Epilogue
- Riley -
The saucer sets down on the red rock. It’s about sunset, because the flight back from the beach took longer than I thought.
I turn to the Plood. “Well done. What’s your name?”
He blinks once with his giant, black eyes. I get the feeling he doesn’t have one, which makes sense since he’s grown from a spore and just matured from a mushroom.
“Your name is Myron,” I tell him. “Myron. Do you need food? Drink? Come out with us.”
I open the hatch and step out with Nator’ax right behind me. Myron also takes some short, unsteady steps to follow us. He looks so fragile and uncertain that I change my mind. “Actually, you can stay in here if you want.”
The little alien turns on a dime and escapes into the locker where he was put before.
The campfire burns and it smells of fragrant wood and food being cooked. The air is humid and dense with the usual smells of the jungle.
Three girls have gotten up from their wooden chairs.
“Do you have any idea what time it is, young lady?” Morgan says as she walks fast up to me. “You were supposed to be home… well, weeks ago, basically.”
“Sorry,” I sniffle as I hug her. “Don’t ground me, please. I’ll wash the dishes all next week. And anyway, you’re not my real mother.” I wipe my face and hug Theodora and Cora.
Cora smiles through tears. “But seriously, where have you been? We’ve been worried sick. And that’s the truth.”
“The saucer took off,” I tell them as I discreetly take Nator’ax’s hand. “And it dumped us on the North Pole. Except there was no Santa Claus, just a tribe of mean elves.”
Morgan drags her sleeve across her eyes. “Uh-huh. And now I suppose you want to get married?”
I look down on our joined hands. “That’s the idea. Any chance for something like that? Also, any news about Callie?”
“Callie was found a couple of days ago,” Theodora says with a happy smile. “Or so Dex claims, although we haven’t seen her. I think we can have a wedding, right, Cora?”
“Actually, this is the most popular wedding venue on the planet,” Cora says.
“But there’s so much you have to decide.
Like, the big or the small menu? Open bar or ‘survive whatever the jungle hands you’?
Live drums or screaming dactyls? And don’t even get me started on the seating chart.
Are we grouping guests by species, stripe colors, or who’s least likely to eat the bride? ”
“And then there’s the question of where we register for gifts,” I play along, immensely relieved about being home.
“I mean, I’d prefer Space-Nordstrom, but are their crystal white wine glasses raptor-proof?
And do their bed sheet patterns compliment Nator’ax’s stripes?
See, these are things I have to deal with.
” We sit down, while Nator’ax stands nearby, taking up his usual guarding stance.
Dex the drone comes whirring up the stairs and hovers. “Ah, there you are. Finally decided to return the saucer to me?” he screeches with his broken electronic voice.
“To you?” I ask. “I thought it belonged to us all.”
“Well, yes. Of course. But only I can fly it.”
“Actually, anyone can fly it now,” I tell him. “I think. We should find out, at some point. I don’t know if Myron will obey just anyone. Maybe they have to be human?”
“Who is Myron?” Dex demands.
“Myron is the Plood who acts as the key for the saucer,” I tell him. “I gave him a name, because he’s actually pretty nice and saved us from something really bad. And now he’s the pilot.”
The drone lifts one edge and moves back, as if stalling in shock. “He came fully alive?!”
“He’s in there,” I tell them all. “But I don’t think he’s ready to meet us all. He’s new to the world, and all he knows how to do is fly the saucer to where I want to go. If I tell him firmly enough.”
“He obeys you?” Morgan asks. “Just like that?”
“You said the Plood are a servant species who will obey whoever commands them first,” I remind her. “And I thought, hey, let’s see if that holds. And it did, at the very last moment. If it hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here now. Myron’s cool.”
Dex perches on a rock and his rotors spin down. “I’m astounded. The planet is full of those proto-Ploods. Millions of them. We may have to get to each one and command it before anyone else can do so.”
“Who else is going to command them?” I ask. “The only dragon is Praxigor, and he’s not going to be that interested.”
Cora nods in agreement. “He’s not going to care about them at all. I guess we only have to worry about other tribes. And maybe the Plood developing some kind of leader that turns them against us.”
“Millions of Plood running around in the jungle isn’t the most joyful mental image,” Morgan says with a shudder. “It’s bad enough with that one in there. I hope he won’t just take off and leave.”
“Yeah,” Theodora says thoughtfully. “He could leave us stranded here. I mean, we’re basically stranded as it is. Going home to Earth is going to be a major problem, even with the saucer.”
