Page 80 of Fated to the Dragon Warlord

It might already be too late. The scents in this place are already aging out, decaying and dissipating. But my sanity is slipping slowly away. If I don’t find Kerra soon, I will be useless to her.

Already, it might be too late. After all, I watched my brother succumb to the end of his mind. I know where this is going.

I know what I risk becoming.

Without Kerra, I am lost.

KERRA

One of the Veseli nudges at me with its pincers, and I’m pushed into the side of one of the egg structures. It gives instantly, and I fall inside with nothing to break my topple. Hitting the ground sends a paroxysm of coughing through me, and for too long, I can’t do anything other than curl up into a ball.

“Ah, the human,” a slimy voice says. “I was wondering when I’d see one of these again.”

I finally open an eye and stare up into the almost human face of the creature looking down on me.

If I felt any sort of relief about not coming face to face with my insectoid captors (or face to mouthparts), it disappears in an instant when I see his eyes.

They are not human. I don’t even think they belong to him. They were someone else’s eyes, and he has stolen them.

I’m as weak as a newborn kitten, but I muster up enough to scramble away from the gaze which holds more pain and more horror than anything I’ve seen so far.

He straightens as I get further away. Unnaturally thin to the point of skeletal, he wears a long dark tunic, his hands are glovedin what looks like black latex, and his thinning black hair is slicked back against his skull.

I’ve literally been given to the mad scientist. The mad, evil scientist.

He sighs. He actually sighs as he looks at me.

Then one of his hands with the shiny gloves extends out from the end of his arm, across the room to grab my clothing. I’m so shocked at this weird turn of events, I don’t even cry out. Instead I grapple with the hand only to find it’s still attached by a long cable.

I take it back. He’s an evil Inspector Gadget.

The hand drags me across the floor until I reach him, where he lifts me up until I’m on tiptoe and looking directly into those cold, pain-filled eyes.

“I enjoy working with humans,” he says, and his voice has a metallic ring to it.

I’m flung over his head, my world flashing as I tumble into another egg-shaped vessel.

Only this one is human sized. And it clamps down on me, ceasing any struggle I might still have.

“Now we begin,” he says, moving stiffly next to me. A round mirror descends from the ceiling, and he grasps it, pulling it close to his face as he studies what could be his reflection, but I’m pretty certain it isn’t.

“Mated with a Sarkarnii,” he says in the weird metallic voice. “On multiple occasions.”

I’m beyond embarrassment at this stage, his words washing over me.

“Do you want to know which Sarkarnii?” I ask.

Evil Professor ignores me.

“Because I can tell you. And when I say his name, you will know you picked the wrong humans to take.”

I don’t get a reaction.

I don’t care anymore. This is ridiculous. Humans have been dealing with cockroaches for decades.

This is no different. All I need is a flamethrower.

And it’s about time Darax turned up.

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