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ImaJinn Books
www.imajinnbooks.com
Copyright ©2004 by Elysa Hendricks
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Prologue
A November storm brewed, churning the Council River, as Dale huddled on the flat rock at the river's edge. This had been her sister's favorite spot. Now Dale came here to say her farewells to her sister.
Lost amid the river spray, tears rolled unheeded down her cheeks. Seven years was not long enough to ease the grief of loss, but it was time to let go of unrealistic hope. The courts considered Cathy dead and from now on so would she.
When Cathy had first vanished, her clothing found on this very rock, Dale didn't—couldn't—believe her sister had died. The lack of a body fueled her hope that Cathy would be found. But each passing week, month, year without further leads whittled that hope to nothing. Eventually even the police ceased investigating her disappearance.
According to the records, the mysterious man who had stayed with Cathy just before she vanished didn't exist. His clothing was alongside Cathy's on the rock, convincing the authorities that the two had somehow drowned in the river. They had no explanation as to why the bodies never surfaced.
A year later, Dale found pieces of the strange stone from the man's necklace strewn along the riverbank. She didn't turn them over to the police. Instead, she'd strung the largest piece on a gold chain and stashed the smaller fragments away. Since then she'd worn the necklace all the time. In some strange way it provided her with a connection to Cathy.
"Mom?"
Thea's concerned voice was a mere whisper against the rumble of thunder.
Dale dashed away her tears and turned to face her daughter. The wind whipped Thea's waist-length, moon-blond hair around her elfin face until she grabbed the silky mass in one impatient hand. As always, Dale found herself struck with awe that she had had a part in creating the lovely creature approaching. If only Thea's father had lived to see his daughter growing into such a beautiful young woman.
More grief seeped through Dale, but it was the ache of an old wound. Steven had been killed eight years ago. Pain clogged Dale's throat. So many loved ones gone—Steven, her father, Cathy—until only she and Thea remained. No matter the cost she wouldn't lose Thea.
"Mom, are you crazy? The storm will break soon. The way this rock juts out over the water, it's a natural draw for lightning.” Thea picked her way down to the rock and held out her free hand. “Come on home now."
Shortly after Cathy's disappearance, Thea's role as daughter had undergone a subtle shift. She wasn't a typical fourteen-year-old, but Dale knew Thea's maturity owed more to her empathic nature than her high IQ. Often it was difficult for Dale to remember this was her child and not some angel sent to earth to comfort her.
"In a moment. There's something I need to do first.” Dale reached inside her jacket and lifted the necklace from around her neck. Once she threw the necklace into the raging water Dale knew she would finally be able release her hold on Cathy and get on with her life. The odd milky white stone felt warm to her touch and seemed to pulse and glow in the fading afternoon light. She lifted her arm. The necklace dangled off her outstretched hand.
"Mom! Don't!"
Thea's frantic warning was lost beneath the sharp crack of lightning that lit the cloud dark sky, and everything happened in a blur. A sizzle of energy crackled in the air around her. A calliope of sound drowned Thea's frantic scream of denial. Her panicked features dissolved in a swirl of light and color. Dale closed her eyes, but continued to see the dizzying kaleidoscope. Unable to open her fingers she clung to the white-hot, glowing necklace. A blast of searing heat and then a wave of icy cold rendered her numb.
"Thea-a-a-a!” she screamed until everything went dark.
Chapter One
Raf del Jakar pulled his mount to a halt. At first, the woman lying naked in the snow just ahead appeared dead. Her skin was pale in the weak light of Tareth's one visible moon. Hair, leached white by moonlight and cut boy-short, framed her triangular face. Though slight of build, she had an ample bosom with light brown nipples, which were now puckered in the cold. Honey gold curls guarded her woman's secrets.
As he stared, her woman's eyes flickered open. Blue as the cliffs of the Azul Mountains around him, her gaze didn't plead for help, it demanded. Recognition of her warrior spirit shifted something deep inside him. Then she groaned, her eyes closed and the connection broke.
No matter her need, he had no time for distractions. In less than a moon cycle he must complete his mission. Failure would cost him more than his good name. He'd die or wish he had, and all those he sought to save would be condemned to a fate worse than oblivion. When the twin moon again showed her face he needed to be in position to close the trap on his prey—the slaver, Stefan Devros.
But if he ignored the woman, she would die. However, if he came to her aid, would her fate be any better?
There was no decision to make. Conscience wouldn't allow him to disregard her plight.
He turned in his saddle and glanced back at the motley group following him. Dressed in dirty furs, their hair long and greasy, the three men made Raf's skin itch. The use they would make of the woman did not bear thinking about.
Of the scum that roamed the Azul Mountains, these three were bottom feeders, vicious offal that skittered around the edges of the more powerful, grabbing whatever leftovers they could to survive. Devros used them as scouts, but didn't trust them to handle any raids. Dangerous, but not terribly bright, their lack of intelligence made it easy for Raf to take control of their surveys and bend them to serve his ends. Still, a careful man would never turn his back on them. Raf considered himself a very careful man.
