Twin Dragons: Dragon Lords of Valdier Book 7 Page 3

  “Gramps,” she said, turning to look at him again. “Be careful.”

  Cal’s eyes softened as he saw the vulnerability in Mel’s eyes. It wasn’t right for a beautiful young woman to have to live like this. She had so much love to give. So much life ahead of her to live for. If there was a chance, any chance, of giving her back a normal life, he would risk it.

  “Go, child,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

  Melina nodded her head again and hurried down the passageway. There was a section that was long and dark not far from the landing bay. She scooped up a long metal pipe as she hurried by. If her grandfather needed her, she would be there.

  “You’ll help us too, won’t you, girl?” Melina asked under her breath. “You’ll show whoever it is not to mess with us girls or we’ll kick some serious ass.”

  The Pactor snorted in agreement as she hobbled after Melina. Mel couldn’t stop the small giggle that escaped her. She knew she was small for her age, partly due to genetics, but mostly due to not having a lot to eat over the last four years. The image of her and the lame Pactor being any kind of an adversary was hilarious. Whoever they confronted would more than likely fall over in a fit of laughter than fear.

  *.*.*

  “You should have let Cree and Calo come,” Ha’ven commented as he rolled his shoulder.

  Creon glanced at Ha’ven with a raised eyebrow. He knew that Cree, Calo and Ha’ven had developed an unusual friendship after the Great War. He paused when he thought of his own relationship with the Curizan Prince.

  Maybe not too unusual, he thought as he noticed Ha’ven rolling his left shoulder again.

  “You been battling them again?” Creon asked with a grin.

  Ha’ven answered Creon with a grin of his own. “Cree needed to let off some energy. Your mate has taught him some new moves.”

  Creon’s laughter echoed through the cavernous landing bay area as the platform on the attack shuttle lowered. All scans from the Horizon showed that there were no transports on the asteroid and minimal life support systems. He doubted that Vox, the cat-shifting Sarafin King and a close friend of his and Ha’ven’s was here. Still, the Horizon had picked up a couple of heat signatures. Whoever was manning the station might have information that could help them.

  “I told you she was incredible,” Creon responded as his eyes swept the area. He nodded to several other men to spread out and began searching the mine. “You should see if you can find a mate like her.”

  “Me? A mate?” Ha’ven replied in horror. “Never! There isn’t a woman alive in the universe that could capture my heart.”

  Creon paused and looked at his friend. There was more behind his words than the lighthearted joking. He had felt an increasing restlessness and something else, almost like suppressed energy about to explode, in his friend.

  “Is everything alright?” He asked quietly, studying Ha’ven closely.

  Ha’ven laughed and punched Creon in the arm. “You aren’t getting soft on me, are you? Mates can do that to you if you aren’t careful.”

  Creon studied his friend for a moment more before he shook his head. “No, I’m not getting soft,” he replied, turning his attention back to the empty landing bay. “If I did, Carmen would kick my ass.”

  “I can believe that,” Ha’ven muttered. “There is someone here.”

  Creon nodded. He had smelled the faint odor as well. He waved his hand and several warriors moved out to fan the sides of the landing bay as a figure slowly stepped through the doorway cut into the rock. He relaxed his stance when he saw it was an older version of a male with features similar to his mate.

  “Now I’m really shaking,” Ha’ven said, raising an eyebrow. “An old man with a shovel? You should have brought your mate.”

  “Shut up, Ha’ven, before I tell Carmen on you,” Creon muttered.

  *.*.*

  Cal gripped the shovel firmly between his hands. These creatures were different from any of the others he had seen before. The Antrox had dealt with a wide variety of slave labor, but these looked like they could snap most of the ones working in the mines in half.

  He swallowed. They would kill him or they would help. Either way, he was committed now. He had to find a way to save Melina.

  “Who are you?” He called out, wincing when his voice echoed loudly in the near empty bay. His eyes darted to the dark figures moving up on either side of him. He turned and swung the shovel out in warning for them to stay back. “What are you?”

