At first Thom wanted to accompany Shadow and her into the mountains. Dale wasn't sure what argument Shadow had used, but eventually Thom reluctantly agreed to remain on the farm. To them, Shadow presented a calm, kind facade. In just a few days they seemed to trust him without question.
Thom stood next to Shadow, talking intensely, but Dale couldn't hear what she was saying. Amme and Mozin sat on the floor next to their father's chair, their eyes wide and serious.
Shadow walked up the broad steps toward Dolan. Thom followed.
Dolan managed a weak smile. “May the Eternal One protect and guide your steps."
"More like the devil,” Dale muttered. Shadow's dark gaze flickered to her. She ducked her head. No use antagonizing the man—yet.
"You have my promise, if your mate and son are alive I will find and return them to you."
Dale found herself beguiled by the heartfelt sincerity of Shadow's vow. Despite what she knew about him, she wanted to believe what he said. “Yeah, right."
Shadow turned toward her. “Have you something to add?” Her blood chilled as his hand stroked the hilt of his sword suggestively.
The image of bloody heads rolling down the porch steps flashed through Dale's mind. Would Shadow actually follow through on his threat if she spoke out against him? Could she risk their lives on her gut feeling that he wouldn't? She shook her head.
Both Dolan and Thom looked confused by Shadow's harsh tone. Frightened, Amme scurried into the house. Mozin stood and put his hand on his father's shoulder. Of Dolan's family, only the lad remained suspicious. Smart kid.
"I would not have you trade your life or that of your woman's for my Saree and son, but I would know their fate. If they live, I have funds to purchase their freedom.” Dolan held out a heavy leather pouch that sang with the clink of coin.
"I have no need of your coin,” Shadow protested.
Awkwardly, Dolan rose and pressed the bag into Shadow's hands. “You must take it. Without my family, coin means nothing. Take it. Use it. I can replace it, but I cannot replace my Saree and the little one.” His voice grew gruff with emotion as he sat.
Shadow tucked the pouch inside the new cloak he wore and started to leave.
Thom stepped forward. “Take these also.” She held up two long daggers, one a deep ruby red, the other the palest pink. She handed the red one to Shadow.
Shadow smiled as he accepted her gift. “Thank you, Thom.” He studied the carefully crafted knife and nodded. “Very fine work.” It too disappeared inside his flowing cloak.
Thom's pale cheeks turned pink with the simple compliment. She moved down the steps and gave Dale the pink one along with a leather sheath to strap to her waist. Dale ignored Shadow's frown as she took the blade.
"Thank you, Thom. I'll cherish it."
"Use it to kill the sons of she-hounds who stole Dolan's heart.” Unshed tears glistened in Thom's eyes. Part of her heart was missing as well. She looked at Shadow and said, “Teach her to wield my blade well. Though her wrestling skills are adequate, her small size makes her vulnerable."
Shadow's lack of reply spoke volumes. Dale studied the blade rather than meet his knowing gaze.
How this world with its lack of metal and use of crystal would fascinate Thea's clever, scientific mind. The thought of Thea, alone and ill, frightened by her mother's disappearance made Dale's eyes burn. As much as she missed her daughter, her first priority had to be getting home. She couldn't allow fear and worry to distract her. To stem her tears, she concentrated on Thom's blade.
A sculptor herself, Dale recognized the artistry in the shimmering crystal blade. The heft and weight of the dagger fit her grip to perfection. Exquisite cravings of a mountain valley circled the hilt and trailed down the center of the blade. She turned the dagger to study them closer and accidentally brushed the razor sharp edge against her finger. A small bead of blood welled at the slight touch. She quickly sheathed the deadly blade and sucked her injured fingertip.
It still amazed her that this world had no metal. Instead they forged their hard crystal into the items they needed. Both Dolan and Thom were skilled crystal smiths. After having used Shadow's sword to hack through trees and brush, Dale didn't doubt that their crystal was a fine substitute for steel. And it was a heck of a lot prettier.
Shadow strode off the porch and vaulted onto his quinar's back. “We must go now."
