Fated to the Alien Chieftain (The Klendathian Cycle #3)

20. Roxanne

Chapter 20

Roxanne

Salvation

I fall to my knees, my spirit cast into a bottomless pit of pain. I can’t bear to watch this. It’s too cruel to see my Krogoth so brutally tormented. My throat is raw from screaming and my heart races as I glance around frantically, hoping someone will stop this disgrace. Why does no one intervene? I feel his agonizing torment searing through our bond scorching my mind. Please, Gods, make it stop.

My teeth clench in defiance, forcing myself to look. I promised to be there until the end, witnessing his last moments, no matter the pain it causes me. The crowd groans and averts their gazes as Gorexius, a disgusting fusion of man and machine, stomps brutally down onto Krogoth’s poor chest. His harrowing screams echo over these bleak mountains, twisting my heart with despair.

Yet, I endure it. I’m here, Krogoth. Can you feel me now? I will not look away; I will not abandon you. Together we loved, and together we suffer. My eyes drift upward, noticing the purple sun and moon shining brightly above. Dagdorix and Machsin? Remnants from a distant past? I feel a tug at my soul through our shared bond, something hidden within and lingering. I open myself to this unraveling.

Suddenly, my essence pours into Krogoth, through our sacred bond. Wisps of hazel color rise from my eyes, but it hardly registers as my gaze fixates on my beloved Mortakin-Kai. The man who whisked me away from Earth, teaching me the meaning of true love. My voice enters his mind, projecting my most ardent wish, “Live, Krogoth,” I whisper, like a ghost in a dream.

Krogoth raises a trembling hand, his eyes ablaze with purple and hazel light swirling together, a brightness that’s hard to endure. Many gasp in shock at the sight as Gorexius lifts a foot once more, a look of uncertainty flickering across his raging face.

A small vortex, the size of a fist, appears suddenly, swirling with cosmic hues, that belie the terrifying power it represents. Gorexius attempts to drive his foot down, but he cannot. “Who interferes?” he demands, roaring as his muscles shake and strain in his futile attempts to move. “Your eyes!” He shouts at Krogoth in fear, clenching his jaw as the veins on his neck stand out, resisting the incredible force.

Gorexius’ crimson eyes glow brighter as his hair is pulled into the cosmic abyss that floats near his shoulder. His cries of pain echo out as pieces of his metallic body warp and bend until breaking off, consumed by the void. Many from the crowd gasp and avert their eyes from the horrifying sight, but I do not. I want to see him suffer for what he put Krogoth through.

The War Chieftain breaks down piece by piece, revealing the true extent of his metallic augmentations as each part of him is twisted and pulled into the cold abyss that awaits him. It’s where he belongs amongst the unfeeling emptiness, until there’s nothing left of him, only a terrible memory and my broken Mortakin-Kai.

The vortex blinks out of existence as Krogoth’s arm falls to the ground, prompting me to rush over, my heart aching with worry for him. A hushed silence falls over the spectators as my footsteps echo over the stones. Then, Xandor raises a call, “High Chieftain!” His excitement is contagious, and others join in the chant, even those among the Magaxus Clan. “High Chieftain!” They pound their fists against their chest and stamp their feet in unison.

I clutch Krogoth’s uninjured hand, feeling a pang of sorrow at seeing him in such pain, tears streaming down my cheeks. Despite his suffering, he manages a warm smile. “My tiny Pebbles,” he chuckles softly before a wave of agony twists his face.

“Don’t move,” I urge, gently cradling his weary head on my lap. “You did It, Krogoth. You’ve freed your people,” I declare excitedly, glancing out at the cheering crowd.

Krogoth’s eyes never leave mine. “No,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “We freed our people.”

“Krogoth Star Eyes!” Xandor’s voice booms, his hands raised high above his head.

The crowd picks up the chant, their voices filled with awe and jubilation.

“Krogoth Star Eyes!”

“Okay, try to move the stone, Krogoth,” I request, holding the small object in my armored palm.

Krogoth, looking extra regal today on account of his big day, looks on with suspicion and a hint of amusement. “No, I remember this trick, Pebbles,” he protests, smiling.

To see the big guy healthy again and in such good humor warms my heart. “I promise not to move it.” I nod reassuringly, struggling to suppress a laugh at the memory from the last attempt. “Go on, give it a go.”

He frowns, fixing his gaze intently on the small stone as I delve into his mind, sensing his determination and joy mirrored back at me. I try to project myself into his consciousness, in the way I had done during the terrible Krak-Tok, but it feels like grasping at fragments of an indistinct dream.

