savage 04 - the savage vengeance

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  “Do not allow them to live!” Calia hissed, a long sword that her braid had partially covered ready and tight in her grip, an angry welt upon her cheek where she was struck by Tucker. She ignored all of the Band, including the females.

  Clara came forward, noting the rage on Calia's face and said, “Show mercy, they cannot prevail against your strength,” Clara reasoned.

  Bracus palmed his chin, the frost sinking into his very bones, the heat of battle no longer keeping his body warm. Instead, the chill had gelled the sweat onto his skin like a damp icy coat.

  Rowenna walked toward the select, a female of the Band, looking at her curiously. Then she looked at Edwin and started. “You look as kin!”

  Edwin nodded. “She is. Thought long-lost these years past.”

  “Death and vengeance live in her eyes,” Rowenna noted and Calia turned to face her.

  “They do not deserve my mercy,” she said in a voice gone low with vibrating rage.

  Rowenna understood entirely. They were the most vile of humanity. Yet....

  “They held me since my infancy, were bartering for my trade the night I escaped... forced me into battle at nine years. I loathe their very existence.” Her eyes roamed the faction which stood before her; none met her eyes.

  Daniel watched as she moved against them.

  Philip watched the select with eyes that narrowed, warrior spirit in a female, and did not know if he wished to press her to his chest in protection or show her the back of his hand.

  He sighed. He could not let this rash female thrust herself amongst twenty of the fragment.

  Foolish.

  His eyebrows came down in a line over his eyes as he moved toward her position, the seventy pounds of hammered copper mail no hindrance to his movement.

  Calia felt the big warrior move toward her and swung to meet him as he was almost upon her.

  She would not be manipulated by anyone ever again, Band or no. Gender mattered not to Calia.

  Philip would have laughed if she had not aimed her strike for the place where the metal did not meet, the tender spot between his ribs and hip. She jammed her knuckles like a snake into the spot, gouging him instantly. It tore his breath from his lungs in a clever and instant move of compromise he had not anticipated.

  He had looked at her as a weak female and it was not a mistake he would make again. As that thought found purchase, so did her delicate fist... strong, small and deadly accurate.

  Philip stumbled back and shouted, “I mean you no harm! Stand down, hellion!”

  Calia did not, she rushed him, squirting around him like a slippery eel, peppering his sides with dedicated jabs, while he fought not to hurt her.

  The fragment moved in as she was fighting with Philip and she felt their assault like a deadly breeze at her back.

  “No!” Clara screamed, knowing what would follow.

  Calia turned and ducked, springing from her feet as she executed a pirouette full of grace, her blade sinking into the neck of the fragment that came to her back as a coward.

  Philip blinked once. Then charged the fragment like a bull before a sheet of crimson, the clank of his mail background music as the Band moved in, slicing everything that breathed.

  Or moved.

  Afterward, Clara took in the vestiges of the fragment, a handful having run from the battle. The blanket of white which had covered the ground was now spattered with the crimson droplets of the slain.

  Red now ran from the newly dead, the old now encased in a frozen tomb. Put there by a boy a world apart.

  Clara shuddered and Matthew drew her against his body, pressing a kiss on the crown of her head.

  His wounds wept against her borrowed wardrobe.

  Her last thought was of Caesar, conspicuous in his absence.

  A shadow of foreboding stole over Clara. After all, the royalty of that sphere had a way of reappearing.

  The group assembled, Daniel having never been but an arm's length from Calia. Philip the same.

  Two halves of a whole. Both men in place to protect.

  She needed neither.

  Calia needed herself and no other.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Band hunted where they stood, Matthew torn between letting others find his meal and staying with Clara.

  In the end, he stayed. He could not bear the thought of leaving her. When he checked her for damage yet again, she stayed his hands from her body. “Do not, Matthew. I am fine and well,” she smiled up at him and he grinned down at her. He had seen women of the clan in breeches but none wore them as fetchingly as she. His smile widened.

