Lena sat on the edge of the combative platform, swinging her legs back and forth, waiting for the signal that it was time to begin. She watched idly as the ship's warriors moved about. Some exercised, some sparred, most prepared for what was to come. These next three grueling days of testing were all that was left, and Lena would learn if she was good enough to earn the title of verserka'al.
She waited patiently, her eyes scanning faces and forms as her mind wandered to the night before. They hadn't gotten any sleep. Khamuel had been serious when he said he wanted her again and again. He'd been tender and rough, and all things in between. The staying power of an alien in the throes of lust was not something Lena had ever experienced from an ind-Earth male. Not that she had any complaints. She was sore in all the right places and had been perfectly sated before the night ended. Then, as the time for Lena to get ready came, they'd cleansed together, and Khamuel helped gather her gear. He'd walked with her to the ovelum, wished her luck, then walked away as if he were already putting her out of his mind. If the thought of being married to a man who distrusted her as much as she did him wasn't such a daunting reality, Lena might have asked him to stay with her a little longer. It would be nice to have his support while she waited for the event to begin.
When Fiadn made his appearance, her eyes focused on him like a heat-seeking missile. Lena felt her body reacting to the pulsing rage and adrenaline within her; felt her eyes change color and her skin toughen in response. Slowly, deliberately, Lena slipped off of her perch and made her way forward. As Fiadn moved around the room, Lena stalked her prey. Completely unaware he was being watched, the large alien male kept busy, stopping here and there to greet people. He laughed. He joked. He instructed.
Lena's black eyes never wavered from his form. Even when she stood directly behind him, Fiadn didn't feel her presence. He was caught completely unaware when she attacked from his flank and landed a solid punch. The strike resounded in a satisfying crack as blood squirted from his nose.
Startled, Fiadn spun and eyed Lena as if she were insane. "Lena!"
"He's my husband?" she demanded. "And you all knew?"
Fiadn dropped his hand from his face, and his countenance turned stony. "'Twas not my place."
"Not your ... Dude ... I'm married!" Her accusatory eyes made it clear that the truce they enacted since freed from her cell may very well be over. Ignoring the interested gazes of everyone around her, Lena shouted. "You told me you were honorable. You told me I could trust you." She shoved him with all her might, making him take a step backward. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Fiadn moved closer to her, knowing she could very well strike him again, and he would allow it. "Forgive me. I am honorable, and I am your friend."
Bitterness shone in her eyes, but before she could speak, the signal was given. As the first blush of adrenaline coursed through her, Lena shook off her anger and joined the formation. She put everything else out of her mind and squared her shoulders. It was time to do work.
***
The coliseum where a good portion of the events would take place was a cavernous dark room with enough seating to fit several thousand and the stands were full to brimming. Khamuel settled himself into his throne. The pomposity of the antique seat never appealed to him. He only ever used it for occasions such as this.
Gala appeared, her elegant figure guiding the twins carefully as she helped them up the steps that led to where Khamuel sat. By his left and right, two smaller seats were in place. One for Gala and one for Pnina, whom Khamuel spotted jogging through the crowd to take her place.
The twins climbed into Khamuel's lap uninvited, yet not unwelcome. Khamuel chuckled at Leila's dirty face. "What have you gotten into, hertlyfa?"
"Crama cups." Leila licked her fingers. "A lot of them."
"Oof," Khamuel murmured, hoping the bantling had not eaten so many, she would be sick later.
Sasha tugged on his beard. "Is Mama here yet?"
"Soon, hertlyfa." Khamuel almost cursed when Sasha pushed her bottom onto the armrest and nearly fell. "Careful now."
"You're getting avan dirty, Leila!" Sasha scolded. "Be careful!"
"Nah-uh!" Leila argued.
"Yeah-huh, you are!"
With a scowl on her face, Leila leaned forward until her face was just an inch from Sasha's and belched loudly.
Khamuel smiled sadly to himself. Would this next three days be his last moments with the girlings? If so, he would spend every moment with them he was able. He entertained them and was entertained by them until the screens appeared.
"Hush now, hertlyfaz," Khamuel said, indicating the screen. "There is your modir."
The girls turned their attention to the screen in front of them.
