WOLF DAWN: Science Fiction Thriller/ Romance (Forsaken Worlds)

by Susan Cartwright

With his horrified gaze on the enraged animal, Ash moved, slipping on the blood and flesh of some unfortunate creature. Startled, he slid, stumbled and fell backwards in surprise. He hurried, attempting to shift away, to escape. He held his right arm, his knife arm up, but he was down now; his other hand was on the floor of the pit, balancing precariously. Completely exhausted, he had used his last reserves.

  He simply couldn’t make his body move.

  Warm red fluid dripped from his shoulder down his left arm. The sight of his own blood startled him, sparking his adrenaline. Was his wound, like his doomed combatant, also mortal? Had he and his adversary killed each other? Ash had no time to consider the matter. The boar was coming toward him fast, as if it had been shot from cannon.

  It was charging in for the kill.

  There was nothing Ash could do. Nothing.

  Ash stared. Death was coming toward him, fast and final. There was nowhere to run. He thought: I don’t want to die!

  Desperate, Ash shut his eyes. An enormous wave of heat poured over him, flowing outwards. This was his power! It was so hot, so searing, that it actually hurt, but it also strengthened him. Ash reached toward the charging boar like a Prefect toward an altar. As if in soulful prayer he screamed, he mentally commanded:

  “Stop!”

  As if running into a wall, the boar obeyed, sliding to a halt. Ash moved without thought, he jumped to his feet, instinctively plunging the knife deep into the boar’s skull between its small beady eyes.

  The animal stared at Ash in astonishment, and then collapsed.

  It was dead.

  22. Close Call

  The parables state that “What you seek is also seeking you.” This is so true. Like a magnetic force I was drawn to him. I heard no audible sound, yet I was called to his side. Paralyzed, I hardly recognized my own senses. In the space of a heartbeat I saw, smelled, heard, touched, and tasted only him. I did none of these things and all of these things, and from that moment on I was both lost and found.

  — Lady Lindha, private files

  Silence penetrated Ash’s awareness in a sullen, unnatural hush. The absence of sound seemed to him as quiet and empty as the void of deep space.

  Stunned, Ash looked searchingly at the mass of people that encircled the pit. Not one person moved. Facial expressions were fixed. No one even blinked. The truth struck Ash like a completely unexpected slap in the face. It wasn’t only the boar that had been stopped by his compelling mental command. The entire crowd had been stilled.

  I can still mind-touch. A wash of euphoria flowed through him and he swayed unsteadily on his feet. The heat of his power burned within. Reaching for his gift had been unconscious. How had he done it? Could he do it again? But he had no time to think of that. Here was his chance to escape. He jumped onto the huge boar. Its added height, combined with desperate necessity, allowed Ash to manage the long leap out of the arena despite his fatigue. He pushed between the closely packed, motionless Ferals and, knocking many out of his way, ran through the crowd and into the open.

  The frozen tableau shattered. As if in an unbroken wave, both sound and movement returned.

  “Stop him!” someone called.

  “Get him!” came a roar.

  “Kill him!” screamed another.

  “He is an off-worlder. Don’t let him get away!” The mob was furious, deprived of death, of tattered flesh and blood: blood that they had paid to see. The off-worlder had cost them a lot of credit. No one had bet that he would live — no one. He was supposed to die.

  Ash ran towards Tombay. The safety of the woods, dark and inviting, was out of reach, cut off by a swelling mass of angry Ferals. One stocky, formidable man charged toward Ash with his hands outstretched. As the Feral grabbed for Ash’s tunic, the fellow suddenly stumbled, falling to the ground with a bellow.

  It was then that Ash saw Jani. The old woman had tripped his attacker with her walking stick. Their eyes met for a moment and Ash saw Jani’s lips curl. An odd smile played about her mouth, more like a tiny twitch of satisfaction. Ash never slowed his panicked run, yet a part of him registered a strange fact. In all the times he had seen her, he had never once seen Jani smile … until now.

  The maddened Ferals lost his trail for the time being, but the choking whir of badly maintained speeders, buzzing like angry insects, could be heard overhead. He threw himself to the ground when any flew dangerously close, giving thanks that at least he was under the cover of night. There was little scrub in which to hide, the forests having been felled for grazing beasts.

