drazan felt an obligation to protect them, for Sheri’s sake.

  That included keeping the other Aterans from claiming the females for themselves or harming them in any way.

  “Do not overstep your bounds, Drazan.” Traze took a single step forward, invading his space. “We are in neutral territory, but your actions will be felt across the sands. Think before you act.”

  Drazan flexed his claws but held himself back before he did something rash. Something like peel the scales from Traze’s bones. “We will speak in the morning. My warriors and I will be first to explore the vessel. After we have uncovered its secrets, we can discuss what is to be done with the gifts.”

  He turned and strode across the sands before Traze could utter another word to complicate the situation. Drazan only had the upper hand because of honor and tradition, but that would only carry him so far. He did not know how to keep both the Hard Sands and Living Sands delegations under control without resorting to violence. If he allowed his warriors to be the first ones to spill blood, his name would be stained in the eyes of his goddess.

  He could not let it come to that.

  He stopped atop a nearby due and turned back to study the Living Sands encampment. Something about what he saw did not sit comfortably on his scales but he could not put his claw on it.

  “Is something wrong, Warlord?” Telu followed Drazan’s gaze to the camp.

  “I am uncertain.” Drazan scanned the lines of tents. There was nearly a dozen—each of which would hold three or four warriors aside from the warlord’s tent which he would have to himself. There were enough tents for at least thirty to forty Living Sands Aterans.

  Though Drazan only counted two dozen within sight.

  It was possible the rest had retired for the evening, but… he was not optimistic.

  “Fetch the scouts,” he eyed the camp. “Tell them—”

  A female’s scream silenced him, the terrified screech echoing across the desert. His scales bristled and muscles tensed, his body ready to carry him to Sheri’s side. When a second scream filled the air, he realized it had not come from the Red Sands camp.

  His attention shot to the west. “That came from the alien vessel.”

  Drazan and his warriors broke into a sand-eating run. They cut across the desert sands and toward the sounds of female terror.

  Chapter Eight

  Sheri jolted awake with a start, heartbeat racing as she whipped her attention through the dark tent. There was no sign of Drazan lurking nearby and she continued to search the dim corners of the tent in an effort to find what had woken her. Until a scream speared through the air—one that sent a chill racing down her spine.

  She shot to her feet, breath coming in short, quick gasps and blood thundering through her veins. She peered between the tent flaps and searched the darkness for signs of danger, but nothing stood out in the area.

  Another scream shot through the night. Then a third and the truth smacked her in the face—the source of the danger wasn’t from within the alien camp.

  The screams came from over the dune, where their ship had crashed.

  Her first instinct was to race out there, but then Drazan’s warning thundered through her mind. Warnings of the beasts that called the sands home. Those made her hesitate. Plus, Drazan’s guards stood nearby, no doubt under orders to keep her corralled. For all she knew, one of those desert-dwelling beasts was attacking the ship. Or the gray alien soldiers might have been in the process of abusing the helpless human women.

  A fate she refused to leave them to suffer. She hurried through Drazan’s tent, digging through his belongings, and finally found a small wooden box tucked in the corner. She dumped out the contents and then broke the box into pieces, yanking off a sharp piece of wood. She couldn’t exit the front of the tent, not with those guards waiting for her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t devise her own way out.

  She stabbed at a corner, digging and cutting a hole into the material. She fitted her hands in the slit and yanked, splitting the fabric until the opening was wide enough for her to squeeze through. Once outside she ducked low to avoid being seen and crept between the tents of the encampment. She hurried as quickly as the sand allowed, cursing the fact that she couldn’t run all the way to the ship.

  She climbed yet another dune and paused at the top, staring at the chaos that reigned below. Human women and aliens ran all around the ship. The women screamed, some attempting to flee in terror while others beat away the aliens with pieces of the ship’s wreckage. The aliens fended off the humans’ attacks, and several of the warriors already had the others pinned or caught in their iron-like grip.

  All thoughts of the dangers of the desert fled her mind and Sheri allowed gravity to send her tumbling down the steep decline. She rolled to a stop at the bottom of the dune and thanked god—Atera’s goddess?—that the sand was firmer. It allowed her to break into a ground-eating run. Let those beasts of Drazan come after her. She felt as if she could take on the entire planet—and win. The only danger that niggled at her mind was the alien menace attacking the ship. She couldn’t make sense of what she saw. Some aliens grabbed women, but others seemed to turn on one another. Red-scaled warriors clashed blades with many of the blue and green scaled aliens. She wasn’t sure what the differences of color meant, only that the red warriors were Drazan’s.