  “I know that which you think,” Clara said, thinking his face alone scandalous, as heat rose on hers, painting it a soft rose as the wan winter light faded.

  Clara glanced over at Rowenna and Calia, an uneasy truce between the two. Clara understood the difficulty Rowenna would have with the other select. Calia had been in her own company for many years, without human contact, save the few females she rescued from the fragment. Rowenna had many years of negotiation and socialization at her disposal in which to draw from. Calia had nothing. But her heart was fierce, her compass true. Surely the Band would see that?

  Bracus, Charles and Edwin had gone to hunt for the group. Charles thought it an adventure and for once not made the invitation a contrary assault with intentions other than the obvious afoot. He was trying, Clara had given him that. He had even said nothing about her unconventional attire. That boded well.

  Matthew drew her close to him and noticed how she barely stayed warm enough. “Let us be near the fire,” he said, jerking his chin toward the fire which blazed near the tree line. Matthew frowned. Normally, he would have never conceded the need for heat when the smoke would alert the fragment of their location, but now, with their numbers greatly diminished....

  Matthew allowed another smile, the heat of the successful battle all the warmth he required. He thought that some heat would be very good. He especially wanted it for Clara.

  He looked at the new female select, so aggressive in her rawness. Matthew was acutely reminded of himself, of his time amongst the fragment. She had even escaped around the same age. But where he had been purposefully neglected to keep him in a state of weakness and degradation they had taken care of Calia.

  Not out of love. Never that. Their sole intent was for greed. What they could gain in goods for a rare select. And to use a female in battle? Horrific! Shameful and abusive were not strong enough words for that.

  And only nine years.

  He shook his head. The fragment were of the vilest order.

  Clara saw Matthew shake his head and raised a brow. “What say you?”

  He thought about his words and finally chose, “Methinks it may be a time before Calia softens. She has been...” he did not even know how to quantify her suffering.

  Clara nodded, understanding more that she wished to. “Aye, I know what it was to live in fear of those that should have protected.” Nodding at her memories. “However, my father lived for my first ten and two years. Calia did not have that foundation. Nay, she had nothing.”

  “Now she has all,” Matthew said, leading Clara by the elbow, closer to the fire where Rowenna and Calia stood.

  Clara ticked off the points of Calia's life that had suddenly shifted. She now had a brother, Edwin. A reacquaintance could begin. She would have a chance for a mate of the Band, female companionship... an end from absolute self-reliance, isolation and loneliness. Who would not wish for those comforts?

  Yearn for them?

  But as Clara and Matthew came upon the pair of the select, she heard a discussion heading toward argument.

  Clara quickened her step.

  *

  Rowenna was beyond irritated! Insolent girl! She would not see reason, did not wish to discuss her future. Rowenna paced in front of her, telling her, point by obvious point the advantages to assimilation into her clan by the sea.

  The most obvious was the necessity of a ma
te!

  Calia rose to her full height, nearly that of Rowenna. “I felt I had been most clear. I. Do. Not. Need. A. Male,” she said, enunciating each syllable.

  Philip grunted by the fire, his mail laying beside him. “Aye, that much is abundantly clear.” Calia whirled on him and narrowed her eyes. Their gazes locked and she said, “It is most excellent that you remember that.”

  Philip chuckled. Spitfire, he thought, dropping his eyes to the stone he used to sharpen his weapon, feeling his bruised ribs from her small fists. He smiled. Presently, he worked it harder against the blade. Mayhap he could successfully drown out the escalating fight of the females?

  Maddoc was not in the least interested in the new select. She was a tigress and... had the disposition of a porcupine. He strode off in the opposite direction. Let his mother handle her. He wanted no part of it.

  Daniel watched the two women go at it with amusement. Rowenna had met her match in that one. Raised by the fragment? Left to her own devices for near a decade? She would be single-minded in a way heretofore unknown to the Band or anyone else. He kept his eyes hooded and watched the drama unfold. Even as he watched, Clara nearly ran to the pair. Mediator, Daniel thought. His speculations weren't off target.