I shrug and grab a cup of the bitter concoction that we have to find a name for. “He’s not going anywhere. I can tell. There’s not a sliver or rebellion in him. He’s mine to command, and he gives me the feeling that that is all he is. Maybe for all of us. But we can find out later.”
“Many things are happening on this planet,” Dex screeches ominously as he takes off.
“Praxigor isn’t the only dragon in this jungle.
And he’s most certainly not the only one on Xren.
But I wish you all the best of luck dealing with that saucer, which is by a great margin the most valuable item on the planet.
I can only recommend that you take care of it.
And keep it out of reach of the other dragon who was skulking around Callie.
I’m leaving now.” He whirrs straight out from the penthouse and descends out of sight.
“O-kay,” Morgan says, nonplussed. “Goodbye, I guess. Thank God you’re home, Riley.
And Nator’ax.” She switches to cavemannish, having learned the language much faster than me.
“You both look a little the worse for wear. Are those bites?” She points to Nator’ax’s torso, where the bloodwing bites are healing, but obviously going to leave scars.
“They are bites,” Nator’ax confirms. “We were out in a Blood Storm. When can we expect to be wedded?”
The girls look at each other. “Oh, we can probably arrange something pretty soon,” Cora says. “In three days, maybe? Weddings here are usually not that grand, but if you’re all right with cold rekh meat and old irox wings, then I suppose we can deal with it.”
“The food is less important,” Nator’ax growls with obvious impatience. “We just need the vows. Surely no wait is necessary? The day is young. We can do this before midnight, no doubt.”
I put a hand on his arm and smile up to him. “My love wants to be married immediately. And I feel the same way. But good things come to those who wait, as we say on Earth.”
“On Xren, what comes to those who wait is usually death,” Nator’ax rumbles. “But I suppose three days will be acceptable. I recently learned how fast five days can pass.”
“That was too fast,” I agree. “Can you sit down? Nobody’s going to attack us here.” I quickly look up. “Except the irox, maybe.”
He shakes his head. “No irox has been here for a long time. They know to avoid it. I will rest later. Now I have to face my chief and explain why I was gone for so long, with the woman I swore to not abduct.”
- - -
Three days pass in a blur of preparations and stolen kisses, as well as some that are not stolen at all. Korr’ax accepts Nator’ax’s explanation without much pushback, not least because my fiance tells the story so well that everyone in the village comes to listen.
Now, at midday, I stand in my gladiator sandals at the foot of the towering red rock with my heart hammering louder than the drums.
The entire tribe has gathered, as well as some striped warriors from other tribes.
They form a wide semi circle behind us, their loincloths bright with paint and beads.
Steady, resonant drumming rises from the group of boys at the base of the rock, deep booms that vibrate through my chest and into the ground beneath me.
Nator’ax stands tall before me, magnificent in new, long loincloth and a black fur sash that leaves most of his striped chest bare. The fur is from a jungle animal, but I’m sure he was inspired by the Gar tribe when it comes to the design and the material.
Astrid the shaman steps between us, her hair crowned with winter flowers and feathers. She lifts her hands. The drums soften to a low, heartbeat rhythm.
“Today we witness a bond between worlds,” Astrid calls out, her voice carrying clearly. “Riley of Earth and Nator’ax of Xren, both of the Borok tribe. Two hearts choosing one path.”
She turns to me first. “Do you give your warmth, your future, and your loyalty to this warrior? To stand beside him through every storm and every quiet night?”
I look up into his intense gaze and my voice comes out steady and sure. “I do. I give him all my tomorrows. He is the home I choose every single day.” We made those vows ourselves, and I’m happy with mine.
Astrid nods, then faces Nator’ax. “And do you swear to protect her, to cherish her, and to return to her always?”
Nator’ax’s deep voice rolls over the gathering like thunder softened by devotion. “She is the reason my sword strikes true and my heart keeps beating. I swear my strength, my fire, and my life to her. Until the stars burn out.”
I haven’t heard his vows until now, and the calm sincerity in them takes me breath away.
A soft murmur of approval moves through the tribe.
Astrid lifts a braided cord of soft leather and crimson thread. She wraps it slowly around our joined hands and wrists, tying the knot with careful reverence. “By blood and bond, by choice and sky, before the Borok tribe and its members, I declare you mated. You are one now.”
The drums explode into joyous, thunderous celebration. Cheers erupt all around us.