1. Xandor

Chapter 1

Xandor

Brother

I struggle to open my crusty, sleep laden eyes. It feels like I’m trying to pry open a docking hatch. But that’s the least of my worries as a throbbing headache announces its arrival with all the subtlety of a rampaging herd of boracks. What in the void did I get up to last night? I rub my temples in a vain attempt to massage away my self-inflicted pain.

Perhaps I should pay Jarxius a visit. Picturing the green vapors of the healing pods washing away my aches and pains, a look of blissful contentment on my face. Gods, I wish I could get one of those glorious machines installed in this house. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with the Judging Jarxius. The way he guards those pods, you’d think I was asking to mate his lover before his very eyes. Assuming the stubborn and humorless healer ever managed to convince a female to lie with him.

With a deep sigh, I throw off the comforting furs from my bed, as streaks of purple daylight break through the slits of the curtains. Another day, but what will it bring? My hand shoots out to the wall to support my unsteady legs as I stumble over a spilled horn. The pungent aroma of the potent drink fills my senses, causing my stomach to lurch.

It was Krogoth’s High Chieftain celebration! That’s right, I remember now. So many of my Draxxus brothers and even visitors from other clans packed out the Chieftain’s Hall that many had to attend from outside the building. A fantastic event! One for the ages! The speeches were brief, the drinks flowed, and the atmosphere was unmatched. It fills me with pride to see my childhood friend achieve such great heights, as no one is more deserving.

I shake my head in disbelief, recalling Krogoth’s Krak-Tok with Gorexius, how he moved with impossible speed and then called upon the powers of the Gods themselves. What is happening to him? He’s ascending to heights I cannot follow. A pang of envy embeds inside my chest like a treacherous wyrm borrowing deep and hidden. The very notion fills me with shame. I’m happy for him, but why does this niggle persist in my mind?

Regaining my balance, I stand before a full-length mirror framed in intricate winding wood. I’m greeted by my reflection. Handsome bastard! If there’s one thing I still have over Krogoth, it’s my impressive looks. In that, the Gods have blessed me, broken the mold even, as I tilt my head at different angles examining my strong chiseled jaw and my piercing yellow eyes almost golden reflecting the purple light. As my long, green hair with few braids cascades over my wide shoulders. Yes, the very embodiment of Klendathian virality. Small wonder the females, the universe over, favor me.

I clench my fists, feeling their strength as my hard muscles ripple and stand out. War’s harsh embrace honed my body, lean with brutal strength. I stand as one of the universe’s finest warriors, even among my blessed kin. I excel tall and broad, and out among the stars surrounded by weaker species, I stride like a demi-god.

Tearing myself away from my magnificent visage with haste, I put on leather trousers and an undershirt with a thick fur jacket over the top before fastening my half cape over my shoulders. I sigh as I struggle to connect the chains together. If I don’t wear it, others seem quick to forget that I am, in fact, the Second of Clan Draxxus.

I throw open the curtains and let the warm, welcoming sunlight bathe my face. It’s almost enough to wash away my throbbing headache. Stepping out of my cramped bedroom, I navigate through piles of clothes, armor, and bottles of long-forgotten substances scattered about the room. Someone should really clean this mess up.

I pass through the tight hallway; the walls are engraved with dark hardwood adorned with sparse paintings and trophies I’ve gained over the years. I trace my fingers over the thick layer of dust that cakes everything in my almost abandoned home. It’s been years since I was last here, and years before that, and then years before that. This isn’t my home, just a place to crash during brief visits.

Maybe it’s time to depart Klendathor? Already lulled by Draxxi’s alluring comfort, I feel I’m losing my edge, falling more and more into the drinking dens and craving the sweet, intoxicating vapors of the healing pods. Yes, like a beautiful majestic brutonous, I must spread my wings lest they rot away. Not to mention, the real tragedy is the lack of suitable females here.

Entering the disaster zone that is the kitchen, I shudder at the scent of long spoiled meats and vegetables that assault the nose like a raging horde of skittering Glaseroids. This room is messier than my bedroom, if such a thing is possible. Dirty stained wooden dishes pile high from end to end, with casks of strong-smelling alcohol broken and twisted in my drunken haste to open them.

I tut as I open the food dispenser waving away black smoke that bellows out, to see the nuked remains of... something I must have cooked last night and forgot about it before sleep overwhelmed me. Wonder what it could’ve been? My stomach rumbles in protest, somehow undeterred by the horrid smells that cling to this room like a stinky curse.

I trudge through the mess, trying to ignore the fact my feet are getting a little sticky on the floor. Opening the ice-cold food storage unit beside the black marbled food dispenser, a scene of filth assaults my senses. Some mold akin to an alien biological weapon seems to be taking hold and expanding within my modest food storage, for what diabolic purpose I do not know.