  “Rowenna... mother,” Clara said. Rowenna swung her face toward her daughter, irritation leaking out of every pore.

  Clara went on, not the least intimidated, “Calia needs time to acclimate to these newest circumstances.”

  Rowenna scowled. “She will not listen to what she must do with her future.”

  Clara bowed her head to hide her smile. When Clara set eyes upon her mother again Rowenna's scowl deepened. Clara rushed on before she could speak against her unlikely savior. “Calia has saved me, most efficiently. She deserves a degree of deference for a time for her... unusual precepts.” Clara gave Calia a sideways glance and saw the corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly.

  Good.

  Diversion was Clara's next ploy, which she played like a well-used parlor card trick. “Beside,” she looked at the group gathered by the fire, “I think it is high time we discuss the battle and the things that transpired therein. They were most disturbing.”

  “Aye,” Matthew spoke for the first time, his mind conjuring the group she referenced. In particular the boy, very near manhood, who had used the dead fragment like soldiers against Tucker and his contingent.

  That got Daniel's attention and he rose from his perch against an outcrop of small boulders. He walked toward where Clara stood with Matthew and the two females, unconsciously sweeping for the rest of the group. He spied Philip sharpening a blade and the young Evelyn, bored at Rowenna's talk with Calia, poking a stick at the fiery coals. He looked at the position of the winter sun, low on the horizon, then his gaze met Philip's. Philip nodded back, his very posture indicating ease.

  He was not worried about the men which hunted.

  When he reached Clara he heard her mention the young Travelers.

  “They be sorcerers!” Matthew said emphatically. “Using the Pathway for frivolous purposes, stumbling upon us and deciding to aid us in our time of need. It could have gone the other way. It was naught but sport for them.” Clara frowned, becoming puzzled. She began to pace and placed her chin in her hand.

  “Methinks no,” she said finally. “The one that led them...”

  “The boy with the deep brown hair and the strange looking girl?” Rowenna asked.

  Clara nodded. The girl which never left his side had been unusual in her coloring. Hair like raven's wing and eyes like the emeralds of legend. She reminded Clara of....

  Rowenna snapped her fingers. “Aye, she reminds one of the Red Men, somewhat. But they do not have eyes of that color.” She shrugged.

  “Did you see the one boy that had black skin?” Evelyn asked in excitement. To have such exotic coloring! To not be as pale as the snow at her feet.

  Maddoc scowled. He found the boy with black skin objectionable. What possible interest could she have in him? His novel appearance did not impress Maddoc. What kind of man was he? Could he be counted on during battle? Those were the questions which begged asking.

  Calia made the first comment since Clara's arrival, “Their appearance is unimportant. The greater question should be posed: why were they here? Further, by what grand power does a boy, admittedly not yet a man, wield the harness of death?”

  “Then uses said power as a weapon of destruction,” Philip added, his bulk blotting out the fire that blazed behind him.

  Matthew, Daniel, Maddoc and Philip looked at one another, then Maddoc said, “It was a black magic...”

  “But useful in the right hands,” Philip agreed, remembering the focus of the dead, never stopping their onslaught. He admired that precision, regardless of origin.

  Matthew did not like it, Clara could see it in his expression. But she said what her heart had told her from the beginning, “I do not know how the young Travelers be tied to the ones who took a part of me,” she pointed to the star-shaped scar on the inside of her forearm and Matthew clenched his teeth in anger. That he had but a moment alone with those two....

  Clara placed a finger against his mouth and he pressed his lips against it. She finished her thoughts, flushing slightly at the small attention. “I do not feel that the younger knew the elder.”

  Rowenna's brows shot up. “You think the incident in the sphere tunnel unrelated?”

  Clara nodded. “I do.” She looked at the assembled, all of them subtly shifting their weight for best advantage of the limited heat of the fire.

  “They're all Travelers, Clara,” Daniel said.

