16. Roxanne

Chapter 16

Roxanne

Clan Meeting

S itting in my new chair, I struggle to stop my hands from trembling. Clasping them together works until I absently move them again, so now I’ve resorted to squishing them under my legs. Crap, did anybody notice? The thought heightens my already strained nerves as I look out at the many faces gathered in the Chieftain’s Hall.

It doesn’t help that I can sense the curious gaze of several men in the crowd. This’s the first clan meeting in centuries with a Chieftainess. I know the symbolism is important to them, but I dread the thought they might expect me to perform some miracle or some crazy spectacle. Krogoth isn’t reassuring me either. Anytime I ask about the specifics, he just assures me everything is going to be fine and that I ‘think too much.’

Easy for him to say. He’s probably done these meetings hundreds of times. Shit, maybe sitting on my hands makes me look even more childish in their eyes? I hastily rest my hands on the armrest and straighten my back, noticing to my chagrin my hands are still shaking. No one will notice from the crowd, right?

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, hearing the murmurs and dim voices reverberating around the hall. There’re certainly fewer people here than during my Proving celebration, which is a relief. Krogoth’s right, I’ve spoken before in this very spot not too long ago. I even stripped naked in front of everyone! The memory of it still brings heat to my face. So why am I so nervous now? Is it waiting around? Maybe I do think too much.

Peeking open an eye, I see Krogoth pacing back and forth busying himself on his wrist console, looking very much the important Chieftain today, wearing his great black fur cloak with the fearsome claws draped over his shoulders, over immaculate brown leather shirt and trousers. So handsome, my man is. If not for the nauseous, causing butterflies tumbling in my stomach, I would leap up for a kiss.

He offers a warm smile as he catches me observing him, then playfully winks before redirecting his attention to the gathering crowd. Gesturing towards an older Klendathian, a man named Orenix? Orenix rises onto the platform, carrying a small stone altar. He places an offering of dried food and flowers atop the slab.

“Brothers,” he intones, his voice resonating through the room, before turning to me with a smile, “and sisters.” The entire room erupts into cheers at his words, stamping their feet on the ground, which vibrates the very hall, causing goosebumps to prick my skin.

“Let us give thanks to the Gods, Machsin and Dagdorix.” He uses a small burner to ignite the offering. “May Machsin bless us with plenty and keep us in good health. And may Dagdorix grant us strength and wisdom.” With a careful hand, he stokes the flames higher. “Together, may they guide our clan to an honorable and glorious future,” he concludes with a reverent bow of his head.

Everyone in the hall bows their heads in complete silence. My eyes dart, unsure what to do, before deciding to join them in their reverence, not wishing to cause offense. It’s not until the fire on the altar completely burns away and the last wisps of smoke drift into the air, does Krogoth rise abruptly from his throne.

“Kinfolk welcome. I’ll be brief, for there is much to do. Rocks and I have completed the Mortakin-Tok. Our union is blessed by the Gods.” Krogoth gestures back to me as I stand to give a curt bow to the audience, drawing a raucous cheer, despite the news being well known, since our return three days ago.

“All here today should carry this information to all our brothers, spread it to every clan, every planet. That union between humans and Klendathians can be achieved.” The women back on Earth are in for the surprise of their lives!

Krogoth continues, his voice loud and firm. “This is a new future, no longer hostage to the hated Scythians to continue our bloodline.”

A red-haired man with a robotic leg speaks up. “Does such a union bear any... fruits?” He says, lingering on the last word comically, drawing laughter from the crowd, including Krogoth. I feel heat bloom in my face, as many eyes look at me expectedly.

A child? I would love to give Krogoth a little son or daughter. I place a hand over my womb, praying it’s possible. We’ve never used protection. Each time I’ve craved him to release himself deeply inside me, leaving the rest in the hands of fate. Curious, I delve into Krogoth’s thoughts and feel his desperate hope and slight worry. A smile spreads across my face as his emotions touch my heart, melting away any doubts.

