Author's Note: As always, please review and let me know what you think. Thank you!
Pronunciation Guide:
Dralus –DREY-luss
Drakenivar – drah-KEN-ih-var – swift blade
hessla –HESS-lah – a large, snake-like creature with two arms that end in razor sharp claws and a large mouth containing several rows of jagged teeth. It can inhabit a variety of environments and is known for playing dead after suffering grievous wounds, only to snap up its hunter-turned-victim at the last moment.
hwar'ta – HWARR-tah – a breechcloth usually worn over a shentai or, if female, by itself
nivar – nih-VARR - swift
shentai – SHEN-tie – a loincloth wrapped around the hip
Dagger
The soft whirr of gears as the machine worked pre-programmed patterns into his skin was the only sound in the dim chamber. Glistening droplets dripped from its metallic crevices, cool mist curling about his arm as the fluorescent dye seeped into his warm flesh, the ice cold liquid sending painful chills across his body. Auran flexed his numb fingers in an attempt to keep the blood flowing through his veins. The numbness seemed to soak into his bones. He'd been trapped on this planet for weeks; the only time he'd stepped onto an alien world was for the briefest of moments, not for the thrill of the hunt but to bargain like a slave trader. He'd chosen the life of a wanderer, a simple, uncomplicated path that kept him out of politics and appeased those who wanted him dead. But fate had a cruel sense of humor. Iyeiden believed this was his chance at restoring honor to his clan's name. He recalled the way his guardian had looked at him, like he wanted to say more, but Auran wouldn't hear him. Now, as the ice cold probes of the machine cooled his temper and the moments ticked by he realized that a part of him wanted the elder's words to be true. The dead halls of his clan's fortress ringing with the sound of warriors teaching their sons how to wield dual ended blades, great swords and daggers filled his sight for a moment and pride swelled his chest before the icy prick of the machine fractured his concentration and the fantasy vanished. Auran growled. It was useless to dwell on what would never be.
Despite what Shaidra promised, Auran didn't believe it would ever be truly possible to restore his clan. The taint of its dishonor clung to him like a second skin, the weight of his ancestors' folly a sack of dead flesh dragging him to the depths of eternal punishment. A thousand disgusted faces sneered at him, circling like vultures. Even if he managed to survive the next few weeks, the warrior lord was as trustworthy as ravenous hessla. He had yet to reveal how Auran was suppose to achieve redemption, claiming Auran must prove he was worthy enough by first producing an heir. Auran snorted disdainfully. An outcast rogue coupling with a meta-hybrid; Shaidra was insane if he thought the High Council would back him. Despite what others thought, he was no fool. He knew he was being manipulated. What frustrated him was his lack of choice in the matter. Shaidra held his honor in one hand and death in the other. He wondered if the two choices were, in fact, the same. It doesn't matter, Auran growled. He would play the warrior lord's game. For now.
A soft metallic clinking noise caught his attention and he glanced down to see what his clenched fist had brushed against. The alien necklace hung from his waist, the dim lights' dully reflecting off the flat ornament's surface. Anger melted into confusion as the memory of the female. He should despise her, or at least be indifferent. But he was not and this troubled him.
His brooding thoughts were interrupted as the machine traced an intricate design across his shoulder blade and down his back. Auran suppressed the urge to shiver as the delicate needles crossed his spine. With a final stroke the machine withdrew, folding in on itself and retracting into the wall. He shook the stiffness from his muscles, grimacing when he noticed the swirling patterns crisscrossing his skin. Such garish displays would draw unwanted attention. It was like Shaidra wanted him to get killed.
Huffing, he ducked into the corridor, choosing a roundabout route consisting of back hallways, skywalks and winding stairwells. Lately, he'd been plagued by a gnawing sense of unease. Over the last few days he'd purposefully chosen alternate routes through the Singing Blades' territory, never taking the same one twice. A presence, vague and elusive, teased at the edges of his perception. It had become a constant source of stress, eating at his patience. Voices approached and he ducked into the shadow of one of the many stone statues lining the hallway, pressing against the wall and behind the stone warrior's shield, listening as an elder led a caravan of chittering young females past. His presence amongst Iyeiden's clan, the Singing Blades, was… tolerated. Auran had learned to stay out of sight at an early age, mastering the art of hiding in plain view or disappearing when he needed to. Such skills had saved his life on more than one occasion. When the sound of their voices faded he slid out from his hiding place and continued on his way.