  As if pursued by a pack of wolves, Ash ran and time passed.

  Stumbling through the night, Ash doggedly pushed on. He had lost a lot of blood and hadn’t eaten well for months. Despite being hunted, wounded, and fatigued, he found himself grinning. He was outside. He was free. Now if he could only get to the Temple of Jana he would be safe.

  After hours of desperate running, hiding behind any cover while hyper-alert for danger, Ash arrived in the outskirts of Tombay. It was completely dark, a moonless night, but that was okay. He felt safer in the darkness. He continued, following Icom mapping. It directed him through a residential area with nicely trimmed grass and well-kept gardens. He caught the scent of lavender, and it smelled so sweet he paused for a few minutes just to breathe it in. A dog barked in the distance and he frowned. Dogs were another threat he hadn’t considered. He came to a more suburban area, and it became more difficult to keep in the shadows as light glowed from windows or street lights. As much as possible he moved through darkened back alleys or lanes.

  Ash’s focus remained on one objective — he had to get to the Temple of Jana. They were honor bound to provide sanctuary if he requested it. Icom indicated the Temple was right here. So where was it?

  “Who’s there?” a voice said from further down the alley.

  Ash swallowed and remained silent. Fear spiked fresh adrenaline right to his chest. His heart gave one big thump and for a moment it seemed as if it had stopped. Quietly, he slipped into the darkest shadow he could find.

  A young man with a weapon was walking down the passageway, talking to a companion. His brown khaki uniform, Icom informed Ash, indicated that he belonged to the Tombay militia. “I thought I heard something,” he said.

  “I didn’t hear anything.” His companion, an older, stocky fellow, was also dressed in militia uniform.

  “I hope it’s that off-worlder. A reward was posted for him, dead or alive — thirty credits.”

  “Thirty!”

  “True. If we get him, we’ll split it. He’s supposed to be dangerous, so we better just kill him on sight.”

  The older man laughed. “You idiot. We have to make sure it is him. You can’t run around shooting people, you young firebrand. Put your gun away. We can use my stunner.”

  Ash was shaken. Everyone knew about him, he realized with a sinking feeling. Someone must have posted details of his escape on Icom. He was being hunted, and not just by Ferals. He inactivated his Icom completely — he couldn’t risk the possibility that it could be traced. Now there would be a full-scale search. His pulse sped. Wounded, with everyone looking for him, he didn’t have a chance.

  “This way,” the younger man said, pointing toward where Ash was hidden.

  Terrified, Ash pressed himself against the wall. He was trapped. These men could find him at any moment. There were two of them, both alert and ready.

  Ash’s jaw tightened as a primal need washed through him. He wanted to live.

  Trueborn! Inhuman!

  He clenched his fists and thought: If I have to, I can take them. Exhausted, wounded and armed with a knife, Ash knew he would win a fight with these civilians, but only if he was willing to seriously injure or possibly kill them. And even if he was comfortable with that — which he wasn’t — one of them would surely get an Icom alert off. Reinforcements would arrive and then he really would be dead.

  Ash swallowed, turning over his options.

  No, he thought in si
lent protest, unwilling to believe that there was no way out. I don’t want to die. But there was nowhere to run without being discovered. It was totally dark where he was. Like a cornered animal, Ash began to desperately search the bare walls, running his hands over the rough stone, looking for an exit.

  Ah. A thrill of chance ran through him. Here was the edge of a small trapdoor, a narrow opening intended for small goods passage, not people. Would it open?

  He pushed his knife into the gap where the door was locked, and worked it into the wood. Goddess bless them for using traditional building materials. The hinges must have been well maintained, because it opened in complete silence. Ash pulled himself inside, closing and locking the trapdoor after him. Waiting for a shout of alarm and sound of weapons fire, he sat tensely, holding his breath.

  The minutes passed but he heard nothing. Relieved, Ash slid to the floor, his body trembling uncontrollably. The shaking unnerved him. Was it from fear or adrenaline? Perhaps he was simply cold, as he wasn’t used to the chill night air.

