6. Chapter 6
My head was already starting to hurt, and we hadn’t even begun our journey yet.
Bzun-Lhan kept his distance while I was surrounded by the four scientists as they introduced themselves; Bob West was the leader of the group. The other two males were Scott Hayes and Pierre Delon, the woman Dawn Wayland, and, of course, the fool who thought himself in charge, Commander John Willis.
Szun-Var, my First Blade—second-in-command—stood stoically by my side, even though he didn’t understand half of what we discussed. He hadn’t studied English as intensively as I had.
"When can we start collecting specimens?" Bob asked.
I hadn’t given his expedition much consideration other than that they were part of the bargain I had struck. Now I realized I would have to give him something. "How about every night we will camp a fingerbreadth before sundown earlier to give you time to gather your samples?"
"A fingerbreadth?" Bob asked.
I held up my hand against the sun high in the sky and moved my fingers apart from one another to indicate how we measured time.
"You cannot possibly measure time accurately this way," Scott mumbled.
"Why the hell not?" Pierre wanted to know.
"Because depending on the seasons the sun is closer or farther away from this planet and—" Scott was about to explain when Dawn interrupted him.
"It doesn’t matter. A fingerbreadth before sundown will always be a fingerbreadth. Approximately an hour."
I liked her directness. Matt had unsuccessfully explained time as a concept to me on several occasions, but he gave up in the end when he failed to build something he called a sundial. I did understand the meaning of an hour, though, and in order to keep the peace, I conceded, "An hour, sa."
"Alright, good. I’m glad we got that ironed out. Now, where are we going?" Commander Willis asserted himself.
"We are going to Farruk, my home," I explained.
"Alright, people." Commander Willis clapped his hands. "Let’s go; let’s go; let’s go."
A slight twitch started in my right eyelid as I narrowed them at the commander. I told myself it wasn't worth arguing with him right now. If he wanted to cling to the illusion of being in charge of the humans, I would allow him to do so—for now. He would find out soon enough how little power he held out here.
"Tzar-Than, a word." Bzun-Lhan pulled me by the elbow, and I imagined the contact of our flesh was as unsettling to him as it was for me.
He led me away from all the buzz, "This is your last chance to reconsider," Bzun-Lhan implored.
I tilted my head to the side. The little tick in my eyelid was growing stronger, becoming as irritating as my brother’s presence—perhaps not quite as bad.
"What you’re planning is unnatural. It goes against the gods. Their wrath will be upon you, as will the wrath of the Gathering of the Khadahrs."
I should have known better than to be ensnared by my brother’s spite, but I couldn’t help my flaring temper, which was always short in his presence. "The Gathering of the Khadahrs will be most grateful to me when they can mate their warriors to eligible human females and produce the offspring we so urgently need, Bzun-Lhan. These things might be beyond your needs, but full-blooded warriors need females."
Resentment and hate grew in his deep reddish eyes. "Don’t say I didn’t warn you."
"Consider me warned," I spat and turned, pleasantly surprised that the humans were indeed ready to march—not enough to lighten my soured temper, but definitely an improvement.
I ordered a group of warriors to stay behind and guard the portal. If the humans decided to send more warriors through it, I wanted to be informed. "Kill anybody who might dare to come through," I cautioned before I waved our group on, taking the lead.
I took a quick inventory of the gallies. Sa, all of them had changed, but only a few into something resembling sensible clothing. Some were still parading around half naked, but at least their asses didn’t hang out of their short breeches any longer. Those who wore them had knotted their tunics under their breasts, exposing toned midriffs, sights that should only be seen by their mates.
A good leader knew how to pick his battles, though, and I was sure the gallies would soon learn their lessons. I was willing to bet that, come morning, all of them would cover up better. Still, their exposed skin deterred my warrior’s focus, most of whom had never had a gallis in their beds or seen parts of gallies offered so freely for their viewing.
"Eyes on the horizon," I barked, snapping the warriors’ attention back to the landscape. Marauders were known to prowl these parts, and their numbers had grown over the last ten years. More males were expelled every year than ever before for unlawful soliciting of gallies. Males who sexually assaulted anyone were punished by death, but harassment and the like came with banishment. Every year, more males turned desperate, desperate to see their bloodline continue or just to find the release they so badly needed.
