24. Firion

Chapter 24

Firion

T he air inside the small hut felt as thick as the tension between us. The massive Zuldruxian male’s grip remained tight around the hilt of a crystal-like sword, the weapon reflecting the scant amount of light seeping into the room. I'd seen that sword before. But back then, my friend, Aizor, held it. How had this male gotten it from my traedor friend?

His chest heaved with his breaths, every muscle corded and ready to strike if I gave him an excuse.

My heart pounded against my ribs, heat coursing through my veins as I tried to think of a way out of this situation without coming to blows. Fighting another Zuldruxian would be disastrous. Even if I won, he wasn’t alone here. Others would kill me if he didn’t do so himself. And I wouldn’t risk them harming Talia.

This was his territory. There could be more of his clan outside the hut, waiting to add strength to his attack. We were in his space, in his land. For all he knew, we were intruders bent on causing harm. We needed to de-escalate this before it turned deadly.

The Zuldruxian's body language screamed suspicion. His nostrils flared as he took in our scents, his gaze darting between me and Talia, who stood partially hidden behind me. But his eyes lingered on Talia for a moment too long, and a flicker of something dark edged across his features. My pulse sped up and every protective instinct inside me demanded I step between the two of them and destroy him if he made even one threatening gesture toward her.

As much as I loathed his gaze on my mate, I couldn’t afford to let this situation spiral out of control. A fight now could hurt Talia as well.

I tightened my grip on my stone blade, but I kept it at waist level, more of a defensive posture than one of aggression. He was taller and broader than me, but we were both warriors. If we battled, I’d do my best, but his strength could surpass mine. Defeating someone of his size would be a challenge in this small space.

“Who are you?” His voice came out as rough as the sandstorm battering the hut, a guttural growl filled with menace.

I held his gaze, refusing to back down. “I’m Firion.” I forced calm into my voice. “Traedor of the Dastalon Clan.”

A flicker of recognition flashed through his teal eyes. His body remained taut, though the grip on his sword relaxed a fraction. Our titles held weight in Zuldruxian society, and the designation of “traedor” showed leadership and responsibility. It wasn’t a name to use in pretend.

“We escaped the Veerenad mining operation,” I said, my voice steady despite the danger electrifying the air between us. His sword remained ready to be used in defense or an attack. “We're on the run, making our way south. Then the sandstorm hit. This hut was the only shelter we could find.”

For a long moment, he said nothing, his eyes hard and unreadable. The silence stretched painfully, the only sounds coming from the storm roaring outside, rattling the walls.

Finally, he grunted. His sword remained poised, but his gaze, sharp and assessing, shifted to Talia again. My hand tensed around the hilt of my blade, blood rushing into my ears with a roar that matched the storm. Talia’s lungs hitched, but she stood strong beside me, her bravery only adding to my determination to keep her safe at any cost.

He took a single step forward. Every muscle in my body screamed to move, to position myself between him and Talia. I would try to take him, but even if I succeeded, it wouldn't be clean. It would be brutal, and there was no guarantee we’d both walk away.

Then his eyes softened a fraction, almost too subtle for anyone outside a Zuldruxian to notice. I’d met enough warriors to recognize a slight easing of the fury he’d hosted when he stormed inside the hut. He lowered the sword a bit more, though not enough that I could relax. His gaze remained on my mate, appraising her with a mix of curiosity and calculation.

“The Veerenads,” he rasped, his voice a deep rumble full of disdain. “I’ve heard their kind speak of taking prisoners, of using them in the mines.” He spat the words out.

“They captured us both. Talia is . . .” I stiffened my spine. “She's my fated mate.” I held out my other hand, showing him the symbol. “We need shelter from the storm, nothing else. We'll leave once the storm ends.”

He remained silent, his lips pressed into a thin line, before he slowly nodded. “I am Davon, and you have found shelter with the Taikeen Clan. As traedor, I welcome you.”

I tucked my stone blade into the back of my pants and grunted, dipping my head forward in a show of respect. “Thank you.”

Davon sheathed his sword with a swift motion, the crystal sliding back into its scabbard with a muted clink. His stoic strength spoke of years surviving under the rough conditions, something I’d expect from life in the desert, though I didn’t believe he was any older than me. His eyes, though they’d softened slightly, still appeared guarded as he spoke to us in a voice that rumbled like thunder.

