"Shadow!” she shouted just before she lost consciousness.
* * * *
Shadow!
Raf's head shot up. Alert to danger, he searched the rocky trail he traveled for the source of Dale's voiceless scream. Silence blanketed the mountainside. Nothing stirred.
A strange tingling ran through him. His fingers sought out the shard of crystal, but the stone was cold and still in his grasp. His imagination had conjured Dale's frantic cry for help. His tension made the quinar beneath him prance nervously.
He couldn't let thoughts of Dale distract him.
Good as his word, R'Ken had escorted Raf through the maze of tunnels, back to where he had left the quinar. All morning he'd followed the twisting mountain track deeper into Devros’ territory. Though he saw no one, he could feel suspicious eyes tracking his progress. Soon they would make their move and confront him.
Not for the first time Raf wondered about the wisdom of his plan. Why should Devros believe he wished to join him? Beyond his brief association with Devros’ three scouts and a glib lie, what proof did Raf bring?
But all other methods of reaching the slaver's lair had been exhausted. Last annum King Timon of Dramon had sent troops into the mountains to search for Devros. None of the scouting missions had made it this far. Devros’ hideout was well hidden and well protected. One by one Dramon's troops were picked off on the narrow mountain passes. The few survivors returned home with little more information than they left with. And the slave raids continued, with more lives like Dolan's shattered by the inhumanity of slavery. Now Dramon's small army stood against two foes—one within and one without.
Out of friendship, Prince Ash had tried to dissuade Raf from his plan to infiltrate Devros’ ranks. But in the end he had reluctantly agreed to this last desperate attempt to stabilize Dramon's political situation. Raf knew if he failed, the best outcome he could hope for would be death.
Memories of his years as a slave threatened to overwhelm him. Raf had to know. Was Devros the man who had betrayed Raf's family into death, rape and slavery?
Was Devros his older brother?
Chapter Twelve
"Father!"
Thea hung back in the shelter of boulders lining the path as T'Nar threw himself into the welcoming arms of the imposing black Shakar.
"You live.” Emotion choked the adult Shakar's voice as he knelt to embrace his son.
Tears burned Thea's eyes as she watched their reunion. Would she ever see her mother again? Without success she tried to blink her tears away.
Being bound to T'Nar through his sister's memories didn't ease the ache she felt for her mother or change the fact that she was dying. Though the bond between her and T'Nar seemed to have somehow slowed the process, her body continued to shut down. If she didn't find a way home soon it would be too late.
"T'ea."
T'Nar's soft voice and gentle touch on her shoulder roused her from self-pity. She looked up into the green cat eyes of—her father.
No. She tried to deny what instinct told her. This man, this Shakar wasn't her father. He was T'Nar's sister's father. She shook her head.
Memories of the other entity contained within her rose in her mind, drowning out rational thought. Logic might tell her this Shakar was not her father, but her heart said otherwise.
"Saara—daughter.” He opened his arms to her.
With a whimper of defeat she walked into his embrace.
* * * *
Dale eyed the three men circling around her. Big and burly, they wore poorly tanned furs, and their hair and beards were dirty and unkempt. They grinned, sure of their coming victory over her.
She didn't have time for this. Thea was out there somewhere, alone, and ill. She prayed she'd find her before men like these did. She moved steadily backwards, trying to keep all three beyond arm's reach and from getting behind her. Her one quick throw of the smallest of the three men wouldn't keep them away long. His glare promised retribution for his humiliation at her hands.
Moments after she'd roused herself from the transfer, they'd found her. She hadn't had time to congratulate herself before they attacked. Dazed and disoriented, she'd grabbed the man as he reached out for her. Her throw owed more to luck than skill. Arms heavy and legs weak, she swayed from the effort. It was only a matter of time before they rushed her. At the top of her form, these three would have posed little threat, but the last few years she'd been lax in training, spending more time on her sculpture than at the martial arts academy.
Evidently, Thea's method of transport worked, but Dale couldn't recommend the trip. Her head pounded in unison with the heavy thud of her heart. At least she'd arrived clothed. The thought of being naked before these men made her shudder.
"She's a sweet one, ain't she? A tad small, but nicely rounded. How much you think Devros will give for her?” the man on her far right asked the other two.
Devros. They worked for Devros? Her mouth went dry, and despite the chill in the air, sweat prickled under her arms.
"Why sell her to Devros?” the small man asked. “We can use her, then sell her to the Belanites ourselves. Is it fair that Devros keeps the best women and the bulk of the profit for himself, when we do all the work and take all the risks?"
