ThunderClaw: Science Fiction Romance (Alien Warrior Book 2)

  Despite the warnings broadcast by the Guard, people had continued about their business as usual.

  Only a stroke of luck meant the storm hit during the dark hours when the cubs, wise ones and infirm sought the safety of their domiciles.

  The search would likely uncover adults who were working night shifts, adolescents roaming in packs, and the occasional prowler of Vayhalun’s nightlife who looked for the sensual delights offered in the pleasure dens.

  Éorik took the furthest length of the central thoroughfare. He ran the pitted feldspar road with a loping gait, head snapping side to side in a lightning fast inspection of the ruins.

  He returned at a sprint and skidded to a halt long enough to shout, ‘Empty,’ before veering into a narrower side street. He shouted an offer of aid.

  Beowyn ran his course looking for survivors. At the outermost curve of his periphery vision, he glimpsed a flash of green and gold. His stride hitched. ‘Sjörn.’ He ducked into what was once a People’s House, a serene place of enlightenment and peace reduced to jagged metal and cracked stone.

  Mane bedraggled and fur clogged with sparkling particles, the Sentinel routed a trembling Baxnonian from cowering in a corner with a cuff behind the ear. ‘Get you gone, fool, and the next time you are caught thieving do not run. You are lucky I am busy saving lives. I should thrash you for taking advantage of others during a crisis.’ He turned on a snort as the short Bax in its male form hustled past. Sjörn startled then nodded approvingly. ‘Great One.’ He huffed and puffed in exaggerated shock, dislodging clouds of dust from his torn and stained tunic, but was straight-backed and clear-eyed, his thickset musculature a remnant of his aeons as a Paladin. ‘Come to watch whom you admire best? Truth, I am flattered.’

  ‘Ha, decrepit one.’ Beowyn strode forward offering his wrist and clasping another. He clapped the male’s stalwart shoulder, a perch he’d often ridden as a troublesome cub. ‘I come to help.’

  Sjörn flicked a claw. ‘They are all that is left here.’ Cries floated from under a toppled sculpture, its graven image that of the Great Alpha Anca, her Dyna long passed into the annals of distant memory. ‘Time to test the strength of those dry pips, cub.’

  ‘You confuse your shrivelled sac for mine. I have strength aplenty for this.’

  Lowering to squats, they bounced as they grunted a count of three then heaved to lift a fallen statue from a pair of wailing younglings. The weeping females scrambled free of its stony embrace, incoherently stuttering thanks.

  Letting his palms slide free of the polished marble, Beowyn patted their heads then turned for egress, leaving his Sentinel to deal with the niceties so he could check the rest of the buildings.

  Sjörn crowded them forwards after dropping his share of the sculpture. ‘It is very scary,’ he told the tearful duo. ‘Lah, you are not in trouble with me, but I fear your parents will be frightful angry with you for making them worry. Hush, now. Outside and twenty lengths to the right there is a transport–.’ Cracking, splitting, shrieking noise cut through his calmly spoken directions as a section of the roof broke free of the rest.

  The females hit the floor screaming.

  Sjörn flung his arms overhead, legs spreading and knees bending as he braced himself for impact.

  Beowyn spun and lurched to catch the edge of the slab. Its weight shunted him into a crouch then onto a knee.

  Gritting his teeth, he breathed through the push that started at the soles of his feet and gathered force as it reached his arms. He jerked his leg–managed to get his boot under him and shoved the rock higher.

  His spine protested, and his shoulders set aflame, pain streaking through muscle, sinew and bone.

  ‘Go,’ Sjörn gritted to the females curled around his bulging thighs.

  They fled into the sunlight.

  Beowyn heard the pounding of footsteps and knew who was about to rush the entrance. ‘No!’ He made his voice a steely command. ‘Do not come in here. Stay sway.’

  Wilful to the end, Éorik charged into the vestibule and looked upon their predicament with horror. His face blanked, but the calculation in his eyes was blatant. ‘It is too heavy for you to lift and toss. If I add my strength–.’

  ‘I think not,’ Beowyn snarled.

  Éorik’s jaw clenched. ‘Can you shuffle to the edge, Sjörn?’

  ‘I am barely holding on.’ His voice hardened. ‘I am not getting out of this.’ Each word that left the old male’s lips was an endeavour that cost him. ‘Go.’

