Beneath Catseye Beneath Catseye
Beneath CatsEye
Table of Content
Beneath CatsEye
by Patricia I. Williams
Beneath CatsEye
Farrell crept across the stones to the floor to ceiling window that was a wall of his room. The vista spread out before him always drew him back whenever the care givers departed. His shaky legs and tender feet scarcely supported his body as he fell against the padded lounge and crawled upon it. After a breathless scrambling and shoving aside his very own art books, Farrell managed to prop himself against the scattered fat green pillows that supported his back and head. He was exhausted, but he did not remember a time when he was not. The care giver had returned him to bed for sleep, but the expanse beyond the window was a lure he could not suppress. The young prince scrubbed his face against the soft brushed fabric that covered his pillows. ‘Pillows’ were made from an odd springy substance the care givers called ‘foam’. He thought clouds must feel like this floating across the sky dawn and dark, so comfortable to lie upon.
He gradually situated himself beneath the pale green blew that warmed him and turned his eyes to the mountain crags. Frost covered the outside edges of the window and he could see the deep grey surface give way to a wide terrace beneath it. There were big ‘telescopes’there, which the demons said circled the mountain and allowed one to see beyond the clouds to look at the ‘stars’. The demons had promised to take him one dark to see those ‘stars’. The idea continued to fill him with awe. He was told they looked close enough to touch, especially CatsEye which shown light into this window at night and was not a ‘moon’ but a ‘planet’ like Nadredd. Since he lived on Nadredd, Nadredd was a planet. Farrell was very confused about that explanation. What was a moon?
Below that ledge another terrace extended. There were small buildings there but he had no idea what they were for. There were multiple ledges some wide and others narrow further down the mountainside. It was fascinating to discover plants of some type growing on a few of them. Others supported long tables and chairs and sometime lounges. He could even see, far off below and to the right, those fierce Pegasor creatures running across a wide paddock sometimes wrestling each other to the ground. They were beautiful. Farrell fully intended to paint them running around so free. He shivered a little at that thought. The Pegasors chased dearhart across the same area and fought over the kills. What fierce creatures they were. He would not watch them eat dearhart. It made him cry.
Farrell had been aware for almost sixty dawns. He continued to spend many hours sleeping. Occasionally he painted watery pictures of the images in his head because the Healers stated doing so would assist his recovery by ‘expressing’ his experience. He was not sure why he should ‘recover’ or ‘express’, but he had performed as ordered all his life, so now would not dare disobey the demons. Sometimes he mused on ‘concern’, another new sensation and word, they lavished on him. These demons were really strange. They had not killed him. They gave him ‘medicine’, which did not let him vomit or scream when he was frightened. Farrell was frightened all the time.
The Healers praised him for eating the little bowls of food and drinking water. Everyone wanted to touch his head with their own hair, if they had the long kind that moved! Everyone had hair, short or long and a few had red or ‘auburn’ colors. That new color word was confusing because ‘auburn’ seemed to have many variations of red or brown. He had not been able to accurately duplicate the color on the pictures he painted. It was bad enough daring to sneak peeks at the demons. Painting with shaky hands earned him praise from them, even though his pictures were mostly swirls of colors mashed together. Now he could not make ‘auburn’ no matter how much he mixed red and brown. Some of his old servants had no hair on their heads. They were normal people. Farrell had never seen a bald demon. Demons were abominations.
It was really scary when the demon ‘twins’ or the demon Queen arrived in the outer rooms. The bristles on his own head stood on end and waved around. The sensation made him sick. He wanted to scream and beg for the clippers. When he cried he was told he would get used to the strange feeling of his hair wiggling! That was supposed to be normal! When the twin’s hair caressed his head Farrell felt such odd sensations. It was explained that he was given ‘sanctuary’ and that meant ‘safety’. He was unsure what that could mean for his ‘future’, which was also a strange concept. The twins introduced him to ‘comfort’ also. He was just managing to understand the tenuous connection between the new words and ‘feelings’. Farrell looked at the scattered clouds drifting by as the sky dawn colors of azure and cream darkened to emerald and a scary grey. He went to sleep on the lounge reciting the names of sky colors he remembered from his color charts.
Caregiver Keyla returned to the room to light the globes and discovered Farrell asleep on the lounge for the second time. He was displaying disobedience. It would please everyone on staff after the first forty dawnings cowering in his bed when awake. Keyla ignited only a few globes around the medical bunk, straightened the covers, then added an extra blew to his slumbering body. His books were re-stacked neatly beside his temporary bed and the lap easel was filled with new paper. The completed paintings were collected from the side table and floor to give to the Healers.
She cleaned his brushes and replaced the dirty water with clean for his paint box. Keyla checked his wrist monitor to confirm the standard readings and left the room as stealthily as she entered. The little prince was easily startled. Everyone was extra careful to avoid the flashbacks to beatings and verbal tirades he had endured when his very existence was otherwise being ignored. She gave one last glance at Farrell hoping his deep sleep would last through the night. It would be the first time and another level in his healing.
***
While Farrell dreamed of water colors and demon’s writhing hair, Lucan sat on the terrace of the Cadre Infirmary watching CatsEye lift into the night sky. It glowed orange like aged cheese with a dark striation cutting it nearly in half. Sometimes the lower portion of the planet’s surface could not be seen at all, but the impression of its perimeter remained visible. For now Lucan was as relaxed as possible on thick cushions and wearing one of his mentor’s big woolen shirts. Sticker was in a meeting with her company and the Healers of the Cadre were on duty. No one could approach him without going through the formidable males that made up the medical unit. Lucan had learned not to fear the Healers.
Most of the Cadre seemed not to be much different from himself. He still could not bear the sight of Strike and Shadow, however. Their strange gold eyes stripped him naked and the writhing hair evoked horrible images of how those soldiers might have died in their attempt to kill the young prince. Terror was an understatement when one day he discovered Brace and Fewfingers sitting on a bench talking after a weapons practice. Strands of their hair lifted from the tight Cadre braid and twisted together in the space between them. They wiped the sweat from their face and shoulders while laughing and maligning each other’s prowess.
Sticker explained that even if some could not perform magic, they could communicate in that manner. She assured him that she and quite a few others did not have that capability. It disturbed him that the formidable warrior expressed some envy of those able to speak to the Gifted.
Most days he was Sticker’s shadow. He slept in her arms still, to his embarrassment, and sometimes had panic attacks if she remained at a distance for too long. He was taking short excursions on his own to the terraced flower and vegetable gardens. It made his heart ache to see such beauty and abundance when his lands were filled with the dead and starving. The Queen had met with him on two occasions, advising him of the FreeSoul’s efforts to aid his people. He wept before her, ashamed at his weakness and the cruelty of Fredric to his own people.
He ruminated over the past as he knew it, attempting to reconcile the history as recorded by the demons. Lucan had been given free access to the small Cadre depository, marveling at the ‘computers’ and discs that contained information. Sticker sat with him as he read through the pages on the screen, until she forced him away to rest.