Dolan placed his right fist against his chest and called, “Live hard. Die well, Shadow."
Shadow raised his right fist and answered, “Live well. Die hard, friend."
The words sent a shiver down Dale's spine.
"Come.” Shadow grabbed her quinar's reins and kicked his animal into a jarring gait. Her quinar followed, jolting into motion.
To keep from landing in the dirt, Dale gripped the saddle horn in front of her.
Ava swooped down. Perched backwards on Shadow's shoulder, beady eyes focused on Dale, the bird bobbed her shiny black head. “Come. Come,” she cawed.
Dale stuck her tongue out at the irritating creature.
From listening to Shadow and Dolan's conversations, she knew they'd have to pass by the spinmaster's cave before they headed deeper into the mountains. Each minute of the last few days seemed like a lifetime away from her daughter. No matter what Shadow threatened, she intended to search for her necklace. Once she found it, she'd take her first opportunity to leave him in the dust.
She had to get home before Thea's time ran out.
Raf tensed. He could feel Dale's gaze shooting daggers at his back. Perhaps, considering her unpredictability, it was not wise to have her behind him. Though the rising sun warmed the air, Raf did not shed his cloak. If Dale decided to throw the real thing, the thick cloth would provide a layer of protection. Despite her calm features anger and hurt brewed in her expressive eyes, and Thom's blade was sharp. He had better relieve her of the dagger soon, but not until they were out of sight of the farmhouse. No sense rousing Dolan or Thom's curiosity.
Dale's easy acceptance of her fate at his hands stirred Raf's suspicion. Questions and doubts chased through his mind as they rode. Wouldn't an innocent fight harder against the thought of being enslaved? Was she in league with Devros? If not, why did she speak his name when she lay ill? Or did she submit to his demands to guarantee safety for Dolan and his family? The threats he used against them were just another layer of grime on his already black ka.
Midway up the trail to the spinner cave, and long out of sight of the farm, Raf stopped his quinar. Dale's quinar bumped to a halt behind him. Without turning, he said, “If you throw your dagger, be sure the strike is a fatal one. Merely wound me and anger will make me dangerous."
He heard Dale's sharp inhale and the snick of crystal sliding against hardened leather.
"I had no intention of stabbing you in the back."
He turned. The red flags of color on her cheeks betrayed her guilty thoughts. “Perhaps not, but a wise man takes no chances. Give me the knife.” He held out his hand.
"Like hell I will!” She yanked her quinar's reins from his grasp and glared at him. “I might need it to protect myself from some wild animal."
Raf had little doubt to which animal she referred. He hid his grin and repeated his command. “Give me the knife. A slave does not need to protect herself. Her master sees to that chore."
"I'm not your slave, and you sure as hell aren't my damned master.” She spat the words at him.
"In the bathing hut you accepted your fate with more grace."
The color drained from her face. Rage turned her blue eyes a stormy gray. Why did he taunt her? To see if she would protest and prove herself innocent? What proof beyond her true enslavement at Devros’ hands could he accept?
Her tense pose and the way she worried her quinar's reins warned him anger might make her bolt. “I would not recommend you try to run from me here. Quinar are sure-footed beasts, but one misstep along this trail and you will tumble to a most unpleasant death.” He pointed
to the steep rocky incline that lined the path. Melting snow made the trail slick. His quinar shifted and dislodged a few rocks. The sound of their descent echoed loud and long, emphasizing his words. “The mountains hold other dangers as well."
"I made it down this blasted mountain without your help. What makes you think I can't make it back up the same way? When I'm ready to leave, I'll be sure to let you know.” She kicked her quinar. The beast gave a grunt and lurched forward, pushing past Raf's mount.
He watched her go, and then chuckled silently. He had not disarmed her. Better he follow.
A short while later they reached the small plateau outside the spinner cave. Puddles of icy water and patches of tiny blue flowers spotted the rocky ground, now bare of its snow cover.
Before he could stop her, Dale slid off her quinar. For a moment, she wavered as if in pain. Wincing with each step, she hobbled toward the cave entrance, then stopped and turned toward him.
