A Warrior's Desire (Harlequin Nocturne)

by Pamela Palmer

  “Your bare feet light the crystal with every step. We’ve got to wrap them first.”

  “You must leave me here, Charlie. You must go on without me.”

  “No.” His arms tightened around her once, before releasing her. A tiny circle of blue light ignited on the floor at her head and in that tiny glow she saw the hard planes of his face as he rose.

  “Charlie, they aren’t following us. They’re following me. The bond this Esri has with me must be strong for him to be able to track me despite the crystals. Without me, you stand a chance. With me, none at all.”

  “I’m not giving you to them.” He knelt beside her and pulled out his knife. “This gown’s going to get a little shorter. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Charlie…” She sighed, wanting to fight him yet, just as desperately, wanting him to overrule her. She didn’t want to leave him. “Charlie, they already own me. They could use me to hurt you. You must save yourself.”

  He continued with what he was doing as if she hadn’t spoken. As thoroughly and gently as he did everything, he cut two strips from the hem of her gown and tied them around her feet.

  “I need you,” he said, loosening the ropes binding her hands. “I don’t know my way through here.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “You’ve done damn well so far.”

  “I knew how to get in, but I haven’t been here since I was a child. All I know is that at some point the mine tunnels open into large caverns that extend through the center of the mountain. I believe there are other ways out on this side, but I don’t know where they are.”

  Charlie reached around her waist, tying the rope like a belt.

  “I can’t be your guide, Charlie, only your companion, and now that I’m enslaved, I can’t be even that. I’ll be your death.”

  He didn’t seem to be listening. “Sorry about the leash, but I don’t want you getting away from me if he calls you again.” As he glanced at the floor, his brows drew together. “What did I do with my bow and quiver?”

  “I took them off you when you fell asleep on the path.”

  Charlie groaned. “And I never picked them up again. I heard you scream and never looked back. At least we’ve got yours. Let’s go.” He gave a small tug on the rope, rose to a hunch, and lit another small dot of light. “You go first. If you’ve been here before, your subconscious probably remembers more than you think it does.”

  “Charlie…” She tried to stop the forward movement, desperate to make him understand, but he just gave her an amused look and a small push. She glared at him. “You’re going to get yourself killed over an inappropriate sense of loyalty. I’m a slave. I’ve never been more than that. I can never be. It’s my fate. It’s my purpose.”

  “It’s nobody’s purpose to be used and abused by another. You’re too smart to believe that.”

  “You’re not hearing a word I say.”

  She felt a tug on the rope, stopping her, felt his hands cup her shoulders as he pulled her back against him.

  “I’ve heard every word you’ve said. I just don’t happen to agree with them. We’re going to get through this together. I’m not letting you go back to that. Ever.”

  His words, velvet-coated steel, filled her with as much fear as relief. He was endangering himself. But, oh, how she loved him for it. She lifted her hand and pressed it against his cheek. “Then we can’t fail. I can’t watch you die.”

  “We’re not going to fail.” She felt his lips against her temple then a gentle push with his hands. “Now quit arguing with me and get moving, woman.”

  The gentle affection in his words warmed her, nearly tugging a smile from her despite the direness of their situation. Inside, her heart filled, expanding with a pressure that was almost painful as she fell in love more deeply than she’d ever thought possible. Charlie Rand was strength and courage, kindness and tenderness. And by far the finest man she would ever know.

  For a moment, she pulled his protectiveness around her like a soft fleece blanket and tried to believe that he could really get them out of Esria. But the fear in her heart wouldn’t be appeased.

  “There’s been no sign of the Esri for more than an hour,” Charlie said, miles later. “Do you think we could have lost them? Could the bond be weakened through distance like this?”

  Tarrys glanced over her shoulder at the top of Charlie’s bent head as he walked, hunched over beneath the low ceilings. “I think they’re taking breaks. They’re probably hating these low ceilings as much as you are, but the Esri have little tolerance for discomfort.”

  “I hope they take a long…break…this time. I’ve got to…”

  Tarrys whirled, catching him around the waist as he slammed into the wall, lighting the space bright red, releasing the faint scent of fermenting fruit.

  “Tired,” he said. His knees buckled and she managed to get him onto the floor without banging his head. By the time she laid him out, he was already asleep.

  Fear hammered in her chest as she brushed his cheek with her fingers. Something was very wrong with him. She knew just enough about human illness to know he needed help. And she had no idea how to offer it.

  He looked tired. Unwell. He looked…

  A chill traveled over her skin as she caught the sight of something on his neck. A greenish marking. She reached for him and pulled back the edge of his tunic.

  Mottling. The green mottling of trimor poisoning.

  Chapter 11

  Charlie blinked, waking slowly to the sight of a tiny red night-light. No, he realized. Not a night-light. A glowing spot of crystal wall, illuminating Tarrys. She sat beside him, her arms wrapped around her up-drawn knees, her chin on her arms as she watched him with worry-filled eyes.

  Charlie pushed himself up until he sat beside her. “What happened?” He vaguely remembered feeling tired. Tired, hell. More like someone had hit him over the head with a baseball bat.

