Authors: Carmella Jones
5.
As the pair lay entwined in a peaceful embrace, the night grew still. There was no darkness, as the sun never fully set. It merely dimmed, giving the room an eerie glow, almost as if lit by candlelight. Jocasta's chest rose and fell while Vangorg's hand rested on her bosom and his head rested on her shoulder. He was relaxed and content, and Jocasta watched all three of his eyelids flutter open and shut like butterfly wings against his narrow pupils. She ran her hands along his powerful arms and felt grateful that he was hers. When he was around no other male even dared glance her way. It was widely known that, despite having reproduced, they had claimed each other. Disrespect for their bond would be considered dishonorable and result in a swift death for anyone considering challenging Vangorg for ownership of her.
Jocasta felt an odd stirring in her soul, and inhaled and exhaled deeply as she alternately watched him sleep and gazed out the window. She didn't have any special sixth sense like Vangorg did, but she did feel as if something was just not right in that moment. Thinking Vangorg would stir at the feel of her blood pressure rising, she knew that something was off in the universe when he didn't and instead just lay silently snoring. She shifted underneath him and felt pressure on her bladder. Moving him gently to the side, she sat on the edge of the bed and placed her feet on the floor. Standing up to go relieve herself, she saw a shadow pass by the sun as the sky darkened. Before she could awaken Vangorg, she heard the explosions in the distance and heard the screaming as fires erupted. The sounds of laser beams and the tortured groans of dying citizens could be heard growing closer as Jocasta then shook Vangorg harder. “My love, wake up! You were right! We're under attack!”
“Wha?! Something's wrong. I didn't sense anything. I must go, Jocasta. Wait here for me and don't let anyone in our home until I return. I love you.”
“Go, please go save our people, my hero!”
Running to the war room, Vangorg picked up his shield and sword and lit the torches by the mantel to summon his ancestors and their own band of warriors from the ether to assist in the fight. His cloak rustled in the wind as he opened the doors to the palace and saw the enemy approaching rapidly. They were hulking creatures with tentacles on their heads, and appeared almost barbaric, with saliva and blood running down their chins as they tore through the guards with their razor-sharp teeth. They were bloodthirsty and they were numerous. Vangorg saw what appeared to be their leader walking behind his forces, shouting commands, and even when going into a large group of opposing soldiers they did not hesitate. They obeyed him even to at the expense of their own lives. Undisturbed by the loss of life, their general kept sending man after man into battle.
“Come, my friends,” called Vangorg, “let us fight for our lands and protect our women and children. We must be brave now. It has come time to stand our ground!”
Vangorg drew his sword and led his smaller army directly towards Hertzog's army. They growled and snarled as the Silvian soldiers stabbed and hit them with their swords and shields. Vangorg's troops fought valiantly, suffering burns from laser guns and broken bones that could be heard snapping throughout the battlefield. Rushing into the fray, Vangorg summoned the strength of his ancestors as a spiritual army of thousands stood by him. He cut through several infantrymen easily as his assistants made a force field around him. The summoning was always fleeting, though, and it took nearly all of Vangorg's energy to maintain it. When he reached the opposing general his strength left him suddenly, and he stood solo against the beast-like creature whose glowing red eyes shone with only hatred and scorn.
Hertzog looked at Vangorg, and as he towered over him, said, “Kneel. Bow to me and surrender your city.”
Lunging at Hertzog with a parry, Vangorg gritted his teeth and snarled, “Never. We will stand and fight for our home until death, you scum!”
“Very well then. Die.”
As Vangorg lunged at Hertzog, the beast-like creature sidestepped him and hit him in the back of his head with the butt end of his laser gun. Vangorg grunted and shook his head back and forth in pain, attempting to clear his double vision. Recovering, he ducked a punch Hertzog threw and extended his blade in the air, aiming for Hertzog's head. Had he been a few seconds faster he would have decapitated the being. Instead he sliced off a section of the alien's tentacles. Howling in pain, the beast salivated and roared in pain and anger. He reacted swiftly and brutally, grabbing Vangorg's cloak and flinging him to the ground like a ragdoll. He then towered over him and kicked him in the head, sending blood seeping into the sand underneath, turning it an even darker shade of crimson. Confident that Vangorg lay defeated, or possibly dead, Hertzog ordered his troops towards the palace to plunder anything and everything they could find.
“Go. Burn their structures. Steal their riches. Take their supplies. Bring me their women. All of them. We can make use of them more than anything.”