  He heard the one that had punched the other man sigh loudly as if he was bored. His eyes flickered to the huge male with the gold eyes. The dark haired male was staring back at him with a calm, concerned expression.

  “I am Creon Reykill, of the Valdier,” the male responded.

  “Prince of the Valdier,” the male beside him corrected, dryly.

  “This is Ha’ven Ha’darra, Prince of the Curizan,” the male named Creon added with a smirk. “Ignore him. He is a pain in the ass, as my mate likes to say. What are you called, human?”

  “Cal, Cal Turner. How the hell did you know I was human?” Cal asked suspiciously.

  Creon grinned. “My mate is the same species as you.”

  “You kidnapped her and forced her?” Cal bit out as rage burned through him. “You sorry ass son-of-a-bitch.”

  “No, no,” Creon said quickly, raising his hands up so that Cal could see that he meant no harm as he walked slowly toward him. “I did not kidnap her.”

  “His brother did,” Ha’ven offered behind him.

  Creon threw Ha’ven a pained expression as he turned back to the old man. He shook his head when he saw the man raise the shovel that he had started to lower. He was seriously going to kick Ha’ven’s ass when they got back on board the Horizon.

  “You are not helping matters, Ha’ven,” Creon growled under his breath.

  “I know,” Ha’ven grinned. “But you have to admit, Zoran did kidnap Carmen.”

  Creon turned and glared back at Ha’ven. “He did not! She had been stabbed by the human lawman. She would have died if Zoran hadn’t demanded she be brought back to the warship,” Creon hissed.

  “What about the other women? They were not hurt,” Ha’ven pointed out, enjoying watching Creon’s frustration. He hadn’t had this much fun in a while. “Although, you have to admit that your brothers might be regretting that. I think I heard Kelan mention something about beating Zoran’s ass. Or was that Trelon?”

  Creon turned back to Cal and ran his hand down over his face. “Remind me to challenge him when we get back on board the Horizon,” Creon said with an exasperated look. “Once you meet my mate, you will see that she was not forced. Ha’ven is just mad because she kicked his ass.”

  “She did not,” Ha’ven protested, folding his arms across his broad chest.

  “Who is missing a chunk of hair?” Creon replied with a grin at Cal. “She sat on him and took a piece of his hair in victory.”

  Cal glanced back and forth between the two men, trying to keep up with the conversation. The playful banter and obvious friendship between the men, both confused and amused him. His eyes went back to the huge male with the brilliant violet eyes before moving to his hair. Sure enough, there was a length on the side that was shorter than the rest.

  He slowly lowered the shovel again. Mixed feelings poured through him as he glanced behind him toward the dark tunnel where he knew Melina stood. Resolution swept through him.

  For the last four years, he had been able to convince the Antrox that Melina was a mute boy with limited mental capability. If he could convince these men of the same thing, maybe they could live long enough to find a way home. He didn’t really have any other choice.

  “Can you help us?” Cal asked suddenly. “My grandson and I, we are the only ones left here.”

  Both men’s expressions suddenly changed and they studied him with a serious, intense frown. Cal swallowed again. He refused to show just how scared he was about admitting he and Mel were
alone.

  “Did you see any others like us?” Creon asked quietly.

  “Or a huge ass male with spots and a bad attitude?” Ha’ven added.

  Cal shook his head. “No, most of the miners were Tiliqua. The Mining Manager liked to have smaller inmates. He said that they were easier to manage and ate less. The Bastard was cheap. He worked the two-headed creatures until they dropped. Then… then he fed their remains to the Pactors. There were a few other species, but none any bigger than me.”

  “You said there was just you and a boy left?” Creon asked, glancing toward the dark tunnel behind Cal.

  “Yeah. Listen, if what you say is true, you know about my planet. I… I want to take the boy back. He… he’s young. This is no place for him,” Cal said, waving his right hand out. “We just want to go home to our farm and forget all this ever happened.”