If only he could outwit his shadower, he thought irritably as he crouched at the entrance to his dwelling and pulled out his lock picks. Gingerly, he unhooked the delicate wires hidden in the crevice of the door handle, careful not to disturb the pressure sensitive trap from injecting him with paralyzing venom. Sometimes a lock wasn't enough to keep enemies out. Once the trap was disabled, he pressed his palm against the cool pad of the security scanner, glancing over his shoulder while it tested skin patterns, DNA and body heat. The wide hallway loomed behind him; its dusty floors and cracked ceiling silent save for the whine of a lost insect tapping aimlessly into the walls. He clicked in agitation.
The smell of dead ash and smoke washed over him as he entered, the fire in the braziers and pit having burned out hours ago. It reminded him of the suffocating ash fields of an unnamed dying world on which the enemies of the Ashan'ii had made their home. Auran shrugged off the memories of that hunt before he remembered too much, deciding the chill of the room bothered him less than the stares he would receive if he tried to barter for more fuel. Other than his armor, weapons and bed roll, his room retained a spartan appearance that most of his kind would find unnatural. But he preferred simplicity to the stuffy and what he considered gaudy display of trophies and other luxury items. Decorating was a waste of time since he was hardly here anyways.
He lifted his ceremonial armor off the wall, pleased that he could almost see his reflection in its gleaming surface. Auran slid a dagger under his arm guard and a retractable blade into each of his shin guards. The weapons clicked into place, seamlessly blending in with his armor. Lastly, he sheathed his sword, the weight of it across his back comforting. He wrapped his shentai around his waist as he crossed the empty room, pausing before his clan's shrine. Two dead torches framed the black circular shield, his clan's blooding symbol carved into its obsidian center, the meaning of its serpentine script lost forever. He should destroy it, Auran thought absentmindedly while he tightened his armbands. It was an ever present reminder of why he suffered, why he would always suffer, for wrongs he did not commit.
Instead he swung his cloak around his shoulders and left.
'/, /'- |'/-
Blood red rays washed over the ebony temple as the first sun sunk into the horizon, lighting the crystal windows and towers with an inner fire that transformed the terraced structured into a smoldering volcano. A wide swath of jungle surrounded it, trees hundreds of years old towering above the dark green foliage, ancient sentinels guarding sacred mysteries. The thick undergrowth separated the holy place from the rest of the city, for there were no roads that Tyler could see leading into it. The fusion of technology and nature intrigued her and she craned her neck to keep the alien temple in view. The scene was lost as the craft banked sharply and she was thrown against her harness, the taunt straps digging into her shoulders. Around her the warriors began checking their weapons, lascannons on their shoulders humming to life. With a small shudder the craft came to a rest on one of the landing platforms tucked into the side of the temple. With quick, fluid motions the guards were on their feet and ushering her out. Three fanned out in small phalanx in front, two stood to either side of her and one brought up the rear. She rolled her eyes. Such an aggressive formation ran counter to the discreetness of previous moves. The head body guard, Dralus, jerked her into formation when he thought she moved too slow. She resisted the urge to growl and tear her arm from his grasp. Her face still stung from when she'd questioned the captain earlier about the moving procedures he'd laid out to the other warriors.
Her guardians led her into a side chamber. Dralus nudged her towards the altar and followed close behind while the other five took up positions outside. The soldier in Tyler began pinpointing exits and cover points in case of an attack.
As she approached the altar she saw the priest was sharpening a ceremonial knife with a river stone, the blade singing with each slow stroke. He stood behind a stone centerpiece which rested on a raised dais at the head of the room, a smooth basin carved into the center. Tyler tried not to think about what the basin might be for. A priestess appeared and set a small bundle of red cloth on the edge of the altar which she gently unwrapped, revealing a long slender dagger. No one spoke, the only sounds emanating from the two priests as they prepared and blessed their instruments, praying to whatever strange God or gods they worshipped. Boredom began to sink in as the minutes dragged on. She could sense the uneasiness in her guardian. The one called Auran Darkblade was late. Either that or he'd fled. Typical male afraid of commitment, she thought, half hopeful. Her suspicions appeared to be confirmed when her guardian received a call from his wrist computer.
"Dralus, you are only to contact me if something dire happens. What is it?"
"Djaidenasil, the second sun is about to set and he's not here."
"What?"
"Drakenatharr's not here."
