Page 50 of The Alien Warrior's Vow

His voice shook. “I… love you.”

“Mother!” Their little girl tugged. “The garden.”

Eema’s fond laughter filled his world with light. “I am coming.”

As they left, his mother and father led him to a chair.

Lans stared at them and wondered if the tragic life—the one he had experienced before waking up here—was indeed real. Surely, his mother would not look so… alive if this were his imagination.

But he had to be sure.

Lans straightened. “What of Korben, Clavas, Tiegan? Pin and Zar?”

“Your comrades are all in the tribas,” his father said patiently.

His mother flashed him worried eyes. “Why is he asking these questions?”

“It is alright.” His father patted her hand to comfort her. “He had atuvana,a nightmare.”

“A tuvana?”

“You were taken by the Red Plague, mother.” Lans turned to his father. “And you were… killed.”

“There is no need to think about such dark things, is there?” His mother’s eyes turned glassy.

“Neh.” His father shook his head. “You are here now, Lans. You are with us. There is no need to return to such dark dreams.”

“No reason…” He repeated breathlessly.

“Yes.” His father leaned toward him and said in a firm voice, “there is no reason to go back.”

Sixteen

Emma

Water lapped at her heels,seeping into the black suction pants that clung to her ankles. She leaned over Lans, shaking him over and over again.

His body remained still. Floating. Aimless.

His chest did not move.

Not a single eyelash fluttered.

“What’s wrong with him?” she shrieked, staring up at the Healer. Water splashed around as she slapped the lake in anger. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Eema, please.” Clavas grabbed her shoulders.

“Let me go!”

The Healer lifted his hand. Though she had expected him to be an old man, he was surprisingly free of any grey hair or wrinkles. His skin was a deep blue, his eyes a deep purple and his lips were a dusky navy. He had four braids at the front of his head that hung heavily with silver clips.

She glared at him. “Why isn’t he waking up?”

“Perhaps the Healer is tired.” Clavas spoke to her beneath his breath. “He has onlyjustreturned from many sun rotations of captivity. Give him a moment.”

“Neh. It is not that,” the Healer said in his gravelly voice.

Though his appearance did not show a lick of his age, his voice did. It sounded like an old, rolling drum that had been cured and hewn for decades.

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