  The room had no light. He felt no airflow, but the temperature here was warmer than outside. The floor was hard, like a sidewalk. When the shaking stopped, Ash surveyed his surroundings, using hands and feet, bumping and feeling his way around the entire chamber, making a mental map. There was no carpet. A number of sealed boxes were stacked against the walls, and a few rough, empty burlap bags. There were two doors; the odd delivery trapdoor he came through, and another door, a standard door directly across from it. He smelled dust, only dust, no other scent, not even that of a rodent. He heard nothing, even when he put his ear to both doors. He was in a storage area of some kind and, judging by the amount of dust, it was a room that was little used. There was no evidence of food, unless it was vacuum packed.

  What luck. I’m safe … for now.

  Ash grinned. He had just had the audacity to consider himself lucky. And what was more, despite everything, he truly felt grateful, fortunate for this chance. He tipped his head back and thought, “Thank you, Jana.” If Taro the Deceiver and Jana the Goddess of Truth were indeed fighting over his future, so far Jana appeared to be winning — if only by a fraction.

  Ash sat behind the standard door. Using the burlap bags to lie on, he lay down, utterly worn out. He carefully felt his wound. The bleeding had stopped, but it sure throbbed. He was accustomed to pain, but what he would give for something to drink. His mouth was dry as the thin bark of the blue-ringed parchment tree. Not much to do about it right now, he decided, practical as ever. He would get some rest and figure out a plan when he woke up. Once more he gave silent thanks to Jana, and asked her to continue to aid him.

  He closed his eyes. Exhaustion pulled him under like a lead weight in water, and he instantly fell asleep.

  With natural grace, Lady Lindha, the Prefect of the Temple of Jana, walked down the spiral staircase. She smiled as she passed one of the Temple Novices.

  “Good night, Prefect.” The woman nodded respectfully.

  “And a good night to you, Miraj,” Lindha replied.

  Miraj was training to become a Temple Sister. Every Sister was skilled in many subjects including social graces, self-defense, healing and the arts. Art itself was considered by the Temple to be an expression of the soul in its highest form, including the art of satisfying one’s partner as well as oneself — physically, mentally, socially and spiritually. A Delian Damithst jewel adorned Miraj’s right nostril — a tiny facet. The adornment stood out bright against her dark skin. The jewel was an honor, recognizing obligation and dedication. Soon Miraj would pass her final tests and be ordained. Then she would be allowed the distinctive “ha” at the end of her name — becoming the Lady Mirajha.

  The sound of Lindha’s solitary steps echoed in an empty hall. Her brows furrowed.

  What was that?

  It was the strangest sensation. It was as if someone had been softly calling her. She tilted her head and listened. She heard nothing, yet she felt inexplicably drawn toward a little used storeroom at the foot of the stairs.

  This is ridiculous, she silently admonished, while she stood in the hall. But she couldn’t help herself. She felt compelled to move forward and look inside.

  The Lady Lindha opened the door and walked in.

  Ash woke and sat up, instantly alert. Someone had just walked into the storeroom. He came silently to his feet but the effort it took made him dizzy. His head spun as he drew out his knife and thought, Don’t turn on a light. Just go away.

  He saw the shadow of a person hesitate for a moment, breathing in … sniffing …

  Oh no, Ash thought. I stink of blood and death.

  Using Icom, Ash’s unwanted visitor flicked on a light.

  The moment the light came on Ash sprang, pulling the intruder against him. A thrill raced through him like an electric shock. No, Wait. He was holding a woman! His chest pressed hard against her back. There was a muffled scream cut off by his hand as it covered her mouth. The woman was young with smooth, soft skin and the fabric of her gown was cool and sleek against him. Her silky golden hair brushed his face. She smelled clean, feminine … wonderful, and she was trembling with fright.

  Ash registered all these details in less than an instant; but nothing could alter his purpose: He wanted to live.

  This new arrival was delicate and insubstantial compared to his strong male body, so it was easy for him to restrain her. He knew she would not fight him in any case, because he held his knife against her neck. With the light on, the woman could see the blade. Ash knew she felt the thin cool edge pressed against her throat. The knife remained a threatening presence, signifying a roll of dice or the flip of a coin: life or death.