“There are no empty huts in this oasis.” His voice remained devoid of emotion. “This is mine. You can remain here until the storm passes.” His words came out direct but weren’t unkind.

I dipped my head again, glancing at Talia. Her expression showed both relief and wariness. Her hand drifted to mine, and as our fingers linked, Davon’s gaze fell on her face again. The longing in his eyes couldn’t be denied, a flash of envy that mirrored how I felt when I first saw Nevarn with his human mate. We were all warriors, strong and resilient, but deep down, each of us longed for something more, someone to love and cherish, a companion to stand beside us.

I studied Davon’s face, searching for bad intentions, but all I found was a warrior, maybe exhausted in a different way than we were, but still burdened with the weight of loneliness. Just as I once was. Among the clans, all warriors spoke of seeking mates, of finally finding that one person who would love them for a lifetime. Davon’s somber expression told me he had yet to find his own, and a pang of empathy for the fellow Zuldruxian shot through me.

Talia surprised me by taking a small step forward, her voice tentative but filled with the joy that never seemed to leave her. “Davon, have you seen a woman like me? Her name’s Maggie. She’s my twin sister, and we were both taken from Earth at the same time.” Her voice wavered, her eyes pleading. “I haven’t seen her since my small ship left the larger one. She was in another ship, and all the tiny ships soared toward this planet. I know she’s here somewhere, and I’m desperate to find her.”

A flicker of something crossed Davon’s eyes. Excitement, maybe. He sighed before shaking his head, his broad shoulders dropping. “I’ve seen a few females of your kind, all with Zuldruxian males, but none share your appearance. I will look for her, however, and if she’s here in this desert, I will find her.” The quiet conviction in his words struck me. This male might be gruff, but he felt deeply. Gratitude surged inside me. Beneath his hardened exterior, I suspected Davon was a man who knew what it was like to lose something precious.

Talia nodded, her lips trembling. I could see the effort she was making to hold herself together, to maintain that glimmer of hope despite the uncertainty.

As I squeezed her hand, trying to offer comfort, Davon’s gaze remained on my mate with an intensity that, this time, didn’t make my spine twitch. I suspected he was considering our situation, how far we had come, and how much further we still had left to go.

“I’ll fetch food and water,” he said, his hoarse tone loosening. “The storm should pass by morning, but it would be wise to delay your journey until nightfall. Traveling under the cover of darkness will make you harder to track.”

His offer was kind. They couldn’t have much. Life in the desert sucked everything away from a person. Before I left, I’d urge him to visit the other clans. Perhaps his people would like to stop traveling all the time and settle in the forest or the open grassy hillside, or even with my clan on one of the floating islands.

“Thank you,” I said. “Food and water are welcome.”

He huffed and turned on his heel, slipping back out of the hut and tugged the flap into place behind him. The fabric billowed, the wind trying to force itself and sand inside, but he secured it, blocking the storm from us once more.

For a moment, I stayed where I was, marveling silently as I considered his offer. He was willing to step back out into the storm and into a land my people had always found stark and forbidding, just to make sure we could have what we needed to recover and survive the next part of our journey.

“He’s . . . interesting.” Talia shook her head. “The storm is ferocious, but he casually stepped back out into it as if it’s nothing. Let me go get you some food, he said. From where? Maybe one of the other huts, but still. They can’t have much. You said his clan travels from one oasis to another, probably never staying long at any of them to avoid depleting resources. He doesn’t have to help us, yet he is. That speaks well of him. And he’s going to let us sleep here tonight, in his home.”

“He can see how tired we are, how desperate. He’s a solid male, one I’ll now call my friend. He would be welcome in my clan or any of the others, and I plan to tell him this.”

“Maybe his people love this way of life.” She shook her head. “It seems harsh and lonely to me, but we’re on the run, terrified we’ll be recaptured. If I lived here all the time, I’m sure I’d see it in a different way. The oasis we rested in was gorgeous.”

“I’m sorry he doesn’t have news about your sister, but if she’s in the desert, he’ll find her.”