  Beowyn bellowed, a sound of refusal, defiance. The load increased as the building crumbled inwards.

  And then it happened.

  The entire roof came crashing down and the walls imploded with it. Sjörn gasped, ‘Tell my favoured–.’ The stone he held collapsed and shook the floor.

  Throat clogging particles swirling in the light-soaked ruin cleared.

  A creeping spill of blood flooded the air with a metallic tang.

  Beowyn twisted his face away.

  Good Parting, old friend.

  Grief sapped his energy. His burden grew too great. He might have sacrificed Sjörn to save himself, but he’d chosen to rebuff the recourse.

  ‘Go, Orik.’ He breathed through the caustic burn knotting his shoulders. His right shoulder spur cracked in a stinging burst. ‘My strength is failing.’

  Éorik studied the way the slab slanted. He slipped from Beowyn’s side to his front and carefully walked backwards until at a fair distance. ‘If I hit you quick and low you will fall clear.’

  Beowyn’s heart stopped. ‘I forbid it.’

  Éorik’s body rocked, simulating the forward surge of motion he was to make. ‘You will make it. If I am as fast as I need to be, I will make it too.’

  ‘You will be crushed. Leave.’

  ‘Vayhalun needs you to live.’

  That was just not true. ‘I am not the first Great Alpha nor will I be the last.’ He stared pointedly.

  Éorik blenched. ‘It cannot be me.’

  ‘But who else?’ Who else had his honour, his courage, his fierce spirit? ‘After me, you are strongest. Bring my people,’ he swallowed, ‘and my One through this. Vow to me you will.’

  ‘Owyn?’

  Startling, the Great One flinched.

  Dust fell as the rock shifted and groaned, resettling heavier.

  He wheezed a hacking cough.

  ‘Beowyn?’ Sìne’s voice stuttered over the loudspeaker static of his emergency SonCom frequency. She sounded lost. ‘If you can hear me just come back, okay? I need you and Orik to come back.’

  Eyes closing, he fought a choking swell of loss. ‘Forgive me, my sweet.’

  How he wished she could hear him.

  Nevertheless, he sent a prayer of gratitude to the Boar God for allowing him this last comfort.

  ‘I love you.’ Her voice was thick with unshed tears. ‘I wish I’d had the courage to tell you before. Come home. Bring our Commander–.’ White noise and scratchy static subsumed the rest.

  ‘I will send you home.’ Éorik raked his claws down his horns. ‘I will save you.’ He smacked his chest. His fist shook. ‘Glory awaits me in death for I am your Defender.’

  ‘You will go,’ Beowyn said. ‘Because you are my heart, and I need you now more than I ever have.’

  In a moment of incandescent fury, Éorik’s veins popped, and his roar was deafening. ‘No.’ He drew close and their breath mingled. ‘No, Owyn.’ His voice seethed with black, malevolent things. ‘I will save you or perish at your side as it was always meant to be.’

  ‘She is my soul, but you are my heart.’ Beowyn did not falter under the weight nor did his voice break. His Commander would live on with their mate and their cub, and Boar knew that was more than enough. ‘I give one last order.’ His muscles quivered, bones grinding, crushing. ‘Leave me.’ He had nothing to spare. His body was spent, and his heart breaking. ‘Aeons of service and you will fail me when I need you most?’ Make him angry, he thought, make him leave. ‘Y
ou shame me. Be gone from my sight, snivelling coward.’

  Expression smoothing, voice calm, Éorik straightened and backed away. ‘You will make it.’

  Beowyn quailed.

  Sìne awaited their return. One of them must survive.

  ‘Orik, no.’

  Eyes afire, Éorik dove.

  Chapter 34

  Silver skulls glared, toothy smiles fanged and sharp. Bone and metal formed a metallic thicket around and above me. Musty animal pelts were behind and beneath me, but they smelt like my husband, so I left them there.

  Everything had been explained well. Still, my mind failed to grasp it. ‘I’m sorry, Wulfyn.’ Bloodless fists pressed my knees. ‘Please say that again.’