Walking among his troops as they approached the palace, he watched in satisfaction as stray citizens were easily bested in their combat efforts. He had not anticipated such an easy victory, but would take great joy in domesticating their remaining citizens and bending them to his will. He could see they were hearty people and would make good slaves as miners or farmhands. Yes. This would increase his wealth immensely and that would provide for future conquests. He was especially pleased with their women. Their bodies looked especially soft and supple. He enjoyed the way their curves seemed smoother and their hips angled differently than the alien women he was used to. Their demeanor seemed less harsh as well, matching their delicate appearance. He couldn't wait to break one in for his very own, to experiment with their bodies and see exactly how soft they were. They seemed delicate and breakable, both physically and emotionally. Again, this was an excellent combination.
Jocasta heard the glass door at the front of the palace shatter as she hid underneath her marriage bed. She knew that the invaders had broken through their front lines of defense if they had made it this far. She closed her eyes and thought about Vangorg. He couldn't have failed her. He was her champion and her hero. Surely he was still alive. She would feel their bond break in her bones if he had been killed in combat. She would feel his spirit entering her veins as he would be absorbed into her as part of the ether world.
“Hello? Anyone home?”
The chilling alien voice echoed throughout the rooms, and Jocasta could hear their movements thundering and plodding throughout, breaking glasses and artifacts, destroying ancient works of art, and taking whatever they chose. As the sounds approached the doorway the only thing Jocasta knew to do was lie completely still in hopes they would not be able to sense her humanity and simply think the palace had been abandoned. She closed her eyes and focused all of her thoughts on Vangorg commanding her body to be motionless. She tried to slow her breathing so it didn't come out in fearful, ragged gasps. As soon as she had that thought, she heard a crunching sound to her right. There was someone in the room with her. Biting her lip, she made an effort to control any emotion as an otherworldly voice boomed, “I know you're here. I smell you. I favor it. Come out now and your punishment will be less severe.”
Swallowing, she still kept silent, even as the creature easily picked up their bed and flung it against the wall. “Haha. Some of you creatures never cease to amuse me. Hiding under the bed like an infant. Do I frighten you? I should.”
Jocasta attempted to get up and run out of the room before the alien beast, whose eyes glowed like the fires of hatred, could reach her. It was to no avail, however. He was much stronger and faster than she was. He easily caught her in his arms and with one swift motion knocked her unconscious. As her vision faded the only thought in her mind was that of Vangorg. As she mentally attempted to force life into his body, she looked out the window at the orange hue of the fading sun in the distance.
6.
Awakening, Jocasta felt nothing but a throbbing in her head. She shut her eyes tightly, attempting to control it and get her bearings. She was vaguely aware of a presence in the room with her. Suddenly she felt coldness along her body, and even though she could only see the room in front of her, she was aware of her nakedness. Shaking her head gingerly from left to right she surveyed her surroundings and realized she was still in the palace in their bedchamber, but it was altered. There was no warmth in the room, and their ancestral shrine had been removed from the wall, the crest and the shield no longer visible as a source of strength. She breathed in deeply to discover her mouth had been sealed closed with some type of a ball gag. Her hands were bound above her head, she was assuming with either chains or shackles based on the sensation of cold metal against her skin. As she stirred she saw a shadow loom in the distance, turning the corner. Instinctively she scooted closer to the wall as she heard it approaching her. Seeing the glowing red eyes approaching her she shuddered again as he loomed over her, looking down and smiling at her helpless state. “Good. You are up. I was hoping to get started immediately. You need proper training.”
“Fuck you!” She spat out inaudibly under the gag while attempting to pull her chains loose. She was going to fight with everything she had left against this force. Kneeling beside her, Hertzog merely chuckled and took his hand and placed it on her chin, forcing her face up to him. “Now. Play nice. You will be happier in the end. They always are.”
Taking a long nail he caressed her cheek with it, examining the marks it left on her skin, and then took his fingers and felt her hair. He had never encountered a creature with such a soft mane without any apparent purpose. It was merely decoration, like the multicolored feathers of a bird, used to gain a male's attention. He was enamored with its softness against his rough, leathery skin. He would gain great pleasure out of wrapping his hands within it during their time together. “What do you call yourself?”
Reaching down he removed the gag from her mouth. As soon as he did so she began breathing, deeply grateful for the additional oxygen it provided. “Well?”
“Jocasta. It is what I call myself.”
“Not anymore. You are mine now. I will call you Zara. In my language it means ‘dirt.’”
Seeing his eyes glow in pleasure with this insult she only nodded and once more thought of her Vangorg. Being held as a hostage was not entirely new to her, since her life with Vangorg had begun with her abduction, but she remembered how kind he was. He was nothing like this creature that lingered over her, studying her, attempting to figure out how to break her. She felt an odd stirring in her abdomen again and knew that her champion was alive. He had to be, after all. They were not one in spirit yet.
7.