A long silence followed. Dralus looked visibly uncomfortable.
"Contact the Singing Blades," the voice growled slowly, "tell them to find that bastard and—"
"That won't be necessary."
Both Tyler and the guard turned in surprise.
"Drakenatharr, you test my patience," growled the one they called Djaidenasil.
"Magnanimous as ever, Shaidra."
"You will show the Lord of a Thousand Blades respect," growled Dralus.
"Make me."
Dralus roared and pulled a short sword from his waist. Auran shifted sideways, hand gripping his sword handle, but did not draw it. Two guards rushed to Tyler's side and pulled her behind them. Before the guard could strike, the priest was suddenly behind him, pressing the jagged blade he'd been sharpening earlier against his throat.
"You will show the God respect first."
The guard's anger melted instantly and he slowly sheathed his weapon.
"Your warriors lack restraint, great Shan."
"It will be dealt with, priest. After you see to your duties."
Dralus glared at Auran one last time before waving the two warriors around Tyler away. She could hear the one called Shaidra berating the captain for acting out of place in the God's temple. But not for attacking, she noted. She glanced back at Auran to see what he thought of all this. The warrior unclasped his cape and tossed it to the side, his face impassive, almost bored. The possibility he was crazy flickered momentarily through her thoughts. Someone had almost tried to kill him and yet he didn't seem fazed. He avoided her gaze, staring at the walls instead. Insecurity flickered through her for a moment and she wondered if she looked ugly. She quickly dismissed the thought. It hardly mattered anyway.
Order restored, the priests motioned for them to approach the altar, Tyler to the right, across from the priestess, and Auran to the left, across from the priest.
"Who comes to be bonded?" intoned the priest.
"I, Auran'Drakenatharr, only son of Shoukaden'Drakenivar, last of the Shadow Stalkers," Auran responded. Tyler tucked away the information for future reference. She wondered if he was as much of a pawn in this as she was. The priest laid the blade against Auran's outstretched palm.
"How long do you swear to honor the bond?"
"Till death."
The priest sliced his hand, bright blood dripping into the shallow basin of the altar. The priestess took her knife then, laying it across Tyler's palm.
"Who comes to be bonded?"
Tyler hesistated, unsure of what to say. She quickly decided to mimic what Auran had said since no one had explained this part to her. She fought down the nervousness clinching at her gut and took a deep breath, remembering her new name just as she began to speak.
"I… Ahandra, first daughter of Clarisa 'Asquez."
From the corner of her eye she saw the warrior glance at her. The priestess didn't seem to care.
"How long do you swear to honor the bond?"
"Till death."
She flinched as the blade split her skin. Her blood spattered into the basin, mixing with his. The priestess loosely tied their bleeding hands together as the priest burned the offering. Tyler did her best not to gag as an acrid stench filled the air.
"You are bonded till death before the God and Goddess. Honor the bond," commanded the priest.
After the flames licked the basin dry the priestess removed the cord from their wrists and wrapped the ceremonial dagger in a red cloth. Tyler clenched her hands to keep them from trembling, wincing at the aching pain in her right. She couldn't believe she was this nervous. It was as if the weight of everything that had happened in the last several days was crashing down on her. As the guards began to form up around them she felt sweat beading across her forehead. The air suddenly felt stifling and she could almost feel the waves of body heat wash over her hot skin. By the time they were outside she was panting and the pain in her hand had intensified. Bright flashes of light began to warp her vision and Tyler realized something was very wrong. She fumbled for Auran through a fog of dizziness. A second later painful spasms ripped through her abdomen and she collapsed to ground, vomiting. A chorus of shouts and growls rose up around her. She was rolled to her side and found herself staring up into his face. Her words died in her throat as it began to close up and she fought to breathe.
"Stay awake!" he shouted.
She tried. Her body shivered violently, her right arm convulsing as painful spasms gripped her muscles. Her tongue felt like sandpaper and her throat burned. Strange colors streaked across her vision. It hurt to keep her eyes open.
A sharp sting across the side of her face jolted her awake.
"You must stay awake!"
She was being moved. She didn't recognize where she was. Her lungs were on fire and she couldn't feel her right arm anymore.
Another painful sting. The voice shouted at her to stay awake and fight. Tyler struggled to retain consciousness. Her lungs felt heavy and she couldn't move.
"Ahandra!"
I'm sorry, she tried to say.