  ‘We lost contact with the Great One. His SonCom frequency sends nothing but static. We cannot pierce the fog of radiation to get a fix on his or the High Commander’s bio-tracker else we might have some idea of their whereabouts.’ His throat bobbed. ‘Reports have filtered in that the Guardian–Wyrhild–perished in a volcykle accident.’ He tried to speak but choked. He cleared his throat, blinking rapidly. ‘I cannot substantiate if these claims are true, but I fear the worst. The Paladins are without guidance. The servants are floundering. The civilians are terrified without the Great One’s soothing presence. Tourists are clamouring to leave, refusing to accept there is a planet-wide ban on interplanetary travel during storms.’

  ‘Everything is going to shite because Owyn and Orik are missing.’

  ‘You have the way of it.’ He sounded like Patrick.

  If I hadn’t been on the cusp of hyperventilating, I would have smiled. ‘What about the Sentinel?’

  ‘I have not heard from Sjörn in over a span. Last we spoke, he lingered on Grand Atoll. He assisted the Paladins in evacuating stragglers.’

  Patrick loped into the hall. I brought him up to date. He climbed the dais to give me a hug. ‘FeverBright must be with Wyn and Ori then. What contingencies are in place?’

  ‘All of them.’ Wulfyn’s narrow shoulders drooped even as his face lit up at my the arrival of my cousin. ‘Relief efforts limp along. ‘It is chaos without a central authority figure to make the decisions we desperately need to be made.’

  ‘In the apparent no so unlikely event the King, the High Commander, the Paladin Guardian and the Guard’s Sentinel are incapacitated,’ I exhaled through my nose, realising I described the whole of the Verakan Central Command, ‘who is next in charge? That’s the person we need to speak to about what to do next.’ I nodded, confident it was the next best step.

  Expression pained, Wulfyn stared.

  Warmth leeched from my flesh, leaving me brittle with cold. ‘It’s me, isn’t it?’ I licked my lips. ‘That’s why you came and made me sit on the high seat.’ I dug my nails into my thighs and fought to breathe. ‘I’m responsible until Owyn, Orik or one of the others return.’

  Responsible for all the hurt, scared, vulnerable people.

  The Verak male inclined his head, pale horns catching the irradiated light streaming through the windows.

  Sight blurring, I became distinctly aware I was going to regurgitate supper then faint on the dais. I’d likely gore myself to death on one of the hideous bone shards sticking out from Beowyn’s throne. Now that was an idea. Who would be in charge then? There had to be someone else I could pass the mantle to. ‘If I do nothing?’

  ‘Then it is me, and Boar God help us all for I am no Great Alpha.’

  I wanted to scream, “Neither am I!”

  Patrick’s hand landed on my shoulder. He squeezed hard enough to shock me back to my right mind. ‘Breathe, lass. Now is no the time to fall apart.’

  ‘When I get hold of Beowyn,’ I lifted curling fingers, ‘I’m going to strangle him with my bare hands.’

  ‘That would make you Great Alpha,’ Wulfyn said, “and still if not more responsible.’

  ‘Wulfyn?’

  At the look on my face, he hesitated ‘Great Lady?’

  ‘I know you’re a smart arse, but now is no the time to anger me.’

  He grunted.

  ‘Right now, you need to bring things back into line then maintain it until your husband gets back.’ Patrick nodded. ‘You can do it. We’re right here to help.’

  ‘Glad to hear it because until further notice you’re acting Sentinel. You’re the acting Guardian, Wulfyn.’

  If I was doing this, they were bloody well doing it with me.

  Patrick muttered, ‘Should have seen that coming,’ as the Verak grimaced.

  ‘I know how you feel, but I trust you, Wulfyn.’ I understood his humour and knew he loved his family. ‘I know you most of the Verak males. Beowyn trusts you. Can you no see I need these things in my Commanders? Along with loyalty.’ I frowned. ‘And the ability to know what people need before they need it.’

  Éorik was like that with Beowyn. He anticipated his King, and Vayhalun had flourished. Spending time with them and around them had prepared me enough to stand strong in their absence.

  Vayhalun had a robust infrastructure. They had weathered solar storms in the past. They’d do so again once reminded of it.

  All I had to do was mirror the authority I’d seen my lovers display, and delegate to the right people. I could help the wounded. Break stalemates between the armed forces and the politicians. Protect the children while their parents were away from home being heroes.

  I was capable of managing the crisis; as long as I had the right help backing me up.