Before Fredric’s grandfather, Haven had been a loose association of people that kept to themselves and traded with the Rovers on the rare times the wanderers entered their domain. Haven by tradition did not have diplomatic relations with the FreeSouls and certainly not with the demons. Rovers were considered of ‘pure’ stock. When they fled the military rule the wanderers vowed to never settle for any form of government having dominion over themselves. Nadredd’s environment was the only master they acknowledged and they survived within it’s confines. Rover trade flourished with Haven until Cort Brooks, raised the question of Rovers being spies for the demons. This was spurred by the rumors of abundance in Daear and a flourishing city called Stara, which was within the mountain stronghold of FreeSouls. Compared with endless labor and rationing that was often a fact in Haven, envy soon took poisonous root. Eventually Rovers found less welcome and sometimes open hostility. Trade became confined to the borderlands where the people were more isolated and independent of Cort’s efforts to unite the settlers.
Cort eventually raised the ire of the people reminding them of the unauthorized experiments on their ancestors and contorted monsters found in the labs before they fled. Not only were the Rovers spies, but Daear intended to attack and gain more people for their evil subjugation. His campaign took many rotations but by the time Fredric was born, his father Lorne was gathering soldiers and demanding an end to the demons beyond the mountains. For the first time ‘taxes’ were levied and people accepted the burden of supporting an army to take back what was rightfully theirs.
The first forays by Lorne’s troops through FreeSoul’s territory was met with surprising resistance. If Haven’s men had approached without visible weapons, they would have passed unopposed considering the FreeSoul’s acknowledged pacifism. But armed men, resembling a mob more than a disciplined group, sent up every alarm. The mountain crags protected the border guards from retaliation by his foot soldiers as they held the high ground. The retreat of the ‘army’ was an embarrassment for the self-styled king.
Lorne turned his attention directly to Daear after an unexpected encounter with a group of exploring Searchers traveling through unclaimed land. A lone messenger hawk carried the news of the assault back to Daear. Not one member of the Searcher group survived. That was the first time Cadre went beyond the mountains searching for survivors and then evidence of their fate, which they discovered.
Daear sent dispatches demanding justice, Haven did not respond and the messenger hawks eventually ceased to be sent. Instead, a show of arms evolved at the bottom of the mountainside. The llygredd gave a swift agonizing response to the Haven scouts hoping to sneak near enough to the first great gate and plant explosives. One guard of Daear was killed when they went out the next morning to recover the bodies being unaware of the devices the scouts had carried. The people demanded action and Cadre went into the field as a show of force. Skirmishes occurred through the rotations, circumvented often my Nadredd’s capricious weather patterns. The task of defeating the demons fell to the subjects of Fredric reinforced by the mix of historical fact and the current fiction the creatures wanted the people of Haven to occupy their demon labs.
Lucan had been promised by the Queen that he would not be conscripted into their military units or forced to see young Farrell again, if he did not wish it. Even now Lucan emotions overflowed in shame and that strange ache at the thought of the poor child. He had the concept of Chosen explained to him. It still left him dismayed and sickened to be considered a companion of a demon. What could he possibly do for a broken starved boy, who could still possibly die from the rotations of abuse? Lucan could not wrap his mind around it. All that was left was a hallow sense of pain that assaulted him severely at random moments.
Lucan was very surprised to be offered an assignment in the Agricultural Guild, which included care of the terraced gardens along the cliffs. Lucan admitted he remembered little of the teachings of his father after so many rotations among the rough men that patrolled Haven’s borders and slipped into the forest below Daear to scout. The Queen told him the supervisor of the gardens was a Gifted. If he was too uncomfortable working with the woman, they would make the effort to find him something else to do. Perhaps he would like to live in the city and attend the University to discover an unrealized talent? Lucan found the generosity overwhelming, even suspicious. But for now he only had to rest, and rest some more then wait for Sticker to come and take him to her bed.
***
Raze watched the man climb around the boulders and rock in the dark. CatsEye was bright tonight and aided her already excellent vision. He thought to be quiet, to slip pass the patrols of Cadre that suddenly appeared on the cliffs.
Pegasors roared and snarled throughout the day giving fair warning to trespassers of their intent to maim anything considered prey. The Cadre had mined some of the least known trails into Daear’s lands and made a show of force at the outposts on the FreeSoul’s border. Their presence covered the arrival of reinforcements and weapons to each one. Strike and Shadow made a point to be seen by FreeSoul’s counterparts. Inspiring hysteria when they would appear, Pegasors prancing and coils floating in the air about them. Raze snickered imagining the reports back to FreeSoul headquarters.
This man was dressed like a simple farmer but he moved too stealthily. She would win a bet that he was wearing some form of protection under those filthy rags. He certainly did not move like a starving man. Most of the people in Haven were malnourished now, unless they were the elite basking in Fredric’s approval. The self-styled King of Haven expanded his lands to accommodate his army of murderers and thieves. They preyed on their own people more often than they ever did on anyone else.
Raze was not political. Diplomacy was wasted time when your enemy could be dying. She was moved by one fierce devotion, the kill, and praise for her skills in the accomplishment. Raze knew from childhood that she was different, detached from affection and devotion that her family prized so much. She just did not feel those things for anyone. The Cadre gave her focus, to train hard, for the few ecstatic days she would be set free to end a life. She preened when her commanders praised her abilities and worked diligently to control herself when orders required she not kill. That was her hardest test, to not fail an order so the Cadre would keep her. She was intelligent enough to know that outside of their environs, the Cadre would have been assisting Disturbance Investigations to end her life. As long has the Cadre embraced her the civilians of Daear were safe.
Oh, the man fell down. Raze shook with silent amusement as he rolled back the way he had climbed, landing with a thump. He would be disoriented now, perfect. The shock of the fall had him cursing under his breath, a clarification of his true status and intentions. A person on innocent business would be cursing quite loudly or yelling in pain, if they had breath after a fall like that. Everyone knew the forest creatures rarely trespassed into the mountain passes. At least the FreeSouls did not hesitate to kill snakes.
Raze moved away from her perch, her blew wrapped feet settling lightly on the rubble strewn stone. The idiot had rolled to his back and lay attempting to catalog his injuries. CatsEye’s brilliant light did not illuminate all areas of the narrow pass, but it was a captivating sight in the space above the man’s head.
The Cadre warrior checked him over to be sure he was still alive and stripped him of blades and a packet that may contain important correspondence, or his lunch for all she cared. Only the Commanders would be interested in what it contained. It had been so easy, just pick up a rock and smack him in the head. She opened his coat and did find an ancient Kevlar vest that would have stopped a blaster on a low setting. Too bad for him rocks worked better than blasters in some situations. She supposed she would have to take him back to the outpost for questioning. How many vests did these thieves have?
As she surmised, he was too well fed too be a common man. It only took a few minutes to strip him and contain his movements in magnetic bands on wrist and ankles. Raze sealed his eyes and mouth shut with the liquid bandage. The stuff worked so well for things like this. She always filched some from the medical stores when it was time to hunt. She whistled softly and her Pegasor rose up from behind a large wall of rock and padded to her side. The mare stood patiently, as Raze dragged the man across the ground and heaved him onto her back. It took a moment longer to clip the saddle rings to the magnetic bands so he could not slide off. The Pegasor padded after her like an obedient pet when Raze headed up the pass. The mare had a full belly for once and would remain docile until her hunger rose again. Raze considered the possibilities of being allowed attendance during the questioning, but it was more likely the twins would be there to make quick work of the process. Ah well, maybe next time.