“We are trying,” I say as innocently as I can. “It’s in the hands of the Gods now,” I finish, resulting in more cheers.

“And in the Chieftain’s massive balls!” Xandor calls out from the crowd, his face full of revelry. The crowd erupts into raucous laughter at his words. My skin heats with embarrassment, wishing I could kick Xandor in his balls right this second!

Krogoth laughs good-naturedly before speaking. “Never mind what my titanic balls may or may not be doing. The important thing to remember is Astraxius said it’s possible, and all his predictions we have proved correct.” His words elicit a hushed murmur through the audience.

“Where is this Earth?” someone calls out from amongst the crowd.

“Yes, tell us! I long for a Mortakin-Kis to warm my bed and share my burdens,” another calls out.

“Children playing in the woods again, can you imagine?” an older man with flecks of white in his brown hair exclaims.

Krogoth raises a hand for silence. “All the details have been passed via your consoles.” His voice grows stern. “For those of you who go, you must be gentle with the human females. Treat them with respect, for they are tiny, soft creatures.” He shoots me a playful smirk. Might kick him in the balls, too.

“But Rocks is as hard as arcweave!” Rylar interjects, smiling warmly at me.

“I had excellent instructors,” I nod graciously to Rylar and Xandor before adding. “But Krogoth is right, and we have spoken at length on this matter. Human women won’t understand, at least not at first. They don’t even know aliens exist and live totally different lives than us here. That is why the women must be brought to me, so I can help ease their minds and help them adjust to their new lives, if they choose to stay on Klendathor,” I state, hoping they listen as thoughtful expressions paint the faces of many.

After a moment, Krogoth looks at his wrist console before speaking once more. “Ziroth and Morios, you bring a dispute before us?” He asks, pausing as two men step forward from the crowd, one tall with long brown hair, the other short and squat for a Klendathian, with short blonde hair. “Says here Morios, you believe Ziroth has cheated you out of profits from a trade?”

“That’s correct, Chieftain,” The tall one says, while the other smaller one scoffs loudly.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Krogoth inquires, as he seats himself back in his massive chair.

Both men attempt to speak simultaneously, interrupting each other before they both stare bloody murder at one another. Krogoth holds up a hand, looking somewhat bored. “You first,” he states, pointing towards Morios.

“Thank you, Chieftain,” Morios says, giving a quick bow. “I raised a herd of the strongest brown boracks. The finest in all Klendathor—”

Ziroth bustles in, “Oh please, they were sickly runts!” he exclaims.

“Silence!” Krogoth roars with such force it stiffens my spine. “You will get your turn,” he glares at Ziroth, who looks to shrink even more. “Continue Morios.”

“Well, Chieftain, Ziroth here agreed to sell them on market for me at five thousand credits a head, with him taking ten percent for his troubles,” Morios states as Ziroth folds his arms and taps his foot impatiently.

“How many?” Krogoth demands.

Morios looks like a deer caught in headlights. “How many, what, Chieftain?”

“Boracks, you voiding fool!” Ziroth shouts at Morios before glancing back to Krogoth. “You see what I’ve been dealing with here?” he asks bitterly, prompting Krogoth to raise a hand for silence.

“Oh, of course,” Morios says as his cheeks turn an even deeper red. “It was twenty head of boracks, Chieftain.”

I’m totally lost as soon as they mention numbers and percentages. My brain switches off. Mathematics was never my strong suit. Still, I lean forward, listening intently, taking my role as Chieftainess seriously, hoping others can do the calculations. Krogoth sits back in his chair, counting on his fingers. He looks so handsome and dashing, being Mr. Bossman.

“By my numbers, Morios, you should have received ninety thousand credits. And you, Ziroth, would have received ten thousand credits,” Krogoth states, looking between the two men. “So Morios, tell us what you received for your twenty boracks?” He asks, gesturing towards Morios.

“Only forty-five thousand credits!” Morios exclaims. “He cheated me. It’s plain as day.”

I gasp, as do many of the audience, at the shocking meagre amount. He only received half of the money promised, and even Ziroth glances around nervously at the reaction and tension building in the hall.

