Maxym
MAXYM
The last thing I want to do is shut down the thoughtbond. I love hearing my Cleo’s thoughts. Her softness blunts my edges and makes me a better Gryn.
But I’m doing this for her, I tell myself over and over as I put on the helmet and I rise into the clouds of smoke billowing over Tatatunga. I’m protecting her.
I am not abandoning her.
A huge body slides through the air next to me, a ball of flame bursting from it as I twist and dance to avoid being fried.
“What is this?” a voice booms. “A Gryn? I thought you were all dead.”
“I am very much alive, and if you don’t stop attempting to cook me, you will not be.”
A deep chuckle resonates as a head pokes out into the small patch of clear air around me. Deep green, his eyes glitter like the fire he produces. In a flash, it’s gone again, and I feel the down draft of powerful wings.
But the Sarkarnii, as fast as they may be in the air—their size works against them. I am nimble, and I am much quicker, so when he attempts to grab me, I easily avoid his grasping claws.
“Vrex it! I’m on your side, you vrexer!” I grind out. “Prince Baronn is trying to get hold of your leader, Draco. We have the info cubes.”
“Draco is busy killing some Bogarok.” A new voice joins in, and a second shadow flows through the clouds, and I see a flash of blue scales. “Who is this Prince Baronn?”
“A Remek prince. He called you here.”
I beat my wings hard to get higher, to get above the Sarkarnii and out of their reach until I can be sure they are here to assist and not take the info cubes for themselves.
“I need to speak to Draco,” I insist.
I know Sylas had some contact with the Sarkarnii, but I mostly left it to him. Given my status within the dome, it wasn’t always wise for me to be seen around species which can devastate a planet…and have a reputation for doing so.
A richly deserved reputation given how much of Tatatunga seems to be in flames.
“What do you say, brother?” The green Sarkarnii comes up behind me while the blue one comes from the front. “I’d hate to be the Sarkarnii who ate the last Gryn.”
His jaws snap at me, and I spin away, folding up my wings and dropping fast towards the ground. There’s no way I can beat the huge scaly vrexers, but I can use my size compared to theirs as an advantage. Jinking around a building I slam into something even bigger.
And gold.
My sword is already in my hand, ready to deal with the Sarkarnii, if he is also going to be hostile. Only I am presented with a biped stalking out of the gloom towards me.
“A Gryn.” He looks me up and down with interest. “A species which has gone from being a myth to being seemingly everywhere I look.”
“I’m looking for Draco, so unless you know where he is, get out of my way,” I snarl, my patience with the creatures at an end.
Behind me, there is the sound of masonry falling and two thumps which shake the ground.
“You’ve found him, Gryn.” The green Sarkarnii walks past me.
If I thought I was a large gladiator, he is even bigger. But I’ve fought all sizes and shapes in the arena. He is no contest.
“This is our brother Draco.” The second blue Sarkarnii ambles past, picking at his teeth.
The gold Sarkarnii folds his arms. “Where is Prince Baronn?”
“He was injured fighting the Bogarok in the dome. He’s in a secure location.” I don’t sheath my sword.
There’s something about the Sarkarnii which I can’t trust. It could be the lack of pants. It could be the way Draco and the other two size me up.
It reminds me of the games, and my desire for violence hasn’t quite dissipated yet.
Smoke curls from Draco’s nostrils. “I need to see him.”
The fact my mate is where Retah is means there is absolutely no way I’m taking the Sarkarnii anywhere near her.
“You don’t need to see him. I’m here,” I growl, shaking out my feathers. “You deal with me.”
“That very much depends what you have to deal with, Gryn,” the blue Sarkarnii growls.
“Let him speak, Drega.” The green Sarkarnii huffs out smoke.
“Nev off, Draxx. You’re getting soft in your old age,” Drega spits. “We came all this way to deal with some nevving Bogarok. Now I stink of them, and no aquium is going to get the stench out before I get back to my mate.”
My ears prick at the word ‘mate’. From what little I know about Sarkarnii, they have no females left.
“If you could kill one of them without eviscerating it, you’d avoid the worst of their innards,” Draxx says, as if killing Bogarok all nova-day is something he does. Green lights skitter under his scales as if he’s lit from within.
“Enough,” Draco grumbles. “We agreed to help Baronn because he was able to provide us with the pulsix cannon we needed. I want off this foul rock as much as you do, but we have a contract, and I want to get it done before we go back to finding the Sarkarnii.”
“You’re looking for Sarkarnii?” I query.
Draco brings his attention back to me with a snarl. “What is it to you, Gryn?”
“I was a Gryn commander…I think…my memories were stolen from me. I want to find the other Gryn, my unit, my species, and my planet.”
Draco looks at Drega. He inclines his head, making me wonder if these brothers have a thoughtbond like I have with my mate.
Or if they’ve fought together for a long time, like I have with Klynn, Rych, Sylas, and Blayn. I grip my blade and smoothly slide into a fighting stance, ready for the assault.
I’ve not survived so far only to be struck down by three ridiculously colored reptiles.
“Looks like Draxx is not the only one going soft,” Draco says, pulling a pulsar from a belt around his waist and pointing it at me. “I appreciate an honorable warrior, and I appreciate his cause.”
As he fires, I duck and roll, and I’m on my feet in an instant, roaring as I leap towards him, fully intending ending this meddlesome Sarkarnii.
“! Wait!”
Her voice.
Cleo’s voice.
The thoughtbond lights up, brighter than a sun going supernova with her love and her desire for me. For our future, for the youngling growing inside her.
Draco hasn’t moved, even with my blade an inch from his person. He tips his head on one side, his scales glittering in the dim light.
“A mate,” he rumbles. “They are incredible things, aren’t they? Mine worked out a way of making a belt so I could carry a pulsar even when shifted.” He points to his waist. “It’s called ex-last-tic,” he adds proudly.
I don’t quite know what to do, so I lower my sword as Cleo hits me, her arms wrapping around my waist and her fingers disappearing into my feathers.
I think I might have dropped my weapon as she touches just the right parts of me. But if I’m in her arms, I simply don’t care anymore.