Page 70 of Taken to Voraxia
“This one is without kit,” the one with the wand shouts. There is a cry of celebration from the crowd and I see more hands dive south, reaching for the hard stumps of short cocks, which they stroke with renewed vigor.
They look like cut off tree trunks, far, far too big around to be manageable, and tough besides. Almost like they’re covered in bark. And even though they’re short, I know for a fact that one of those would hurt like hell if they tried to put it inside.Which is exactly what I’ve offered.
The man with the wand shuffles over to me and waves the hard piece of metal about. Red lights glow on one side and I freeze when they beep out loud. The room falls silent. The man issues a loud curse.
I freeze, horrified as a faraway realization surfaces with his words. “She is with kit.”
A collective groan rises up and one of the males steps forward. He points two threatening fingers at me with his upper arms, while his lower ones drop to form clenched fists.
“This one lied to us! She said she was a virgin! Rhorkanterannu will not want to perform shekurr on the Voraxian queen and now thiscentagwench has cost us a shekurr!”
Hands drop from cocks, which seems like a good thing until I feel renewed heat vie with the wet air in the room. My skin crawls with moisture and fear. I try to say something but cough instead. The angry one takes a long step forward, and when the guy with the wand tries to get in front of him, he shoves him clear off his feet.
The wand, like the one holding it, flies and I don’t see where either land. I just hear the sounds of pain and see the angry one charging towards me. I scramble back and my hand meets air when I reach the edge of the table. I try to jump off, but the angry on is on me now and grabs me by the ankle.
He drags me towards him in one swift pull and even through the chaotic sound of his heavy breath and my screams, I hear Svera’s voice shriek, “She didn’t lie to you! I did.”
The male hesitates with two lifted fists. His silver swirling eyelids betray nothing of his emotions, even if the tightening of his jaw does.
As he whirls around, one of the short spikes jutting out near his tailbone catches my ankle. I jerk back, but still see the blood seconds before the pain actually registers. A fresh gash forms from my shin to the center of my right foot.Xok, as Xoran would say.This is great. Just excellent.The sarcasm is all mine that follows.
I sit up and focus on clamping my hands over the blood flow, which is why I don’t immediately understand why the room full of pirates finds itself abruptly in uproar.
Xoran? I look around, expecting to see him charging in from anywhere and everywhere, but there’s just the dank, black mold-encrusted walls and the grates on the floor and the pipes overhead and the pale, grey bodies dusted in silver and rigid rock plating. And then I look across the space and cowering beneath the angry one who just tail-swiped me is Svera, back in her own skin.
I scrabble to the end of my table and think of launching myself onto the guy’s back only to quickly come to the conclusion that I’d immediately impale myself.
“Hey,” I shout, but it’s too late. He’s cursing and one of his fists is raised. He brings it down and his lower left knuckles brutally slash across Svera’s face.
“No!” I scream and the sound seems to make some of the Niahhorru buckle. Others look like they’re going to be sick. They recover quickly and immediately close in around their friend.
They grab him as Svera tumbles from the table and onto the floor. She lands hard, but she’s still moving and I feel just some of the breath release from my clenched lungs.
She dabs her cheek, fingers coming back red, and when she looks up, I see three streaks weeping in bright crimson. “Svera, are you…”What? Is she alright? Of course, she’s not alright!
She just nods at me.
A whir sounds somewhere deep within the ship and then there’s a sharper clang as the metal doors jerk open and some of the Niahhorru I remember fill the space. The king leads them in and his face is severe. He takes all of a second to survey the scene before abruptly pulling a pink, curved blade free of the belt on his hips.
“A female was harmed?” He says curtly.
All but the culprit answer in the affirmative. One steps forward — the one who’d spoken to me about theshekurr— and gestures to me. “This female is with child.”
Rhorkanterannu glances at me and there is an expression on his face that makes me feel…sad. The slackness of his mouth, the sudden tension in his steely neck, the slight intake of breath.
He is raw yearning. Nothing else.
His eyelids shutter, something like a blink. Their swirling color goes from silver to gold and back again. He looks away from me.
“Harmed by Yourandena?”
Another affirmative response is seemingly all he needs as he sweeps between the platforms. The angry one withdraws a blade of his own and the battle that ensues is short and jarring.
I can barely track their movements as the king spins and the other blocks and knives clang together. The king expertly switches his short blade from one hand to the other and stabs the angry one up from the bottom of his jaw through the top of his skull. And just like that, in the span of three blinks, the fight is over.
My stomach pitches and I swallow hard, hoping to keep the bile that rises, in. The stench of the Niahhorru blood is overpowering.
I’m sure Svera feels the same because her face loses all color and the red blood weeping down her skin appears even brighter against her now ashen, sickly complexion.