***
Alanah gathered up her grey skirt in one hand and climbed the stairs to Verna’s bedroom. Her ankle boots felt like lead weights hanging off the ends of her legs. Faylynn and Garnet were finally asleep, wrapped tightly around each other in a quest for mutual comfort and security. It had taken two stories to settle the excitable little girls down after their day of rambunctious antics. Alanah was very tired. She still had three months of pregnancy ahead of her and the task of supervising day to day operations around the estate. The Queen promised to send a court accountant to assist her and the family after their husband’s shocking betrayal. Verna had been confined to bed by the Cadre Healer. She was cowed by the stern armored man who tethered her to intravenous bags for the duration of his stay at their estate.
The thought of the marriage that brought her parents so much pride now filled Alanah with shame. Traitors, the family of two and the last of their line, traitors to Daear and the Captain’s Council. Their children’s honored ancestry would be forever tainted by the despicable actions of their father. It was impossible to know if the oldest daughter or the son she carried would ever be allowed to sit at the Captain’s table after this horrible season passed.
First there was Verna’s failing health when she had always been exceptionally robust. Then the University being attacked and Cadre arriving in force to drag her husband, Kane, away for interrogation and eventual execution. A Healer in the unit had taken one look at Verna’s weakened state and examined her on the spot. He found poison. It was just enough to slow her down and impact her immune system. Eventually Verna would have taken to her bed and died , perhaps a year from now. Alanah almost went into labor caused by so many shocks and disappointments.
The Cadre had remained, searching the estate and questioning all the retainers. Macsen had been requested and the Gifted had come with lawyers from Disturbance Investigation. Several of their guard were taken away to the Palace and not returned. After many hours of questioning she and Verna had been cleared of wrong doing. The little girls had seen the Healer and been declared free of dangerous substances. Alanah was quick to get an examination and prayed for her child to be healthy. It was a relief to know they were all safe, but Alanah requested sanctuary for the remaining family, as they would be defenseless without anyone to trust. Surely the relatives of the dead from the University assault would be seeking revenge?
The blessing in the midst of this horror was the news of Kane’s possible attempts to kill his wives and his Gifted babies spread, and was being met with public outrage. Vernas’s two little girls, age five and two were telekinetic, a not uncommon magic. The youngest was rather delicate, but it was possible that would change as she aged. Alanah suspected Newlyn would be a strong telepath because her unborn child was touching her thoughts after he sensed all the upset. For the most part she felt his confusion and agitation. She made every effort to sooth him, though she was did not have any magic to touch his little mind.
She took one last peek into Verna’s room before arriving at her own door. Her friend slept peacefully, the coarse mass of brown hair tightly braided and pinned atop her head by the Healer. Once inside her own room Alanah removed the sweater and pulled the laces apart on her blew skirt. She refused to bother putting them away tonight. The bathing chamber was steps away but Alanah was too tired for even that.
She pushed the covers back and dived in still wearing her long johns. She almost let go the hysterical laughter that haunted her mind, but muffled a giggle into her pillow. It was so good to still be able to sleep in her own bed. She dragged a pillow down to rest between her knees and fell asleep rubbing her Newlyn bump.
Stave kept to the shadows, patrolling the first floor of former Baron Kane’s hall, double checking all entry points were secure. No one knew if any co-conspirators remained in the vicinity and it was urgent the the remaining family survive this debacle. It had been lucky chance the Baroness Verna and her family had been detained during the day. Her wan complexion and shadowed eyes would have probably gone unremarked as distress by torchlight . The shock of finding poison, and such a slow acting one had literally stunned him. It would be a few months before she was back to full health. Until then, he would remain with Dump to treat her and protect the family.
No one would consider Stave a healer on first glance. He didn’t fit the ideal like Talisman did. Stave was tall and big boned like many pure, with dark brown hair cut close to his scalp, except for the braid. He had a grim visage even good humor would not crack. He earned his name because of all the heads he broke with the walking stick he was never seen without. A length of oak, it was now black wrapped in strips of Cadre black ribbons, adhering to the stick with blood from opponents, friendly and otherwise. That ‘stick’ had come with his entry into the Cadre squires. It was his weapon of choice for most fights, but he was not hesitant to weld sword and short blades. All the warrior vanished, however, when a patient was in need. He was gentle, without expressing a ‘bedside manner.’ He always stated if patients wanted to be coddled they could have Talisman and the other healers take care of them. If they wanted to be healed and go on their way, he was the man for the job.
Stave moved silently through the large home, admiring the art on the walls, the carefully dyed drapes at the windows and the thick hand woven rugs that provided warmth on the cold stone floors. It still shocked him that a man of Kane’s standing would throw away such a life of important work and fine family. Especially for reasons that were so far back in their history and could not be changed. He knew he was no more pure than any human living on Nadredd. To be truly pure was to risk death just for walking too long in the now oxygen rich air. You could never tell with Nadredd. Things mutated. No one knew why the Origin Earth type planet had that oddity.
The mad Fredric was ignoring selected bits of the first landfall histories. He ranted about experiments and disregarded the first shocking revelation the colonist faced. They had been lied to. Panicked people turned on each other. The colony ships were filled with those Origin Earth wanted rid of and their descendents. They were fated to die slowly from the air or by the sneaking predators that they did not realize were there. The Healer sent another urgent appeal into the Universe for the endless strife over the past to end.
Stave even mused over possible alternate histories for himself as he walked. If he had not dedicated his life to the Cadre, the strong willed women the traitor abandoned would have made ideal wives. The pregnant one was most compelling. She oversaw the labor of the retainers. She also kept an eye on the maids and cared for the little girls. He made sure to remind her to rest often during the day, but she was a stubborn one.
Sooner than the women may desire, loyal men would have to be found to replace the estate guards who turned out to be Fredric’s people smuggled in as Searchers. Gossip was, Baron Meinrad was on the lookout for a new wife. The man had a bitter disposition if ever there was one, but he was a fierce fighter and could hold the estate until the children were old enough to decide whether to retake their father’s bloodied seat. No reason to bring the subject up, Meinrad and the other barons would be lurking about soon enough. Caddock may even show up in person, considering Alanah was supposed to be a cousin. That man would insure the women remained free from pressure. Perhaps he should send a message.
Stave choked back the chuckle at the thought of old Vidor pressing his suit. The man was a legend and probably still as fertile as coils were plentiful on the twins’ heads. He thought it may be a curse, however, to love so many and have time take them from you. Then go on with no end in sight. Something happened to the Fleet Admiral and the Generals on that journey. There was nothing to be found which explained the longevity in the archives, but the sky above kept the secret.
Ah well, time to go up and poke Bump to take his place patrolling the house. He would have to be at his best, to sneak up on the skinny walking stick that was his comrade in arms. Pale complexioned and heavily freckled, Bump looked like a swift wind would blow him over. Gossip was he could hear clouds moving in the sky. Yet Bump insisted that he only paid attention. He chided all Cadre for not performing to his level, so training included stalking the boney man. The squires were not the only ones collecting bruises for sneak attacks on Bump. Hopefully Stave would not collect any waking Bump tonight. It would be embarrassing and get regaled around the barracks by the laughing old warrior.
