Xora Read online

  Xora

  Olivia Riley

  XORA

  Vrisha Warriors

  Copyright © 2021 Olivia Riley

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including, but not limited to, photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing by the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, locales and events are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, places or events are purely coincidental.

  Cover by Olivia Riley

  Stock Photos: Depositphoto

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Newsletter

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Xora

  The planet was on fire. Flakes of ash and embers scorched the dry air, whipping up into the sky from the furious winds. The ground was scorched and barren, nothing more than coal-black rock. Lava spat up from various wells along the earth, trickling and pouring down the mountainside. Great clouds of steam and smoke billowed into the air.

  Varacor looked like a hellish, desolate, and ultimately useless planet to those who didn't know better, but to the vrisha it was ripe with resources that would serve their homeworld of Tryth quite well. The blazing, fiery atmosphere turned others away, but for the vrisha, it suited them just fine. The heat, they liked. The cold was what irritated them.

  Xora knew he should be grateful, in that regard, for being sent to Varacor when he could have been placed on an ice planet like Oris or Synia. Thankfully, few vrisha were punished that severely. As he walked along the vast lava fields, hopping over small streams of liquid fire, he tried to consider himself lucky. The heat licked at him but did not burn as the thick scales of his body were resistant to the flames. Only thick metal boots did he acquire, for even his feet would melt against the rock if unprotected. He breathed steadily through his metal face-helm so as not to breathe in the toxic vapors, stopping occasionally to examine the steamy horizon as a scanner across his vision told him of what elements lay ahead. Keeping his spiny tail up high so as not to accidentally graze it across the burning ground, he crossed the landscape on long legs, keeping a tight hold on the air-tight container across his back.

  When he found a patch of brightly colored rocks as smooth as glass, he crouched down carefully, examined them, then placed each into his container. The stonelights made for an efficient light source back on Tryth but could be melded into other means for ship parts. Gathering them wasn't particularly dangerous work, though tedious and, sometimes, mindless. But it was a job that needed careful handling. Xora couldn't say that it was fulfilling, but, again, he attempted to remind himself that it was better than being on Oris or Synia, collecting the freezing red metals that accumulated at the bottom of lakes for the making of cold-resistant materials.

  The council had been merciful in where they’d sent him.

  A red light went off in his face-helm, and a voice grumbled in his ear.

  "Xora. You are needed at the core-base."

  Rysna's words made Xora pause, his muscles tightening. Hardly was he ever needed at core-base, especially in the middle of a shift.

  He drew himself up and, making sure the container was shut tight, slowly started back toward the vrisha base. The winds picked up, throwing dry heat and ash against his body, turning his deep red scales a light gray. As he approached the central base, he crept past the ship dock—one ship being prepped for take-off and already packed with resources to be taken to Tryth. He glanced at the ship and felt a sting of bitter regret before brushing the feeling aside as he approached the door. He slapped the pad on the side of the wall and watched as the blackened metal slid slowly open. Head bent, he slipped inside the small room, then waited for the door to close from behind. The howling of the wind died out, and the ash that had followed him inside fell slowly in flakes to the ground.

  Xora carefully took off his helm and set it on a hook on the wall, then took off his boots and set them and the container aside before turning for the door opposite and entering into the main control room. As he sauntered past the main console, he paused to stare at Rysna's back who was watching the monitors.

  "The callroom," Rysna said without looking over at him. "The council wishes to speak with you."

  Xora didn't move at first. Then he turned his head to look over at the door leading to the callroom. His breath caught in his chest, and his hands clenched into fists. He couldn't imagine what they needed to say to him now after everything. Confused and a little annoyed, he approached the callroom door, paused again, then stepped inside.

  The room was dark save for the dim orange glow along the floor. Xora approached the center, and the lights brightened. The walls that had been nothing more than dark slates of metal transformed to create an image of a larger chamber with figures seated in an arch around him. The holographic images made it seem that he was now standing before the council on Tryth as if teleported back home when, in reality, he had not moved an inch.

  The council that made up several vrishan queens stared down at him, most solemn in their expressions. Red eyes of various shades studied him quietly before one queen in particular rose. Xora recognized Queen Shira and bowed.

  "I see Varacor has left its mark on you, Xora," she stated as her eyes peered down at his ash-covered torso.

  Xora placed his hands behind his back and stood tall, refusing to give away his thoughts and feelings through expression. "It has certainly kept my spirit warm."

  Queen Shira dipped her head, her tail flicking behind her. Xora couldn't help admiring her powerful, yet rigid form. Her tall, slender horns curving across her skull were decorated with beads of red and gold jewels. Vain as it was, Queen Shira still held an air of tight authority.

  Her eyes narrowed on him. "I imagine the work hasn't been too difficult for the likes of you?"

