Page 9 of Protected by the Alien Warrior Triad

3

Hadone

Where Forn leads, I follow.

It’s been this way since I once stole honey-fruit from the tribe and he took the beating for it. I can see the horrors through the portal, but he doesn’t flinch. Forn strides confidently through the portal – straight into the hellscape beyond – and I detect no hint of fear in his aura.

I feel that same certainty. I can’t stop myself from grinning at the sight of oncoming war. Death has called to me since the tragedy of the fish-eating triad’s mate, Ginger. I don’t deserve breathe and life for what I did to her. I deserve to die in violent battle – and so I embrace every opportunity I get to do so.

Our Orb-God opens portals to many strange planets for worthy triads to find their human mates – but only after they have offered a suitable sacrifice.

I’ve never seen nor heard of a portal like this, opening in the middle of nowhere and seemingly for no reason. That much is disquieting. Our customs are rooted in tradition – and deviation from that tradition is suspicious.

According to the lore, a triad must kill a great beast to prove themselves worthy of the Orb-God. Those that survive the battle return with the head of the conquered beast; to offer it as sacrifice to the huge, pulsating Orb-God that dwells deep within our ancestral cavern home. Only then will our God open a portal to another world for them. The portal may open directly in front, or out in the plains, but it would never randomly appear in front of an unworthy triad.

It’s unheard of for a portal to open without that sacrifice – without a triad having proven themselves deserving first.

That would be enough to make me suspicious – but what lays beyond the portal is equally unsettling.

I stare past Forn in horrified awe at the strange landscape that lays before me.

There is a magic in this place – and something throwing massive, flaming arrows into the sky that burst into fire and smoke when they hit one of the descending Scorp egg sacs.

“This will be a fight that goes down in the histories forever,”I telepath to my triad as I grab the hilt of my war-hammer, feeling the familiar grooves along the handle of my powerful Orb-weapon.

Until I activate the blade, my weapon looks like a simple, thick, fire-tempered stick. Yet I merely have to telepath myneedto have the weapon, and it activates the Orb-power within and the huge head of the weapon shimmers into humming reality, seemingly from nowhere. The blue-black, double-headed, otherworldly form of the war-hammer has ended many a Scorp warrior. Today it will end many more.

“Down in the histories, ” says Darok from behind me, “ifwe survive to tell the tale of it.”

I don’t have to see Darok’s face to know he’s wearing a thin-lipped grimace. He throws his half-eaten meat into the ground and stands, his Orb-Blade drawn. Darok’s Orb-Sword shimmers in the night; manifested from a blackness darker than the deepest cave, yet emitting an eerie, blueish aurora. Our Orb-weapons seem tohungerfor a fresh kill; as if the somehow sentient weapons are more eager than even we are to do battle.

If this portal is taking us to our mate – if she is somewhere in this hellscape – then I’ll find her. I’ll kill for her. I’ll even die for her if needed – but no matter what, I’llfeelher before I am claimed by blood and violence.

That’s all an Aurelian can ask - tofeelour mate before we’re killed in battle. One touch of her skin, one gaze of her eyes, and I’ll die satisfied. What is life worth, otherwise? I’ve been hungry my whole life for my chance to meet my fated mate. If thisisa trap by some Void-Demon to lure us into death, I’ll accept it. In fact, the only reason I still allow myself to live is the thought thatshemay be out there – and that my mate might finally have an end to my pain.

I don’t know whatshelooks like, but Iknowshe’s through the portal. I instinctivelyknowthat the greatest battle of my life waits for me there. In the life or death tangle of blood and blade, I forget myself for a moment.

“Formation!” Forn barks, and I move instinctually – taking my place to his right. Darok stands grimly to his left, haunches up and his trap muscles flexed. Suddenly we hear a woman’s voice – a high-pitched scream – traveling through the portal. Her desperation forces me to act.

I rush forward, and the three of us leap together through the portal.

Instantly, cool air hits me. I breathe it in as the portal blinks shuts behind us, leaving my blood-brothers and I stranded in this strange hellscape of a world.

The air here is acrid – like breathing in when wind blows smoke from the fire into your face.

The first hint of doubt hits me as soon as I breathe in this poison air. If thisisa trap laid for us by a Void-Demon, then we truly are in hell.

My feet have landed firmly on top of a tall structure. There are many like it, with windows carved into the flat surfaces. Humans lurk within. I watch as a man points at us through a window, his face screwed with hatred. He slams the cover shut.

The streets below this towering structure teem with life as men, women and children scream and point up at the falling Scorp egg sacs.

The men should be grabbing weapons and preparing their defense. Instead, they run in terror, like children.

There is clearly no leader on this planet – no warrior-elite. Against the teeming descent of these Scorp egg sacs, these humans will have no chance of defending themselves.

I brace myself as a Scorp egg sac, the size of a small cloud, smashes down a stones throw from where we stand. The structure itself shudders, and my head pounds as powerful projectiles shoot up into the air from all around us; noise and thunder rumbling in the sky, as though we’re caught in a raging storm.

Across the way, we watch as razor-sharp pincer claws rake against the surface of the egg sac that’s just landed. The blade-like appendages rend the organic material, and like some gigantic cockroach giving birth, Scorp Warriors flood from the gaping holes and pour out into the streets below.

I grip the handle of my war-hammer and heft it.

This trulywillbe a battle worthy of the histories.

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