  “You fell asleep,” Tarrys said softly. If anything, her brows drew closer together.

  Glancing down the dark tunnel, he searched for distant light. “Any sign of the Esri?”

  “No. Charlie, I know why you’ve been feeling the way you have.”

  “I have a virus.” A big, honking Esrian virus, if he had to guess. He’d never had anything ambush him in quite this way, with so little warning. He could barely trust his own body anymore.

  Which was kind of ironic, given Tarrys’s situation. He frowned, suddenly remembering he’d collapsed so fast he hadn’t had time to think about securing her, let alone doing it. The end of her rope, the end he’d been holding in his hand, was now tied around his wrist.

  He held up his hand. “You did this?”

  “Yes. I’d hoped it might wake you up if I was forced to try to go to him.”

  Clearly, thankfully, the bastard hadn’t called her. Charlie rose, bending at the waist to keep from clobbering his head on the low ceiling. “Let’s get going.”

  “Charlie, we need to talk.”

  “We’ll talk while we travel.”

  Tarrys rose with an easy, fluid grace before he could even offer her a hand, and he ushered her in front of him, envying her height. The ceilings through here were several inches above her head, leaving her free to walk upright. “I’m kind of surprised you’re still here,” he told her. “The way you were wanting me to let you go.”

  “I only wanted to leave to help you. Now I have to stay to do that.” The passage was wide enough for the two of them to walk side by side and she fell into step beside him.

  “What do you mean?” The grave expression on her face didn’t bode well.

  “You were poisoned, Charlie. By the trimor.”

  He frowned. “It didn’t attack me.”

  “It must have broken your skin with its horn.”

  He reached for his shoulder, rubbing it. “I felt his horn snag on my tunic for just an instant, but I swear he didn’t break through.”

  But her expression made it clear she didn’t b
elieve him.

  Charlie scowled. “Do I look paralyzed? I promise you, it’s just a virus.”

  Without answering, she looked away, and they continued on in silence for several minutes before she spoke again.

  “Do you remember the way my skin looked after the trimor attacked?” She turned back, her eyes sharp and demanding. “That green mottling? As you fell asleep, I saw the same green pattern on your neck.”

  Charlie looked at his hands, turning them over. Nothing.

  “It went away quickly,” she said. “But I know what I saw.”

  “Then why aren’t I paralyzed?”

  She looked to the ceiling with a shake of her head. “I don’t know. You’re human. And you probably only got a tiny amount of the poison. But this has to be why you keep tiring. Your body’s trying to fight it.”

  Charlie’s jaw clamped tight. At least he knew why he’d turned into the walking dead.

  “Is there an antidote?” He reached for his canteen, so damned thirsty. Was the poison to blame for that, too? He offered her a drink, but she shook her head.

  “There is an antidote. The root of the carnasserie bush. But we have to get out of the mines to find it.”

  Charlie took a long pull of water, forcing himself to stop long before his thirst was quenched. “Then we have to find another way out. We’ve got Esri behind us.”

  Tarrys nodded, her eyes worried. “The paths have been feeling familiar to me. I think there’s another exit beyond here. But it’s just a feeling.”

  “It’s better than nothing.” Going forward was a risk. But so was going back. Just because they hadn’t seen the Esris’ light in a couple of hours didn’t mean they weren’t still being followed. The Esri could be using the same lighting technique as Tarrys, and probably were. If he had to face them, he’d face them, but strictly as a last resort. They knew he was human and would be going for the jugular. If he killed either of them, which could only be accomplished with fire and the death curse, he’d bring the whole damned Esri race down on his head.

  Chapter 12

  They hadn’t gone far when Charlie found himself reaching for one of the canteens he kept in the vest beneath his tunic. He took a small swig, letting the cool water slide down his parched throat. Thirst was beginning to hound him.

  He was tempted to ask her to try to make a spring appear, but he remembered how she’d called for the tree to provide the fruit—with her full palms pressed against the bark. Hitting the crystals in that manner would light them up like the sun, giving away their position. He still had one full canteen and a little water left in a second. At the rate he was going, he’d have both drained in an hour, but by then they might be well clear of the mountain.

  Tarrys stopped abruptly and Charlie had to grab her to steady himself, to keep from tipping them both over.

  “What’s wrong?” He could feel the tension in her slender shoulders. Then, as he looked ahead, he knew. In the dim fingertip of light cast by the crystal he could see two black maws instead of one. This was the first time in a long time they’d come to a choice and the first time at all that she’d hesitated.

  “I don’t know which one to take.”

  “You think one of them is the way out?”

  “Yes. I’m pretty sure one leaves the mountain and the other goes through. But I don’t know which is which.”

  Charlie reached for her hand, feeling her rising agitation. “Go with your gut.”

  “My gut?”

  “Your instincts. They’ve led you right this far.” But the rueful expression she tossed him made him wonder if she’d been guessing all along. If she truly had no idea where they were, he might be doomed to wander inside these crystal walls until he died of old age. Or black trimor poisoning.

  “Let’s see if we can make this easy. We’ll walk a short way into one of the tunnels and maybe catch a whiff of fresh air or a sound from the outside.”