For the events that could not take place within the coliseum, large holographic projectors would play, showing the events as they were recorded through drones. The families of each recruit would also have smaller projections in front of their seats so they could watch and cheer for their own.
Lena's eyes lit up when she saw her twins. As she took her place on the field, she raised her arm in the air to wave at the girls. The girls waved back, jumping up and down in Khamuel's lap. Once again, Khamuel kept Sasha from falling.
The instructors burst onto the field in their typical rousing manner, yelling to be heard over the din of the crowd and put the recruits through an extended exercise session that strained muscles to exhaustion. As the instructors ran around pumping up the recruits with motivating phrases and aggressive energy, loud music played, adding to the charged atmosphere. The crowd fed the energy with their exuberance.
For three days, Khamuel tried to balance his attention between Lena's progress and caring for the bantlings. He was jealous and heartened in equal parts when the twins would give their attention to Gala or Pnina or Fiadn. Khamuel did not even protest when Kiara made her tentative way to them, and gifted the girls even more crama cups. He wanted the twins to always remember their time on Charity with fondness.
As for Lena, Khamuel silently rooted for her. Impressed by how well she was comporting herself. As she maneuvered through each event, there were times he could see her fatigue and self-doubt. He also saw her perseverance and cunning as she maneuvered through energy sapping exercises, land navigation, tactical assaults, and so much more. Lena became a crowd favorite when another recruit's carelessness caused her injury. Her team was busy scaling the wall of a building to perform "rescue" operations. Another team of recruits was fashioning crude projectile weapons. Clear ballistic glass rose from the floor of the colosseum, protecting the crowd from ricochets. A recruit across from Lena lost his grip on his weapon, causing a round to be expelled prematurely. It caused the wall Lena was scaling to crumble, plunging her from a dangerous height.
For long moments, the crowd was silent, and Khamuel's heart hammered in his chest. Shouts from her team could be heard as they scrambled around Lena to remove the heavy debris that could crush her tiny frame. As Lena was pulled from the rubble, she lay so still, she appeared lifeless. She roused slowly, pushing herself to her feet, spitting out a mouthful of blood.
Khamuel could see the defeat in her, the want to quit, but then she raised her gaze and looked at her daughters. Her eyes flashed onyx. Shaking away her pain, Lena awkwardly rose to her feet. To everyone's delight, Lena posed this way and that, flexing her muscles for show. She looked at her daughters, blew them a kiss, then continued on her journey.
On the third day, Khamuel cradled a slumbering Leila to his chest and committed every one of her features to memory. Taking a lock of her long hair, he tickled her nose with it. Leila didn't wake, but her nose scrunched and her lips mewed; a tiny hand rubbed her nose. Khamuel smiled sadly as his heart melted. Could he bear to lose her?
A roar of excitement rippled through the crowd. Khamuel tore his gaze from Leila's sleeping features to watch the sparring about to take place. Lena had chosen a scythe and a broadsword, while others chose the more typical sword and shield.
"Son of a bitch!" Lena complained out loud when she realized her opponent was Mord.
Khamuel chuckled.
***
Lena had seen Mord in the ovelum plenty enough times to know that being pitted against him meant she was in trouble. The moment the buzzer sounded, he came at her, viciously swinging his mace in dangerous arcs. She backed up and twirled away, bringing her sword down on the chain of the mace, and advanced her scythe. Mord planted his foot in her chest, knocking her back several feet, the chain of the mace yanking the sword from her hand.
Lena's mind raced as she kept her eyes on Mord. He was too crafty, and she needed to pay attention to his every nuance. For the better portion of the match, she could keep a good defensive posture, but gaining the offense was impossible. Pressing forward, Mord repeatedly showed no mercy as he swung fist and mace in a dizzying blur. Parrying and thrusting, Lena held her own as best she could, until her foot slipped, and she dropped to her knees. Mord swung the mace downward. Lena leaned to the side and swung her sword, catching him in the thigh, drawing first blood, right before the ball of the mace slammed into her shoulder, the spike embedded in her flesh. It was a lucky strike that her sword hit first. She knew it, but she would take it.