He took a last look out into the courtyard checking the guards on the walls. They had taken the admonishment to keep to the shadows to heart. It would be difficult tonight as CatsEye was large and dark gold, reminding him of Alanah’s hair.
***
The rising sun battled CatsEye for dominance of the lightening sky. Barely visible fog seeped into the dark until the planetoid’s gold was a hazy shimmer behind building dismal green clouds instead of azure sky. They would continue to build over the sea and bring icy rain. Soon the tornadoes and windstorms would be master of the planet for the winter. Daear and the surrounding estates would be sheltered by the high mountains from the worst of it.
Near the top of the Palace, BrightLance stood on her terrace breathing in the brisk clean air. The breeze lifted her unbraided hair chilling her scalp and raising chill bumps along her neck and shoulders.
The gardeners should be up today to move the windflowers indoors. Pink was definitely not her favorite shade. Tomorrow she would have the preferred winter pansies brightening the terrace.
She feared winter was arriving early once again. It pleased her to know foodstuffs had been stored from the last two season’s harvest. This season Fonio had dominated the greenhouses and they managed three harvests. Half of the abundance would be stockpiled. It was explained to her long ago that Nadredd eventually orbited far from its sun and darkness would dominate the land for a time. Her people would be prepared. Survival was the end and beginning of practically every action on Nadredd. The upside of this would be more metal for her people as well, for the FreeSouls would trade well for the excess grains they could not grow in their tunnels.
BrightLance had been up for four bells completing her meditations and warmup exercises. Today she would have a light breakfast and report to BareBlade’s private sanctum to be put through his idea of training. It had been seven dawnings since she had last reported. He was going to “beat her skinny ass into shape, because having administrative duties was no excuse for not honing her skills in some form every day!” At least she was passed the point where she would cry or rave about his harsh workouts. The people of Daear were depending on her to protect them. She could not do that if she allowed herself to become weak and dependent on others to protect her person.
Mila set off the motion detector as she approached the hatch to the Queen’s private quarters. Another chime announced her presence when she pushed the cart, laden with a meal and reports, into the bedroom. The door onto the terrace opened and a stiff breeze lifted her already fluffy curls. BrightLance stepped in wearing her Cadre black tunic and slacks, sans boots.
“Good morning Mila. I hope I did not disturb your rest so early this dawning.”
“Oh no my Queen. I was well rested from my down time, thank you. I have the latest news available for your attention and a light repast as you requested.”
BrightLance sat herself down at the dainty little table near the windowed wall as Mila placed her small goblet of soup and saucer of thin crackers before her. She sipped and ate crackers with one hand while she flipped the pages of flimsies and paper notes. Mila straightened her bed and laid out the elaborate gown she would wear to court after she rested four bells. Luncheon with her ladies in waiting would be next on the agenda. During lunch she would become aware of the gossip permeating the Palace. Then her long afternoon and evening of listening to petitioners from the city, the Ambassadors from the FeeSouls and various department head’s harangue. By the time all that was done BrightLance would be happy to have remained in BareBlade’s company.
The Queen observed Mila moving about the room and contemplated marriage proposals. Mila was attractive and the interaction she had with the Barons was not disregarded. Meinrad was indeed looking for a wife. For all his sour disposition in public, his wives were well educated, contributing to the community. One was a Veterinarian, the other an Instructor of Basics. Word was they grieved the loss of the third wife but appeared to be recovering well. He would be a good husband for an engineering student and Mila was attracted to him. But then she was attracted to most of the Barons. They were a well turned out group. Vidor still cut a fine figure. Oddly enough Haul paid her no mind at all. The handsome heir had quite the reputation, but kept his physical needs confined to the most exclusive brothel. His manners with the ladies of court was impeccable. She would have to consider this more. Once the Council saw she was fully capable of making difficult decisions, they would be less sure of their influence on her. They could consider marriage not be worth the bother. Perhaps a word at lunch could draw some attention to Mila.
By the time breakfast was eaten, CatsEye’s gold was being obscured by bilious green grey clouds. BrightLance was sure that next dawning would bring more rain. She had hopes for a peaceful winter. Her people needed it. The treat from Haven could not be allowed to continue and some very hard choices would have to be made. Just as the Captains expressed, she was very worried about the fate of her people if this war dragged on. What would she become if all that she was were released in the service of her people? Would all of them remain her people? Would Llyncu and Human be sundered?
These dire thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of her Chosen. Talon entered her room and went to one knee beside the table. Mila vacated the room, locking the hatch from the inside on her way out. No one was allowed to interrupt the Queen in private audience with her Chosen.
Alone with Talon, her hair lifted and threaded its way into his loose curls. Talon had anticipated her need and had not thread his ribbons before arriving. There were serious discussions to come, but not this minute. The Queen’s eyes began to glow and gave herself up to the pleasure of having so great a predator submissive to her will. She lost herself to touching the enigmatic mind, to manipulating his pleasure center until he trembled and groaned. Her coils worked beneath the neck of his tunic and caressed the muscled length of his torso and back.
There had been no time for such intimacy between them when she had not yet matured. Then she had to take up the reins of the kingdom. She would have this moment, however, this beginning. Talon’ short coils curled around her own offering his unwavering loyalty and support. She was all he had, all he wanted and this moment was only the start of his reward for dedicating his life to her. His body swayed and he was pinned to the board of her dominance and pleasure at his submission. She could do with him as she wished and he would revel in it. He belonged to her, for always.
For the first time BrightLance let her control slip and touched his mind and body with intent to test his limits. Sensations rushed throughout his body which Talon had not experienced. His trembled, yet remained in control, still determined to be. The Queen felt the first stirrings of the predator demanding to be fulfilled. She would have his pleasure at her command. Coils barely stroked across his skin, some massaged and others restrained him. His tunic was stripped away. Pleasure pain
electrified his nerves and Talon gasping, began to struggle. His upper body eventually collapsed against her hip. His body contorted in its efforts to escape the new intensity. Her coils were a constricting, stinging blanket when his body arched. Muscles bunched and spasmed with the most fierce orgasm of his entire twenty eight summers.
BrightLance caressed him as he shook and gasped for breath. She sighed in contentment and reveled in his pliant, sweat soaked body bound by her coils. For the first time her coils transmitted the flavor of Talon’ sweat and semen to her tongue. He had done well, fought hard not to lose control. She tortured him with pleasure through his mind and body. No one else could have withstood an attack on both fronts. She let him feel her approval that he had resisted. She wanted that as much as his submission. Now he was truly her Chosen. No one else could ever give him this. No Cadre or civilian or denizen of the Court would be able to divert him. After he had come to her, she had not demanded his purity. Yet he had maintained it for the sixteen summers he had been in the Cadre. A most wondrous gift. He was hers to torture, hers to pleasure, hers.
***
Mustafa twisted his cloak’s flapping edges into the belt at his waist. His blew scarf had to be wrapped again to conceal his face and keep out the bits of pine needle and grit. The debris cut when it struck unprotected skin. He shifted the backpack of vittles to sit easier on his shoulders. The winds were rising faster than anticipated, which meant they small party he was leading may have to hold up in the mountain passes for the night on their return from this bramble forest. He had every intention of leaving the food they carried in the caches before CatsEye flooded the forest gold. Mustafa worried about Fredric’s rabble finding the supplies they secreted onto his lands. It happened more than the FreeSoul’s wished, but it was better to keep attempting to provide than carry the knowledge that people were starving to death on your doorstep.