  Patrick jogged down the steps and stood beside Wulfyn. He gazed up at me. ‘If I’m fighting out there, I won’t be here to protect you and the wee bit.’

  I gripped the armrest before forcing myself to let go. ‘No a problem. I’m going to be out there too.’

  ‘That is not advisable.’ Wulfyn shook his head. ‘The levels of radiation grow lethal. Not to mention how you might be harmed in the panic.’

  ‘It is my place, dangerous or no. I need to see what I’m dealing with to make the right decisions. I can no do that hiding in here.’

  I stilled, then slapped my hands on my head with a groan.

  What I’d said was the gist of what Beowyn and Éorik tried to make me understand before they’d dashed off.

  How could I claim to be furious at them now?

  ‘Paladins will see to our clan’s safety,’ I said, my hands falling, ‘but you know Rowan and Aled will take care of Fergus and the wee bit.’ I met them at the bottom of the shallow steps. ‘I need you both to find the next highest person of authority within your order. Gather an understanding of what needs seeing to in order of urgency. Report back to me within the hour–span–or I’ll send Paladins after you. It will no be pretty.’ I kissed Patrick on his scruffy cheek then gave Wulfyn’s lean torso a one-armed hug. He returned it with a grin. ‘Stay safe, aye? I’ll kill you both if you die.’

  Amused, they nodded.

  ‘Trick,’ Wulfyn said, ‘I will ping your frequency when my investigations are done. We can compare notes. I do not wish to present duplicate issues in our report to the Queen.’

  ‘Before you leave will you come with me to the Guard’s station here in the palace?’ My stone-faced cousin crossed his arms. ‘An introduction from you will be enough to smooth the way. I do no have time to fight over why I’ve assumed command, and Sìne has no time to waste on bureaucratic shite.’

  ‘As long as I may hound you with questions on strategy? I am aware the Paladins will seek to discredit me as I am not of the warrior class, but you impressed them in training. ’

  They left bickering good-naturedly.

  From what I had understood of Beowyn’s explanation, the Sentinel and the Guardian were symbiotic roles.

  Wulfyn and Patrick had formed a bond, and they would incorporate this closeness into their leadership. Their friendship added coherency and stability in a time of chaos. It also meant I didn’t have to fret over the Paladins or the Guard in the next hour. I had the mental space to dedicate to things better within my
limited realm of experience.

  Bolstered by this first success, I turned to the first Paladin I came across. ‘What’s your name?’

  Head turning, the Verak’s almond-shaped eyes flicked to mine. Only a thickening of her star-shaped pupils betrayed her emotions. ‘Good Greetings. I am Paladin Anja.’ A blonde braid snaked between her breasts, their teak shade rich and vibrant.

  The shape of her features and the way they moved to form her expression had my eyes narrowing. I made a soft noise of surprise and pleasure. ‘You’re related to Éorik.’

  ‘High Commander SnowBlade is the cousin of my father.’

  ‘I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.’ I flashed her a smile and jerked my head to indicate we’d walk and talk. ‘I need you to follow me around and help with anything I don’t understand. Is that okay?’

  ‘You need only ask. I am yours to command.’ She hesitated. ‘You are kin.’

  ‘Great.’ I clapped my hands together. ‘Where are the people who’ve come from the other atolls gathering?’

  ‘In the feasting hall. The space is large enough and connected to several receiving rooms. Many have already been repurposed.’

  ‘A place for them to eat and rest.’

  She nodded, on the move. ‘I will take you there.’ As we walked her eyes bounced to my face over and over. ‘You are not what I expected.’

  ‘Beowyn has varied tastes but I know I’m not his usual thing.’ For once, thinking of his concubines didn’t send me into a fit. He loved me. I believed it. He’d listened to me when I was hysterical and told me the truth when I’d questioned his honour. Not once had I felt unsafe in his presence; he would never lift his hand to me in anger. He loved my daughter, treated my family as his own and made a point to cultivate his relationships with them. His contribution to my life and the life of my loved ones was irreplaceable. Most important of all he loved and accepted my relationship with Éorik as I accepted the connection between them. Once we survived this latest obstacle, we’d be happy. During the times we weren’t, our relationship was strong enough to withstand the pain of working through it. ‘I don’t think I’m what anyone expected him to settle on.’