The combative sessions were more grueling. Each recruit had to run the gauntlet against seasoned Verserka'al. Lena would be a liar if she had said she wasn't exhausted by this point, and after her third round, she felt herself failing. Her muscles were tired, her swollen face was throbbing, and her back and ribs hurt. She looked toward the stands. Khamuel sat on what could only be called a throne, his expression impassive as usual, with Leila in his lap, and Sasha on the armrest with Khamuel's arm around her to keep her from falling. The girls were cheering, caught up in the crowd's excitement. Lena sucked in a breath when Sasha almost fell from her high perch. That had to be the thousandth time Sasha almost fell from Khamuel's throne, but he was quick to catch the clumsy child each time before she fell.
Lena gritted her teeth, moved her arms and legs to loosen her muscles. The buzzer sounded too soon, but she lowered her head, and pushed through round after round, even winning a few. Three other recruits were not so lucky and failed the event entirely. One recruit was severely injured and had to be carried off the field.
On and on the events went until each recruit was pushed past their endurance. They banded together, encouraging and heckling each other in equal turns. Lena had long since lost track of time when—hovering on the brink of exhaustion—the horns sounded, and they were led to one of the hatches where their suits were ready and waiting.
Tired and sore, Lena caught a second wind as she entered the hatch. This was it. The last event, the one she had been waiting for. For obvious reasons, it would have to be holographed into the arena. As she and her teammates performed safety checks on each other, scrambling to get ready in the allotted time, the hatch doors opened suddenly, proving the time frame they were given was a false one.
Some recruits hadn't been quick enough, and as they were sucked into the void of space, they scrambled to connect their gear and hoses before losing consciousness. The first few moments in space were always dizzying, as the skin tight suits took a moment to register the lack of atmosphere, making it harder for those who weren't ready to connect their gear. Her squad knew to work as a team, and they quickly rallied around the struggling few. A flash in the distance blinded them, sending them all hurtling through the void. One instructor sidled up to Lena, smashing something against her head and yanking her oxygen hose free before disappearing as quickly as he appeared.
Cursing viciously, she worked furiously to reconnect, then tapped her thrusters to propel her forward. There were ten targets that needed to be found, each with a challenge attached to it, all while the instructors sabotaged their efforts. The recruits were knocked off course, blown away from targets with non-lethal rounds, Bio-stasis suits tampered with and even forced into grappling matches. Lena plugged on, determined to make the highest score.
When she made it to her fifth plot point, two instructors blocked her path. Lena slowed her approach to give herself time to think, then surged forward aggressively and tapped her suit, letting loose a cloud of blue smoke that floated around her and as it did, she weaved about, spreading the thick cloud. She kept her bearings and maneuvered behind the two disoriented instructors to reach the target. Lena was halfway done with getting the robot into a bio-stasis bag when she was gripped from behind in a choke hold. The other instructor pulled out a laser that tore the bio-bag, allowing the robot to free float into space.
Losing her cool for a moment, Lena struggled wildly to get the instructor to release his grip around her neck. When she couldn't, she settled on pulling her dummy pistol from her belt and bringing the butt down hard on the side of his knee. His grip loosened. She turned and brought the butt of the weapon down on his face shield. It was difficult to find solid purchase in space, but Lena used her thrusters again to give her the counter leverage needed. The instructor's mask didn't wholly disengage, but it shifted, breaking the seal, and making it a struggle for him to breathe. Lena back flipped away, chasing after the robot that was left to float aimlessly. As the one instructor fought to correct his mask, the other came directly for her.
Lifting her dummy weapon, she flashed the harmless laser at his chest, causing his equipment to blink, signaling his mock death. Lena caught the robot and thrusted forward to the target station, grabbing the bag and awkwardly angled the robot into it. She had to jimmy-rig the bag closed but finally covered the robot, sealed the bag and attached it to the station, completing the task.
Realizing the instructor was still struggling with his seal, Lena hesitated, watching for signs that his struggle was a ploy. Then she shot forward, helped him adjust his mask, connected the seal, but before he could think clearly, shot her dummy laser at his head, making his equipment signal his defeat. The look on the instructor's face through the mask was pure rage filled astonishment.
A laugh bubbled out of Lena as she brought her feet up, planted them against his chest and shot him the bird, while kicking off and away from him in a showy little spiral to head to the next station.