"Exactly where outside the cave did you find me?"
"What?"
She shoved her fists against her hips and glared up at him. “You're neither deaf nor stupid. I need to know where I was when you found me so I can search the area for my necklace."
"We do not have time for this. I wish to make the first pass before dark."
"Tough. I'm not leaving here without my necklace. So the sooner you start talking, the sooner we can move on."
How easy it would be to scoop her up in front of him and continue. But something in her eyes, a silent plea rather than a strident demand, stopped him. A short stop would not delay them greatly. Both she and the beasts needed a rest.
He pointed to the spot where he had first seen her. The sight was etched in his memory, her body lying pale and motionless against the blue-white snow. A beautiful, lifeless sculpture. Quite a contrast to the warm, vibrant woman who now crouched determinedly over the rock-strewn ground.
She glanced up at him. “Well, it'll go a lot quicker if you get down and help me."
Unbowed by his claim of her person she issued imperious commands. He hid his amusement and dismounted. “For what do we search?"
"A chunk of milky white rock, about so big,” she circled her thumb and forefinger, “on a gold chain."
Raf went still. His hand slipped into his pocket. She looked for the milk crystal he had found. “What value does this necklace hold?"
"Only a few hundred dollars. But it was my sister's and I want it back. Maybe my wedding ring is around here somewhere too."
"You had nothing on your person when I found you,” he reminded her. Except the milk crystal lying beneath you.
A hint of color touched her cheeks, but she refused to respond.
His mind full of questions, he moved across the plateau, pretending to help her search.
What did the stone really mean to her? Slavers often carried objects, jewelry or crystal cravings, to identify themselves to each other. Maybe without her talisman Devros would not acknowledge her.
A memory flickered in the back of his mind. He reached for it, but like the timid little rodent, the tita, it shied away from him. As a hunter and warrior, he had learned that to capture elusive prey you must lure it to you rather than pursue it. With patience and time the memory would return. Patience he could muster. But did he have time?
When the mountain passes opened, Devros would move the slaves he had captured to the auction blocks and their fates would be sealed. Before that happened, Raf intended to reach him and put an end to his evil trade.
Hours later, long shadows cast the plateau into growing gloom. The wind shifted and the pungent smell of spinners spilled out of the cave.
He strode to where Dale poked determinedly among the rock crevices. “It is time to leave."
Unshed tears darkened her eyes as she looked up at him. “It's not here, is it?"
Where his threats and commands had left her untouched, failure to find her talisman bowed her shoulders in defeat.
"No. Come.” He held out his hand. Small and dirty, her fingers curled trustingly around his. Warmth and guilt shot through him. Where was her fear and hatred for the slaver he claimed to be? Did she see beyond his facade? Or did something more sinister drive her?
The urge to give her the crystal hidden in his pocket made him clutch it tightly. Until he was sure of her identity he would hold onto it.
"Perhaps Treman or Faxan found your necklace."
"Who?” A spark of hope lit up her eyes. She scrambled to her feet.
"My traveling companions."
"Do you think so? Can you find them? What are we waiting for?"
Pulling him along, she dashed toward the patiently waiting quinar. Only her slight limp told Raf how much this day's activities had cost her.
"Give me a leg up here and let's get going."
He boosted her into the saddle and mounted his own quinar. He braced himself as Ava took her usual perch on his shoulder. The avari's weight was not slight. Her sharp talons pierced the thick cloak to prick his skin. Cooing with affection, she brushed her wicked curved beak against his cheek, but Raf was never sure what to expect from the temperamental bird.
As they rode, Dale ignored the growing ache in her back, legs and shoulders. Somewhere ahead of them was her ticket home to Thea. She didn't want to waste a minute of the waning daylight.
Shadow's bird stroked its head against his face and stared at her.
Dale glared back. “Why does that stupid bird hate me?"
"Avaries are extremely intelligent. Ava more so than most. They are also fiercely protective and jealous of their companions. She sees you as a rival for my affection."