  Her instincts shouted at her to run—to get to safety. But she couldn’t lea
ve the others alone in the middle of this battle. No one had helped her when her ex-husband beat her until she was nearly dead. No one had stood between her and pain. She wasn’t about to leave someone else to that same fate.

  Sheri still clutched the sharp piece of wood she’d brought from the tent. She tightened her grip and ran at the nearest alien holding a woman captive, a hulking, red-scaled beast. He had his back to Sheri, arms wrapped around one of the other humans. When she screamed and sobbed, Sheri recognized Kalinda’s voice.

  “Let me go!” Kalinda screamed and kicked her feet in the air as the alien hoisted her off her feet. “Help! Someone help!”

  Sheri didn’t hesitate to burst into action. She lifted the splintered wood with both hands and drove it between the alien’s shoulder blades as hard as she could.

  “Grah!” The alien cried out and dropped Kalinda. The wood hadn’t been sharp enough to penetrate his thick scales, but at least she’d gotten his attention. That was good, right? He whirled and extended an arm, knocking Sheri back. She tripped and collapsed to the sands, the fall knocking what little breath remained from her lungs.

  The alien spun to face her, sharp features twisted in a grim expression that promised retribution. He had a look of pure fury though it quickly vanished the moment he saw it was her and not some other warrior. He growled and bared his fangs and Sheri couldn’t help her instinctual reaction. She flinched and brought her arms up to protect her face. There had been times when she lashed out at her ex-husband in the past—moments of foolishness. Any time she had caused him pain, he returned it tenfold.

  What kind of damage could this enraged alien cause?

  Drazan drew one of the swords from his back, raised it in both hands, and released an echoing battle cry.

  Sheri screamed, covered her head with her arms and closed her eyes.

  The swift whistle of steel slicing through air reached her ears, the sound immediately followed by a heavy thunk and wet splat.

  “Foolish female! Move!”

  If she could still hear him shout at her, that meant he hadn’t killed her, right? She opened her eyes and peered out to see Drazan bring his sword high once again. He brought it down in an arcing swing, but not at her—at something behind her. She twisted in place and spied a dark mass of tentacles reach through the sand, each one slashing through the air and grabbing… for her. One of the lengths already bled from a deep gash from Drazan’s blade. He swung again, this time severing it clean off. The tentacle writhed on the sands, wiggling for a few moments as blood continued to drain.

  “Move!” Drazan snarled at her once more. He grasped her wrist and hauled her to her feet, shoving her behind him as he placed his body between her and the monster. He shouted orders so quickly her TransComm couldn’t keep up with the awkward words. But soon several other red-scaled warriors joined him in attacking the monster. Even more arrived as the number of tentacles doubled all around them.

  Kalinda clung to Sheri’s side, the woman trembling from head to toe. “What is that?”

  “We have to get back inside the ship.” Sheri grabbed Kalinda’s arm and dragged her toward the hatch. She spied a few other women nearby, free now that the aliens released them to focus on the monster. She shouted at them to follow, and they hurried toward the hatch. They funneled inside one by one, the shaking humans looking worse for wear after their encounter with the Aterans. Once they were all in, Sheri grabbed hold of the hatch and yanked as hard as she could, but it was stuck—wedged in the sand and unwilling to move.

  “It’s stuck!” She tried again, gritting her teeth and digging deeply for every ounce of strength.

  “The door has no power.” Kalinda stepped forward and lent a hand. Without even emergency power left to feed the hatch, they had to haul it shut by hand—edging it inch by inch across the sand. They only managed to close it partway before it firmly wedged itself in the sand. Sheri only hoped the opening was narrow enough that the hulking alien warriors couldn’t fit. Not to mention the tentacled monster that had erupted from the ground.

  She turned and braced her back against the bulkhead. She slid down the ground and groaned when her ass met the hard surface. She was out of breath, exhausted, and with everything that’d happened, out of her mind.

  But at least if she was going crazy, she wouldn’t go crazy alone in the middle of an alien camp. She’d made it back to the relatively safe confines of the ship, and that was the best she could hope to get.