A nearby recruit laughed into her earpiece. "By the All, that was sexy as sin!"
"You're damned right it was!" Lena shot back. She trailed a finger over her sleeve to activate the tracker and looked for the next target.
By the end of the event, Lena was beyond exhausted, and a little pissed off. Da'lan, a big burly son of a bitch, beat her score by ten seconds. Usually Lena wasn't a spoil-sport, but she had a genuine dislike for Da'lan, and it irked her to no end the bastard won the event.
Pulling off her suit, she noted she wasn't the only one the worse for wear. Everyone was sweaty and a little bloody, but all wore a look of pure accomplishment. They were proud of reaching this moment of achievement.
They took their time undressing, and went around the room congratulating each other, bumping their forearms and hugging each other in a show of fraternity. When the sliding door finally signaled their freedom to leave the cramped space, they fell into formation. Adjusting to gravity would take time, and as she walked on shaky legs through the hatch into the hull, the noise of the cheering crowd was deafening.
Stripped down to their uniformed skivvies and bare-footed, teeth could be heard chattering as the recruits shivered violently. They were lined up in two rows, then marched through the entrance of the arena and onto the field. Nearly all the recruits teared up seeing the coveted archway they would pass under. Painted in blood red with the glyphs, "Mortal Actions Deceive No Gods," emblazoned along the top. The archway was known as the braednun. Passing under it was an honor reserved for the elite faction. Once passed under, the Verserka'al was no longer an individual. They were part of a sacred kinship.
The moment the first recruit crossed the arena entrance, the crowd suddenly became silent as one. The lights were turned off. Heavy rhythmic drums played a solemn beat. A bonfire was lit in the middle of the field and torches indicated where the recruits would form in a circle around the bonfire. As the recruits piled in, taking their turn to pass under the braednun, a solemn voice called out the names of Verserka'al passed who had given their lives in service to Charity. Male and female alike, the newest batch of Verserka'al felt no shame in the tears that flowed freely from their eyes at the pride they felt in themselves, and the relief they succeeded.
Once the neo-warriors were positioned in the circle, Khamuel stepped onto a platform positioned over the fire. Lena's eyes widened. Being directly on top of the fire like that meant Khamuel had to be burning. Literally. Yet, he stood calm, unphased. Men came forward next and, in a procession, laid down a simple, ornamental sword at the feet of each recruit. In order to claim the weapon, they would have to kneel, committing their lives to the safety and mission of Charity.
Trying to control her shivering body and chattering teeth, Lena forced herself to listen as Khamuel spoke to the crowd. His body flickered in the firelight, voice a booming baritone, poignant with the steady beat of a drum.
"See what champions you have before you: warriors new, their eyes alight with the fire of purpose. They stand at the cusp of futures shaped by a destiny they cannot yet fathom, willing to sacrifice on your behalf. Warriors true, beholden unto you, their sacred duty born of your needs. Transformed. Disciplined. Self-forged. They who came willingly, offering their lives in the stead of your own. An uncommon breed—noble, fierce," his gaze landed directly on Lena, "arrogant and cocky." Laughter rippled through the crowd, but his focus swiftly returned to them. "Not once did they waver. Never did they shy from challenge. They trained, they fought, they thirsted for success and the privilege of guarding your honor. Behold, your guardians, your protectors, your Verserka'al!"
A cheer went up. Khamuel allowed the roaring din to reign for a moment, then raised his arm to silence the crowd. His gaze settled on the newest group of recruits. "Now, unto you, I say: Guard your honor. Flaunt not your loyalty. Wear your courage boldly. Shape your destiny with distinction and valor. Let no one dissuade you from your path, for you now rank amongst the bravest few. Honor their memory well, for it is because of them that you stand here today. Be reverent of the legacy you leave for those who follow you, for without them, we are nothing."
Khamuel stepped from the fire and made his way to stand before each new warrior. Taking a knee, the first recruit bowed his head low and accepted his weapon.
