Brocke: Alien Warlord's Conquest (Scifi Surprise Pregnancy Alien Military Romance) (16 page)

She knew better than anyone how the details of someone’s death could be changed afterward by the one who murdered them.

It wasn’t an exhibition. Condor was simply executing his first murders on the way to razing all of Gaiya clean of half-breeds.

C
ondor’s treachery
didn’t come as a surprise to Brocke.

He had expected worse, much worse. The sheer amount of opponents didn’t scare him, not in the slightest. The only thing he’d been afraid of was Condor following through with his threats towards Cora.

As the horde of warriors charged him in front of the confused crowd, Brocke saw that the priest made no such move.

He needs her. He believes I will win.

The idea brought a smirk to his lips as Brocke raised his swords to meet the warriors head-on, starting with the one Condor had called Nargh.

It was strange to have someone like Condor put so much faith in him. In a weird way, the priest believed him capable of anything if that was the level of overkill Condor thought he needed. Not only had he completely abandoned his point by setting a whole two units worth of warriors on him, the priest also kept Cora alive in case Brocke managed to win against all odds.

He had expected better from Condor.

Yet none of that mattered, nothing else was important while Cora was in danger. Ever since Brocke had seen her disappear behind the door in Horech’s pod, he’d seen nothing but red before his eyes. Killing Horech hadn’t felt enough to quench Brocke’s thirst for revenge, but the warriors attacking him from all sides provided a nice release.

It seemed Brocke shared the experience of betrayal with Cora now. He had known Horech was a weakling, but Brocke had never suspected how deep that went. Just like that, one man’s dishonor had put Cora and his child in danger, and Brocke would never forgive that. He already regretted making Horech’s death so quick.

Through the mass of bodies trying to trample him beneath their heavy boots, Brocke could see that Cora was still in danger despite his every attempt to keep her safe. The mere thought of her and their child getting hurt made the blood burn in his veins, the combat hormones rush through his blood stream.

With a roar, Brocke charged the first unlucky bastards who thought they could take him down. He didn’t know whether they actually believed they could, if they were
that
deluded by Condor’s false promises. Ultimately, it didn’t matter.

They would all die the same.

The truth was out in the first few seconds of the fight to death when three bodies lay before Brocke’s feet, and he was nowhere closer to dying.

The Guardian saw the understanding hit the others, the fact that perhaps Condor had been right to send them all at once.

To their credit, as much as Brocke was willing to offer any, none of them ran. That wouldn’t have been surprising either. Powerful, skilled warriors had done that before when faced with the dreaded Nightmare from Gomor.

Instead, a stubborn desire to kill him at all costs took over them. Brocke could practically see Condor’s words playing in the minds of his attackers as he was dodging the blows of the mass of blades around him. He was nothing but a half-breed, right? It would have been expected of him to go down easily, but Brocke had no intention of doing so.

Of the warriors facing him, only Nargh was still able to match him blow for blow. Brocke knew that in a fair fight he would have killed the big bastard already, but he had a whole wall of swords to parry in addition to the giant.

The blades scraped on his new armor, the only sign he got of some blows actually landing. The scratches were gathered so thickly it looked like the armor had been clawed up. But it held like it was supposed to, and so did the armors of his opponents.

Unlike them, Brocke wasn’t wasting his time by trying to cut through the resistant metal plates. He aimed his blows at the unprotected necks, at every chink in the armor he knew of. Corgan armors were easy to bypass if you knew how the plates fit together, and Brocke certainly did. The enemies were bleeding from countless small wounds until he had the time to deliver the final blow.

Those were the unlucky ones. Once Brocke was given enough room to properly swing the two thin blades, he cut off the head of the first warrior who got too close, thinking Brocke was dropping his guard.

There were so many warriors around him, each trying to land one good blow. The battle continued on the bodies of the dead. Not only ones Brocke had killed, but the ones who had died before. Thinking of them made his fury rage even stronger. The pure cowardice of Condor’s actions was unimaginable, yet right there in front of him.

And somewhere further back, the priest didn’t even have to fight his own battles.

As soon as Brocke looked up, he saw that it wasn’t true anymore.