The shadows within the forest were suddenly deeper, and black began to swallow the faint trail the men followed. Unexpected green tinged clouds were writhing in the grip of a sudden rise in the relentless wind. Now they would be lucky to have CatsEye to see them home tonight. They would probably spend it wet and very cold. At least Mathru was not breeding this time of year. To walk unsuspecting into a knot in the dark. The thought made him shudder. Although Mustafa imagined there would be next to nothing next summer for the nasty pod creatures to feed on. Perhaps they would starve to death. The world certainly would be an easier place to live in without them.
Air rushing through the mountain and canyons behind them began a moan and bass drumming that would have frightened someone new to the environs. The five good Samaritans pressed on intent on their mission, making good time on the familiar route.
The group was very near the drop off point when a chill slithered up Mustafa’s back and a sense of dread filled his heart. Panicked, the guide’s hand waved his party back and away. He did not have to look to know the other men dropped to hug the ground. The sounds of their heavy breathing stilled abruptly. It was as if no one crouched at this back. Mustafa attempted to control his fear. Why was he so panicked? It would not do to run or make a move that would get someone hurt. He would not have been this frightened over wandering dearhart. Whatever was ahead meant them no good. He thought men would not have frightened him so. They could hide from men in this weather.
Fredric’s so called soldiers had never killed anyone of the FreeSouls when raiding their relief caravans. The man was filled with madness, but not so much that he wanted to push one group of people he disdained into the arms of the demons he actually feared. There was much debate in the streets and cafes about what should be done now, however. Luc and Mano had been beaten very badly only a few days past, barely making it back, after the rabble harassed them to the borders for sport. Mano had yet to regain consciousness and his family was clamoring for justice.
Mustafa signaled for Powa to come to his side. The young man took orders well and would keep watch while he attempted to find out what had nearly given him heart failure. The food would serve no one returned to Stara. So even unnerved as he was, Mustafa could not see turning back unless a really big taguldal was out there. Taguldal feared nothing and no one except the demon’s most talented magick users. They wrapped around you until your bones were crushed. Shaking off the chill that gripped him, Mustafa squeezed Powa’s shoulder before easing away on his moccasined feet through the tangled brush. The hefty weight of his kilij was some comfort. If death was imminent he would at least go down fighting for his life against the beast.
Too late, too late! Mustafa did not need the light of CatsEye to see the wide coiled body rocking slightly as the great muscle constricted the bodies of an unknown number of men and horses and swallowed. Brush and new saplings were smashed flat in a wide break in the forest. He made every effort to move silently away hoping the strangled whinny of dying animals would cover his retreat. He had never imagined one so big. Unlike the old Earth cousin, taguldal was very aggressive and would chase prey dragging any thing they had already caught along with them. But this thing was huge!
Mustafa was shaking and damp with fear sweat by the time he got back to his men. He was simply blank with terror. It was so hard to think. He saw, it was just too terrible. He prayed none of the other caravans had . . .
Mustafa choked on bile and spasmed as silently as he could onto the ground. Powa gave him water to rinse his mouth.
The men were frightened by his reaction, but they kept quiet. He was the most experienced here. If he was like this, it had to be horrific. They could backtrack and circle around whatever the danger was. They may still reach the cache before dawning.
Mustafa was considering. It had to be Fredric’s men. Surely he would send out another party when they did not return. He did not want to make contact with them. Yet Mustafa hated to waste food. No FreeSoul would participate in such a sacrilege. They must try to leave the food for those in need.
Rain began to beat them in steadily decreasing temperature. The men continued on their way, soaked but determined.
***
Casper kept a wary eye on the dark figures crouching in the rain beneath the bulk of the irritated Pegasors. The beast did not like water. They hissed and growled while the wind driven drops rolled off their feathered hides. The woman never took her eyes from him. She seemed to have no problem holding the position, but was obviously not happy about being here. The young man called her Reaper. Their Cadre braids was thick with ribbons and Casper imagined their hair was soaked in blood. You certainly did not have the name of death himself if it was not earned. That was the Cadre way, even the FreeSouls knew that much about them.
He never thought he would see a day when FreeSoul’s would be beholding to such as they. But Emrah was alive and may just survive his injuries. Was Allah not merciful when He lead the young man from a torturous death in Haven’s blighted forest? The one called Scout had spied him even amid the thick foliage of the forest and dared Haven’s land to rescue him. Casper tried not to stare. If they were not in armor, they would not attract much attention, he thought. Brown hair, brown eyes, so ordinary looking, except for the fierce beasts gnawing at their armored shoulders and snuffling their hair.
Healer Kameko scrubbed up. She had only stopped at the outpost to inoculate the men with the flu preventative they needed to stay healthy during their rotation on the border. The harsh weather was setting in early again this season. She did not expect to perform emergency surgery to keep one of their Samaritans alive. Caregiver Natane assisted her, by tucking her unruly white curls under the surgical cap and tying it off. One of the guards would assist the Caregiver in scrubbing up before they both went in to stitch together poor Emrah.
Word had gone out to Stara of the attack and rescue. The Senators were hysterical over Cadre being on their side of the border rather than the murder of the Samaritans and the blessed return of Emrah to his family. Honestly most of the Senators were too old to be wagging about ruling over anyone. Younger minds and able bodies should be sitting in those seats as far as Kameko was concerned. Wisdom was only available in the elders for a short time after their winters set in. Once proved deteriorating, the old guard should step down.
There were too few women in those seats for one thing. The Healer believed that her gender would be more likely to take a harder line with these Haven brigands. It was their sons and husbands going out to take food to people who had laid down and let some hate filled spew destroy their lives. Even now her coalition of female professionals was lobbying for more seats to be opened to other families of the mountains. Kameko may be a physician, but as far as she was concerned pacifism only worked during times of peace and there had been few peaceful days since Fredric’s last efforts to ‘conquer’ Daear.
She could not hold back the chuckle that erupted into complete laughter at the thought of Haven ever getting through the passes or up the great Gates to the Queen’s Palace. A quick glance at the black armored duo brought her back to the effort to close Emrah’s wounds. He had taken more than one sword stroke and broken an arm during the run for his life. The biggest danger was from blood lose.
From what he managed to tell his rescuers there had been none of the usual warning. They had been spotted, were quickly surrounded, the food and medicine taken. They did not draw their swords as FreeSoul’s only believed in defending themselves from the poisonous world. There fellow man must be met in peace.
The Samaritans were charged by the horses and cut down without mercy.
As the healers moved into the room, Reaper and Scout remained outside, one eye on the wary FreeSoul guardians and an ear for any unusual activity in the room where the women worked to patch up the young man they had discovered. Scout had not hesitated to push his Pegasor into Haven’s territory when he spotted the staggering figure before it collapsed at the forest edge. His reputation would leap again, for CatsEye and the sun were obscured and the wind treacherous when he insisted someone was hurt over Reaper’s skepticism.