The flap of the hut rattled as Davon returned, pushing through the wind with an ease that made me question whether anything could truly unsettle him. Another male, younger and slighter in build, entered with him, his gaze sweeping from me and remaining on Talia. His teal eyes widened with curiosity. He looked younger than Davon.

“This is Coovik,” Davon said in his gruff tone, nodding toward the other male. “My brother. Coovik, this is Firion of the Dastalon Clan and his mate, Talia. She's . . .”

“Human,” she said. “I come from Earth. I was kidnapped and brought here.”

“A bad thing,” Davon said, and Coovik bobbed his head in agreement. “No one should be forced into something like this.”

“I was forced to come here but not to fall in love with Firion.” The strength in her voice told them she needed to make that clear. “I want to stay here now. I wouldn't return to my home planet even if I was offered the chance. I just want to find my sister and make sure she's okay.”

“Welcome to Zuldrux.” Coovik glanced around the tent. “Davon said you've been on the run from the Veerenad mining operation, that you escaped.” Awe filled his voice. “We've encountered them, and would you believe they tried to capture a few of us?” His chest puffed. “We fought them off. They won't come near anyone in our clan again.”

“I was on my way to the Veerenad city to start treaty negotiations with their king,” I said. “I'll be adding details about my . . . experience and making it clear that capturing anyone to use in the mine will not be tolerated. Assuming the original management is still in place.” I explained about Brax and the rebellion.

“I'll send a scout to see if there are changes,” Davon said. “I'd prefer to have a good relationship with them than have to fight them off on a regular basis. I don't like Veerenads in general, but if they leave us alone, we'll do the same with them.”

“I’ve never seen anyone like you,” Coovik told Talia, his voice shy but filled with the creak of a youngling male.

She smiled, and her body loosened. Leaning into my side, she wrapped her arm around my back. “Well, I've never met anyone like you, Firion, and Davon either.”

“Food.” Davon lifted a bag. “Let's eat.” He opened the sack and laid it all out on the low table, everything from dried fruits to strips of meat, long, thin tubers, and lumps of sticky grains. He added flasks of water, one for each of us.

We settled on the rug at the table, Coovik beside Davon, while Talia and I sat across from them, our backs pressed against the fabric walls that hummed from the night wind. The food was far from fancy, but resources were limited in the desert. It tasted like a feast after what we’d been through.

Silence stretched between us as we ate, broken only by the howling storm outside and our grunts of enjoyment.

The fruit was both sweet and tart, a burst of flavor that made me smile. Inside our cell, the stone god had provided us with hearty meals, but nothing fresh. This tasted amazing, probably because it was freely offered and not shoved beneath a metal door back at the mine.

Mostly, I just felt relieved. Despite everything we’d been through and all we still faced, at least tonight, we were safe. I wasn't sure how long that feeling would last, but I’d hold onto it.

“Good?” I asked Talia, holding out another strip of meat.

She nodded. “It’s all so tasty. What fruits are we eating? What meat?”

Davon explained how they hunted at oases in the desert and how they collected fruit, grains, and tubers in various locations, based on the season. While they often ate freshly prepared food, they were busy today getting ready for the storm and tonight, most had opted to eat the dried food they always carried with them.

“We make do with what the desert gifts us,” Davon said, his voice level but with a hint of pride.

“You’ve been good to us.” Sincerity came through in Talia’s words. “It means so much. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome here anytime.” Davon’s gaze softened in the muted lighting. “I’ve led this clan for only a short time. We’ve seen few travelers, but our home is not often a welcoming one, as you've discovered. Few come here. It takes strength to survive in the desert, but I can't imagine any other way of life.”

Coovik nodded.

“It wasn’t easy getting here,” I said as Talia leaned into my side. Her eyelids drooped, and if we sat here for much longer, she was going to fall asleep. My poor, tired mate. “But it was worth every second because I found Talia.”

After we finished, Davon collected the small bowls he'd tugged from the sack and quickly tidied what was left, placing everything back in the bag and securing it at the top. He laid a hand on his brother's shoulder, cutting off Coovik from asking whatever he'd been holding back in those eager eyes.

Talia rose along with us, but she kept yawning.