The last he’d seen of Cora she’d been her trapped in Condor’s hold, but the little Terran had gotten free. She was struggling with Condor for a blaster while Komol was in uproar. Some of Condor’s priests, it seemed, were trying to get away, seeing that the future didn’t bode well for them. It left Condor alone to fight Cora, but that was the last thing Brocke wanted.

She was tough and not unskilled while Condor was untaught but stronger. That made it anybody’s game, and Brocke wasn’t going to take chances with Cora’s life.

Focusing all of his attention on Nargh, Brocke turned to the podium Condor and Cora were fighting on. The giant noticed his change of course and resisted all the harder. A true fanatic.

Brocke could see Nargh’s eyes burn with loathing for him, but disappointment was also present. He didn’t understand why Brocke wasn’t dead already, and it made him prone to mistakes. People who thought victory should be handed to them often fell for that trap.

The blaster shot went by so close it almost took Nargh’s head off. In the middle of a battle where every second was precious, they both still turned to the podium while the crowd around the arena screamed in terror.

The shot had missed all of the warriors. Most had been lucky, some had dodged, so it had hit a resident of Olyra straight in the face. The man collapsed while panic set in, and people tried to get away from Komol as fast as possible.

Brocke could see the look on Condor’s face as the priest’s followers began to scatter. The blaster was in his hand as Cora was getting up from the floor.

The guardian realized the shot had been aimed at him, and that Cora wasn’t fighting for
her
life but his. Catching Nargh’s next strike on the edge of his sword, Brocke watched as the little Terran threw herself at Condor again before the priest could take aim.

Brocke needed to get to Cora before it was too late.

Never had such a small distance seemed so great to him. Every step took a whole lifetime. Every inch of ground was bought with blood and screams as the remaining warriors redoubled their efforts to kill him before Brocke could do the same to them. Their strikes became desperate and uncoordinated, but that was the worst case scenario.

If a warrior didn’t truly know where he was about to hit, neither did Brocke.

The fight became the most brutal he’d ever been in. The warriors seemed to have some idea of tactics at least, trying to force him against the wall of the arena. Brocke knew it was a trap, but every step he took back gave him chances to cut down another opportunist who saw an opening in his defense.

Out of the corner of his eye, Brocke kept watch over Cora, seeing her still locked in her own little battle with Condor. Seeing her perseverence was the only bright light in the otherwise terrible situation. From the moment Brocke had met her in Gomor, Cora had hated their enemy with a passion. For everything he did, for everything he was. She finally had the chance to show how much.

There was no finesse in Cora’s technique, no clear purpose other than hurting Condor and keeping him from firing the gun, but she was beautiful in her ferocity. Cora was fighting the priest with everything she had.

As for Condor, he was as ruthless as she, and the mere thought alone was enough to bring Brocke back to his own duels. He knew Condor only needed a second to pull the trigger, and it didn’t matter at that point which one of them he hit.

Nargh came at him finally. The warrior truly was a giant, towering even above Brocke’s bulk, but he wasn’t slow. The swords in his hands were larger than the regular ones everyone else used. Brocke could see why; they would have been little more than knives in his palms.

The big warrior met him head-on, the only one who dared to maintain eye-contact with Brocke. The guardian almost respected that until he remembered the allegiances Nargh had chosen.

The press of the bodies eased up a little as the other warriors gave Nargh room to properly swing his swords. Brocke moved before any of them could react.

Still, Nargh’s first blow came so fast he only had time to dodge under it and bring both of his blades around with a wide swing. For that, Brocke practically had to slide on the ground, but the momentum of his swords was great. Nargh saw it too, bracing against the hits when it was too late to jump out of the way.

The swords hit, cutting deep into the armor, but as hard as it had been to pierce the metal, it was harder to get them out. Nargh roared, pain mixing with a victorious cry. The giant backed away from Brocke quickly, ripping one of the blades from Brocke’s grip by pulling it along with his body.

Brocke was truly impressed, but it didn’t save Nargh. The few steps he’d taken were enough time for Brocke to jump into the air and bring his one remaining blade down on the giant’s head. Already in motion, Nargh wasn’t able to move out of the way, and Brocke’s sword split his skull open with a nauseating splice.