  "It has not," Xora replied. He thought it over, then said, "Did you expect otherwise?"

  Queen Shira's mouth twitched. "No," she admitted. "But it is a sad waste to see such potential thrown to the fire."

  Xora bent his head. He did not let his eyes fall from hers despite the tight knot of shame welling up in his chest. He'd heard her and the others say the same many times before. And yet still they had agreed to his sentence.

  "What is it you want from me?" he asked. If all they wanted was to tell him again how disappointed they were and to see that he was fulfilling his work as necessary, then he would have thought twice about taking their call.

  "We want to give you another chance," Queen Jezil, an older female beside Shira, confessed.

  Xora grew still. Before he could think of a response, Queen Shira addressed him.

  "You and I both know you were not made to work the fire fields, Xora," she said. "You are of the warrior class, and such lowly work is beneath you. But we cannot allow you back to Tryth or within another queen's haven without some measure of payment for your mistake."

  Mistake. Such a weightless word for his crime.

  "And my rank?" Xora asked, curious now at the turn of this new decision.

  Queen Shira lifted her head. "It will not be restored. But we will consider unexiling you, and Queen Matis"—she gestured to the female to her right—"is willing to allow you within her group of warriors under the command of her predomis, Axus."

  Predomis. The queen's guardian; her mate and highest warrior. That was supposed to be his. Now, all he could hope for was to be one's underling. Still, he could not expect a better offer. As Queen Shira stated (and with which he thoroughly agreed) the work of the fire fields was no place for a warrior of his caliber.

  "What is it you ask of me then?" Xora said, his curiosity growing. He couldn't pretend he wasn't pleased by the possibility of restoring some measure of status amongst his people.

  "Look before you," Queen Shira ordered. In front of Xora, the image of a small blue and white planet hovered before him. "This world is called Oceanus," she said. "It is a water-based planet several systems outside of Tryth's. It has been partially settled and worked upon by few. The mineral and element-rich ground beneath the ocean is its biggest draw."

  Xora's eyes narrowed on the bright blue orb. "Who settles on it?"

  "Humans mostly. But there are many gyda and some corax as well. They have built small city hubs beneath the waters."

  It took effort for Xora not to grimace. Corax, he had only seen in images, so he had no impression yet of them. Gyda, he had seen a handful of times, and he found them to be mostly docile and unproblematic. Humans, however...

  He'd encountered them briefly on his missions. Usually from crossing paths with trader ships on open-trade worlds. There was the human queen too, but he had never met her. What humans he ha
d encountered were always distrusting in their nature. Every single one who'd gotten a look at him had stunk of fear, some with a murderous intent in their eyes, others who looked ready to bolt, as if expecting to be chased by a vicious predator.

  Which he was, no doubt. But ever since the alliance, the line between predator and prey had been blurred. Not that there hadn't been fights despite the pact. Not all vrisha had been accepting of their weaker looking allies. It was a fragile alliance at best. And with the rebel vrisha and their mad queen now hiding out somewhere in the neutral zones, attacking humans and otherkin alike, the alliance was becoming even more shaky.

  When Xora had been amongst his warrior class, rising in status to become a predomis, he had been for such an alliance. Now he found it meant little to him.

  "There is one resource on Oceanus in particular," Queen Shira continued, "that has our special interest. A crystallized rock we call ulimir. We were given a sample of this mineral by the gyda and have found it holds useful properties. If melded, it creates a stronger base for materials, more so than the stonelight you harvest. And if broken down even further, it could expand and double our energy source. We are talking more powerful and durable ships and tools."

  Xora could already guess what she was asking of him. "You want me to go and collect these crystals."

  She bowed her head. "Yes. But do not fret. It is not an easy task like the one you have here. You will be able to make use of your warrior skills. For the ulimir can only be found in and around caves at certain depths. And it is said an aquatic species called murza call such places their territory. They are nasty little beasts, but we are greatly confident you can handle them."

  Xora stared across the planet's surface, studying each side. There were no landmasses, just endless water. "What about a ship?"

  "You will take one to the city named Greenloch."

  Xora looked up at her. "And a crew?"

  "Only you, warrior," she answered.

  His mouth twitched in another almost grimace. "I’m to stay in the humans’ territory alone? Will they even allow me to enter?"

  "Negotiations have been made. They cannot withhold you from the city, and you will be given permission to work within a base where you can properly collect and store the crystals until enough have been acquired."

  Xora's eyes narrowed as he wondered what sort of deal had been struck in order to allow him near so many humans. Despite the alliance, most vrisha kept their distance as his kind made the humans nervous and panicky. Even sometimes violent. More than once, a band of male humans had tried to take down one of his own and had, unsurprisingly, failed each time. Their arrogance astounded him as did their stupidity.

