Warlord's Return

By Cynthia Sax

Ariq is a barbarian warrior seeking a war.
He locates that battle when he meets Xareni.
* * *
Ariq is one of Chamele’s top warriors. A genetic predisposition to fighting, paired with intensive training and experience, has honed the scarred male into an effective killing machine. He loves war, can’t live without combat.

The Succession Wars, however, have finally ended and the Chamele sector is now at peace. Seeking excitement and purpose, the barbarian warrior accompanies his Second to the Refuge, an outlaw settlement on Carinae E. He hopes to locate the battle he’s been craving there.

Ariq finds that conflict and more when he meets his fated mate.

Xareni owes the Ruler of the Refuge a favor. That’s the only reason she has returned to the settlement. She doesn’t like crowds or structures or a certain barbarian warrior who insists on following her everywhere. It doesn’t matter that there’s a connection between them, that he makes her burn with desire, that he looks at her with heat in his dark eyes.

She’s a monster and monsters don’t need anyone.
* * *
Warlord’s Return is a STANDALONE Alien Barbarian SciFi Romance featuring a determined barbarian warrior, an equally resolute human female, and an eyeball-eating mini dragon.

This story is set in a dark, gritty, sometimes-violent universe.

Warlord’s Return is the sixth of six core stories in the now-completed Chamele Barbarian Warlord series.
Book 1: Warlord Sky
Book 2: Warlord’s Bounty
Book 3: Warlord Unarmed
Book 4: Warlord Reunited
Book 5: Warlord’s Mercy
Book 6: Warlord’s Return

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cynthia Sax
• Release date: Nov 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781987971378

Cynthia Sax

Cynthia Sax lives in a world filled with magic and romance. Although her heroes may not always say, “I love you,” they will do anything for the women they adore. They live passionately. They play hard. They love the same women forever. Cynthia has loved the same wonderful man forever. Her supportive hubby offers himself up to the joys and pains of research while they travel the world together, meeting fascinating people and finding inspiration in exotic places such as Istanbul, Bali, and Chicago.

Book preview

Chapter One

Ariq was a warrior without a war.

The Chamele sector was finally at peace.

That was cause for celebration for the average Chamele. The Succession Wars had waged for solar cycles. Beings had died. Families and homes were destroyed.

All that hardship was over.

But it created a different type of trauma for beings like him, beings who lived for battle—who were created for it. There was a restlessness within Ariq, a need to fight, to kill, to appease that thirst within his soul. The beings in his birthing settlement called it the os khonzon, the vengeance, and that genetic aberration had carved its claws deep into him, threatened to tear him apart.

Carinae E, an outlaw planet, could provide the hostilities he craved…if they ever reached there. The trip there from Chamele 2 was long, and it involved too much sitting on his ass, not enough bloodshed.

Looking for a diversion, Ariq moved through the ship.

Yesun, the youngest Chamele warrior reporting to Oghul, their Warlord’s Second, was seated at his usual place in the nourishment-consumption chamber. He clutched a nourishment bar in each of his hands. Is Second looking for me?

He’s not looking for you. The last time, Ariq saw Second, his friend and leader was cuddling with his gerel, the ship’s Lead Medic. Leave some of those for the rest of us. He teased the always-hungry youth.

I’d leave them all for you if there was something else to eat. Yesun grimaced. These bars don’t fill me up…not like my mother’s do. His gaze lost focus.

The young warrior was likely thinking of all the nourishment he’d eaten in his short lifespan.

Not wanting to hear that recap, Ariq picked up two nourishment bars, a container of beverage, and three cleaning cloths, put them in the holsters on his ass coverings, and hastily exited the space.

Rinchinbal was in the corridor. The Chamele boy had been adopted by Qulpa, the ship’s pilot, and Qulpa’s gerel, their Warlord’s Head of Ship and Weapons Design.

The boy twisted his slender form to the right and to the left. The tips of the mechanical claws attached to his right hand were yet again stuck in the wall panel.

It was the third time in three planet rotations Ariq had found him that way.

