Kalinda stared at the electric lights, still wondering why they were used in the central hallway but nowhere else. At least they appeared to be electric at first glance—white bulbs or crystals that shone with a steady glow—though she couldn’t see a sign of any power source. She made a mental note of the mystery, her engineering curiosity getting the better of her, but there was nothing she could do to investigate now.
She followed the main tunnel toward the dining hall, passing a number of the unmarked and unlit branches that led deeper into the mountain. Many appeared too narrow to comfortably fit a larger Ateran. Some were clearly hand-carved passages, dug out by the aliens to connect various parts of the mountain city. Then there were others that looked like untouched, natural chasms.
“Where do you think this leads?” Kalinda paused to peer down one of the passages. The darkness only allowed her to see a short distance though it looked like there was a sharp drop not far down the tunnel. The quiet trickle of water reached her, its softness telling her how far away the liquid dripped. She assumed there was a water source somewhere in the mountains, and that was likely why the Aterans had selected the area for their settlement.
“It looks like a good way to break your neck.” Ivy tugged on Kalinda’s arm. “Come on. Breakfast is waiting.”
They continued down the marked path until they reached the main communal area. The others from their group had already arrived and were seated at a stone table near the back. The rest of the space was filled to the brim with gray and brown-scaled Aterans. All of them stared at the human females, many seeming entranced by them. Several of the lizard-like aliens leaned together to whisper, their eyes never leaving the humans.
Kalinda shivered. The Aterans had assured them that they were guests, not prisoners. But the way some looked at them made her feel as if she wasn’t a person but a piece of meat or a prize to be won. She could only hope she was safe in her new mountain home because it seemed she would be stuck there for a very, very long time.
Chapter Two
Nakan hefted the heavy pickaxe over his head and brought it back down with a low grunt of effort. Gravity and his strength forced the pointed tip to strike deep into the hard rock. A jagged fragment chipped from the stone and tumbled across the uneven ground. He hefted the tool once more and gave it a mighty heave, freeing another chunk from its stone prison. The clang of Red Sands metal on Hard Sands stone filled the mine, the sound echoing deeper into the mountain’s distant chambers.
“There are machines specifically designed to mine the tunnels. There is no reason for the warlord of the Hard Sands to toil in the tunnels.” The voice came from behind him, but he ignored the newcomer.
Instead, Nakan focused on channeling his entire being into each swing of the pickaxe—the only way to distract himself from the thoughts consuming his mind. The thoughts plagued him constantly and refused to leave him be.
“I know you have never been good with machines, young one, but our engineers would be glad to teach you.”
He clenched his teeth and did his best to ignore the annoying speaker. He did not wish to think of the mining machines and their necessity in today’s world of stone farming and gathering. He would not argue the truth—that mining by hand was inefficient. He could not deny that the people of the Hard Sands needed all they could acquire of the minerals and resources found within the mountain—both for personal use and for trade with the other territories on Atera. Only the machines operated proficiently, guaranteeing the prosperity of all his people.
Yet there was something much more satisfying about wielding the pickaxe and doing the work by claw. It was the original way of Eana, the Ateran goddess. Teachings indicated that the health of the individual was raised by using her gifts directly. To have another—or a machine—work in his stead would lessen his worth. There was honor and pride in completing the task by claw, in swinging the pick, in striking the stone with the strength of his own body. Not so with the mechanical power of a Red Sands machine. It had taken many seasons for his people to accept that mining machines would be used without offending the goddess, but Nakan knew many still despised the noisy machinery.
He swung the pickaxe once more and a huge crack formed through the center of the stone. A sense of deep satisfaction overtook him, pride suffusing his chest with the accomplishment. He knew his muscles alone would never mine enough stones to support his people, but at times like this, doing the work manually brought him a deep, spiritual satisfaction.
And distraction from his troubles.
Nakan’s muscles ached from the manual labor, but he viewed the pain in a positive light. It would act as another distraction to keep his mind off all else. He could focus on each burning muscle, each twinge and ache in his joints. Yes, this was the perfect task to keep his mind off other things.
Another, sharper pain struck the back of his head and radiated down his neck. He yelped and spun, one hand going to the back of his head while he sought out his attacker—a hunk of rock rolling across the cave floor and his paladin, Aarom.
“Your sire used to believe he could ignore me, too,” his companion drawled. “He learned the hard way that I am quite stubborn.”
Nakan grumbled and bent to snare the rock Aarom had thrown at his head. Nakan tossed the stone up and caught it once more. “Did my sire allow his paladin to assault him in such a way?”
Aarom laughed. “He did not. There is a reason he was warlord and I his paladin.”
Nakan fell silent, knowing what Aarom implied. He was sure the paladin and his warlord sire had dueled more than once in the paladin’s younger days. Had Aarom won such a duel, he would have claimed the title of warlord of the Hard Sands and taken leadership from Nakan’s sire. Should Aarom wish, he could challenge Nakan in such a way. And despite the paladin’s old age, Nakan knew Aarom was a skilled and cunning warrior.
Nakan was not certain he could defeat Aarom in a duel should it ever come to pass, but he did know Aarom had no interest in the mantle of leadership. He was sworn as Nakan’s protector and advisor. For all the time he had known the other male, Aarom had never shown ambition to be anything more than paladin to the warlord.
“Why do you bother me?” Nakan tossed the stone aside. “I am working.”
“You are brooding,” the older Ateran corrected him, a smirk on his thin lips. “You have been this way since you returned from the Heart Sands with those creatures from the stars.”
Nakan snorted and ran a hand over his smooth, scaly head. He turned his back on Aarom, unwilling to meet the paladin’s gaze as he lied. “I am not brooding.”
Aarom laughed and he found he disliked the sound. “You are, young one. You have not slept, and you missed the chime for morning meal. You swing your pick at rock instead of facing your duties to the clan.” He sighed and shook his head. “There is a great deal to discuss. Events move swiftly since your sire’s death. Things are tense and even more so with the arrival of these strange creatures.”
“They are not creatures. They are gifts from Eana.” Nakan resumed his work. He hefted the pickaxe and took a mighty swing. “The goddess sent them to us in a vessel from beyond the stars, just as the seers have long predicted. They are guests of honor.”