“We’ll leave you to rest and will see you again in the morning,” Davon said. “You're welcome to stay with us for as long as you'd like. We plan to remain at this oasis for at least a week. But I understand if you want to continue on your journey.”

“I want to take Talia back to my clan,” I said. “Then I can meet with the other traedors to discuss how we should best handle what happened to us in the mine.”

“A wise idea,” Davon said. “When— if —you travel this way again, you will be welcome with my clan once more.”

“Thank you.” He and I braced our forearms, and Coovik and I nodded to each other. “Know that all of you are welcome at the Dastalon Clan at any time as well.”

“You fly on enormous birds, right?” Coovik breathed. “What's that like?”

“Amazing. We raise them from the time they hatch, training them to take our weight and obey our directions in flight. They're wonderful creatures, smart and protective. ”

“I want one.” He looked up at Davon. “Can we get some ryvars for ourselves? Imagine how quickly we could travel from one oasis to another if we could take flight.”

“I doubt they'd survive in the desert,” Davon said with an indulgent tone. His gaze sought mine and sadness lingered there. “Our parents only recently died. I . . . mourned for a time before returning to my clan.”

There must be a story there, but from the sharp sadness in his eyes, I doubted he’d share it.

His spine stiffened. “But I’m back, and I stepped in for my father as traedor, plus I'm raising this youngling.” His posture loosened, and he ruffled Coovik's hair.

“Not a youngling,” Coovik huffed, his face darkening. “I'm a full-grown male. Seventeen!”

“Not quite as grown up as you’d like.” Davon flexed his arm muscles. “When you can challenge me for traedor, then I'll consider you a full-grown male.”

Coovik's nose scrunched. “I don't want to be a traedor. I want to fly ryvars.”

“Come visit my clan sometime,” I said with a low laugh. “I'll let you ride my ryvar and then you can decide.”

“You may not enjoy being so far from the ground,” Davon said.

“I bet it's wonderful,” Coovik breathed.

“We'll discuss a visit, nothing else.” With the sack slung over his shoulder, Davon guided his brother to the door flap. He glanced back at us. “Goodnight. ”

We murmured the same as they left, securing the flap behind them.

“Sleep, mate,” I said, stroking her hair past her shoulder.

Even this simple touch made a shiver of need track through me. But she was exhausted. Soon, we'd reach my clan and then we could be together whenever we pleased. I couldn't wait.

“No stone gods to create new clothing.” She plucked at her worn tunic.

“The sand gods must do this for this clan, and I could try to speak with them, but they may not listen.”

“We have enough for now. We can ask Davon about it in the morning.” And we'd ask if they could share some supplies, though only enough to aid us on our journey. Their nomadic life meant minimal possessions since everything needed to be carried across the sand. I couldn't imagine living that way, but he and Coovik seemed to like it. But this meant they may not have much to offer, and I wouldn't want to take anything that would risk their survival even if it could ensure our own.

She tugged a tunic out of her bag and stripped off everything, carefully folding her things and placing them on the floor. “My underwear is long gone, and I find I no longer care. There was no way to wash it, so I left it behind. The stone gods don’t appear to think I need it, though I will when I get my period, something I need to think about soon. It’s due in the next week, whenever next week is.” She sighed. “I can’t imagine how I'll handle bleeding out here in the desert. ”

“If it happens, we’ll find a way.”

I also stripped, keeping only my loincloth on.

I peeled back the blankets, and we slipped between them. The bed was big enough for Davon, but I was near his size, so it was a tight fit for two. But we snuggled, and there was nothing better than that.

“Love you,” I whispered, kissing the top of her head as the wind howled around us and the tent billowed and shifted from blasts of sand. “Everything will feel better in the morning.”

I awoke sometime during the night, savoring the calm around us. The storm was over. We'd have to face what it might've done to this oasis at dawn, but for now, it was nice to drift back to sleep in relative quiet.

When I roused again, sunlight slanted across the side of the hut, brightening the room. A few creatures cheeped and skittered outside, getting back to their everyday lives, just as this clan soon would.

During the day, we'd rest and gather things together for our journey, and we'd leave at dusk, striding back out into the desert. With luck, we'd reach the forest soon and could put this part of our lives behind us.

Talia woke and her smile was so sweet, I had to taste it. And then, naturally, I had to . . .