If the woman survived their ungentle attention, she'd end up on the auction block. His stomach clenched at the memories of another slave auction. The stink of fear. Unwashed bodies crowded in pens. The bite of the lash. The grate of the auctioneer's voice. Harsh mocking laughter. The bidding. The screams.
He held up a hand. His quinar shifted restlessly beneath him. This close to their base camp, an abandoned spinmaster cave, the huge shaggy beast was eager to continue, knowing food and rest waited.
Grumbling about the unexpected delay, the men rode up behind him. Their complaints ceased when they saw the woman. Raf prevented them from catching more than a glimpse by dismounting and quickly wrapping her in his cloak. Ava squawked at being disturbed and flapped off his shoulder. Because of its aversion to spinners, the large ebony hawk would choose another roost for the night, but would find him again in the morning.
The woman felt small and fragile in his arms. Like a frightened shecal kit she curled against his chest.
"Camp tonight will be right warm, won't it?” Treman licked his thick lips in anticipation.
A surge of unexpected and unwanted possessiveness made Raf's grip tighten until the woman moaned in protest. It didn't matter to Treman if a woman was willing or not, warm or cold, he took his pleasure without regard for his partner.
"My find,” Raf growled. “I claim first rights."
Treman snorted his displeasure, but didn't lodge any further complaint. He and Raf had butted heads before. The tension between them kept Raf on constant edge. The other two stood aside waiting to see who would prevail, ready to dart in and steal whatever scraps they could. Eventually, Raf would have to take care of Trem
an, but for now he needed the man.
First rights would protect the woman for a day or two, but slavers, in particular Treman, were not known for their honor or their patience. Before too long he and the others would challenge him for their turn with the woman. Raf knew he'd have to find a way to prevent that from happening.
As he juggled his awkward bundle, the woman's hand came to rest against Raf's chest.
On the ground where she had lain was a ragged piece of milk crystal. Though common enough, something about the stone beckoned him. He scooped it up and deposited it in his pocket before mounting his quinar and heading for the shelter of the spinmaster's cave a short distance ahead.
A few minutes later, inside the cave, the warmth from the banked stove hit him like a slap. His cold chafed skin burned as it thawed. Though planting season would soon begin in the valley, cold time still gripped the mountains.
He deposited his cloak-wrapped bundle on the chamber's large box bed, covered the shivering woman with bed furs then stirred the embers in the stove to a roaring blaze. Heat quickly blanketed the room.
From outside the chamber he heard the grumbles of the men as they made their way deeper into the cavern riddled mountain.
As leader of this motley band of slavers, Raf had commandeered the abandoned spinmaster's chamber as his own. The other three made do with an empty storeroom. Though Raf normally saw to his men's comfort before his own, with these three he had no difficulty making an exception. He could hope a cold damp cave would sap their eagerness for trouble.
Still recovering from the cruel reign of a despotic dictator and a bloody revolt, the Dramain farmers, with few young men, were ill prepared to protect themselves. Like a scythe through ripe wheat, the slavers were cutting a devastating swath through the already depleted populace. Though young King Timon of Dramon fought hard to see to the safety of his people, until his country grew stronger the slavers had easy pickings. Weakened by the slavers’ raids Dramon now faced an even greater threat—invasion.
With the planting season about to begin, Stefan Devros, the self-proclaimed leader of the slavers, would soon seek information about where to target his raids. Raf's mission was to be the one to provide that information, thereby gaining access to the man.
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Through slitted eyelids Dale studied the man as he stood stirring something on the stove. Hair the color of wet India ink hung halfway down his back. In the room's dim light she couldn't tell if his skin was a warm brown from the sun or his natural complexion. He frowned and creases fanned out from the corners of his eyes, revealing his mature age. His cheeks were high, his chin firm. If not for his straight narrow nose, his profile would look Native American. Tall with broad shoulders, he dominated the room.
When he turned toward her, she closed her eyes. Unable to see, she felt vulnerable. All her life, she'd been the strong one. The calm, rational one. The one to whom everyone turned when they needed help. Being dazed and disorientated angered her. She fought against the feeling of helplessness.
Fight or flight? Her heart beat a rapid rhythm in her chest. Wobbly as she felt neither option seemed feasible, but even if she couldn't run or fight him physically, she still had her wits to do battle with him.
What had happened? Who was this man? What did he want? Where was she? Where was Thea? At the thought, the other questions ceased to matter.
Her eyes snapped open. She scrambled to her knees and faced the man. “Thea! Where is she!"
He lifted one eyebrow. “Where is who?"
His calm, quizzical tone fanned the flames of Dale's growing rage. She leaned forward, her fingers curling into tight fists. “Thea, my daughter, what have you done with her? If you've hurt her, I'll rip off your head and spit down your throat."
"A most colorful threat.” His soft chuckle sent a ripple of rage through her.
"One I'm more than capable of carrying out. Where is she?"
"Thank the moons I have no knowledge of the child. You were alone when I found you outside this cave."