Krogoth frowns, looking at Ziroth. “How do you explain this?” He inquires.

Ziroth straightens himself and runs a hand through his blonde hair before speaking. “Morios promised me twenty of the finest boracks, but what he delivered were runts!” He blusters and scoffs, “He should thank me, that I was even able to get forty-five thousand for them.” He shakes his head. “But this is the thanks I get. Dragged before the Hall, wasting everyone’s voiding time.”

Who is telling the truth? Morios seems kind of na?ve and maybe over estimated his herd’s value. But he appears old enough that he’d have the experience to know the value of his animals. Krogoth’s head rests on his hand, looking even more disinterested now. Maybe I should say something?

“Do you have receipts from your sales, Ziroth?” I ask, surprising myself. Do Klendathians even keep receipts?

Ziroth shifts nervously on his feet. “Alas, I do not Chieftainess,” he says, before pausing, “I had to go further afield to other clan’s territory, to sell the rotten beasts.”

Morios bustles in, “If you insult my herd again,” he threatens, fists clenched tightly.

Krogoth motions for quiet as he shakes his head ruefully. I think it’s this Ziroth guy who is lying, but I can’t be certain. Not without a little peek into his emotions, that will hopefully shed more light on the situation.

Reaching into Ziroth’s mind, I project a part of my consciousness into his. His feelings of guilt, anxiety and barely contained fear wash over my mind like a wave. It’s him, but how to prove it? Play on his fear?

I march across the platform to stand before Ziroth, my cloak flowing behind me. His eyes dart nervously at my approach. “Chieftainess?” he inquires.

“Ziroth, have you ever dealt with a human female before?” I demand, my voice stern and loud. Already guessing the answer.

“Ah... Well, no,” Ziroth stammers, as he licks his lips nervously.

“Human females have the ability to sniff out truth from lies,” I lie. But does Ziroth believe it? “You reek of lies, Ziroth.” I lean over to sniff loudly close to his face, noticing him shaking and the sheen of sweat glistening on his red skin. “Yeah, you’re definitely lying.” I hold my nose for dramatic effect. “You smell terrible.”

Ziroth’s eyes grow wide as saucers. “Get away from me, foul sorceress!” He falls onto his ass, trembling with fear. “I sold the herd for one hundred and twenty thousand credits!” He holds up his hands, pleading. “I lied, okay, I’m sorry. Please don’t ask me anymore questions!” Got him! I wonder what else he’s trying to hide the lying snake?

There’s a moment of stunned silence before raucous cheering echoes around the hall. Soon a chant of “Rocks!” is taken up by the crowd. I feel elation as I look out to see the merry faces calling my name. It’s then I notice my hands are no longer shaking. When did that happen? Instead of fear and anxiety, I feel only joy and pride. A broad smile crosses my face as I give a brief bow toward the attendees.

Krogoth places a massive hand on my shoulder, his voice booming to rise above the din of the crowd. “That was brilliantly handled, Pebbles!” he exclaims, his face radiant with pride. His smile is a delight to behold.

“I think you were right, Krogoth. Being a Chieftainess suits me just fine,” I say, laughing.

He taps me on the backside, leaning in close to my ear. “Never doubted it for a nanosecond, my love,” he whispers, sending tingles down my spine.

Krogoth addresses the audience with both hands raised as he waits for silence before speaking. “Ziroth has admitted his guilt!” He shouts, his voice ringing out over the hall, before turning to glare at Ziroth. “You shall pay Morios the one hundred and twenty thousand credits that you owe.” Ziroth looks like he might throw up as he squirms like a worm on the ground. “And you will receive the red mark of a cheat upon your hand, so all will know you have deceived a fellow Draxxus, brother.” Ziroth shakes his head in horrified disbelief. “Finally, to mend your dishonor, you will be scourged by Morios until your cries satiate his wrath.”