The remaining warriors all made the mistake of not taking the opportunity Nargh had given them with his death. They could have used the moment it took Brocke to retrieve his other sword to mount some sort of an attack, but instead they backed away, sealing their fate.

The guardian jumped into action. Like the watcher in the night that he was, he used the fear reflected clearly in the eyes of his prey. Charging at the first ones who tried to run from him, Brocke simultaneously faced the last challenge in the arena.

His armor was so dented and scratched it was practically useless by that point, but he never stopped. Komol was running empty as the residents of Olyra tried to get as far away from the mess as they could, but Brocke knew their days were numbered. The warlord raised his swords, as damaged and battered as he was, to face the final warriors when Cora screamed.

“Brocke!” she howled.

The guardian dodged instinctively, and the blaster shot hit the warrior who had tried to sneak up behind him.

Up on the podium, Condor had won the blaster, but Cora was clinging to the priest’s arm. She’d made Condor miss, and Brocke had no doubt who would be the priest’s next victim.

The last of the warriors came at him, and Brocke cut through them on the run. The blows were careless for him, and he didn’t have time to finish them all off properly, as Cora was about to face Condor’s wrath.

Brocke would rather have died than let her do that alone. They had come too far together for him to lose her in the last second.

Condor shoved Cora away. The priest’s eyes flickered between them for a second, choosing who to shoot, but he ended up doing neither. He pulled Cora up again, holding the blaster against her head.

Brocke stopped at once, only a few feet from the podium.

His hearts were pounding a furious, raging rhythm unlike anything the guardian had ever felt before. Seeing Cora at the mercy of that monster, remembering the things the priest was capable of… Every inch of Brocke ached to dash out, to rip Condor’s head off his shoulders with his bare hands, but he didn’t move.

“Well done, half-breed,” Condor hissed, his face twisted with rage. “But I’m afraid I can’t let you have this victory. My work must continue no matter what.”

“Brocke won,” Cora snapped at him, but the priest didn’t take his eyes off the guardian. “You have lost everything, can’t you see that? You were wrong, and you are alone.”

Condor’s laughter was maniacal as he nodded.

“Perhaps. But I’m not going back to Gomor. I will take you with me and start again. Stay where you are, half-breed. If you do as I say, I might not kill her.”

The implications were clear enough. Condor was promising mercy for Cora, but even facing his death didn’t make the priest go back on his word to kill their child.

Brocke was disappointed. In the end, Condor was nothing but a murderer, but he was about to make Cora his next victim, and that meant Brocke had to still take him seriously.

“Don’t let him go,” Cora pleaded. “He can’t get away, not after everything he’s done.”

Brocke thought she didn’t know what she was asking him to do until he saw her wink. The nod of trust was almost non-existent, but the guardian caught it.

“He won’t hurt me,” she went on as Brocke made sure he had a good grip on both blades.

Missing wasn’t an option. Losing Cora and their child was unthinkable. Brocke couldn’t imagine a life without them anymore, and a monster like Condor wasn’t going to take them from him.

“He is too afraid of you,” Cora said, and that was the signal.

Condor’s eyes flared to life with rage. All that time, he’d been backing away, dragging Cora along with him. The priest had been smart, knowing he couldn’t take his eyes off Brocke even for a second. Cora proved smarter than him, finding the right taunt to make the priest’s head snap to her in uncontrollable anger.

Fear always reigned supreme, but denial of it was a close second.

“That half-breed doesn’t scare me –” Condor got to say before he realized the mistake he’d made.

He only had a moment to turn back to Brocke. Just in time to see the blade flying through the air, hitting him square in the face.

Cora couldn’t suppress a scream as blood trickled down Condor’s face before the priest collapsed and the blaster clattered to the floor.

Brocke rushed to her, bringing her into his safe embrace. He could feel her shiver against him, death having passed them by so close.

He would have liked to keep Cora in his arms forever, but above all, Brocke wanted to get her out of there. So he let her go, leading Cora away from the place that was about to become nothing more than a page in history.