Warlord's Return - Cynthia Sax

Chapter One

Ariq was a warrior without a war.

The Chamele sector was finally at peace.

That was cause for celebration for the average Chamele. The Succession Wars had waged for solar cycles. Beings had died. Families and homes were destroyed.

All that hardship was over.

But it created a different type of trauma for beings like him, beings who lived for battle—who were created for it. There was a restlessness within Ariq, a need to fight, to kill, to appease that thirst within his soul. The beings in his birthing settlement called it the os khonzon, the vengeance, and that genetic aberration had carved its claws deep into him, threatened to tear him apart.

Carinae E, an outlaw planet, could provide the hostilities he craved…if they ever reached there. The trip there from Chamele 2 was long, and it involved too much sitting on his ass, not enough bloodshed.

Looking for a diversion, Ariq moved through the ship.

Yesun, the youngest Chamele warrior reporting to Oghul, their Warlord’s Second, was seated at his usual place in the nourishment-consumption chamber. He clutched a nourishment bar in each of his hands. “Is Second looking for me?”

“He’s not looking for you.” The last time, Ariq saw Second, his friend and leader was cuddling with his gerel, the ship’s Lead Medic. “Leave some of those for the rest of us.” He teased the always-hungry youth.

“I’d leave them all for you if there was something else to eat.” Yesun grimaced. “These bars don’t fill me up…not like my mother’s do.” His gaze lost focus.

The young warrior was likely thinking of all the nourishment he’d eaten in his short lifespan.

Not wanting to hear that recap, Ariq picked up two nourishment bars, a container of beverage, and three cleaning cloths, put them in the holsters on his ass coverings, and hastily exited the space.

Rinchinbal was in the corridor. The Chamele boy had been adopted by Qulpa, the ship’s pilot, and Qulpa’s gerel, their Warlord’s Head of Ship and Weapons Design.

The boy twisted his slender form to the right and to the left. The tips of the mechanical claws attached to his right hand were yet again stuck in the wall panel.

It was the third time in three planet rotations Ariq had found him that way.

Qulpa’s gerel had deliberately made Rinchinbal’s claws dull…which was a good thing as the boy would have done serious harm to himself if they were sharp. His small body was covered with scratches and shallow puncture wounds.

But bluntness meant, with great force, the boy could pierce a surface but couldn’t cut himself loose. He huffed and puffed, struggling to free himself.

Hitch, one of their bots, tugged on the boy’s index finger, seeking to help him. The little creation chirped encouragement. His lights flashed.

Tubby, another bot, was positioned at the boy’s booted feet. He held out a straightening tool.

That would make the situation worse.

Ariq stifled a sigh. “Stay still.” He extended his natural claws and made slits in the wall panel around the boy’s mechanics. “You’re patching these holes also.”

Rinchinbal might not yet be a skilled warrior, but he had become very good at repairs.

“Please don’t tell Head of Ship and Weapons Design about this.” The boy extracted his claws. “If she finds out how bad I am at using her claws, how I can’t work them properly, she might send me back, choose another boy and—”

“Head of Ship and Weapons Design has already invested almost a solar cycle of training into you.” Ariq stopped the young Chamele’s impending meltdown.

The boy had been born without claws, had been rejected and abandoned by his biological parents for being different. He worried others would be as judgmental as those uncaring beings had been.

“It takes Chameles much longer than one solar cycle to learn how to use their claws. See this mark?” Ariq pointed to one of the scars on his side. “I inflicted that wound on myself after I had my claws for fourteen solar cycles.”

Unlike Rinchinbal, he had been born with claws. He had been trying to impress other boys during training, had misjudged a move and accidentally impaled himself upon his natural weapons.

The boy’s eyes widened. “That’s a great scar.”

Hitch whistled, adding his commentary.

Ariq grunted. He had plenty of great scars. “Head of Ship and Weapons Design would be a fool to exchange you for another boy at this stage of your training.”

Qulpa’s gerel also loved the boy more than she loved her own lifespan. Qulpa cared for Rinchinbal with that same intensity. The boy was part of their family…permanently.

Ariq narrowed his