Wife For The Alien Primal

Chapter 1

Deia

         The sirens take on a different meaning this time. I’m no stranger to them, but now they blare with an urgency that I can’t ignore.

         This one’s real.

         We are used to skirmishes here in Penkurth. Any human settlement bordering on Drokan lands is bound to be. And when your father is the ambitious warlord ruling the place, you know your days aren’t going to be exactly peaceful.

         So, I’m used to upheaval. Today, however, even for me it’s extreme.

         It all started before dawn, with blaster fire and projectiles pitting the outside of our walled compound. Shortly after, our elite fighters were dispatched, followed by the second wave. They’ve been gone ever since, leaving the women, children and elderly holding it all together.

         And we are not weak. But there is only so much resistance one can do when you are outnumbered and out weaponed.

         The sirens woke me, and I knew the house would be empty save for the house staff. My father, a restless man for whom I have never amounted to much, was long gone. This was where he excelled – in the chaos of battle, the uncertainty of conflict.

         Throwing on whatever warm clothes I could gather, I run/walk down the main hallways of my father’s spacious house. The servants have fled and the echo of my steps is eerie, punctuated only by the occasional blaster fire. My goal is the bunker hidden deep in the bottom of the garden. Designed to look like nothing more than a small hill, it contains enough supplies to keep someone alive for several months.

         Let’s hope it’s not that long, my brain chirps. Does it think it’s being helpful?

         I am happy to say I’ve not spent much time there. Up until today, there wasn’t much of a need.

         My father’s ever-growing ambition, his insatiable appetite for more land, more power and more status has changed all that. I know, without knowing every detail, that the violence Penkurth faces right now could be directly tied back to him.

         After provoking Drokan forces for months, he finally stepped too far, taking a Drokan transport hostage as it entered the main River Duchy of Nevinc (also the largest city in the area).

         Now, the Drokans are out for revenge. And possibly to teach us all a lesson. To my ears, they are sparing no fire or manpower and they are almost on my very doorstep. My hope that we fight them off is waning as the sounds of fighting get closer and closer to me.

         Taking a careful look out of the window at the end of the expansive hallway, I see the yard is clear. No sign of Drokans or my father’s foot soldiers.

         Good. I only need to cover a few hundred cubits to the bunker entrance.

         Flicking my eyes around, I try to grab whatever I can that might be portable and useful as a tool or weapon. For someone with a warlord for a father, the house is remarkably weapon free. Not even a spoon is near me and I don’t want to risk running to the kitchen at the back of the house.

         I’ll have to go with just my fists, feet and will to survive.

         Taking one more look, I see the path to the bunker is still clear. My hair is pulled back out of my face and my jaw is set. I can feel the adrenaline start to rise within me as I wrench open the large door that leads out to the garden.

         Fresh air tinged with the smell of burning hits my nostrils. Eyes locked on the small hill that hides the bunker, I take off at a run. My feet feel swift and sure, springing off the dew-speckled grass. Were it not for the smell of battle and the shouts of soldiers, the day ahead would be beautiful. Clear skies and fresh breezes.

         The small door to the bunker (the one only those trained to see it can see) starts to get closer and closer and I can feel a sense of security rise up within my chest.

         I’m going to make it. I’m going to get there.

         “Oooof,” I burble as an arm juts out from behind a tree and blocks my path. My whole body judders backward as I smash to the ground, the wind crashing out of me.

         “Nope, not today,” a voice made of washed gravel says as two strong arms haul me up to standing. Before I can resist, another pair of ropy Drokan arms grasp my other side and lift me up. My once swift feet dangle uselessly below me, the ground now impossibly far away.

         Once that happens, I know fighting is futile and I let them haul me away. The fear and anxiety that bubble up, replacing my shrinking cloud of adrenaline threatens to overtake me. I won’t let it. Setting my jaw once more, I try to make my mind go blank as they push me into a transport buzz hovering near the edge of my father’s property.

         It’s already packed with my fellow humans. They aren’t sparing anyone today. My father has them that riled up.

         Once I’m in, the buzz begins to move. All around me, scared eyes flicker, babies can be heard whinnying into their mother’s chests, sniffles are heard.

         Some of the braver ones hurl epithets to the drivers up front, while some sit stone-faced as they watch their village overrun by Drokan and Skuyr fighters.

         It’s not lost on me that some eyes look at me with a kind of contempt. They know who I am. They know who my father is. But they won’t say a word.

         Because if I’m here, in the same predicament as them, it’s not like my father’s status has done me much good, has it?

         Quelling the fear that rises up within me takes most of my energy. I have to do it though. My people need to see me be strong.

         Besides, my father won’t allow this to go on for long. Any minute, hour or, heaven forbid, day now, he’ll rescue us.

         Well, he’ll rescue me. He’s not known for his open heart.

         I can only hope his being his daughter will be enough.

The transport continues to move, my home receding in the distance.