  She cocked a skeptical brow. “We’re miles inside the mountain.”

  “Are you one hundred percent sure of that?”

  A grimace twisted her lips. “No.”

  “Then let’s give it a try. He tugged her about ten feet into the left tunnel, then wrapped his arm around her waist. But no scent of water tickled his nose. No chirping of birds met his ears. The tunnel felt the same as the original.

  “Anything?” he asked, praying something sparked a memory in her.

  “No.”

  He sighed, but refused to be disappointed. Not yet.

  “Me either.” He led her into the other tunnel and once more stood with her, in silence, hand in hand. “Anything?”

  “They’re the same,” Tarrys said.

  But that was just it. They weren’t. One meant life. The other almost certain death.

  “Decide, Tarrys.”

  She looked up, meeting his gaze. “My instinct tells me to go right. But I can’t tell if that’s because that’s the way out, or because that’s the way I would have gone before, back into the mountain. I honestly don’t know and I don’t want to choose.”

  What did his own instincts tell him? He thought about it for a moment and came up with nothing. “Let’s go right. Let’s follow your first instinct.”

  Tarrys looked decidedly uneasy. “Okay.”

  Charlie tugged on her hand and they retraced their steps and continued walking. If he didn’t get out of this place soon his back was going to be permanently bowed.

  The air between them held a coarse tension, anticipation riddled with anxiety, as they headed into the dark. Though Charlie strained to hear the scream of a flying snake or the scent of trees, mile after mile passed without change. Hope proved harder and harder to hang on to.

  They’d walked for hours to get this far, he reminded himself. They might well have to walk for hours to get back out, so there was no sense in getting discouraged.

  Easier said than done.

  The silence between them began to weigh on him and he decided it was foolish. If they reached the outside, they’d know it when they got there. There was nothing to be gained by listening for the sounds.

  “How did you happen to be born in here?” he asked Tarrys.

  “My mother was a miner.”

  His brows lifted. “She mined the crystals?”

  “Yes. Before the sealing of the gates, Esria was lit and warmed by the power of the seven stones. When the stones were lost, light crystals became the source of light and warmth in the royal court and most of the wealthy halls. The Marceils were enslaved to serve the Esri and to work the mines. My mother was one of them.”

  “So there was a whole community of Marceils living in here. Men, women, children?”

  “Not children. Only me. The peoples of Esria rarely conceive, especially since the loss of the seven stones. I’d never seen a child until I followed Baleris into your world.”

  “Never?” He looked at her incredulously.

  “No. There were only fifteen miners in this end of the mine. Until I was nine years old, I’d never seen anyone else.”

  He tried to imagine that, tried to imagine growing up in this darkness, and couldn’t manage either one.

  “So your father was one of the other miners?”

  “I suppose, though father isn’t a word that has any meaning in this world.”

  He looked at her askance. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t need two people to reproduce?”

  Her mouth quirked up. “Yes, we need two. One of the other miners sired me. But neither Marceils nor Esri mate for life as humans do.”

  Charlie scoffed. “Believe me, humans don’t mate for life.”

  A frown crossed her pretty face. “Jack and Larsen promised to forsake all others when they married. Do you think they lied?”

  “No. They meant it. But despite the good intentions, I’ve never known a marriage to last.”

  “None? Truly?”

  “Well, I’ve known some, but they’re the exceptions, not the rule.”

  “Your
parents’?”

  “My parents’ lasted long enough to produce two kids. Then dear old Dad rode into the sunset with a younger model and never looked back. But we weren’t talking about my messed-up family. We were talking about yours. So, you didn’t know who your father was?”

  “No. Among races who rarely conceive, choosing a single mate is neither necessary nor particularly wise. A female increases her chances of finding the most compatible male for conception if she doesn’t limit her number of partners. There were only eight men among the fifteen Marceilian miners. Any one of the eight might have sired me. But it didn’t matter. All treated me as a daughter. All the Marceils raised me those first nine years.”

  “What happened when you were nine?” And why did he get the feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer?

  “The Esri found out about me.”

  “They didn’t know there was a kid in here for nine years?”

  “The Esri rarely came far into the mines, disliking the low ceilings as much as you must. They don’t need to be present to control their slaves. The Marceils dug for crystals and turned them over to the Esri because they had no choice. If the Esri had known my mother was pregnant, they would have taken me and sold me the moment I was weaned. As it was, I had a chance to know freedom…and what it was like to have a family to love me.” Her words trailed off with an ache of loss that pulled at something deep inside him, something he didn’t want anything to do with.

  “So the Esri finally caught you?”

  “It was my fault. The others had told me stories of the outside, stories of winding streams, colorful birds, and a golden sky. I wanted to see them for myself.”

  Such a simple thing, curiosity. He found himself tensing, suspecting the tragedy that followed.

  “Over and over again, I begged my mother to take me outside, but she always refused. She explained why, that there were bad people out there who would steal me away. But I’d never seen an Esri, of course. Even they sounded fascinating, in a way. One night I was feeling particularly willful. My mother had scolded me for something—I don’t even remember what, now. But I was angry and wanted to get back at her.”