  Chapter Nine

  The sand beast lashed out at Drazan once more, wrapping a tentacle around his leg with its punishing grip. It yanked him off balance and knocked him to the sands. He lost his sword in the quick move, leaving him weaponless against the beast that even then drew him across the grains and closer to its teeth-filled maw. He pulled a dagger from his hip and stabbed it down toward the tentacle holding him captive. Yet he could not quite reach it from his position, so the beast continued to pull him closer. He cursed and wished for a longer weapon, but his blades were beyond his reach.

  “Drazan!” Telu bellowed from nearby, holding up his own sword for a moment before throwing it toward Drazan hilt first. He caught the weapon by the hilt and in one smooth move swung it low, severing the tentacle that had been drawing him to his death. He kicked the trembling bits away and scrambled to his feet to regain a fighting stance. His blood boiled with rage and now that he held a sword once more, he ached for the beast to attack him again.

  Yet it seemed to have had enough of the battle and slithered beneath the sands once more, as if it finally recognized that Drazan and his warriors were no simple feast. He was only grateful that he and his warriors had been present to protect the females. Though if the females had not been running around like over-excited hatchlings they would not have attracted the sand beast’s attention.

  “Telu!” Drazan tossed the sword to his paladin before he retrieved his own. “Gather the warriors and order them to return to their posts.” Drazan glared across the sands at several green-scaled Aterans who struggled to retreat. “I will deal with this situation.”

  “Yes, Warlord.” Telu saluted him and then focused on barking orders and organizing the rest of the warriors in the aftermath of the battle.

  Drazan stalked across the sands to those cowardly warriors who now sought to escape. He was nearly upon them before the Living Sands warriors stopped and turned to face him. There were a half dozen meeting his rapid approach. Had there been more earlier, they had already slunk back to their camp. These six stood with their chins held high, hands near their weapons. He only hoped they were not ignorant enough to attack him. Especially now, after what they had already lived through.

  “Moss-backed fools!” Drazan hissed and backhanded one of the warriors with a blow across his green jaw. The Living Sands warrior staggered and then regained his footing. The warrior went for his weapon, but one of his companions stopped him with a hand on his claw. Many knew better than to draw blades against the warlord of the Red Sands. Especially when Drazan had yet to draw his own. A bare-handed blow was an insult—not a true threat of violence. “What by all that is the gloriousness of Eana did you think you were doing? Slinking through the Heart Sands in the dark of night? If Warlord Traze ordered you to do this…”

  The warriors exchanged a look and the male Drazan struck flicked his forked tongue across his lips. “Warlord Traze is a busy male. He cannot know all his warriors do.”

  Drazan snorted. “I’m sure he is busy.” He did not know whether the warrior expected him to believe Traze was unaware of his warriors’ actions. Or whether they simply attempted to protect their warlord’s reputation. Regardless, he did not have time for such games. “Return to your camp. Inform Traze we will discuss the gifts from Eana when the sun rises before we travel to the center of the Heart Sands. I will not tolerate any further violation of my honor nor my claim over the goddess’ vessel. Understood?”

  Eana help them if they did not comply.

  “Yes, Warlord Drazan.
As you order.” The warrior gave a solemn bow of his head and turned to leave—his companions in motion, as well. They cast nervous glances over their shoulders at him until they crossed the first dune and were out of sight.

  Drazan spat in the sand and turned to face the ship, striding to meet his warriors. When he arrived, he found his warriors reorganized under Telu's command. He stood before them, the group at attention as one.

  “Who struck the first blow?” He met each warrior’s eyes, one by one. “One from the Red Sands? Or Traze’s males?”

  He could not stomach calling them warriors.

  Silence reigned for a long moment and he let it draw out, knowing the quiet would stir guilt within his warriors. Finally, one of them stepped forward.

  “Warlord, we were on watch as ordered. The Living Sands delegation demanded to inspect the vessel. We informed them of your orders and turned them away, but they had knowledge of the alien females. They insisted on viewing them. We refused, but…”

  “Go on,” Drazan found himself growing impatient and he fixed the male with a stern glare.

  “Warlord, the females awoke during the argument.” The warrior shifted his feet in the sand—unease alive and well in his features. “They began screaming and ran. We had to stop them.”

  Drazan grunted and nodded. His warriors had been right in their attempts to stop the females. They could not simply allow the humans to run off into the desert. One or more of them could have been eaten by the sand beast or encountered any other number of dangers. Even the tiniest desert insect could be lethal.