"Rise verserka'al Aulean Delnar, house of Ankaneh." The christened warrior rose to his full height, chest puffed with pride. Fiadn stood next to Khamuel and handed him a golden circlet that sported two prongs in order to pin it to the warrior's undershirt. Attaching it loosely, centered on his chest, Khamuel then slammed his hand down on it, forcing the prongs into his skin. The warrior didn't flinch, only lowered his head deferentially. Khamuel placed a hand on his bowed head, pale pink light emanating from his hand. "Welcome to the bond. May the All guide and protect you."
Khamuel moved on to the next, repeating this little ceremony until they came to her. Lena met Khamuel's eyes.
He cocked his brow at her.
Lowering her gaze, her hesitation was barely perceptible. Lena slowly lowered herself to her knee and accepted her weapon. "Rise verserka'al, Elena Innana Nigba house of Vordlunn." She didn't flinch when he slammed the small circlet into her chest, the prongs piercing her skin. She lowered her head to accept the blessing. Warmth filled her. Her chattering teeth relaxed; the shivering stopped. Just as she was feeling like something inside of her would shift, as if she were being filled with just a little too much of him, he removed his hand from the top of her head. "Welcome to the bond. May the All guide and protect you."
Khamuel skimmed the backs of his fingers down her cheek and lifted her chin for her to meet his gaze. His eyes were that soft blue she remembered from her earlier days aboard the ship, the days when she believed she had a friend in him.
When the ceremony was over, and the crowd was given the signal that they could approach, proud family members poured onto the field, embracing their sons and daughters in emotional hugs. Before they even reached her, Gala, Pnina, Kiara, and the twins could be heard chanting her name loudly through the crowd. Lena pushed her way through the throng, searching for the only two faces that meant the world to her just then. When she saw her twins, she ran forward, then dropped to her knees to scoop them to her.
"You did it, Mama! You were like the superman girl!" Leila said.
"You're such a good girl, Mama. I'm so pwoud of you." Sasha cooed.
The tears she had been trying to hold back burst free as she hugged her children tightly. Exhaustion and pain rode her in waves, and for a moment, Lena didn't feel like she could get to her feet, but a surge of her new verserka'al friends came towards her, and Lena braced herself, knowing more pain was coming. She noticed them all with their bloody chests and groaned. "Son of a..."
She got to her feet. Lena barely had her balance before they all took a turn slapping their hands onto her warrior symbol, drawing more blood, bantering and teasing each other.
Fiadn approached her, keeping a respectful distance, but she could see the pride in his eyes as he smiled down at her. "Well done, Lena. Well done indeed."
Had they been in the ovelum, she knew he would have picked her up in a crushing bear hug.
"Thank you," she smiled, coming down from the adrenaline that had been pumping through her veins the last three days and nights.
"Okay, my turn," Kiara said, and the reptilian-hybrid surged forward and threw herself at Lena, toppling them both to the floor. "You did it! You fucking did it! I'm so proud of you! Oh my God, you reek!"
Her ear-piercing squeal made Lena's ears ring. Lena laughed and swatted at Kiara. "You're killing me, woman! Get off." Lena stood, accepting the exuberant hugs of Pnina and Gala, drinking in their excitement, their pride, in her.
Family. This is what having a family felt like.
Lena chewed her inner cheek when she noticed Khamuel making his way over to her. She straightened her shoulders, knowing her time of reckoning was now. She watched as he stopped here and there, allowing those new to the service to kneel to him, taking a moment to chat with the families and exchange pleasantries.
As he finally approached her, Lena scowled.
Khamuel stopped in front of her and waited.
Kneeling to Charity was so much easier. It galled her to kneel to anyone, but taking a fortifying breath, she lowered herself to one knee and bowed her head.
To give him credit, Khamuel didn't draw out the moment, didn't gloat or goad her. Her knee barely touched the floor when he commanded, "Rise."
Standing once again, she peeked up at him nervously.
He didn't speak. He placed his hand on the back of her head and drew her forward, his mouth landing firmly on hers. It wasn't a passionate kiss; it wasn't meant to draw desire from her. It was a statement he wanted everyone to see. He lifted his mouth from hers, and in that way he had lifted her chin so that he could examine her swollen eye. "You will heal."
She nodded and reminded him, "Pretty quickly."
The tip of his finger tapped her on the nose and he moved on, continuing to the next.