Blood drew predators and he was damned if he intended to fight some monstrosity while they paraded up and down the borders. Oddly enough it appeared a tagudal had interrupted the brigands attack but not before the other Samaritans had been killed. Fredric’s men fled, being chased by the biggest taguldal ever described. Reaper was sure shock had addled the boy’s mind. Taguldal never reached such dimensions she insisted. Scout could care less, if it ate Fredric’s men.
The rain fell heavier. The Pegasors roared in annoyance, startling the dark bearded fellow that watched them from the doorway. Reaper graced the nervous guard with laughter. This did not reassure the other FreeSouls guarding the trail up to the outpost overlooking the pass and the forest.
***
Fredric Brooks paced. He grit his teeth. He smacked his closed fist against his thigh repeatedly. The goblet of recently distilled liquor had cracked against the wall leaving a puddle. The room reeked of the raw fermented swill his men insisted was ale. He wanted to know why his nephew Roddy had not returned from his patrol. Mason had finally taken a group into the forest to track him down. Roddy had better not be siphoning off the supplies for his own ends. Fredric would address his betrayal in the public square and execute him with his own hands. The people would understand and appreciate their leader’s sense of justice. All of Haven’s people were equal under the law. Fredric would have justice. He paced. He raked his sweaty palms through his greying blonde hair. He paced. Rain began drumming on the roof tiles. He paced.
Mason Brooks was no fool. He had not been the favored son just because he was born first. He was the smart one, the one they could not beat. Kacey and Luthor were dead. One in a drunken fight with one of the rabble they called an army and the other during the last battle with Daear. When Roddy did not return, Mason figured he had met with ill fortune. Considering this was Nadredd, ill was a way of life. Fredric’s grandiose dreams were dead like their people. His great grandfather had turned the people from survival of Nadredd to believing they were owed. The learned ones had slowly been conscripted over the rotations until most of what his father called peasants could barely read and write. But most of those were dead now anyway or scattered on the winds.
Barter was life’s blood on Nadredd. So with barren fields where there should be crops, and every hand turned against them, Fredric’s grand army would be starving before winters end.
Scavengers hid in the wilderness all along the borders of Daear and the FreeSoul’s mountain passes, attempting to prey on anyone who could provide sustenance. Regrettably there were very few of those as his men raided the bold FreeSouls who attempted to bring sustenance.
The forest was no place for man nor beast with winter coming on early, again, and little prey to be had. Dearhart were scarce. Last winter there was plenty of meat, if nothing else. The garrison was still overflowing with indolent wastrels. When Haven rode against Daear, Mason noticed that a number of them were conspicuously absent. Supposedly off discussing tactics or protecting the rear. He killed a few just to get his point over. Now he was expected to strip the land of the little of nothing left to feed the scum another winter in hopes of another summer offensive.
He did not wish to think about the welcome he would receive when he arrived on his sister’s doorstep seeking a share of her dwindling supplies for their father.
Ten dawnings past, a patrol sent some FreeSoul Samaritans back through the pass beaten within an inch of their lives. Mason had been livid. If the pacifists took up the sword with Daear, they could very well over run Haven. Beside their scum, Fredric had no more ‘peasants’ to send to the sword. His father scoffed at the idea, but Mason knew the FreeSouls studied hand to hand fighting and practiced with their swords. They had taken oaths to never use those skills against other intelligent life, but if enough of their people were slaughtered that vow would be worthless.
It was well known that many of the FreeSouls felt like Fredric did about the demons of Daear.
Information had come their way by a stray messenger bird now and then. His father laughed at the occasional betrayal of their own and joked about making sure he got rid of them too, after the demons were disposed of. What made them think they were pure humans? What a ridiculous notion.
Unlike Fredric, the FreeSouls did not want to fight with the demons directly and waste their lives over ancient history. Collectively they believed war was illogical when diplomacy offered peaceful solutions to disagreements. With lucrative trade and free access to all the land beyond the mountains Daear and Stara managed to support their separate populations and thrive.
Mason had come very late to the awareness that this was a losing battle. After rotations of the rhetoric and conditioning, it took that last battle to drive home the utter futility of this effort. The King had been killed by a perfect subterfuge, but all of Mason’s best fighters died in the effort. Instead of becoming dispirited Daear’s soldiers had rallied behind a screaming beanpole of a witch who killed everyone she could catch. Demons turned up in the middle of his fighters and laughed while they killed effortlessly, as if harvesting grain on a summer dawn. They had no fear. They were demons.
When his father had sent Farrell off to be slain and instigate more bloodshed, Mason had been speechless. But then he had never stood in the way of that boy being kicked around. Knocking him about with his own fist to keep up appearances was easy. Father had been literally foaming at the mouth when word leaked back that Farrell and his Chosen was alive and under the care of the demon Queen. No one had seen him, but purloined copies of the FreeSoul ambassador’s dispatches had revealed he was surrounded by Cadre in some secret place where no one walked unless they courted immediate death.
Gathering his scattered thoughts, Mason refocused on his task as his company rode into dark forest. It would be a lot less unpleasant if the rain would cease and the sun or CatsEye was lighting the way. Fredric thought Roddy was betraying him. But then, he thought that of everyone these days. Roddy was simply too lazy for the effort. He took to killing but not to planning and sneaking about.
Mason unsheathed his sword, already wary that the forest was so still. Even with the rainfall there should be rustling in the brush as some of the less dangerous serpents took cover. There was no sense of life at all. He directed two of his men to scout around for sign and pushed deeper into the gloom.
***
Cherish was at a loss. She knew father would welcome the death of her obstinate husband, but Eustace did not die, though it was expected. Medicines that might be the difference between life and death for their retainers at some future date, were being used to treat his mortal wounds. He was in pain, but he would not die. Wringing her chapped hands, Cherish paced the length of the hall, considering her options. Eustace had requested she end his painful existence with an excess of sleeping draught. He was exhausted and wanted the torture to end. But, if he died father would send those horrible animals to take up space in this hall and probably hand her off to one of them. Her heart began to race with panic. Her palms sweat and dampened the faded blue of her skirt as she twisted it in her hands. What to do? What to do?
Cherish was the last child of Kate, and though her father disparaged the birth of a daughter, his other five sons allowed him to pretty much ignore her existence until she turned sixteen summers. Despite protests from his wife, she was handed over to Eustace and told she was married. She had lived on the estate ever since. Taking to the task she had been trained for, running the household and going to his bed.
She could read and write a little bit, but her expertise was making the supplies they had last through the severe winters. It had become harder and harder to do so. Now she worried because the stands of forests near their estate were bare of dearhart and there were more serpents than ever. Her men recently set a fire to eliminate some of the rising population. It seemed to have worked to drive them out, but the dearhart did not return to the surrounding area.
Cherish sent some of the workers out to bring food in from the FreeSoul’s caches. It was very dangerous because if her father discovered them it was a death sentence for treason. She was sheltering people and their children also. He would be furious about that. It added to her dilemma. Fredric preached and swore and ranted. She had yet to see any benefit for herself and certainly not for the family, with one brother in the hands of demons and two dead. After her little brother was born there was only violence in her life. She was exhausted and frightened and despaired of it. She only wanted to run away. The room seemed to tilt and she swayed to one side. Run away, run away, run.