  Creon heard the slightly desperate plea in the old man’s voice. His thoughts turned to Carmen. He had a better understanding and appreciation for the man’s desire to protect and care for his family now that he had one to call his own.

  “I will do what I can to return you and the boy to your world, but I can make no promises right now. You understand that if I do, you cannot mention anything about what has happened,” Creon said. He held up his hand to stop the old man when he started to speak. “It will also be a short time before I can consider it. We are on a mission that must be completed first.”

  “I don’t care as long as you think about taking us back home,” Cal muttered. “Neither Mel nor I would say a word. The folks back home would think we were crazy if we did. We just want to be left alone to live our lives in peace.”

  *.*.*

  Melina pressed back against the rough stone running along the sides of the tunnel and gently rubbed the small Pactor’s nose as she waited in the darkness. She closed her eyes and embraced the inky atmosphere. The young Pactor seemed to sense her fear and nibbled on the rough, threadbare material of her shirt.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered as she rested her forehead against the animal. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  A tremor ran through her as the cooler air in the shaft and the rock behind her back easily absorbed through the thin fabric of her clothing. She was wearing the ‘newest’ discards from some of the other prisoners. She refused to think about what might have happened to the previous owner.

  Tears burned her eyes when she thought of everything that had happened over the past four years. Drawing in a silent, calming breath, she pushed back the tears. They were a waste of time and precious energy.

  If whoever had landed on the asteroid didn’t kill her and her grandfather, starvation and lack of water would in a few weeks. Hopelessness swept through her as she leaned her head back against the rocky surface behind her. The only ones left on the asteroid were her, her grandfather, and the lame Pactor. The six other prisoners that had been left had died over the past two months from a combination of killing each other and illness.

  She straightened when she heard voices echoing further down the tunnel. Her grandfather was talking to someone. Melina was torn between going to his side and following his directions. The Pactor must have sensed her indecision because it pushed her back against the wall and moved between her and the direction of her grandfather.

  She didn’t care what horrible things all the prisoners said about the creatures, they were intelligent and very loyal if treated right. She had learned a lot about the strange, alien equivalent of a workhorse over the last few years. The Pactors she cared for and her grandfather had been her only companions since they were taken from their farm back on Earth. She jerked when she heard her grandfather’s voice call out to her.

  “Mel! Come here, boy,” Cal yelled. “It’s safe.”

  Melina shivered again as she straightened. ‘Safe’ was a matter of opinion. The fact that her grandfather called her a boy was enough to warn her that all was not as it seemed, or at least her grandfather was still being cautious.

  “The boy don’t speak,” Cal said loudly. “He’s not all there in the head. He stays with me at all times. No one touches him.”

  “I have assured you that we will not let any harm come to you or the boy,” a deep male voice replied.

  “There’s one more thing,” her grandfather said in his gritty voice. “He don’t go nowhere without the beast.”

  “The beast?” The voice asked.

  Melina blinked several times as the light from the landing bay blinded her dilated eyes. She kept her chin tucked so that it was more difficult to see her face. Her fingers tightened around the long metal pipe she held in her hand as she and the Pactor stepped out of the dark tunnel.

  She saw the look of distaste flash across both men’s faces before the one that had been talking to her grandfather curled his lip. She automatically moved in front of the small Pactor. She dropped her left hand so that she could reassure it that everything would be alright.

  “I said we would take you and the boy,” the male said. “There is no way that… thing can go. It will have to remain here.”

  Melina shook her head furiously when her grandfather glanced at her. She knew that this might be their only chance, but the idea of leaving the small defenseless creature to die of starvation was more than she could bear. She had been there when Hobbler had been born. She had brought the young Pactor into the world when the mother struggled during the birth and cared for it when the mother rejected it.

  “Mel,” Cal said, turning and walking over to her. “Mel, this is our only chance. We’ll die if we don’t get off this rock. They have another human on board their ship.”