  She nodded at that. “Aye. But the ones that came to our aid do not have a feel of...” she rolled her eyes skyward, thinking on it.

  “Premeditation?” Daniel supplied.

  “I know not what that means,” Clara said, yet, she almost had the essence of it.

  “I think those kids came here by other means, accidental. That those other guys,” Daniel pointed to the scar on her arm she had emphasized but moments before, “they knew who they wanted,” his eyes found hers and Clara inclined her head slightly, “how to get here, when to find you.” He threw his hands away from his muscular body.

  “So, let me put my understanding to the test,” Matthew fixed his eyes on Daniel's, Calia silently watching them, “these young persons traveled here from some point in the future, unbeknownst to the elder Travelers, aided us during a time of dire need, then returned to whence they came?”

  Daniel nodded. “We can't be sure but that's the gist of it, I think.”

  “What say you?” Maddoc asked, brows raised.

  Daniel had digressed into the accent of the fragment but it was Calia who translated, “It is the core of his belief that the appearance of the younger is not related to that of the elder. Coincidence,” she said and Daniel nodded grudgingly.

  She was under his skin, Daniel thought, digging and irritating. Always right, he studied her surreptitiously.

  “Aye?” Philip asked him in confirmation.

  Daniel nodded. “I think so. But better still,” he paused, making an effort with his speech with those gathered, “they did not use the Pathway.” He swung his finger back and forth. “No. Rather, they used something we are yet to understand.”

  “Magic?” Evelyn asked wistfully, thinking the whole incident thrilling.

  “There be no such thing,” Maddoc said dismissively, acutely aware of needing to make some show of superiority.

  “You may think you know all, Maddoc. Perhaps there are things in which even you could require enlightenment,” Evelyn said.

  Calia looked at the younger warrior and smiled. The young girl, Calia sensed, had the blood of the Band in her veins and sufficient fire to tame that one. Maddoc scowled at the feminine attention at his expense and fumed, folding his arms across his chest.

  “He had a just heart,” Clara speculated aloud. She was sure of it. His manner with his brethren and that o
f the females in his party had been one of a fair and level leadership, not one for self.

  Matthew thought on it, remembering what the boy had said. Aye, even he had to admit that he had adhered to a moral code not far from his own.

  After a pause he added, “Aye, Clara speaks true.”

  There were noises and then a horse appeared, the meat from several pheasants, their bodies yet to be plucked, slung over the beast's back.

  All thought of the strange Travelers fled, their mutual hunger surging to the surface.

  They gathered around the men. Rowenna smiling and coming into the circle of Bracus' arms, Edwin came to Calia, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze and Charles met Clara's eyes.

  A twinkle of happiness lay there.

  She was most glad of it.

  ****

  They were well fed and the fire had burnt down. The Band laid their bedrolls at the outer circle of the women, Calia grumbled at this but even Clara could see that she staggered about, in such dire need of sleep she was near-incoherent.

  Calia laid her bedroll as close to the fire as she dared. She had been miserably cold the entire day but had stoically rejected all offers of extra blankets. In the fragment, any indication of neediness brought a punishment. She was accustomed to going without, a difficult habit to overcome.

  Hunger.

  Cold.

  Lack of sleep.

  Those were her constant companions.

  But even now Calia was cross-eyed with tiredness. She must sleep.

  Yet she was afraid.

  So afraid.

  Afraid to trust. In terror of friendship. She would spend the one night with the Band and her dear brother. Then she would slip away. Calia did not like this talk of moving to a clan and having to find a mate. She enjoyed her freedom. And there were always women in need of rescue.

  They needed her.

  Liberty. Calia was their bearer of freedom.

  Daniel was discreet but followed Calia's every move. Any fool could see how tired she was. Yet, she stumbled around in her light tunic, asking for nothing. She had eaten very little of the delicious pheasants. He looked at her thin arms and slender body, she was not heavy enough to stay warm, fed... he sighed, looking away. She drove him mad. The need to protect and care for her assailed him and made him angry at its presence.