"You're mad, Ulger.” The largest of the three men stopped. “Devros has eyes everywhere. I've seen what he does to those who cross him. I'll have no part of it."
Ulger stopped and spat, then turned to the man on her right. “What say you, Faxan? Are you afraid of Devros like Treman here? Wouldn't you like a taste of her?” He nodded his head at Dale.
Treman and the man on her right looked familiar. Dale searched her still fuzzy mind for the answer. Then it came to her. They were the men she'd seen in the cave, the ones who'd run away as the spinners attacked their companion. Shadow's men.
Treman cocked his head and studied her. “I've seen her before. She's the one we found with Shadow.” His eyes narrowed. “How'd she get away from him? He can't be far behind. I'd rather cross Devros than him."
Fazan shrugged. “The spinners probably got him. What's it matter? His loss is our gain. I'm with Ulger. She's fair game. Let's take her."
Dale shuddered at their casual disregard of human life. Her's in particular. Involved in discussing her fate, their attention wavered from her. They moved closer together.
She edged away. Another twenty yards and she could hide amid the huge boulders and scrub brush along the base of the cliff. She doubted she had the strength or stamina to fight them and win. She had to escape. Without her, Thea would die here.
"Watch her! She's getting away.” Treman lunged at her.
His dirty fingers latched onto her left shoulder. Instinct and training kicked in. In one swift motion she grabbed his wrist, ducked and twisted until his arm bent in an unnatural position behind his back. At the same time, she kicked at the back of his knee. Screaming in pain and anger, he collapsed.
Body poised and ready, she blinked the sweat from her eyes and waited for the other two men to react. Years of training took over. Rational thought receded to a dim corner of her mind. She fought for life—hers and Thea's. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, vanquishing weakness and doubt.
Ulger, favoring his arm, hung back. “Get her, Faxan."
Faxan licked his lips and shook his head. “You get her."
"Coward,” Ulger spat. “She's but one, and a woman. Her fancy tricks won't help her if we work together."
The little man was right. Adrenaline strength wouldn't last long. When it faded they would overpower her.
"See. Already the she-hound trembles for our embrace."
"I'd sooner bed down with a pig,” Dale taunted.
"Give up now and I promise we won't hurt you...” Ulger rubbed his injured arm and grinned, revealing a mouthful of rotting teeth. “...much."
He feinted toward her. She lashed out. He ducked back and her kick fell short. His laugh grated on her ears. Waiting for his move started to tell o
n Dale.
Watching Ulger, she was unprepared for Faxan's rush. Intent on carrying her to the ground and subduing her with his body mass, he slammed into her side. She twisted in his grasp, clamped her fingers around his upper arms, went down on her back and used his own momentum to heave him over her head. He landed with a grunt and lay motionless. Dale rolled to her feet to face Ulger.
"What now, little man?” Exhaustion fogged her vision, but palm up, she curled her fingers in a come hither motion. “Come on. It's your turn."
"Moon cursed she-hound.” Ulger growled his anger, but kept his distance. “Run away. You won't get far. I know these mountains and its dangers. You don't. Soon enough you'll pray for me to find you."
"Not likely.” Dale edged backwards, determined to put as much space as possible between her and this walking nightmare before she collapsed.
A few yards away Treman sat on the ground. He massaged his now swollen knee and glared at her. The hatred in his eyes made her shiver. Faxan was out cold. How long before they regained their bravado and came after her again? When they did, would she have the strength, both physical and mental, to kill them?
Treman's gaze shifted to something behind her. Before she could react, a strong arm wrapped around her chest and lifted her off her feet. She lashed out with her feet and arms, but the strength of his grip forced her to be still. Familiar scents of mint, leather and man flooded her nostrils.
Shadow. Relief washed through her. She went lax in his grip and his hold eased.
"Comrades, my gratitude for helping me recover my property.” Shadow's breath blew hot across her cheek.
Rage caught in her chest. How could she have forgotten what he claimed to be? His betrayal? Adrenaline surged again. She tensed. Her muscles screamed in protest.
Shadow's lips touched the outer curve of her ear. Unexpected and unwanted heat speared her body. She tried to jerk away. His arm tightened.
"Tiguer. You trusted me in your bed. Now trust me with our lives."
"Trust you? Not likely,” she whispered back. “Why should I?"
"I will explain—later. For now, do as I say. Our lives depend on it."
"What are you whispering about?” Ulger demanded. “The woman is ours. We found her. Why should we share her with you?"
