Wrecked - A Dark Sci-Fi Romance

“Kill it, Isu. Kill it, or you will never be a warrior.”

I see the pain in its eyes. It was innocent, until I brought it to my world. I will kill it. Not because doing so will make me a warrior, but because I have made a series of mistakes that make death a kindness.

I crush its head with the club, obliterate the part where it feels pain.

There is silence after. There should be celebration, but I do not feel like celebration. I have destroyed something beautiful by bringing it down here.

* * *

Present day

I look at Aspel, and I feel that same pity coursing through me. Again, I have taken something wild and brought it to the burrow where it will kill and then die.

“I killed something that did not want to die,” I tell her simply.

“You rebelled against our rule. You brought a living lesser-wyrm into the burrow, and it died in the same place the human died today. Why is it that death follows you, Isu?”

“I will not be slaying this one,” I say. If they have ideas of hurting her, I will fight them with every bit of strength I have. I am still the only one of my kind to have brought a living lesser-wyrm into the burrow. Each of the others have brought the head, or nothing at all. It has been quite some time since any of our kind has taken the warrior trial. Most believe it unnecessary now that we live inside these deep burrows, forever protected from what they consider to be every danger, though some still stalk the dark halls of our subterranean world.

“You push the boundaries of your usefulness, Isu,” they say. “You know you will be needed at the end of time, but you cannot act with complete impunity.”

“I will discipline her. I will tame her to my will. She will never do such a thing again, I promise you that.”

“The wild can never be truly tamed,” the elders intone. “Just as fate cannot be cheated. Be careful, Isu. The sands are growing thin.”

I do not know what they mean by that, but I know that they have chosen to be merciful again, and for that I am grateful.

Aspel

“I’m not sorry.”

I say the words as he drags me from the elders and takes me once more into the depths of his world.

“You don’t need to be sorry. I will make you sorry.”

He takes me back to his burrow, pushes rocks across the door that are too big for me to move, and traps me in the space that is too small for any healthy being.

“You brought me shame today, Aspel.”

“It sounds as though you have a history of bringing shame to yourself,” I reply.

“You dare argue with me? You have shed the blood of man. In the standard tongue, that is murder.”

“That was mercy.”

I sense that he is trying to conjure anger, but he cannot quite make it. I think he secretly agrees with my action, but what he does not seem to realize is the same sickness that came upon the poor man will come upon me if I am left to linger in these depths forever.

“Humans were not made for this world,” I say. “I need light, sun, and air.”

“You make demands of me when you still have blood on your hands?”

I look at him blankly. I do not see what difference it makes. I know what I need, and I must tell him, or he will not know.

“You should be concerned about your punishment,” he says. “I will punish you, Aspel. The taking of life must be addressed.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you destroyed what was not yours to destroy.”

“So it is a matter of property. As if I broke a toy.”

His powerful body glows brighter as he takes hold of me, one hand wrapping around my upper arm, the other clasping me lightly, but firmly about my throat. “You humans are as toys to our kind. That does not mean we do not value you.”

“That toy was already broken,” I tell him.

“That is not what matters. You acted recklessly, violently…”

“I was going to be turned into minced meat just days ago,” I tell him. “All time from this point onward is unearned. I will do what I see fit, with no fear for consequence…”

“You speak like a warrior, little human. But you are captive, and captives must endure pain when they misbehave.” With that he tosses me face down on the skins that make his bed and follows his words with a harsh lash of something I did not see in his hand, but feel across my buttocks like a lick of pure fire.

I look over my shoulder to see Master Isu’s lash rising through the air, flame licking along the length of the curling implement before it is whipped down again against my skin, landing in a complex curl across my cheeks. It is like being punished by a living thing, a sinuous snake of cruel discipline.