Krogoth’s eyes blaze purple as wisps of color escape from their depths. He shakes with effort, his muscles taut and veins bulging from his neck, looking like he might explode at this rate. “It’s not working,” I declare with a sigh, dropping the black stone.

What are we missing? Krogoth scratches his head, a reflection of my puzzlement. “The Gods answered our prayers, when the need was greatest,” he offers, gazing toward the large purple sun and moon above.

“You’re probably right,” I agree, as I glance overhead, feeling reverence at the sight. The Gods had answered our prayers. I could almost feel them lingering within me, like traces of another being, during Krogoth’s desperate struggles. What form or nature they take I can only guess, but I believe they are watching over and guiding us.

“It would be nice if it didn’t require one of us being tortured, though,” I remark with a soft chuckle, surveying the vast forests of Draxxi as we stand atop the mountain, surrounded by the ancient ring of obsidian standing stones.

“True,” Krogoth concurs with a smile, flexing his newly healed hand. Images flood in my mind, remembering the awful aftermath of his battle with Gorexius. Half of his body was utterly smashed, with one lung collapsed. Even rushing him onto a glider, I wasn’t certain if he’d survive the journey to the healing pods in the Magaxus mountain. But thankfully, the Gods were kind.

His injuries were so severe it had taken him over a day of being suspended in the green healing mists to fully recover. Throughout the ordeal, I never left his side, vowing to never leave him ever again. Someone sensible has to keep an eye on the big guy to make sure he doesn’t go challenging the sun to a fistfight or something equally Krogoth-like.

Suddenly, two flying objects startle me into a fighting pose as I ready my spear, watching them like a hawk, my pulse racing. I take cover behind a massive boulder, preparing for a potential attack. Arrohawks? It could be anything up here, outside the hunter borders.

Krogoth chuckles, placing a large hand on my golden pauldrons, “Relax, my fierce huntress. It is just gliders,” he says, reassuring.

“Oh?” I peek out from behind my cover, observing the hovering gliders maneuvering to land on the peak of the mountain. Breathing a sigh of relief, I holster my spear, straightening myself. “You can never be too—”

“Careful,” Krogoth interrupts, predicting my words, causing us both to laugh.

“Well, you can’t!” I emphasize.

Krogoth leans down to rub his nose against mine, which both tickles and warms my heart with the silly sweetness of it. “You are wise, beyond your years, my little boulder-peeking Pebbles,” he smirks.

Why am I always something stone related? A question for another day. “We should go greet the delegates and get this over with,” Krogoth says with a sigh, looking towards the nearby peak.

He takes my hand in his as we travel along the rocky and grassy terrain. “Aren’t you excited?” I ask, curious.

Krogoth scoffs, “I’ll be excited once it’s over and I have you back in our bed.” He leers down at me playfully, sending a delightful shiver through my pleasantly aching womanhood. His lust for me is seemingly insatiable, but I’m more than up for the challenge.

We arrive at the peak to see the ancient ring of obsidian stones looming over the rocky mountains. I gasp at how much this place has changed since my last visit, with the huge brutonous nest and bodies seemingly cleared out at Krogoths command. He mentioned that this place had special significance being the ancient meeting place of the Clan Chieftains and how he wanted to renew the tradition.

“But you’ve earned this Krogoth, like my celebration from completing the Proving,” I express excitedly, hoping to infuse some meaning and joy into the occasion for him.

Krogoth nods thoughtfully. “That’s it, Pebbles. I’d rather celebrate this honor with you at my side, laughing with my war brothers in our hall, a horn in my hand,” he explains, nodding his head towards the elders awkwardly emerging from the gliders. “This is a thing born of obligation and bureaucracy.”

Glancing at the stern faces of the elders as they assemble around the standing stones, it’s hard not to agree with Krogoth. “I think we should do both.” I squeeze in tighter next to my man. “When we get back through the forests again,” I add, suppressing a flash of annoyance, realizing the elders can just fly wherever they please, while we must trek through the dangerous Draxxi forests for days.

“I would like that,” he says cheerfully, waving over to the elders as we draw closer. Still emerging from the gliders are unfamiliar yet wise faces, each one strangely garbed as different from each other as they are to us. Some with top knots, others with dusty complexions. Another few with tattooed faces denoting Magaxus, two others wearing sky blue have forked white beards.

A colorful and unique bunch. These must be the delegates from the other clans that Krogoth spoke of. People of high standing within their respective communities come in the absence of their chieftains, who are all busy leading their warriors on the front lines against the Nebians. A surprising sense of nervousness churns inside me as I observe their solemn expressions.