Qulpa’s gerel had deliberately made Rinchinbal’s claws dull…which was a good thing as the boy would have done serious harm to himself if they were sharp. His small body was covered with scratches and shallow puncture wounds.

But bluntness meant, with great force, the boy could pierce a surface but couldn’t cut himself loose. He huffed and puffed, struggling to free himself.

Hitch, one of their bots, tugged on the boy’s index finger, seeking to help him. The little creation chirped encouragement. His lights flashed.

Tubby, another bot, was positioned at the boy’s booted feet. He held out a straightening tool.

That would make the situation worse.

Ariq stifled a sigh. Stay still. He extended his natural claws and made slits in the wall panel around the boy’s mechanics. You’re patching these holes also.

Rinchinbal might not yet be a skilled warrior, but he had become very good at repairs.

Please don’t tell Head of Ship and Weapons Design about this. The boy extracted his claws. If she finds out how bad I am at using her claws, how I can’t work them properly, she might send me back, choose another boy and—

Head of Ship and Weapons Design has already invested almost a solar cycle of training into you. Ariq stopped the young Chamele’s impending meltdown.

The boy had been born without claws, had been rejected and abandoned by his biological parents for being different. He worried others would be as judgmental as those uncaring beings had been.

It takes Chameles much longer than one solar cycle to learn how to use their claws. See this mark? Ariq pointed to one of the scars on his side. I inflicted that wound on myself after I had my claws for fourteen solar cycles.

Unlike Rinchinbal, he had been born with claws. He had been trying to impress other boys during training, had misjudged a move and accidentally impaled himself upon his natural weapons.

The boy’s eyes widened. "That’s a great scar."

Hitch whistled, adding his commentary.

Ariq grunted. He had plenty of great scars. Head of Ship and Weapons Design would be a fool to exchange you for another boy at this stage of your training.

Qulpa’s gerel also loved the boy more than she loved her own lifespan. Qulpa cared for Rinchinbal with that same intensity. The boy was part of their family…permanently.

Ariq narrowed his eyes at the young warrior, forcing himself to be tough on him. Rinchinbal wouldn’t respond to soft words. Are you calling Head of Ship and Weapons Design a fool?

No, sir. The boy straightened, almost poking himself in the hips while doing so.

Then stop worrying about nonsense. Ariq shook his head. Patch the holes and continue your training.

He walked away from the boy and the bots.

There was no one currently occupying the training chambers. That was unfortunate for him. Ariq rolled his shoulders back. He would have liked to spar with someone, to burn off his excess energy.

But it was fortunate for another being on board the warship.

Zondoo. He uttered that curse loudly, seeking to get Lysagh’s attention. The bounty hunter-in-training was likely hidden in the ceiling space somewhere. According to the schedule. He moved to the control panel by the door and accessed that information. No one will be using this training chamber for an entire shift.

He blocked that duration, ensuring that would be its reality. A shift should be sufficient time for the girl to use the chamber’s facilities, perhaps have a short rest.

Ariq reached upward, removed a panel from the ceiling. There was a scurrying noise, as though the warship was infested with massive rodents…or with one young human girl.

I’ll store these excess supplies here. He placed the cleaning cloths, container of beverage, and nourishment bars in the space.

Lysagh had hidden aboard the warship during takeoff. Her presence had been detected immediately. His Warlord, his Second, and their gerels had decided to grant the girl the trip she so desperately wanted.

Ariq had convinced them to ignore her presence, to act as though they weren’t aware she was on board. Lysagh wanted to be a stealth occupant.

He would honor her wish.

"I’ll return in one shift. He stressed that duration as he replaced the ceiling tile. There might be warriors to battle here at that time."

He exited the training chamber. The doors slid closed behind him.

Ariq’s next stop was the medic bay.

Seven-One, a Chamele clone, was its only occupant. He stared into a device.

Lead Medic located the DNA of my source’s source’s source. The clone’s voice was tinged with awe, with reverence. I’m looking at it, at the start of it all.

The male was young also. There were few scars on his form.

That’s…good? Ariq guessed at that response. Science wasn’t his skill set.