  He softly kicked the door shut. She didn’t move. Satisfied that he had cowed her, Ash said, “I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth so you can speak. Do you understand?”

  The woman slowly nodded.

  “If you cry out, I’ll be forced to kill you.” Ash made his voice deep and menacing. “If you send an Icom alert I will kill you.” He paused, letting his warning sink in. “Don’t make me kill you.”

  She carefully shook her head, a purposeful and definite “no.”

  Ash could never murder anyone, much less a woman. Nothing could persuade him to do that, not even to save his own life. He smiled grimly. But she doesn’t know that. “I’m taking my hand away.” He removed his hand from her mouth and placed his arm around her waist. The movement secured her, pulling her closer against him. She was slim and yielding and her smell tightened something deep and low within him. Her scent seemed familiar. But not even a woman could distract him from the trouble he was in.

  “Turn out the light,” he instructed with the aggressive voice of command. Ash felt safer in the dark, where he could think and not look at her, not be distracted by her. With a mental flick of Icom, she did as she was told.

  It didn’t work. In the darkness, Ash’s other senses came alive. He became acutely aware of the feel of her skin against him, her curving back and buttocks against his chest, hips and thighs. His flesh heated in each place where their bodies touched. Her scent filled his nostrils. He shut his eyes, bit a lower lip, and breathed in deeply. Ash held her firmly against him and she struggled slightly for a moment in response.

  “Don’t move,” he admonished in a rough whisper. His grip tightened further. “Listen to me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  The woman whispered with a trembling voice, “Please, will you take the knife from my neck?”

  “No.”

  He felt her swallow. “Why are you here? Just take what you want and go.”

  “I’ll leave … soon.” What to do with this woman? He could tear strips from the burlap bags and use them as rope. Would anyone miss her if he tied her up? Could he trust her and let her go? No, he decided, he couldn’t.

  “Who knows you’re here?” Ash growled, his desperate fear of discovery making him sound exceedingly dangerous. The woman said nothing.

  Ash’s ar
m tightened around her like a vise. It was a grip caused more by a culmination of the terrors of the day than by a desire to hurt. “There are people who want to kill me,” he said with brutal force, “and I don’t want to die.” These harsh honest words were torn out from somewhere inside him. He had come so far. He had survived so much.

  The woman remained silent and still.

  Ash felt warm trickling drops of water, the feel of tears falling on to his hand — the hand that held a knife against her innocent throat. Like ice cold water splashed on his face, her tears stunned him into sensibility. The young woman was so frightened that she was crying. He felt like a monster.

  “By the Goddess, what am I doing?” Ash spoke out loud, but he was talking to himself. His voice lowered, becoming a mumbled whisper. “I was trying to get to the Temple of Jana — I seek sanctuary. Instead here I am, threatening an innocent woman with a knife. You probably already sent an Icom alarm, anyway. I’m sorry. Forgive me.” He dropped the knife. It fell silently in the dark, probably onto the burlap. Defeated by the woman’s tears, Ash relaxed his grip and let the woman go.

  She sprang away from him.

  A warm tickle of blood trailed down his back. His exertions had reopened his wound. His mouth was as dry as desert sand.

  The door opened.

  The lights flicked on once more. Ash stood motionless, as if switched to holovid pause. He blinked, blinded. It took a moment to make out the form. It was another woman, a slightly older one with a fierce, murderous expression on her face. She expertly held a deadly weapon — and it was pointed straight at him.

  Ash’s mind whirled. Last night he slept imprisoned in a cave. This morning he woke with water thrown over him by his captors because he had lost consciousness, probably from starvation. He had been on display as a slave, mauled and examined by ignorant Ferals, sold to the highest bidder, then thrown into a pit to fight an enormous maddened boar. He had been gored but survived, and then somehow he had managed to kill the boar and escape. After that he ran for hours, playing hide and seek while being chased by pretty well everyone on Opan, as far as he could tell. He had spent the last fifteen hours completely wired, adrenaline burning through his veins, terrified for his life. Now here he was, staring at death … again.