But I cannot allow the enemy to gain a foothold! With haste, I retrieve a handheld burner and direct it towards the mold that’s emanating from cuts of rotten meat that have turned green mimicking the color of my hair, the ultimate insult. I watch with a satisfied smile as the nasty stuff wilts away under my cleansing flames. Should I continue with the rest of the house? A rueful thought before panic grips my chest as the meaty source of the mold erupts into a sizable fire.

“Voiding netherworld!” I exclaim in shock as I slam the food storage door shut before backing away from the treacherous box.

Waiting with bated breath, my suspicious eyes on the container, hoping the fire doesn’t spread, but the cold and lack of oxygen must have extinguished it as it remains intact. After a moment, my shoulders loosen the tension lessening and I once again turn my attention to find something edible.

My elbow bumps into a half-filled barrel that almost falls until I steady it with my superlative venefex-like reflexes. The liquid swills around, revealing it to be boracks milk! Blindly, I take a large swig of the creamy delicious contents as its coolness feels refreshing in my parched mouth, and growling stomach. If I ignore the chunky, yogurt-like bits that should not be there.

A loud knock on the front door surprises me, causing me to almost choke. This better not be Crenix, the Quartermaster coming to discuss boring shit; I swear I’ll close the door in his face. With careful steps, I make my way through the cluttered kitchen, as the door reverberates with two more rhythmic knocks, drawing a smile from my lips with recognition.

I draw back the thick bolt that bars the heavy wooden door before swinging it open with speed. “Hail, High Chieftain.” I bang my fist against my chest and perform a swift bow, completing the standard Klendathian military salute.

Krogoth looms, half a head taller than even me, his purple eyes full of warmth as an infectious smile spreads across his face. “Hail, Xandor.” He returns with a firm slap around the shoulder. “Can I come in?” he asks after a very slight pause.

A sense of mild panic clutches my chest at the very idea. I can’t let the High Chieftain see the dishonorable state of my house! “Can’t do it, Krogoth, the place is...” I wrack my brain for something to deter my old inquisitive friend. “A female... Yes, after your celebration, I bumped into a real shy one. She’s still in the bedroom,” I gesture behind me.

Krogoth’s smile lights up even more. “Xandor you old vipertail.” He shakes his head in a good-natured manner until he stops, his nose twitching. Oh shit, the smell! “Is it this female that smells like a burning pile of refuse?” He inquires with a raised eyebrow and a look of suppressed disgust.

I almost laugh at his reaction as I slam the door shut behind me, eager to escape my terrible web of lies. “She’s an off-worlder, silly female almost burned the house down, not knowing how the food dispensers work,” I offer, feeling a tinge of guilt at how smooth the lies spill from my lips.

Krogoth nods with a knowing understanding as we head towards the forging fields. “We know how to pick them.” He lets out a short laugh. “I remember teaching Rocks how to use the food dispensers.” He casts his eyes to the skies. “Gods, how much she’s changed in such a short time.”

His words prompt a picture of Rocks to form in my mind. The tiny human female had overcome every obstacle, with a strange ability to tell truth from lies. Good thing Krogoth didn’t bring her here! Still, even I feel pride, having helped prepare her for the Proving and now my Clan Draxxus has a Chieftainess again. A smile creases my lips, recalling our good-natured back-and-forth jests, how I imagine having a little sister would feel like.

We pass through the dense woods of Draxxi, under the enormous trees that disappear out of sight into the sky, as tall as a battlebarge and red leaves as broad as gliders, that obscure the purple sun from much of the area.

Rocks and Krogoth’s bond has awakened something profound in them. It’s plain to see. Ever since Terminus Exile Station, when Krogoth overcame the massive Tuskarian, I knew he was reaching new levels of power. At the thought, that jealous wyrm digs a little deeper within me, reminding me that the option of a bonded mate is forever lost to me. When Krogoth and I traveled to Earth, he alone had a single match.

“The Gods have blessed you with her,” I state in a flat voice, nodding at two clan brothers passing by us.

“Not just me, Xandor,” Krogoth replies with speed. “Thanks to her, we are free from Gorexius and the Scythians. Others can seek their bonded mates from among the Earth females.” He smiles, trying to reassure, but his words just pick at a festering wound.

“Others, but not me,” I retort, glaring at my hands, trying to suppress my sullen attitude.

Krogoth gazes down at me, his face displaying sympathy. “I thought you had made peace with this?” He asks.

Continuing to navigate around the massive trees, among the long looming shadows cast from the purple sun overhead, we pass many Clans Draxxus brothers who nod with respect. In the distance, the forging grounds appear, and the low dim of grunts and the buzz and snap of target practice comes into my awareness.

