Wexxon the Great Alien Warrior - Juno Wells Page 0,31
after. The crowd erupted into yet another cheer at the first sign of the warrior’s blood, the sound of it causing the arena seating to shake with the vibration of their cries.
“Wexxon the Great! Wexxon the Great! Wexxon the Great!”
The chant felt like it was drowning out everything else, including my own fear for Wexxon’s life. And for a moment, as I watched Wexxon continue to hold his own against the young warrior, I was tempted to join in on the chants, too, to cheer on the destruction of any man who’d wished to challenge the father of my child to battle.
But before I had a chance to chant Wexxon’s name, the young warrior had caught up to Wexxon, slicing his blade right down the side of his waist, the warrior’s sword making contact with where I knew Wexxon’s earlier injury still remained. And in that same moment, Wexxon fell to his knees, his own sword still in his grip even as he seemed to close his eyes in great pain.
“Wexxon!” I called out for him, even though I knew that there was absolutely no chance that he’d be able to hear me from how far back I was sitting in the stands. “Wexxon! Please!”
Please. Please. Please.
Please don’t leave me all alone.
The young warrior then tried to bring down his sword against Wexxon’s neck, a move that even I understood would’ve meant my husband’s instant death. But Wexxon rolled away from the maneuver at the last second, his eyes going wide as he fell back against the sand. The young warrior then moved toward Wexxon again, his sword aimed right at Wexxon’s stomach, the young warrior’s intent clearly to drive it right through Wexxon’s frame.
But Wexxon’s next and final move came fast, faster than I’d ever seen anyone move before. As the young warrior moved toward Wexxon, he reached up with his own sword, too, soon slicing right through the young warrior’s neck. And then, with his sword still aimed at Wexxon’s stomach, the young warrior’s head rolled right past his own feet, his stance still in place against the sand.
And as the young warrior’s body crumpled toward the ground, the crowd was the loudest I’d ever heard it, the citizens with tattoos of Wexxon’s face now screaming and jumping in the stands, the younger children hugging each other with bright smiles on their expression.
“Wexxon the Great! Wexxon the Great! Wexxon the Great!”
Wexxon took a moment to lie against the sand, his chest slowly rising and falling as he did so. A few seconds later, though, Wexxon was back on his feet, his hand hovering over the wound at his side. He then grabbed for the young warrior’s head before he held it in front of his chest, soon raising it even higher toward the sky.
And for the very first time, I found myself cheering right along with the crowd.
Chapter Nine
Wexxon
“You’re hurt,” Aldvirion remarked as soon as I made my way to the back of the arena. He was already waiting for me with various salves, his eyes going right toward the injury at my side. He then hastily motioned for me to lie down on one of the marble slabs, so often used as a resting place for who’d been wounded in battle.
“I don’t need to lie down,” I replied. “I can stand while you work your magic.”
“It’s not magic. It’s medicine.” Aldvirion scoffed. “But of course, you wouldn’t know the difference. You’ve never needed my assistance like this before.”
Aldvirion pulled out a small bag from his side, once again motioning for me to lie down on the slat. “Go. The sooner I can look at your wound, the sooner I can clean it and wrap you up.”
“I don’t want any sign of injury,” I said as I moved over to the nearest slat. “No bandages, or it’ll be too obvious.”
“What? You don’t want people to know that Wexxon the Great was injured in battle?” There was a slight smugness to Aldvirion’s tone. “That even a warrior as great as you can bleed?”
“You say that like you’re glad it occurred, Aldvirion.”
“I am never glad for you to be hurt, Wexxon,” he replied. “But I was hoping that now you might see just how dangerous your brother really is. Do you think that warrior would’ve ever stood a chance against you if you weren’t wounded beforehand? If he hadn’t known just where to strike you from your brother’s training?”
“And yet, his head rolled against the sand and not my own.”