Until the friendly face of Harkus approaches, carrying a large object wrapped with soft purple velvet material. “Hail Chieftain and Chieftainess” He performs a swift bow before us. “Thank the Gods, you prevailed, Krogoth.” He glances away, “I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” he whispers.

Krogoth slaps him around the back with such force Harkus nearly drops the item he’s carrying. “Nonsense, old teacher. I also doubted I could win,” He laughs, loudly. While I resist the urge to glare bloody murder at him, learning he knowingly went into the Krak-Tok facing almost certain death, and only by a miracle did he survive.

Both Harkus and I glance uncertainly at each other with weak smiles as Krogoth continues to laugh at his successful dance with death. “What is that fancy-looking thing?” I ask, nodding towards the curious object Harkus is cradling.

“Oh, this?” Harkus clutches it even tighter. “You know I had to dig through half our archives and cross reference ancient vaults to find it,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Some even believed Gorexius had it destroyed. Good thing I never paid such rumors any heed!”

I giggle at his response, noticing in his annoyance he forgot to answer the actual question. But before I can ask, Vereth approaches. “Hail, Krogoth and Rocks,” he bows briefly before continuing. “You two are a sight for sore eyes. It’s been horrendous organizing all this, trying to discern such things as if an old healer is higher rank than an ancient warrior.” He shakes his head, sweeping his staff encompassing the area.

Vereth’s candidness takes me by surprise as he now lacks the pretense and aura of his usual authority. It brings a smile to my lips, knowing he must trust the both of us now. “Thank you both for going to such efforts,” I say, smiling at the two white-robed old Klendathians.

“It’s long overdue, I say.” Vereth smiles, raising his chest proudly.

“Indeed, I never thought I’d live to see this day.” Harkus nods absently, as if lost in a memory.

“You share in this honor,” Krogoth declares, as he peers down at them. “Because of your resolve to resist the War Chieftain, I was able to challenge him.”

Harkus nods pleasantly while Vereth lowers his gaze. “No, the Council dishonored itself. Even now, Elder Ignixis eludes us, having shamed us all.” Vereth shakes his head. “I too showed fear before Gorexius and his awful Second.” He glances over to the ancient Nyxius, who’s busying himself, running his hand over one of the standing stones. “Only Elder Nyxius stood firm. Without him, we would have been lost.”

Krogoth scoffs. “I’ve witnessed kings, princes, mad prophets, self-proclaimed gods, every kind of leader imaginable, bow and scrape as they wilted in terror under Gorexius’ glare, Vereth.” He pauses, staring sternly into Vereth’s eyes. “But you held firm and did what was necessary, so hold your heads high with pride,” he finishes with a nod.

My pride soars for Krogoth watching him inspire and lead with such ease, a true wonder I was lucky enough the Gods brought us together. Vereth nods thoughtfully, “Thank you, Krogoth,” he says, before moving with renewed certainty. “Right, you young kin have better things to do than listen to the concerns of a doubtful Elder.”

“If you please.” Vereth gestures towards the center of the ring of massive black stones that tower over the landscape. As we move towards the middle, the Elders and delegates take up positions around the outside, spaced evenly apart.

Vereth crashes his staff down upon the stoney earth, commanding silence and attention. “It is by decree of our sacred order ordained by the great Gods themselves, that our honored son Krogoth be reinstated to his rightful place as High Chieftain!” His voice booms over the mountains and echoes over the ancient stones, sending chills down my spine.

Harkus approaches, carrying the velvet-wrapped object he clutches onto like a mother hen. Carefully and awkwardly, he unwraps the object, but some of the material gets stuck. “Silly thing,” he mumbles, wrestling with it and finally removing the last bit of cloth as his face becomes a little flushed. “Gods, what a kerfuffle,” he whispers, smiling at me, causing me to giggle quietly.

“By right of his blood, by right of his deeds, he stands now before us, not as a warrior, not as a clan chieftain, but as High Chieftain. His loyalty ascends beyond mere clan but for the betterment of all Klendathor,” Vereth intones, his voice transformed by his ancient role.

Krogoth stands like a towering statue as I gasp at the beautiful headdress Harkus holds in his hands. An intricately carved golden circlet embedded with many colorful jewels sweeps around to rest below the eyes. With six thick, huge horns that sit high and back, covered in bands of gold and adorned with more jewels. The back of the headdress boasts a large and stunning array of feathers of many colors and styles.