Hours had passed while the distraught soul sat at the hall table clutching her prematurely greying hair and shuddering. She had waved away her servants and spoke to no one. The idea to just leave. Abandon the children? No she just could not do so, not the defenseless children. Farrell’s image rose in her mind. She had never seen his face, only the top of his shorn head and an occasional glimpse of his tiny bruised body. It had been too frightful to sneak him any food or attempt to speak to him. She learned quickly that he was punished severely if anyone thought he was using his demon powers. Cherish had never seen any powers and only heard tales of the demons. What if it was a lie? What if her father was insane? Why would her brothers let him do these things?
The world outside the hall was black. Rain slashed in icy waves against the walls. She would tend her husband this night. Rouse him, make him understand and hope he could stay conscious enough to speak to his surviving men at arms. If she listened in she would know who to trust. An over dose of the sleeping draught could be used for more than Eustace if necessary. She would gather the people who were as desperate as she. They would risk the forest and the mountain passes. Whatever father thought of the mixed races of the FreeSouls, Cherish knew the most important thing. They would take in her people. They would not turn the children away.
***
Cleatus fumed. He was so damned mad he could barely see straight. Not a good way to be on watch duty below the gates of the demons. He felt his face heat again recalling how Brandy goaded him until he took a swing at the idiot. Of course he did not come close to hitting the bastard. So Colby had to throw in his jeering comments. When Cleatus thought he would burst he was so mad, dear brother sent him off to watch for demons. Their laughter and snide remarks followed him over the sounds of pelting rain and wind.
The demons knew they were here. The guards behind those old ship’s doors could sometimes be seen looking down the mountainside. They must laugh themselves sick at the pack of fools scurrying around in the forest like llyncas during a swarm. There was no way up that mountain passed the llygred even after dark. The damn things crunched underfoot and stank. During the day even a blind man could see anyone attempting the climb. Another damn stupid idea of father’s!
Cleatus had been here since the last battle. Field operations his father called it. Damn waste of time it was. He was shivering and fevered and too damned wet with no end in sight. Had that been known, Colby might be tempted to end him for good. His twin had never been pleased to have responsibility for overseeing his training. Training, another joke at his expense. Colby’s strategy meant beating Cleatus until he had to fight back or die. Cleatus was considered the younger son and knew his size was the reason the family decided he was weak in comparison to his brothers. Even Cherish was a head taller, at least when he saw her last.
It had been many seasons. Father had Eustace come to visit often, but Cherish was left behind. Mother had gone into seclusion after Cherish was married off. Frankly he was not sure Fredric had not killed her too. Would not surprise him. Whenever father was preaching about the evils of demons and taking back what was theirs, Cleatus was hard pressed not to ask why they waited so long. He was not stupid. This winter was coming earlier than the last. Last winter there were next to nothing harvested before the bad weather. This season there was no one left to do the work and the weather had turned the very next dawnings after the battle. All he remembered of that day was waking up in his bed covered in blood and stuck to the blew he slept on.
As his fever rose, he pushed the sodden tattered cloak away from his damp body. The chill air and water was a relief for the moment. He knew he would be wrapping up tight when the shivering started again. At this point in his misery, even the halls of Haven would be welcome and his bed. He would give all of his inheritance for a bed right now. Damn demons, damn father!
***
Pandrau watched the men she selected for their foray into the forest assemble at the gate. They were dressed in tanned dearhart and moccasins. Blades were strapped to thighs and the inside of wrists. The hilts of short swords could be seen over their shoulders A few of the men had fought at the front, which many of the Palace guards had not done before. When the Queen had expressed the desire to remove the rabble lurking about, Pandrau had asked for the chance to go and do it. She was bored and her guards would suffer for it. Complacency was not allowed.
If the day their enemies ever got too close, she would no longer let it be said that all that stood between their Queen and death was the Cadre. In her heart it infuriated her that the citizens were singing ballads of the Cadres bravery and the death of MeekBlade. The bravery of BrightLance was no question, but her guards, Pandrau’s guards were brave and skilled and willing to die for their Queen as much as any Cadre.
Colby rolled over and scowled at the lumps that lay about him. Useless scum, but at least they had to hunt and bring in game to eat. He thought they maybe better off than the fools remaining in the estate. Yes he was cold, and wet, but his belly was full. He was not going to bed hungry. He imagined even Mason was tightening his belt with short rations these day. Colby snorted. Oh wise brother stalking around spouting all that rot that father spewed. The General of father’s army. What an enormous joke.
Here in the forest below Daear, Colby had a full belly every night. He would probably make it through the winter and then before spring slammed the plains with rain, he would return home with the sad news of a renewed assault of demons which devastated his few loyal men while the rest deserted him. Father would foam and spew, but probably kill a few of the cowards that sucked off their table and go back to planning his great war and liberate them all from the demons. Good Luck with that!
Paquin crouched in the brush watching the deeper shadows where wheezy gasps could be heard. Whoever they were, it was bad. Sick he thought and maybe unconscious. It would not due to move to quickly and get himself killed. Pandrau would never let him forget it. He pressed the small tracker at his waist so she would come to him and settled into wait. The others were slipping passed him deeper into the woods. He felt her first. Pandrau’s coils slipped into his hair. In a moment she sent him on and moved closer to the trembling boy beneath the trees. A youth, very ill. She could feel the heat from where she crouched before him. He was burning up. She moved. Cleatus sprang up, blade flashing. He charged, slashing at whatever had come up on him in the dark. Terror spurred his actions. He could not see it.
Past rotations avoiding fists and kicks, had him ducking the unseen thing and slashing continuously to make contact and kill whatever it was. Pandrau felt like a fool as she ducked and blocked the rain of blows. He was a fierce fighter with more than a little knowledge of hand to hand. He blocked as many of her attempts to bring him down without killing him and that knife had already nicked her twice. How embarrassing. Pandrau rolled, to come in low and barrel him down. Her coils encircled his knife welding arm as her blade slipped between his ribs. Cleatus went slack in shock and pain. He wanted to scream, but there was no breath. He wanted to yell to cry, but there was no breath.
Breath, oh please, he needed to breath!
He managed one fretful whimper.
Pandrau felt the life leave the feverish body and for a moment felt the regret that this mere boy had to lose his life. She had wanted to spare him, find out who he was and what he knew about Fredric and his pseudo army. But it was too late now. He was determined to fight and she could not spare more time. She needed to ask BareBlade to train her if it took her this long to take down an ill youth. Pandrau allowed herself another moment of regret, then faded into the forest, cleaning her blade against her thigh. It was a given she would have no more soft hearted moments this night.
Paquin signaled the other guards he was coming in and got a response. He did not want anyone to kill him by accident. His heart was still beating at an accelerated rhythm. Part of him hoped he would not have to kill anyone, however to go home without drawing blood would mean he failed in his duty to the Queen.
It was not long before the tracker lead him to Jovan and he felt a little better not being alone on this venture. Jovan slipped his hand in Paquins. His fingers moved quickly in the sign language they were all taught to use when any sound would be dangerous. Jovan advised him that the camp had been discovered and at least ten men slept, oblivious to their presence. They moved together, the trackers giving them the location of their other companions. The intent was to capture for information. As one the guards converged on the slumbering forms. Heavy hilts of short blades smacked into heads more than once. A quick injection of a deeper sedative and these fools would wake up in BareBlade’s cells.