It’s a miracle. Seven-One looked at him. His eyes glowed. We might be able to track the degradation. Every generation of the youth’s kind—Chamele clones—had more and more genetic weakness. We could also separate the added enhancements from the original DNA.

The clones on Carinae E had fixed the degradation issue. That was the reason Seven-One was joining them on the trip.

Everyone on board the warship had a purpose for visiting the planet…except for Ariq.

Ariq had no purpose at the moment. Anywhere.

And he had no place in any group. He was too seasoned a warrior to spend excessive time with the youths and, unlike the other males with his number of solar cycles, he had no gerel for companionship.

All he had was a burning desire to fight, and that wasn’t needed. Not on the ship. Not in the Chamele sector.

I’ll leave you to your task. He nodded at Seven-One, left the medic bay, continued on his route to the bridge.

His pace was slow. Second and Qulpa were currently situated on the bridge.

He had trained with Second since they first held swords. Qulpa had been their pilot for many solar cycles, many skirmishes. They were his brothers-in-arms, and he would kill for them, die for them.

Normally, he would also rush to see them, to exchange battle stories, to talk fighting strategy. In the past, that had alleviated some of his os khonzon, his need for vengeance.

But since the warriors had obtained gerels, his relationship with them had changed, as had the focus of their discussions.

Their Warlord had found his gerel, now had a baby son. Second and Qulpa were venturing along the same route.

And Chameles were at peace. Talk of killing, of battle, of death, was no longer appropriate.

The males were focused on their females, on children, on homes and families. They tried to include him in their chatter.

Ariq tolerated that conversation. He sighed. Debates over the ideal number of chambers in domiciles didn’t ease his need to kill.

It increased that urge.

And he was achingly conscious he no longer fit into the group. He was the exception, the different one, would be that way forever.

His yearning for battle had always been stronger than it had been for the other warriors. He was the only one inflicted with the os khonzon.

When they were at war, everyone had fought, and the difference hadn’t been as noticeable.

Now, it was accentuated.

A gerel might lessen the gap. If…when he uncovered her location.

The female genetically meant for him wasn’t situated in the Chamele sector. He had been included in too many transmissions, been involved in too many campaigns, for her to have not heard his voice, to have known he was hers.

She wouldn’t be found in the Refuge, where they were headed. During their last visit to Carinae E’s largest settlement, he had purposefully met as many beings living there as possible, stealthily looking for her.

He hadn’t located her.

That left Ariq with a choice.

He could search for his gerel on other planets. If he was fortunate, those planets might be hostile. He could participate in a few more battles while he looked for his female.

That appealed to him…greatly.

But he would have to part temporarily from Second, Qulpa, the rest of the warriors. Chameles were very insular. They rarely left their sector. He couldn’t ask them to make that sacrifice for him.

The other option was to accept his unbonded status, come to terms with always being the single in a grouping of couples, watch as the younger warriors like Yesun and eventually, Rinchinbal, met their gerels.

He could ease the os khonzon, the vengeance, with trips to Chamele 4, the hunting planet. It was occupied by the Chamele clones now, but they would grant him permission to track and kill prey there.

That would be…bearable.

His nose wrinkled. His choice was, in truth, no choice. He had to search for his gerel. That, at the minimum, would give him a purpose.

When he found his female, he would return with her to the Chamele sector. Eventually they would move to his birthing settlement on Chamele 2.

He squared his shoulders and entered the bridge.

As predicted, Second and Qulpa held their gerels on their laps. The chatter stopped and the females straightened as they noted his presence.

Ariq gritted his teeth and claimed his seat beside Second. Beverage and nourishment bars have been delivered to our stowaway.

It can’t be sanitary in the ceiling. Lead Medic, Second’s gerel, frowned.

Are you implying my ship is dirty? Second would have previously fought a being who had dared to utter such an insult. But that was in the past. This planet rotation, he appeared amused with his human’s comment, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Bots are assigned to the ceiling spaces. Head of Ship and Weapons Design, Qulpa’s gerel, tapped on the viewscreen resting on her leather-clad thighs. I’ve doubled their allotted time for cleaning.

