Chapter 12 #3
Ellard closed the door after them and followed Gweneth.
They turned the corner and came face-to-face with two of the Scothage reivers.
For an instant, they all stared at each other.
The two Scothage males wore their leather kilts with plaid tunics.
Their faces, the parts not disguised by bushy beards, were tan from exposure to the light of a star.
Although he stood half a head taller, Ellard knew not to discount their wiry builds.
“What they be doing here?” one blurted.
“Ran out of water,” Gweneth said. “We were thirsty.”
“Huh?” the other said.
Ellard struck before their brains started functioning.
He kicked one hard in the middle of the chest in a move he’d learned from training with Ry.
The Scothage went flying, hitting the wall with a sickening thump.
He slumped downward, and Ellard dragged him back to the room where they’d left the first. Galling as it was, Gweneth didn’t seem to require his help, her Scothage opponent becoming more cautious with each blow she landed.
Gweneth appeared in the doorway. “Quick. We have to go. Coward turned tail and limped away.”
Ellard left the groaning Scothage in a heap on the floor.
“They could at least wear underwear under their skirts,” Gweneth said with a sniff. “A strong wind could blow at any time and create a show.”
Ellard bit back a grin at her disapproval. “I can’t believe we’re discussing male dressing habits while trying to evade capture.”
Shouts and running feet sounded outside the door. Ellard waited until they could no longer hear anything before cracking the door to observe the corridor. “Clear. Let’s go.”
“We can’t evade capture forever.”
Ellard grinned a feral grin. “But we can create havoc meanwhile.”
They cautiously exited the room and continued in the direction away from the mess.
Gweneth halted, a furrow appearing on her forehead. “The ship is stopping. Something is happening.”
“Our rescue?”
“No, if a strange ship appeared, they wouldn’t stop. It’s someone they were expecting.”
Ellard listened, not as attuned to the ship as Gweneth since he hadn’t flown as much in deep space. Grata, she was right.
“What do we do?” she whispered.
Ellard shrugged. “Keep to our plan. They know we’ve escaped the cell.” He prowled down the corridor and peered around the next corner. “The bridge.”
“Can we get closer? We might learn what is happening.”
Good plan. As one, they slinked along the corridor walls, taking care to maintain silence. The familiar vibration of a moving ship recommenced. The stop had been a quick one. To let someone board or someone disembark? Ellard froze at the thought. What if they’d off-loaded Sheera and Leeam?
“You got them?” a harsh voice demanded.
“Aye, sir. They be locked in the cells.”
The second voice belonged to the leader of the reivers, but it sounded as if someone else had charge of this mission. A new arrival?
“Are the collars in place?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Good. That’s good. Set a course to Kiraxes while I go to inspect my prize.”
“There they be,” a man cried from behind them.
“Phrull,” Ellard muttered.
Two males appeared at the bridge entrance while behind him and Gweneth, four Scothage males stalked forward, brandishing stunners.
“How did they get loose?” the Scothage captain demanded.
“Who are they?” the big man at his side asked.
The newcomer stood taller than the captain and appeared older with a spare yet muscular frame.
His face bore a network of tiny scales, and two slightly curled horns extended from his bald skull.
An aurora of power simmered from him, but Ellard had never seen a male of this species before.
A quick glance at Gweneth told him she hadn’t either.
“They be with the Incorporeals,” the captain said. “We be ransoming them.”
The horned man stared at them both until Ellard wondered why, then the man smiled, and a chill raced down Ellard’s spine. Whatever the horned man’s thoughts, they didn’t bode well for their safety.
“How fortuitous,” the horned man crooned.
Fear licked Ellard now, and he felt Gweneth sidle closer, as if she experienced the same foreboding. They were outnumbered. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
“The Incorporeals will require food. You will produce it for them.”
Gweneth gave a soft gasp, and every muscle in his body tightened. This new arrival knew about the sexual energy necessary for the Incorporeal survival.
“You be feeding them to the other creatures.” Disappointment and a touch of horror filled the Scothage captain’s voice as he saw his unexpected profit slipping away.
“Have no fear,” the horned man said, amusement curling his straight mouth into a mocking joke.
“You’ll still have your prisoners once they feed the Incorporeals.
You’ll have entertainment too,” he promised, his amusement creating a terrifying expression.
“The Incorporeals feed on sexual energy. I thought I’d have to order all your men to touch themselves.
It would’ve done in a pinch. This will work much better. ”
“Take ’em back to their cell,” the Scothage captain ordered.
Two of the Scothage reivers grabbed Gweneth. She used her knee and got one in the groin before they overpowered her. Ellard bit back his amusement and didn’t resist when the other two reivers pulled their weapons on him.
“A feisty woman,” the horned man said, rubbing his hands—black fingernails, Ellard noted—together. “This feeding will provide great entertainment. I can hardly wait.”