  "When do I go?" he asked finally.

  "A ship is ready for you now. Pack whatever you require. The rest will be onboard." Queen Shira leaned forward to lock eyes with him. "Succeed in this, Xora, and your sentence will be lifted. You can return home."

  Xora hardly moved, then gave a quick bow before stepping back. The queens disappeared, and the room returned to darkness. He left the callroom and started across the main control room before stopping and looking over to Rysna.

  "I'm leaving," Xora told him. "And I'm taking a few things with me."

  Chapter Two

  Grace

  The heating system was broken again. Grace knew for a fact because it was damn freezing when she woke up in her room and the lights had flickered on, informing her it was morning. She could see her breath puffing in the air as she sat up from her bed with a groan, her body as cold as a corpse.

  Walking like a zombie on stiff legs, she made her way into the bathroom and got herself into the shower to warm herself, cursing the entire way. It seemed the heating system on this piece of junk went off once a month, and Grace wondered just how lucky they'd been that the pressure system hadn't failed as well. Brushing her teeth, then braiding out her hair, she quickly dressed in her thin gray uniform before forcing herself out of her unit. Filling up her canteen with a mediocre coffee blend from the kitchen, she made her way down the narrow tunnel leading to the main building of the rig K32. She barely had time to look out through the thick window glass along the tunnel to see across the deep reef bed and the brightening waters above before entering through to the locker room. Her rig was about halfway down the mountainside, not too deep below the surface but just far enough down that the waters looked murky and bleak. Not the crystal-clear waters that some observed farther up but at least not the dark, nearly black waters some endured below, where instead of rocky reefs, one saw tentacled monstrosities flitting around the tunnel-side, unblinking eyes peering in. Here, there was very little life save for the schools of silverspines that were as plain as any fish she'd seen in images from Earth.

  As she slipped on her oversuit, she muttered, "Morning," to a few of her rig mates who were already out the door to start their shift. Stifling a yawn, she made her way to one side of the locker room, over to a kiosk.

  Taking out her ID card, she slipped it into a narrow slot and waited.

  "Grace Monrow, number 5324, K32," the machine droned out. "Today's assignment number..."

  The screen blinked out several times, and Grace banged on it with the side of her fist. It worked itself for another moment, then revealed a number.

  "Number 12: Leasehand and sanitization."

  Grace let out a soft curse under her breath and took back her ID after the kiosk spat out her card. The third time this week, she was served on cleaning duty. The assignments were supposed to be randomized, but she was starting to wonder if they really were or if someone was out to get her. That someone being Kristoff, but she really couldn't imagine even he had the power to change or control the program. He certainly wouldn't change it for her now if she asked.

  "Gonna be a great day, Grace," she muttered as she went over to the closet by a set of lockers and began grabbing supplies.

  She muttered that to herself every day, despite the majority of the time, it never being the case. Some days were manageable or passable at best. Other days were 'scream inside your room till your throat cracked' at worst. Thankfully, those were far and few, but every day was long and hard regardless of if they were good or bad.

  Grace clipped a small metal tank to her belt. The tank was fixed with a hose that connected to a metal rod with a spray nozzle at its head. Then she took a collapsible mop and clipped it to the other side of her belt. Stuffing a few rags in a thigh pocket, she put on a pair of gloves and a ventilator, then made her way out of the locker room.

  As she started across the long bridge, she nodded to a pair of gyda who passed by. The fish-like males that reminded her of the swamp creature from the black lagoon regarded her quietly but didn't say hello. She knew some of their language without having to use a translator but not enough to have a serious conversation. She'd only picked up a few words from what she'd heard. They were the only alien species she had any inclination to talk to as they were known to be of the friendlier type. Any others, she didn't expect to ever run into, and corax were just mean, scheming bastards she had no interest in talking with.

  As she entered into the central core of the drill site, she went to work, starting with spraying the walls and pipes and scrubbing off the black and green slime that was accumulating in corners and between pipe connectors. They could have had a bot doing her job, but the companies that controlled the rigs claimed they couldn't afford the maintenance of such bots. Also, they claimed the bots to be a safety hazard if they were ever to malfunction. Grace thought it was a bunch of bull really, but what could be done?

  The drill behind her made a dull roar, and Grace looked up at the massive circular machine with wandering curiosity. Its top reached several stories above, yellow lights beaming upward as if the drill was some kind of massive statue made to be studied and idolized. On one wall a few stories above was a window where several people worked at the controls and watched monitors. Grace frowned and felt a pang of bitterness, wishing she were up there instead. Or better yet, in the sub-robotics level where she could control the mechs that went across the surface of the reef to collect various rock deposits. Anywhere really besides cleaning around the facility.