Qulpa kissed the top of her head. His hands were on the viewscreen embedded in the console. The pilot preferred to be in constant communication with the warship.

"The ceilings aren’t comfortable for a young female." Lead Medic expanded on her concerns for Lysagh.

Being on the bridge wasn’t comfortable for Ariq. She chooses to be stay there. His jaw firmed. I will respect that choice. He would also defend it. And we have mere planet rotations left in the journey.

There was a long pause.

The warriors and their gerels looked at each other. They were communicating silently.

Excluding him.

Ariq stared at the main viewscreen, at the vastness of space, and he contemplated joining Lysagh in her ceiling hideaway.

I’ll design a bot for her. Head of Ship and Weapons Design broke the silence. Everyone needs a friend.

Zondoo. Ariq pressed his lips together. She was likely designing a bot for him too.

I—

There’s an incoming communication. Ariq interrupted whatever it was Qulpa planned to say. It’s originating from Carinae E.

Hulagu must be contacting us. Second smiled.

Hulagu, Second’s brother, was the primary reason for the visit to the planet. That warrior had found his gerel also.

I’m opening communications. Ariq warned the occupants of the bridge.

A shadowed face appeared on the main viewscreen. He straightened. That darkened countenance belonged to Kralj, the Ruler of the Refuge.

A surge of energy flowed over Ariq. It lifted the small hairs on his arms, caused his skin to tingle.

The all-powerful, all-knowing modified humanoid was one of the scariest beings he had ever encountered. His unique abilities extended through the communication lines.

Even Kralj had a mate.

Dita, the Ruler’s tiny assassin female, sat beside the male. Her gaze was on them, her eyes bright with interest.

Kralj, sir. Second’s voice was edged with the respect the Ruler warranted.

Chameles, Medic. Those words seemed to come from everywhere. There has been increased Humanoid Alliance activity on Carinae E. You will forgo your planned orbit of the planet and proceed directly to the Refuge.

Ariq gaped at the male.

They had discussed that aerial tour briefly the previous planet rotation on the bridge, hadn’t told any other being about it, hadn’t communicated their plans through any other means.

We will do as you suggest, sir. Second nodded.

It wasn’t a suggestion. Kralj’s tone was dry. You will allow your unexpected passenger to exit your ship first. You won’t give her any indication you are aware of her presence.

That will make the first task challenging. Qulpa muttered that comment under his breath.

Ariq was more concerned about Lysagh’s well-being than the issue of when she left the ship. Kralj was a terrifying being, but Ariq wouldn’t allow that male or anyone else to hurt the girl. If you harm her—

The shadows swirling around Kralj’s face darkened menacingly. "You will do nothing. Because you can do nothing."

Another wave of energy blasted Ariq. It was so strong he was flung back against his chair. Almost bone-breaking pressure pushed against his chest.

He seeks to protect her, sir. Dita placed one of her hands on Kralj’s arm. He didn’t mean to disrespect you.

The wall of wind flattening Ariq immediately dissipated.

He gasped air. His lungs, ribs, all of him, ached.

The girl is under my protection. Kralj astonished him with that admission. The number of beings fortunate to be under the Ruler’s protection were few.

Lysagh would be completely safe within the Refuge. Ariq relaxed. He didn’t know why the Kralj had granted her that status, but he was grateful for it.

"You will arrange for her to leave the ship first." The Ruler demanded that of him.

Ariq dipped his head. I will arrange it, sir.

At least one of them would have an exciting visit to the Refuge.

"And you will lead the expedition to the clone community. Kralj knew of those plans also. Seven-One wanted to speak with the Carinae E clones, learn how they reproduced without any degradation. Seven-One, Yesun, Dialo, Vietor, and Jeden will accompany you and the guide."

Son of a Gechii. Ariq struggled to keep his expression blank. Dialo, Vietor and Jeden were the sons of one of Kralj’s modified humanoids. Seven-One and Yesun had roughly the same maturity level as the winged triplets.

Ariq would be leading all youths.

That would be akin to aligning rock vultures in flight—an impossible