I felt a slight kinship to my brother Bzun-Lhan, as the priests were forbidden to ever partake in the pleasure of the flesh, but that moment passed quickly. Bzun-Lhan’s becoming a priest had been of his own making, his decision. His disfigurement prevented him from becoming a khadahr, but he could have chosen a different path. By blood, he was a noble. He could have found a place in any of the khadahrs’ households. But he craved power over everything else, even over his blood kin. Priests didn’t have family ties; they only served Vorag and the other lesser gods. They amassed fortunes in their temples and employed small armies to protect the wealth housed within. They were their own power structure, ruled by the high priest, Bzun-Lhan, and one I had frequently warned the other khadahrs about. But like so many other things, they hadn’t listened to me.
Vandruks believed that only the priests could talk to the gods, thus giving them more power than they, in my mind, deserved. Vorag had told me to wait when I had nearly taken a gallis as a mate. Vorag came to me in my dream, telling me about the human gallies. I knew deep down in my heart that we didn’t need priests to talk to our gods.
Unfortunately, the others did. Whatever nonsense Bzun-Lhan spouted, most Vandruk would take as a directive from the gods. He had been very outspoken against my idea of taking human gallies, and I knew I was walking on a steep, narrow path. I needed other khadahrs to support me. I was convinced that once they saw me and others mated to the human gallies, even having—gods willing—younglings by them, they would change their minds.
Without a backward glance at Bzun-Lhan, I moved our rather large convoy on. Twenty females, four scientists, thirty human guards, and forty Vandruk warriors, including me. Nearly a hundred people I was responsible for. I prayed to Vorag to lend me strength and wisdom to lead our group safely to Farruk.
About two spans of a finger held against the horizon later, the first complaints from the females reached my ears.
"The gallies need a break." Szun-Var stopped at my side, concern written all over his face. “They seem too fragile,” he stated, shaking his head. I had never seen my First Blade concerned over the well-being of others like this before. Then again, we hadn’t been in the company of gallies in a long time.
Sighing, I gave the signal to stop.
"Oh, thank God!" a black-haired beauty exclaimed, plopping to the ground and taking her shoes off. "My feet are killing me."
"Mine too," a gallis with brown hair whined.
"Ouch, something bit me," another one with an exposed midriff cried.
"Let me see." I moved forward, and she stretched her body toward me, twisting herself around to touch her exposed skin right above her ass.
"Ow, that hu-hurts," she exclaimed, hopping on her legs.
"Hold still," I grunted, placing my hands on both of her hips to stop her fidgeting.
"Ow, ow, ow," she kept crying as I checked the side where she had been bit. An angry red circle indicated where the calamant—a vicious insect—had bitten her.
"You’re lucky it was a calamant, not a rotburn," I explained nonplussed, puckering her skin and bending over to suck on the center of her wound .
I spat the poison on the ground and sucked again. Gaping, the other gallies watched me while I noticed envy in my warriors’ faces.
"What’s a calamant?" the female asked.
"A flying insect whose bite burns for a few spans before it starts itching," I informed her. "When it does, don’t scratch it, or it will get worse."
"What’s a rotburn?" the black-haired gallis asked.
"Another insect, whose bite is extremely poisonous," I warned. "Neither one of those can bite you through fabric," I added for good measure, hoping they would take the hint and cover up.
Instantly, the females began unknotting their shirts and tucking them into their pants.
When I looked up, I met Gwyn’s crystal-gray eyes. She studied me with an unreadable expression, and the demons rode me when I licked my lips. With a withering glare, she turned from me. I chuckled.
Sucking the poison out of the female’s flesh had been slightly arousing. I wasn’t going to lie; I had never touched a female this intimately before, but the blonde wasn’t the one I wanted to touch.
“If the insects are that bad, why aren’t you covering up, big guy?” Dawn smirked, calling me out on my bluff, nodding her chin at my naked chest.
I winked and grinned at her. “Would you believe me if I said these insects only bite gallies?”
She chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep your secret.” And then she sauntered away. I decided I liked her.