Punished by Tana Stone (story books to read TXT) 📗

Okay, Corvak, I told myself. You were battle chief of a Vandar horde. You fought off imperial attacks and coordinated offensive strategies that are still being talked about in hushed tones throughout the galaxy. You can do this.

“Let’s start with a basic assessment,” I said, bracing my hands on my hips to face the group. “How many of you have engaged in hand-to-hand combat?”

A few hands went up, but even those seemed unsure. I fought the urge to sigh again. If I was the kind to bet, I would have put money that the combat these males claimed to have seen involved skirmishes with unruly siblings on the living room floor.

“Then we will start at the beginning, so everyone understands the basics of fighting strategy.”

“When do we get weapons?” The voice came from the front row, a human male who met my eyes from under his hood. He was one of the taller males, and he appeared to be smirking as he looked at me.

“When you can prove to me you are ready for them,” I snapped, glancing away from him.

“What if some of us are ready?”

I swung my gaze back to him. There was always one in every bunch. Too arrogant. Too cocky. When I’d been much younger, that had been me. I thought about my own training as an apprentice on a Vandar horde. The relentless and punishing standards of the Raas and all the raiders had knocked the brazen confidence from me—at least most of it. This human needed to be knocked down a peg or two.

“Why don’t you come show me how ready you are?” I beckoned him forward with the flick of my wrist.

Although the human hesitated, he took a few steps forward.

“What is your name, human?” I asked.

He puffed out his chest, what there was to puff out. “Donal.”

It was clear this human was somebody on the planet, or thought he was. “Donal.” I repeated his name out of respect. “I am Corvak of the Vandar.”

“We all know who you are.” He flipped his hood back, glancing at the rest if the group and grinning. “You’re the exiled Vandar.”

A low murmur passed through the group, which I ignored. “That is true, Donal.” I stepped closer to him and rested on hand on the hilt of my axe, the feel of the metal familiar and comforting. “Do you know why I was exiled from the Vandar, the most feared and ruthless aliens in the galaxy?”

His smirk had vanished. He shook his head and his brown, wavy hair quivered, even though, to his credit, he remained standing with his shoulders squared.

I grinned widely, leaning closer and dropping my voice. “Excessive use of violence.”

He flinched, no doubt wondering how violent you had to be to be considered excessively violent for a Vandar.

I straightened and turned to the group. “But we aren’t here to talk about me. You’re here to learn how to fight, are you not?”

There was an uneven mumbling of agreement. Nothing like the loud bellowing I would have gotten from my Vandar brothers, but I would take it.

Turning, I unhooked my battle axe from my waist and tossed it at Donal. He grasped the handle, but the weight of it pulled him down to the ground with a loud thud.

I strode over and plucked the weapon off the ground and hoisted him up by the elbow as some of the group stifled laughter. “You should not laugh. I doubt any of you would have done any better.” The laughter died instantly. “Weapons are not something to be taken lightly. You will forge your own spears and be trained in them, but only once you’ve mastered the basics of moving and sparring. Often the difference between life and death is moving swiftly enough to avoid the enemy’s weapons. Battle is as much good defense as it is offense.”

I waved for Donal to rejoin the group and he walked back, flipping his hood back over his head and covering his flaming cheeks.

“Partner up,” I said. “We’re going to learn the basics of grappling.”

The males shuffled around as they paired off. When there was one straggler left without a partner, I waved him forward to join me at the front.

The flash of blue from under his hood told me he was one of the natives to the planet that looked like bipedal amphibians. The trembling of the cream-colored fabric told me that he was terrified.

“Don’t worry,” I told him in a low voice. “I have no intention of harming you—or shaming you.”

He nodded, but I doubted he believed me. I was speaking the truth though. I’d been shamed enough by my own cruel father to want to shame an innocent like that. Even after so many years, my face heated as I thought of my raider father when he returned from the horde ships with his demands for warrior perfection that had been impossible for a young child to meet. Yet, I had tried valiantly to meet them—only to fail each time.

It had not been a difficult decision to join my uncle’s horde, where he was Raas, instead of the one in which my father fought. Yet, it was always my own father, now long dead, whom I seemed to think about when it came time to prove myself. The one Vandar I could never impress was the one I secretly tried to in everything I did. It was why I had always been thirstier for battle and more eager for glory and one of the reasons why exile was so painful.

I pushed thoughts of my father from my mind. It did no good to think about the Vandar now. He had given me nothing but a hunger to prove myself that I could never seem to sate.

“Sir?” The alien’s clicking sounds drew my thoughts back to the amphitheater and away from my father. Although the males were standing silently and watching me, they seemed confused by my pause.

I cleared