Alien Paladin's Redemption - Mina Carter Page 0,74

the Jovarth, and then string him up to watch what happens as his female is used for the glory of Ursal-Kai... if he survives.”

“Oh. I was rather hoping that you would say that.”

Nyek began to laugh as they dragged him away. The laugh deepened as the first of the blades cut into his skin, and pain flared to match the pain in his head as he unleashed his surprise from the shuttle.

He closed his eyes, shutting out the physical pain as they used blades on his body. It wouldn’t be fast. The Jovarth was designed to keep the victim alive as long as possible, to make them suffer as long as possible. For a Vesh, though, suffering was an old bedfellow. He laughed as they tortured him. Chuckled as they drew lines of fire down his skin with their blades. Praised Liaanas as it felt like they were taking him apart piece by piece. The deep, rich sound rolled around the hall, disrupting the ceremony going on.

“What the draanth is wrong with him?” Tavik snarled, as he strode over to where Nyek was pinned down and bleeding.

Nyek just laughed at him. “Poor little daddy’s boy,” he crooned. “Jealous of something you could never have... never hope to achieve... True faith and honor.”

Tavik flinched. Nyek smiled. He’d hit his target.

Tavik was jealous of him. Always had been. Always had to have what Nyek had, no matter how small, no matter how insignificant, or destroy it so Nyek no longer had it.

“Kill him, kill him now!” Tavik screamed, his voice high pitched with rage. “Rip him limb from limb and offer him to Ursal-Kai!”

One of the guards blinked. “But the Jovarth is not complete, my lord... Ursal-Kai will not be appeased—”

Tavik drew the blaster from his hip and fired. There was a dull thud as the body landed next to Nyek. He turned his head and smiled into the wide-open eyes.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Nyek told the corpse as the pressure at the back of his skull built and built. “They’ll all be dead too in but a few, short minutes.”

The warriors around him exchanged glances. Although they didn’t move a muscle, he felt their unease whisper among them on the air. No one took the Jovarth so calmly. They screamed and fought. They begged and cursed. They did everything... apart from smile.

And he was smiling as Tavik screamed, “Kill him! Kill him now!”

“Oh, but they can’t,” he said, pitching his voice to carry. “For I am vengeance and retribution incarnate.”

He sat up abruptly, the warriors around him stumbling backward, some landing on their asses to then scramble away. No one wanted to be near him.

“I am a messenger of the Lady Liaanas herself.”

His voice boomed as he climbed to his feet. His body hurt but he barely noticed it. “An agent of the divine, touched by the light!”

Raising his arms, he revealed the vicious scars down the insides of his wrists and forearms. “I sought death... and I was granted life. For this moment and this moment only. I was sent here by the goddess herself to pronounce judgment on you all!”

He spread his arms like a dark angel of justice, head down as a heavy, metallic clunking behind him announced the arrival of his surprise from the shuttle. Twin Cabal drakeen flanked him, their lethal arms extended to match his pose and loaded with weaponry.

“None of you will leave this hall alive,” he whispered, lifting his head to look through his hair. “Now run...”

18

Screams of pure terror and panic filled the air. They were the screams of men dying...

Indra came to, feeling like an elephant had kicked her in the jaw. She must have gotten blinding drunk last night in Kimmy’s bar on Astra Row... which meant now she had a hangover to contend with as well as her rounds on the street to do. As well as dealing with whatever shit was happening right now in the gang’s base of operations. Great, just great. With a groan, she tried to lift her hand to rub at her jaw but the movement was halted halfway.

“What the fuc—?” she breathed, blinking blearily at the manacle on her wrist. There was blinding drunk and there was letting some one-night stand tie her up drunk. She was never drunk enough for the latter.

A deep laugh filled the air and she spun around as much as she was able with the manacles on her wrists and ankles.

Memory came flooding back. Prison, Madison, the Lathar, being