Whatever it was, Colby could not hear it now. He was suddenly wide awake without a clue as to why. The men were sleeping soundly and knowing his stupid brother, he was sleeping as well while some coiling menace nestled right next to him before having him for breakfast.
Colby snorted, and just like that he knew the world had gone to shit. He came up from his cloak with a shout to the men, swinging his sword. It met steel with twang and spark and Colby found himself sorely pressed. He shouted once more for the men and realized he was abandoned by the cowardly bastards. He roared in anger slashing wildly. Then charged his opponent swinging his cloak at them. There was a startled exclamation and he followed through with a thrust that stabbed whoever was fighting him. They went down with a yelp, but he tripped over them in the dark when they began struggling upright. The fellow grunted in pain and wrestled to get away from him. Colby cursed in breathless gasps while he struggled to stab his assailant. Then there was a flash of light and Colby thought CatsEye had never been that bright. He knew no more.
Damn damn damn, it hurt. Jovan grit his teeth, but could not stop the tears that overflowed. Since he was wet and it was dark no one would know. The scum had skewered him on that damn sword and then had nerve to fall on him. Jovan was struggling to fight the smelly hulk off when suddenly he was smothering. Jovan did not know who pulled the unconscious muskie off, but he was damned grateful as he gulped in icy and very fresh air. He would not remember passing out.
The jokers he worked with would never tell who pulled big muskie off of him.
***
Mustafa reasoned they were far enough north to safely turn back to the mountains. He was sore at heart over their failure. Everytime he moved east or south, the dread would return in full force. North or west left him nothing but his disappointment that the food they carried would be wasted. For three days they had walked, not daring to stop longer than to shift their packs a little easier on their shoulders.
It was raining again. The only relief was the thicker forest kept some of the water away. They were all cold. Thankfully there was some light to see by, though it remained very cloudy.
The thing he saw in the shadows of the trees would haunt his nightmares. He realized that more important than leaving food for people who may have already been food for that beast, he had to get his men home alive. So they pushed on north, prayed they weren’t being tracked and hoped maybe they would find someone to pass off the foodstuffs to. They had come across two caches with untouched food. The most discussion they dared was disconcerted looks. They were dogged by depression and fear now.
A distant shout made them drop to the ground waiting to discover from what direction new danger was coming. Mustafa had kept them off the well-traveled paths up until now. This was a fairly clear stretch of forest so they would not have to creep along attempting to avoid causing any attracting disturbance. The really frightening thing was there had been nothing to disturb. All evidence pointed to abandoned borrows. No hawks flew over on their way to hunt during the cloudy days and not one coiled horror had been seen for the three days. There was no sign that the tagudal had been in this forest. Perhaps the snakes knew it was coming and crawled away.
Now they waited and prayed the beast had not been tracking them and caught some unsuspecting soul in its maw. His stomach roiled at the thought. They would not be able to help. Mustafa honestly believed it would take a near army of men to bring such a creature down. Warning must be sent to all. There was more shouting. There was too much noise, whatever the reason. That thing could be moving closer as foolish men voices grew strident.
There was nothing for it. Enemies or not they needed to be warned. Mustafa slipped the pack from his shoulders. He felt Powa and Sharad’s restraining hands. He lowered the scarf of his turban and gave them a wan smile and a nod to reassure them. No, he did not want to be killed. Honestly he could wish the people of Haven had all gone into the wastelands far beyond these borders. The world would have continued with the most danger coming from long winded debates in the Senate meetings.
He pointed west. They should start without him. There was nothing to debate and he was not to be moved by threats or cajoling, even silent ones. He wanted to get them away and yes he was tired. Desperately in need of his wife’s best dishes spread out before him. He needed to hear his children laughing. He wanted back to the mountains. Mustafa pushed them off with an exaggerated sigh and stood, arms akimbo, until they moved out of sight.
He moved south and east toward the sounds of increasing disagreement. It was easy to slip closer to the careless men debating whether to turn back or continue their search. Mustafa observed them long enough to determine the leader. He was the silent one, grim, and shoulders squared with resolve. This one would not go back. He would probably kill one or two before he would allow that. Mustafa was able to drift around through the snarled brush and slip very close. He did not want this man to lash out and kill him, but he had to hear the message.
“I bring news.”
Mason wheeled his mount to face the direction that soft voice had come from. The fools ceased their argument as his actions. Fear held them silent. Was Mason going to attack them? Something nasty lurked in these woods and they wanted back to the estate. There had been no sign of the errant cousin. It was damned foolish to keep riding about looking for the the twit. He had probably run off.
“Show yourself. What news you bastard! Come out!”
Mason spurred his horse aggressively forward.
“I mean no harm to you or your men.”
Mustafa stepped from beneath the thick boughs of the old pine. In its shadow he was barely revealed, a darker silhouette amid the branches.
“There is tagudal in these woods. I came upon it feeding. Sign suggests a group of men and horses were attacked. It . . . I tell you no lie I have never seen one so large. It will take more weapons and men than you have to kill it. There has been no sign of snakes or dearhart in these woods. I think they are fleeing north to escape it.”
“Why should I believe you. This could be some trap!”
Mustafa took a deep breath and another step forward.
“Say what you will of us men of Haven, you know I will not raise hand against you. You know I gain nothing by coming to advise you of these events. This thing appears to have ranged far to the south. Our caches here are full of untouched food. No animals at all for the five dawnings I have been in these woods. Heed me and flee this place. Those you search for are dead. Even in this light my eyes did not deceive me.”
Mason growled in rage. Dead. Roddy dead and the horses. Caches with food. He looked up to question the FreeSoul further, but found nothing but wind stirring the branches of the tree. Enraged he yelled for his men to beat the bush for the sneaky bastard. They needed the damned food.
Haven’s men were crashing around making enough noise to raise the dead. Mustafa sat tight. His stomach was barely holding on to the rations he had consumed at dawning. It was a very near thing the non-believers had not killed him. The big one was so angry and the others so frightened, he had simply levered himself into the branches and they had not realized. Hopefully he could remain still long enough for them to move away. He would continue north for a ways and then turn toward the mountains. Mustafa was more determined than ever to get home.
No trace of the FreeSoul was discovered and the men were clamoring to return with the news of the tagudal. Mason had no desire to return to the estate and listen to his father’s ravings. They had no Roddy, they had no food. The forest was empty of game. The pacifist bastard could not have been lying about everything. Tagudal. He shivered with revulsion. Nothing on Nadredd was as disgusting as those monsters. If it was big enough to take out Roddy’s entire company it was a giant of a snake.
Mason brought his mount to a halt. He was short of breath and trembling. Exhaustion dropped on his shoulders like an anvil. What was he doing rampaging around the forest? This would bring the monster to his location. This was not finding game for the rabble to eat. He had been lost to his rage and resentment for too long. When he called the men rushed to his side. Their eyes were wide and white with terror, driven by their lurid imaginings. His command to return was barely leaving his lips before the men rushed away to the main trail. They never looked back. Cowards the lot.