"Well, tell her she doesn't have a thing to worry about. You're all hers. And while you're at it, tell her to stop staring at me."
"Ava. Hunt. Follow.” Shadow lifted his arm. With a shrill cry, the bird spread its wings and shot into the sky.
Dale had to admit the creature was grace in motion. Its sleek black feathers gleamed with blue highlights from the setting sun reflecting off the mountain. Once airborne, its gray-blue underside rendered it nearly invisible from below.
"Ava's female?"
"Yes. Female avaries will bond only to human males. Avari males bond only to human females."
"Must be difficult for them to reproduce,” Dale muttered.
Shadow's laugh twisted something deep inside her. How could he be what he claimed? Her dad, an Irish cop from the mean streets of Chicago, had taught her to trust her gut feelings about a person's character. And her gut told her this man was no slaver.
She'd watched him with Dolan and his family. Shadow had treated Thom with respect, talked to young Mozin as if he were a man grown and dangled little Amme on his knee after dinner. If he saw people as commodities to be bought and sold, why not take advantage of their growing trust? But if he wasn't a slaver, why had he insisted on dragging her into the mountains with him? The man had a secret. One she was determined to discover and use to her advantage to get home.
The air grew cold as the sun set in a blaze of purples, pinks and blues. Body aching, feet and fingers numb, Dale huddled into her jacket. She buried her face into the soft fur collar and blew warm air to defrost her icy nose. “When are we going to stop? I'm tired, cold and hungry."
Stony silence met her question.
"That's it. I've had it.” She yanked on her quinar's mane. The animal jolted to a stop until Shadow's hold on its reins tugged it forward. “Stop!” she yelled.
Shadow stopped so suddenly Dale's quinar nearly ran up the back of his mount. She cringed as he whirled around to face her.
"You complain like a child. But we will camp here. See to the quinar. Unpack the supplies and start a fire. I will return shortly.” With a grace that made Dale unreasonably angry he slid off his quinar and walked away into the growing dusk.
They'd stopped on a large plateau. Sheltered from the mountain winds by the peaks surrounding it, grass grew here amidst the tumble of enormous boulders and stunted tree
s. Just ahead, the trail Shadow had followed led into a gorge between two towering peaks. The trail twisted so Dale couldn't see where it ended. The air tasted thin and cold.
Dale's legs wobbled as she crawled down off her quinar. The beast heaved a sigh, but otherwise stood still. “Do this. Do that. Who does he think he is?” she muttered and sat on a boulder. “I should just sit here and wait until he gets back. I'm tired. I hurt. I'm cold. And I'm hungry. He never even stopped for lunch.” Hunger spurred her into action. Why should she wait for him?
No stranger to the outdoors, she went through the familiar motions of setting up a campsite. From the time Thea was born, she, Thea and Steven had spent most of their free time camping.
Memories of lying next to Steven beside a blazing campfire, while Thea slept nearby, of making love under an open sky filled with stars, brought a bittersweet lump to her throat. They'd had so little time together.
Was her time with Thea doomed to be short as well?
She swallowed heavily and pushed aside the memories. The time to grieve for Steven was long past. And she wasn't going to give up her fight to save Thea.
After Steven's death, she and Thea continued to camp. The forests around her Illinois home might be flatter than Shadow's mountain, but the basics were the same. She unsaddled and tied the animals in a grassy area, then quickly pitched the tent. In minutes she'd gathered kindling and firewood, built a stone pit and coaxed a fire into being with the strange looking match-like sticks she found in with the supplies.
She ate a couple of slices of toasted bread spread with some kind of thick meat paste, then pulled a blanket around her and sat by the fire.
Dusk gave way to darkness lit by the glow of the moon. She looked up at the alien object lighting the night sky. Twice as large as Earth's moon, this moon was as yellow as a child's drawing of the sun and seemed to have a pale red shadow hovering behind and beside it. Goose bumps broke out on her arms at this further evidence that she was no longer on Earth.
Was Cathy somewhere on this strange world, staring at the same moon? How had she felt when she first realized she was no longer home?
Shadow Moon Page 6