“I thought so too, brother. But witnessing you and Rocks grow so much stronger...” I trail off before stepping over the low wooden fence. “And now, with others going to Earth, I will be left behind.” Each word feels like a gut punch, giving voice to my deepest fears. If not for my complete trust in Krogoth, I wouldn’t dare speak of them.

A frown creases Krogoth’s face. “Nonsense. You will always be one of our clan’s very best.” We stop for a group of young Prospects to pass as they sprint around the dirt circle on the outskirts, their faces and lean bodies covered in a layer of sweat. “One of the finest warriors in the universe, you stand a noble son of Clan Draxxus, almost unequaled.” With a pat on my back, he finishes.

His words stir me for the faintest moment, but they are not enough. “But for how much longer? Gods, even tiny Crenix may become bonded one day!” I smirk at the thought. “Can you imagine him moving like you do, seeking revenge on us for not paying more attention during his quartermaster reports?”

Krogoth’s shoulders shake with laughter. “A truly terrifying thought,” he finishes as we arrive at the sparring area, scattered with sandy circles and lined with wooden weapons and shields resting on pedestals at the edges. I notice a few arena rings where young Prospects are earnestly attempting to best one another, their techniques enthusiastic but sloppy.

“What do you say? For old times’ sake?” I enquire, gesturing to one of the unoccupied rings.

Krogoth scratches his head as his eyes flick between me and the arena. “I judge this, a bad idea.”

A flash of annoyance ripples through my body. He thinks I’m no challenge! “Why did you bring us here, then?” I demand, unable to keep the heat from my voice. “To look upon the Prospects and hope they don’t turn voiding murderous?”

Krogoth unfastens his massive black furred chieftain’s cloak, the one he had created from one of his impressive kills. He strides into the nearest sandy arena speckled with long dried blood and splinters of broken wood. “This is more like it,” I remark with excitement, eager to see how I compare to my old friend.

I waste no time picking out a large rectangular shield that covers most of my body, similar to our arc shields, and a wooden claw similar to our arc claws. It always made more sense to me to practice with weapons and styles that you would use in actual deadly combat. Krogoth also chooses a shield, but opts for a wooden one handed ax as a weapon.

I steel myself with gritted teeth, looking at Krogoth’s face that carries a faint, uncertain frown. I inch closer like a stalking venefex, my boots scraping over the coarse sand towards my intimidating opponent, my heart pounding in anticipation. With blitzing speed, I feint a slash to my right, hoping to create an opening. My hopes twist into a broken dream as Krogoth remains unfazed, not taking the bait as the breeze tosses his long black hair.

Refusing to lose the initiative, I convert my slash into a powerful shield charge. With jarring force, I slam my shield against his, feeling as though I’ve collided with the broadside of a battlebarge. but my eyes widen to see Krogoth’s shield almost slip from his grasp. Now’s my chance! With a swift twist of my hips, I thrust my wooden claws straight for his unprotected chest. Time seems to slow as I realize, with a sinking heart, that he isn’t even attempting to parry or dodge.

I pull back my force, having already guessed the result. My wooden claws tap gently against his chest. “Fine, display!” Krogoth beams, rubbing his chest as if I actually hurt him. “Your move with the shield caught me off guard.” He raps his shield for emphasis.

My hands shake with fury as my golden eyes release wisps of colored vapor. “You dare shame me, Krogoth!” I snarl, meeting his gaze. Shock and doubt flicker in his eyes. “Treating me like a novice Prospect, to be coddled and given false praise!” My adrenaline stokes, and I thump my chest. “For the love you bear me, I demand you face me as a true warrior.”

Krogoth’s face shifts to one of pity, which further infuriates me. “As you wish, old friend,” he says, tossing his shield to the ground and adopts a crouching posture. “Come, then,” he beckons. Without hesitation, I charge towards him as my blood boils with white hot anger on the precipice of unleashing my Rush.

I unleash a flurry of crisscrossing slashes, but he dodges and weaves with an elegant blurring motion. I roar in frustrated defiance, my rage palpable. Then, as if from nowhere, his brutal kick crashes into my stomach as I double over, the wind ripped from my lungs.

I sputter and wheeze, struggling to suck in more oxygen, every breath an effort. He approaches to offer me a hand, but I wave him away as I straighten with determined resolve before his power. “You’ve always been one step ahead, Krogoth,” I manage to gasp, my lungs burning with exertion. “Since we were little, I’ve followed in your shadow.” I shake my head, tears welling in my eyes. “Now, you reach heights I cannot follow.”

With renewed determination, I charge once more, roaring, “I will not let you leave me behind!”

Fueled by my festering seething anger and desperate desire to stand with my head held high alongside my High Chieftain, I hasten my frenzied attack, unleashing precise claw jabs and slashes. Just one hit, just one! Krogoth moves and dashes in the familiar blur as I continue to press, until he shifts, almost catching me off-guard again as his foot shoots out, but this time I block his blow with my shield.