“Six horns for the clans. Feathers for our savage, beautiful Klendathor. Jewels for the honor and prosperity of our people,” Vereth cries out.

Krogoth accepts the headdress with a solemn nod, his eyes gleaming with pride and gratitude. As he places it atop his head, the jewels catch the purple sunlight, casting colorful reflections among the ancient black stones. My breath catches, as Krogoth looks every bit the High Chieftain, adorned in his powerful armor, his massive fearsome clawed cloak, and now this gorgeous headdress, making him appear like some noble beast turned sentient.

“Congratulations, big guy,” I say, beaming up at him.

He pulls me closer, and I yelp out in surprise. “It’s thanks to you I even live,” he says, full of gratitude, causing my pulse to rise.

“Come now, those of you with clan authority, pledge yourselves with blood oath to our new High Chieftain,” Vereth commands forcefully as he produces a carved blade from his robes.

I watch in wonder as five of the earlier strangers step forward to stand before Krogoth. The man with the heavily tattooed face takes the blade from Vereth and slices his hand before smearing his green blood on Krogoth’s cheek. “Clan Magaxus pledges blood oath,” the man shouts.

Krogoth stands unmoving as I suppress a gasp, seeing the green blood dripping from his face, while each of the others repeats the process. There’s a moment of silence as the last man from Clan Virennix walks away, reclaiming his previous place. I start to feel a bit awkward, sensing the gaze of others upon me.

Harkus clears his throat loudly, drawing my attention as he nods towards Vereth. Me? Oh crap, I’m the Clan Draxxus representative! I shuffle over nervously to take the blade from Vereth, eyeing the curved knife decorated with strange runes. Should I wipe it? Probably cause some offence if I do. With blade in hand, I take a deep breath, readying myself. Quickly and lightly, I run the amazingly shape blade over the palm of my left hand, the stinging pain causes me to wince.

My red blood drips onto the rocky mountain top as I peer up at my Korgy, who looms like a regal giant. His eyes dart downwards with a barely restrained smirk on his face, prompting me to poke my tongue out at him, hoping to break his stoic facade. Sadly, he remains unmoved, this High Chieftain of mine.

Straining on my tiptoes, I stretch out my hand to reach Krogoth’s towering face. As I attempt to smear my blood on his cheek, he quickly shifts his head and licks the blood from my hand, causing me to squeak out in surprise. Oh, you win this battle, but not the war! I withdraw my hand to see him smirking down at me, with my red blood mingled with green, giving him the appearance of a wild animal who’s just devoured a meal.

It’s then I notice several of the Elders recording this event with their wrist consoles, causing my face to flush at the idea everyone on Klendathor will see me squeak like an idiot. No one will have noticed that, right? I sigh at the thought as I take my rightful place beside my Mortakin-Tok.

Vereth raises his staff into the air dramatically. “You bear the blood of the Clans, their oaths, their hopes, their honor,” he proclaims, his voice resonating with solemnity. “To act in the best interest of all is a heavy burden, but you embody the essence of our people. Now, High Chieftain Krogoth, step forward with purpose and guide our kin to greatness.”

I feel goosebumps on my skin at Vereth’s words, suddenly growing nervous, wondering how Krogoth’s new title could change our lives. As if in answer, he smiles reassuringly at me before speaking.

“I accept your blood oaths with honor and gratitude,” Krogoth declares, his voice carrying across the silent mountain peak.

“My first act is to abolish the title of War Chieftain,” Krogoth proclaims, his words firm and unwavering. “It is an anathema to our noble people.”

“Second, I declare our alliance with the Scythians over,” he announces, his gaze sweeping the assembled crowd. “This alliance has shackled us to oppression, a disgrace that has brought us to the brink of extinction.”

“Soon I will return to the front lines and consult with the Clan Chieftains and strategize our next moves,” he continues, his tone resolute.

Krogoth raises his arms, his silhouette against the purple sky like a titan. “This marks the beginning of a new era. Together, united, and free, we will rebuild our shattered civilization,” he declares, clutching me tight. “We have paved the way towards a new future, one of peace and love, not death and destruction. Follow me, brothers, and I will show you the way!” His voice booms out over the peaks, stirring my heart.

The Elders and delegates bow their heads before cheering “Honor to High Chieftain Krogoth!”

I look up in wonder and pride at Krogoth clutched tightly in his embrace as he stands proud against the purple setting sun on this historic day, his form outlined by the fading light, a beacon of hope for all Klendathor, with Cupcake’s silhouette dancing amongst the billowing clouds.