My mouth opens slightly in shock at the brutal sentence. It’s almost enough to make me feel sorry for Ziroth. I only hope that Morios is not the wrathful type, but my hopes are dashed as he unfurls a cruel-looking multi-lash whip made of old leather and heavy knots at the end. They’re going to carry out the punishment right here?

Ziroth struggles feebly, repeating “I’m sorry!” frantically, as Draxxus men drag him roughly to one of the nearby walls.

Krogoth sweeps his hand through his cloak dramatically. “It is a terrible thing to cheat a brother, for all we have in this universe are our bonds,” he declares solemnly, Then, consults his wrist console, he adds, “Let’s see.” Glancing up into the crowd, he continues. “Noroth and Vethios, you bring a request for Krak-Tok?” As he speaks, I furrow my brow, trying to recall the strange yet familiar term.

A loud crack echoes through the hall, stiffening my spine, followed by the terrible wails of Ziroth. My heart sinks for his pain, but as Chieftainess, I force myself to turn my focus away, hardening my heart.

Two men with bare chests approach and stand before the platform, one displaying thick muscles, long red hair, and a face flattened as if it’s been used as a highway. The other, lanky, almost as tall as Krogoth but with long brown hair, his knuckles covered in scarcely healed scars. They both strike me as men used to fighting, that you wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of.

“Correct Chieftain. Vethios insulted my honor. I demand redress,” The red-haired man says gruffly, his flattened nose causing a soft whistle with each breath.

Krogoth nods, gesturing to the brown-haired warrior. “What say you, Vethios?”

“We were deep in our horns, and I merely mentioned that Noroth should learn to dodge a few blows, instead of blocking them all with his face!” Vethios smirks, drawing laughter and taunts from the crowd.

As Noroth lunges towards Vethios, a gasp escapes me, but thankfully quick and strong hands from the audience restrain him. “Voiding Vethios, dishonors me even now!” Noroth roars, his blue eyes misting in his rage.

Krogoth’s frown deepens. “Two of my best fighters, wanting to kill each other—”

The crack of the whip echoes across the hall, cutting off Krogoth’s words. It’s followed by more agonizing screams from Ziroth, tugging at my heartstrings. Must be strong, Roxy, this is their way.

“Suffer in silence, Ziroth!” Krogoth’s shout fills the hall, as he rubs his temples in annoyance. “Someone give him something to bite down on,” he commands, gesturing toward Ziroth.

To my surprise, Krogoth approaches me with concern on his face. He leans in close, speaking softly, “What do you think, Pebbles? Should I let them kill each other?”

My instinctual answer is obviously no, even so I project my essence into the two scary warriors. Staring at them, waves of stubborn pride, fear and anger mingle together.

“They will not back down because of their pride, but both are afraid of dying,” I pause, worried about adding the last truthful part. “But they are full of anger as well.”

Krogoth’s smile widens before he plants a kiss on my cheek, eliciting mocking “ohs” from the crowd. “Perfect! You’re a blessing from the Gods!” he exclaims in delight. I can’t help but worry about the fate I’ve unwittingly given the savage-looking pair of fighters.

“The Clan would suffer grievously, losing either of you fine warriors,” Krogoth pronounces, gesturing towards the pair. “Therefore, I deny your request for Krak-Tok, Noroth.” His words elicit a sigh of relief from me.

Noroth snarls in defiance, “It is my right, Chieftain!”

Krogoth lifts a hand for silence. “That is why I’ll allow a contest for redress,” he announces, pausing dramatically as the crowd watches with hushed breaths. “No claws, first blood.”

Some in the audience boo loudly, still disappointed the spectacle of a death match has been denied to them. Krogoth sighs before resuming. “Fine. No claws, first to lose consciousness.”

The crowd’s bloodlust now satiated, cheer loudly. I watch in amazement as they are already parting, creating a circle for the two warriors to complete their ‘sentence.’

“One hundred credits on Vethios!” Xandor offers, laughing, with a raised hand.

Krogoth nods at Xandor. “I’ll take that bet!”

I massage my temples with my fingers, as my sense of morality and decency is almost overwhelmed. How did I get myself involved in this craziness?