The incredible force almost tears my shield from my grasp. I let the momentum carry me round in a spinning attack, hoping to surprise my old friend. With the blood roaring in my ears, I watch as my claws fly closer towards his midriff until his hand shoots out in a flash, catching me by the wrist. I grunt, resisting his sheer strength, discarding my shield as I try to pry his fingers off my wrist with my other hand.

My eyes flash golden as the mist floats in the gentle breeze, a contrast to the tempest that roars within. The Rush unleashes, as my muscles bulge and harden, the world snaps into greater focus and clarity. Snarling, I pull against his arcweave like grip, managing to pry one of his fingers loose, until he steps in closer with blinding speed and launches me backwards with his free hand, my world spins as I hurtle through the air to crash sliding along the coarse unforgiving sand.

For a moment, I consider renewing my attack, but it serves no purpose. This contest brings nothing but shame to us both. I release a deep breath and recline upon the sand, gazing up at the clouds edging overhead, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face. So this is all I’m capable of, not even worthy of being his sparring partner.

Krogoth approaches his warm purple eyes, mirroring the sun overhead. He smiles, offering me a hand up. “You fought like a ferocious brutonous. If not for my bond, you would have bested me,” he offers with grace, as I take his hand and raise to my feet.

Krogoth taps me around the shoulder, but I can’t meet his eyes. The shame is too raw. “Bah, stop sulking like a whipped borack, Xandor!” He helps brush the sand and dust from my clothes. “You gaze too long at the sun, forgetting the strength and skill you possess,” he beams.

“Check out the balls on you!” I laugh. “Taking this Star Eye’s name very seriously?” I ask, smiling at him, as the delight of our post-battle washes away my bitterness.

“I thought you’d be pleased. It was you, after all, that named me thus,” he retorts with a chuckle. “But I speak the truth.” He pauses, his expression becomes sterner. “The reason I sought you out was I need you for a mission.”

A mission? Excitement pulsates within me, a chance to shake off the rust that threatens to corrode. I nod with approval, encouraging Krogoth to continue. “With our oppressive alliance to the Scythians now dissolved, I need you to begin alliance talks with the Nebians.” He lets out a sigh. “I fear the Scythians will retaliate and we must be prepared, and who better than you who has befriended one of them already?”

The Nebian females are cursed with terrible smallness... although they may have the girth... “Yes... yes, who better indeed, a friendly face will help ease the tensions.” And there’s the potential for a little diversion to a few pleasure houses.

Krogoth raises an eyebrow. “Xandor, this is a serious matter. I don’t want you trying to mate one of their Consul females, or naming them all short-stuff.” I wonder if Nebia Prime keeps many drinking houses? “Are you listening?” Krogoth interrupts my fanciful thoughts.

“Um... Yeah, of course, no short-stuffing, understood.” I pull my attention back to the present with focus. “You can rely on me brother, I will bring your terms and pray they accept,” I cement with a solemn thump of my fist to my chest and a brief bow.

Krogoth nods with contentment at my resolve. “Excellent. You are to bring a genetically altered youth with you. One of my terms is their assistance in finding a solution for our young.”

My face scrunches at his words. A troubling requirement, you can never trust the murderous rage of our youth. “Logarn... I choose Logarn. At least he has fought with honor alongside us before,” I say with speed. Despite his less than appealing monotonous company.

“Ah, young Logarn, I pray the Nebians can help him,” Krogoth states before his hands move with deftness over his wrist console. “I’ve transferred our terms over to you, as well as access to any resources you may need.” My wrist console vibrates upon the recipe of his message, as Krogoth rubs his chin before continuing, “Take another warrior with you, just to be sure.”

Another war brother... thinking back to the impressive display during the last clan meeting. “I know just the warrior,” I answer with joy, happy for the company.

Krogoth claps his hands, stiffening my spine. “One more thing. I need our remaining ships for when I return to the front lines with the others soon. You must seek a mercenary vessel to carry you.”

A sigh escapes my lips. I should have asked him all the details before agreeing... “That will be difficult. There are precious few mercenary ships that venture to Klendathor, never mind trying to convince them to cross through into a war zone,” I lament.

Krogoth nods. “True, but credits are no object. Let them name their price, and their greed will lead them by the nose,” he reassures me with a smile.

I examine my wrist console, the holographic projection displaying authorization for one million credits. “Gods, one million!” I exclaim, as my eyes widen.

“I expect change,” Krogoth laughs, before his expression turns more serious.

“Go forth into the stars, Xandor. Remind the universe and yourself that you are a true noble son of Klendathor. Crush all who stand in your way and deliver us an alliance that may save our proud people,” Krogoth finishes with a Klendathian salute that stirs my soul.

“I will not fail.”