  Melina heard the soft plea in her grandfather’s voice. She had never disobeyed him before, but the feel of Hobbler nibbling on her fingers suddenly was too much. She couldn’t just abandon the creature knowing that she was sentencing her to death. She would be no better than the Antrox.

  She glanced up into her grandfather’s worried eyes and slowly shook her head again. A touch of exasperation and admiration crinkled the corners of his eyes. He knew she wouldn’t leave the Pactor behind. He had seen the same stubborn look in his wife and daughter-in-law’s eyes.

  “The creature goes,” Cal stated, looking down at Melina’s bent head.

  “That is not possible,” Creon replied in a firm voice before turning back toward the shuttle. “There is no reason to search the mine. Vox is not here. Everyone return to the shuttle.”

  Melina backed up, pressing against Hobbler when her grandfather turned to argue with the male. She could tell by the man’s voice that he wouldn’t change his mind. With a wave of her hand, Hobbler turned and started moving back toward the dark tunnel they had just left.

  “We aren’t going,” Cal called out behind Creon.

  Creon turned in surprise. His eyes widened when he saw the back of the boy and the Pactor as they headed back into the tunnel. With a wave of his hand, he barked out a short order for the two men closest to the young boy to stop him.

  “This is not open for debate,” Creon stated coldly. “You and the boy will come, the beast will stay. My mate would not be happy if she discovered I left you two to die here.”

  “No, she would probably kill him,” Ha’ven added.

  “Ha’ven! You are not helping the situation,” Creon growled, glaring at his friend.

  The startled shouts of the men had Creon, Ha’ven, and Cal turning to see what was going on. The boy had attacked one of the men with the long metal pipe in his hand while the Pactor rammed the other, knocking the warrior down. Both of the warriors trying to stop the boy had shifted to their dragon forms in self-defense.

  What surprised Creon was that the men’s symbiots moved between their dragons and the boy who was waving the pipe in front of him. It was as if the symbiots realized that the boy might not be completely aware of the danger he was placing himself in. By placing their bodies between the two, they could protect their men and the boy at the same time.

&n
bsp; The move gave both Mel and the Pactor time to disappear into the tunnel. A loud, foul curse echoed through the landing bay as the old man swung the shovel he was still holding around, barely missing Ha’ven’s head. Creon jerked back when the old man swung again as he stepped backwards.

  “I don’t know what the hell you are, but leave us alone,” Cal snarled. “Go on, get out.”

  Ha’ven raised his hands and shook his head. “Sounds good to me,” he said.

  “Ha’ven,” Creon muttered.

  “This is just like at the bar on Teristan IV,” Ha’ven commented. “Remember that Octopod that was swinging the chairs?”

  Creon’s eyes lit up when he realized that Ha’ven wasn’t giving in, but setting up for a move. He would distract the old man while Ha’ven took the shovel. Adrenaline flooded him as he nodded.

  “Yeah, that was a good fight,” Creon said, shifting suddenly and striking out with his tail to knock Cal off his feet.

  Ha’ven moved in a blur of speed, catching Cal while at the same time removing the shovel from his hand. Creon still didn’t see how Ha’ven did it. It was almost like the shovel disappeared for a moment before reappearing in Ha’ven’s hand. Creon knew that wasn’t possible. With a flick of his wrist, the old man crumbled unconscious in Ha’ven’s arms.

  “Now, for the boy,” Ha’ven said, lowering the old man to the floor.

  “You have got to show me how you do that,” Creon said, walking toward where Ha’ven was now standing.

  “Some things are best left to wonder,” Ha’ven commented lightly as he turned toward the tunnel. “Just as you and Vox being able to shift has always fascinated me.”

  “What can I say? A gift from the Goddess,” Creon grinned.

  “Or a curse,” Ha’ven muttered under his breath. “Let us get the boy and get off this rock. I never did like places like this. It brings back memories I would rather not re-live.”