Dzar-Ghan (Alien Barbarians of Vandruk #3)

31. Chapter 31

I had missed the part in Explosives 101 where it instructed how to explain an explosion to an alien barbarian. Dzar-Ghan and all his warriors stared at me expectantly. There was only one way to explain this, I supposed.

I broke a little piece of the C-4 off, just a tiny bit. I had already fashioned a detonator from high-strength polymers and added a lithium-polymer battery with carbon electrodes. This had been a gamble, but the lithium and the carbon had both survived whatever it was in Vandruk’s atmosphere that disintegrated all other metals. I reasoned that a small test wouldn’t harm anything, and it would be good to know that everything worked.

After I piled several rocks over the C-4, I motioned for everyone to step back, far back, instructing them to open their mouths. Then I took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

The small rocks turned into tiny pieces and flew into the air. Some hit a warrior who had taken a step forward. The noise wasn’t as deafening as it would be with a larger amount of C-4, but it was still significant, making the Vandruks pull their hands to their ears. The shockwave toppled all of us a few feet back.

“Interesting,” I mumbled, stepping closer to my explosion site, but I was instantly pulled back by Dzar-Ghan’s hands around my waist.

“It’s okay now,” I assured him. “It only happens if I press this trigger.” Still held up by him, hovering in the air, I showed him the remote detonator.

“What in Vorag’s name was that?” Grehn-Bzag shouted louder than necessary. His ears must still be popping even though I told him to open his mouth—keeping your mouth open during an explosion helps equalize pressure and reduce internal damage from the pressure waves and negative pressure that follow an explosion, even though this one had been too small to cause any real damage. The warrior hit by the debris was pulling small pieces of rock from his bicep and throwing me uneasy looks.

I mouthed a sorry, but being still up in the air, it didn’t have much of an effect.

Finally, Dzar-Ghan put me back down, waving his finger at me. “Stay.”

I rolled my eyes and watched him inspect the explosion site, taking one small step at a time toward him. After a few moments, he held out his hand to me. He didn’t need to say anything. I knew he wanted to see the original brick of C-4 and I held it up.

“How much damage can this do?”

“Well, I would have to carefully calculate weight and range—”

“You will allow her to use this on the cave?” Grehn-Bzag asked Dzar-Ghan incredulously. “She nearly killed us with another rockslide earlier.”

Dzar-Ghan stared me down.

“Look,” I said, stepping from one foot to the other, alternating between Vandruk and English because, for some of this, I didn’t have the words yet, hoping Dzar-Ghan would understand me. “I know I seem like a klutz at times. I get it. But I do this for a living. I know caves. I know these explosives. I can get us in.”

Dzar-Ghan stared thoughtfully at me, making me wonder how much he had understood. “Do you have an alternative plan?”

I sighed in relief that he had understood me. “I do.”

“What is it?”

“Your liquid from the Pit of Daggahr,” I said.

Astonished, he stared at me.

“What?” I demanded. “I told you, I do this for a living. I—” I broke off when he rushed to my side, wrapped his hands around my hips, and swung me in a circle before kissing me loudly and in front of his warriors.

“Your khadahrshi,” he said. His voice boomed and was filled with so much pride that my face started to flame.

He put me down. “That’s why you were trying to dig through to the ceiling.”

I nodded. “I need to do some more experiments with it, see how acidic it is, how far it will go and all that. Which reminds me, I probably need more of it.”

“I will arrange it,” he promised.

True to his word, I received more Pit of Daggahr’s liquid than I would be able to use. Curiously, the liquid was transported in some poor animal’s bladder, and Dzar-Ghan explained this was the only material known to them that wasn’t dissolved by the acid. Even as a geologist, I found this fascinating enough to make my fingers itch to do more testing, but for right now, I wanted to concentrate on finding the right consistency to create an opening in the cave’s ceiling without melting everything else in its downward path, God forbid through the remains of an unfortunate soul.

Without radar, it was impossible to know what lay straight underneath the spot I had chosen.

The atmosphere around the cave in our little camp was subdued. Every so often, I noticed one or another warrior step toward the cave, fingering a particular rock, and my heart went out to them. So much loss. So much heartbreak.

In the afternoon of my second day experimenting with the pit acid, as I called it to myself, another group of Vandruk arrived, making me realize just how much of a pilgrimage spot this cave was and brought home even more than before the extent of the tragedy humans had unwittingly unleashed on these people.

Dzar-Ghan introduced the newcomer as Khadahr Grohn-Vhyn. His demeanor and tone were apprehensive of the new arrival. Taking my cues from him, I stepped closer to Dzar-Ghan, very aware of the other Vandruks’ burning eyes on me.

“She is one of them?” he stated more than asked.

“She is a human, sa. But Jenna is also my khadahrshi.”

I was beginning to get used to my new title, even though I was astounded that there hadn’t been any official ceremony, not to mention that he hadn’t even asked me yet if I wanted to be his wife/khadahrshi. Given what we had been dealing with so far, I had been putting this discussion off, but the longer I let it go, the more it was becoming a new norm, and at some point, I was beginning to wonder if it wasn’t easier to just let this go. It wasn’t like I minded it. It was more that I was bound to earthly customs.

Grohn-Vhyn’s lips pressed down into a flat line, but he inclined his head toward me in a gesture of respect, albeit grudgingly.

“What brings you here?” Dzar-Ghan asked. My Vandruk was getting good enough for me to understand the gist of their conversation.

“It’s the time of the year when I offer an escort to a group of pilgrims so that they might find safe passage to pay their homage to their fallen gallies.”

I raised my eyebrow in a silent question to Dzar-Ghan. I realized that Vandruk was filled with dangers from animals, quicksand, and such, but it seemed hardly enough to justify the escort of a khadahr and his warriors.

“The wildlands have always been home to outcasts,” Dzar-Ghan explained. “These groups have grown over the past ten years since more and more males have been thrown out of their homes because of inappropriate behavior toward gallies.”

My stomach clenched at the thought. Not only had the Vandruk had to deal with the loss of their women, but a picture began to form inside my head of how much this had affected their society in general. It wasn’t just the lack of women for the obvious reasons, but there were so many other factors to be considered. Loneliness was only one of them. I imagined that in a society like the Vandruk’s, a family line would be of utmost importance, so if one couldn’t marry through legal means… I shuddered at the thought of the sex trade, sure that this was a deep, dark part of this culture now.

Of course the leaders would have been forced to impose strict laws to keep the remaining women safe, and it seemed being cast out was the predominant punishment, resulting in roaming groups of bandits.

“I’m sorry,” I said, looking Grohn-Vhyn fully in the eyes. “In the name of my species. I am truly, honestly, and deeply sorry. This should have never happened, and I promise I will do anything to help ease this pain in any small way I can.”

Grohn-Vhyn looked startled. His green eyes narrowed even more and he turned to Dzar-Ghan, who tensed beside me. Oops, had I said something wrong?

“What are you planning?”

“Jenna is figuring out a way to get us into the cave to retrieve our gallies, to set their souls free to join our ancestors in Koronae,” Dzar-Ghan explained, stiffening with every word as if he expected a fight.