Though she had no reason to believe what he said, his words rang true. Terror clutched at Dale's soul. “Oh, my God! The lightning might have thrown her into the river. We have to find her.” Her bare feet touched the cold floor as she slid from the bed. Her knees buckled and she pitched forward.
He caught her. Where his hands gripped her arms her skin burned. Her face pressed against the warm cloth covering his shoulder. The scent of cold clung to him, along with the pungent aroma reminiscent of horse. Her bare breasts rubbed his chest.
Shock rippled through her. She was naked. Embarrassment gave way to anger. “What happened? Where are my clothes?” She pushed away from him, snatched up the fur blanket from the bed and wrapped it around herself.
"There is no lightning and we are far from the river. Return to bed. You are yet weak from your ordeal."
Her legs trembled and her entire body ached. Soft and persuasive, the strange cadence of his voice beguiled her to surrender to the lassitude stealing over her. He swung her easily up into his arms. Being held against his broad chest felt natural.
Still, she struggled weakly against his hold. “No. Thea's only fourteen. We have to find her."
"Rest. I will search for your Thea."
His words eased the dread building in Dale's heart. Like a child she submitted to being placed back on the bed, the fur tucked around her. But she couldn't relax. The room started to spin slowly around her. She grabbed his hand, the one solid, steady object she could reach.
"Promise you'll find her."
"I cannot promise."
He tried to pull away, but she held tight. “Please."
She hated the begging note in her voice, but she'd do anything to find her daughter, even grovel.
"I give you my word I will do what I can to locate your daughter."
Dale turned his words over in her mind. Something about them felt off, but she couldn't concentrate. For the first time since her father and Steven were killed she let go of control and allowed someone else handle the future. She nodded and let herself sink into sleep.
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Raf smoothed the tangled wisps of hair from the woman's flushed face.
His carefully phrased promise tasted bitter on his tongue. “Do what I can?” What could he do? The woman spoke nonsense. There hadn't been a lightning storm in this area for months. And the closest river or lake was a day's ride away. Whatever had befallen her had muddled her mind. Even if he could leave her and hunt for this Thea, where should he begin his search? The plateau outside the cave was nothing more than a patch of rocky ground.
She mumbled in her sleep. He leaned close to catch her words. Her breath whispered over his skin. Heat radiated from her as fever ravaged her slight body. Chances were she wouldn't live to see the hollowness of his promise.
He'd seen death in all its unlovely forms, even caused his share. Why did the thought of this woman's death make him rebel?
A knock interrupted his musings. He opened the door. “What?” Raf asked Armat, a small weasel faced man. The most cowardly of the three and the least intelligent, Armat did his best to keep from gaining Raf's attention.
"Shadow,” Armat cringed and whined. “Me and da others are going down the mountain ta do some scouting. Treman made me come tell ya."
Raf's first instinct was to stop them. They'd just returned from a tenday long scouting mission through the farming valleys. This was Treman's way of rebelling against Raf's authority. Raf had no doubt they were headed to the nearest tavern to get drunk and whore around. Days of hard travel and the sight of the woman had stirred them to a dangerous pitch. Letting them go might be advantageous, but without Treman, Raf had no way to reach Devros.
Behind him, the woman cried out. “Stefan!"
The slaver's name on her lips chilled Raf's blood.
Armat craned his neck to peer around Raf. His decision made, Raf blocked Armat's view into the room.
"Stay out of trouble. You're no
good to me if the local authorities incarcerate you."
Armat looked puzzled.
"Don't let them throw you in jail,” Raf amended.
"Right, boss."
After Armat and the others left, Raf turned his attention to keeping the woman alive.
Chapter Two
Dale's body ached and her mouth felt dry. What a weird, frightening dream. She stretched and her arms brushed against something soft and furry. Forcing her gritty eyes open, she stared up at the rough rock ceiling above her. Where was the beautiful sky mural Cathy had painted on her bedroom ceiling?
Shock froze her cry of denial. This wasn't a dream. She had to get home and find out if Thea was okay. But before she could do that, she had to figure out where she was.
"How do you feel?"
The sound of a masculine voice made her bolt up. The action made her head spin.
She looked around to locate the owner of the familiar deep voice. She hadn't dreamed him either. Dressed all in black, one booted ankle crossed casually over his knee, he sat at a wooden table. He toyed idly with a deck of what looked like handmade playing cards. A sheathed sword hung over the back of the chair. A steaming bowl of something that smelled delicious and made her mouth water was on the table before him.
"Are you hungry?"
When she noticed how his gaze remained tightly focused on her face, she glanced down. She was naked. Vague memories of her body pressed against his hard chest caused heat to wash up her neck and face. She grabbed at the fallen covers.
Clutching the soft fur to her chest she glared at the man. Fear and embarrassment made her lash out. “Who the hell are you? Where am I? Where's my daughter. And what in the blue blazes is going on?"
He uncoiled his lean muscular body. She couldn't stop herself from cringing away. Though well-versed in the art of self-protection, she knew she wouldn't stand a chance in any contest of strength against this man. His head nearly touched the ceiling of the cave. His presence dominated the small space.
Shadow Moon Page 1