Seeing nothing but red, Vangorg awoke against the rough sand. He wiped the blood from his forehead and it smeared against his palm. He stood shakily and breathed in deeply. Channeling his sixth sense, he caught a glimpse of the beings that had invaded his planet holding his people in chains and making them toil in their mines and shops under forced slavery. Gathering his strength, he knew he could not allow this to happen. He focused all of his energy and thoughts on his wife. She was still alive. He could feel it. He said a silent, focused prayer for strength in this impossible battle. He could feel her heartbeat once more. He could feel her fear as well, and knew that if he did not act soon, she would be killed. Jocasta was a fiery human and one not easily broken. The creature that was keeping her would not put up with what he deemed to be her insolence. Picking up his sword and shield from the dust, Vangorg ran toward the palace.
Recalling all of their shared moments, he knew that it would be worth it. No matter what the stakes he vowed when she became his wife that he would always protect her and keep her, even after the cold grave had taken them both. He knew if he only had one heartbeat left remaining within his chest he would choose to spend it with her. He would die happily if it meant he would get one last kiss from her, one last look into those kind green orbs she called eyes. Running to the palace, he stood before the doors and stealthily made his way to the back bedroom the pair had shared.
Peeking around the corner he saw the creature standing over his naked and helpless wife. Seeing her in such a state, he couldn't help the anger that bubbled up in his soul. Every hair on his body stood up. He took a deep breath, attempting to steady his emotions and logically come up with a plan to defeat the alien being, but rage boiled within him. She was his and he was hers. No one would ever take that from him. Picking up his sword, his own eyes glowed with adrenaline. Running toward the being, he could find no words. He simply channeled all of the anger and protectiveness he had for Jocasta into his actions. He didn't think this time, didn't attempt to calculate the creature's movements. He just simply reacted, becoming part of the ether around him. Now he was as flexible and as transformative as water. Hertzog turned and saw him and laughed. He couldn't believe that this man thought he could defeat him. “Fool! I will kill you now. You are annoying like a gnat.”
“Jocasta! I love you! I promised you I would return for you.”
Urged on by her pleading eyes and intense stare, he could feel her love and strength coursing through his veins as well. Hertzog swung wildly at Vangorg, who dodged the attack easily and brought his sword down viciously against Hertzog’s arm. Now it was Vangorg who took pleasure in watching the blood pour from the open wound as he continued his attack. Kicking swiftly, he took down the creature in one motion, sweeping its knees out from underneath it. Without remorse and before Hertzog could move or react, Vangorg screamed out in a warrior's cry as he chopped into Hertzog's neck, finishing the attack while panting and watching the blood spurt from the creature's decapitated head. Its eyes glowed a bright red one final time, then faded to black as Vangorg kicked it once more, making sure the body had no life left remaining in it.
Letting his sword clank to the ground, he knelt before his wife and removed the chains from her wrists. She was visibly shaken as tears ran down her cheeks. “Oh, Vangorg. I knew you were alive. I knew you wouldn't leave me.”
Covering her naked body with his cloak, he picked her up gingerly and carried her out of the room away from her temporary prison and the corpse that was still oozing liquid. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her, and he kissed her passionately. She couldn't hold back her sobs as she felt a deep gratitude that he was still alive. He held her closely to him and made shushing sounds, soothing her and letting her know he was not going anywhere, that it was his destiny to keep her safe. “I'm here, my wife. I will never leave you.”
“Vangorg, the city is in shambles and there's been so much suffering and slaughter. What can we do now?”
“Our people have faced adversity before. We are a strong people with great tenacity. We will rebuild together, my love, and will be stronger than ever. When I saw that creature standing over you, I couldn't contain my rage, my dear. I swear to you I will never be that cruel again unless it is warranted.”
She kissed him deeply, then replied, “I know, my love. It is not in your nature. It won't be in your son's nature either.”
“What did you say?”
“When you slept and didn't feel me stirring, I understand why now. Your life force was being placed into my womb. I'm pregnant with your son, my love. I hope this fact makes you happy.”
Taking her hands within his own, Vangorg slumped to his knees as tears of joy streamed down his face. He couldn't have been happier to have an heir to his legacy. Most of the other women who were abducted were already with child. Vangorg was content to leave that detail up to the fates, however. Staring into her eyes, he placed his hands on her abdomen and openly wept while she held the back of his head and kissed his forehead. It was her turn now to make shushing noises. She felt his joy and relief in her body as well.
“I swear to you, as long as there is breath in my body, that child will not want for anything, nor will he ever suffer any tragedy. It's my duty now to protect him and preserve our lineage and our heritage. It's so breathtaking when you think about it, my darling. Stars burn out and planets die, but this force that we have within us has merged to form another being. I will be a good father. I can promise you that my darling.”
“I know you will, my husband. We are all one heartbeat now in the vastness of this universe.”