With one arm, Shadow shifted his hold and anchored Dale to his side. “I said nothing about sharing. Do you contest my claim to the woman?"
From beneath his cloak Shadow lifted his sword. Dale watched the red crystal blade catch the light and bathe the rocky ground with a crimson glow.
"No, no,” Ulger stuttered, backing away as he spoke. “The woman's yours and welcome to her you are. Too boyish for my taste. You can fight Devros for her."
For now, Dale huddled against Shadow. His arm around her waist was all that held her upright. The heat from his body kept the cold of shock from overwhelming her. Later there would be time for anger. For questions.
"Ah, Treman.” Shadow shifted his attention to the man. “I had thought you and Faxan lost, so quickly did you disappear after poor Armat's untimely death."
Treman ducked his head to avoid Shadow's searching gaze. “Thought the spinners had got you as well."
"Do you lay claim to the woman? If so, perhaps you will return the crystal coin I gave you and Faxan to present me to Devros."
Treman shook his head. “I think your she-hound has broken my leg."
"You,” Shadow told Ulger, “see to him and Faxan."
"Why me?” Ulger protested.
"Do you have other plans?” The red blade made a graceful arc in the air.
"No.” Ulger eyed the blade warily and crouched next to the wakening Faxan.
"Gather up your quinar. We leave shortly.” He started toward his quinar.
Dale's legs went to rubber beneath her. She staggered. Shadow's grip kept her from falling.
"Do not faint now,” he whispered harshly in her ear. “I cannot carry you. I need my sword arm free. If they sense any weakness, they will attack and I will have to kill them."
"Then kill them.” Dale stiffened her spine and kept pace with Shadow as he led her away from the three grumbling men.
"I need them alive. They are my route to Devros."
Dale stopped so suddenly Shadow was two steps beyond her before he also halted. Out of earshot of the men, Dale raised her voice. “I thought you worked for Devros. Why do you need these guys?"
"There is no time to explain."
"Now's the perfect time.” Anger pushed aside fatigue. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him. “I want answers, and I want them now. Or I'm not taking another step."
Raf longed to pull this unruly woman into his embrace and soothe her anger. At the same time he wanted to bind her hand, foot and mouth and throw her over his shoulder. He ran an impatient hand through his hair and glanced at the three slavers. They moved slowly, their injuries obviously paining them. He struggled to hide the grin building inside him. His tiguer lived up to her name.
He'd watched in fear and horror as she faced the three slavers, sure they would capture and do her injury before he could make his way down the mountainside to her rescue. Instead, though clearly groggy, she'd managed to turn their greater strength and size against them. Pride swelled. Then anger. Her actions had put her in danger.
"Come.” He turned abruptly, swung up onto his patient quinar and waited.
Dale's angry gaze flew from him to the slavers then back. She stomped to the quinar's side. “Where's Jo?” she asked about the other quinar.
Raf reached down his hand. “I will tell you all—later. We must make haste.” He nodded at the three slavers who were now mounted and headed toward them. Their sullen faces didn't bode well.
Dale grabbed Raf's hand and let him lift her up in front of him. Her slim hips settled between his thighs. Dressed in pants made of a thin material that clung like a second skin to her long legs, Dale's warmth quickly penetrated his groin. Unbidden memories surfaced. Pale limbs glowing in the firelight. Silken skin brushing his. He bit back a groan as heat rushed through him. She wiggled her hips.
"Be still,” he grounded out between clenched teeth. The woman would be the death of him yet.
"Then get your sword out of my ass,” Dale shot back.
Raf lifted his sword into her line of vision. The back of her neck flared red and she went dead still, but he felt her body twitch in what he guessed was a satisfied laugh.
All three slavers grimacing in pain, they rode up to Raf.
"Ulger, you lead,” Raf commanded. “Then Faxan and lastly Treman. I will protect the rear."
With a muttered oath, Ulger followed Raf's orders and the other two fell into line. Raf had figured correctly, Ulger, despite his small stature, led this band of misfits.
Raf knew he played a dangerous game. Without Ava to go for help, and if Raf couldn't convince Devros of his value, the best he could pray for was death. Never again would he allow himself to be enslaved. He would kill any man who tried to do so, or die resisting.
By what right did he expose Dale to the risks he took? In his heart he knew her innocent of any connection to Devros. Honor demanded he turn away from his determined quest to destroy Devros and put her out of harm's way. But the choice no longer belonged to him. Ulger and the others would not quietly allow them to leave. Even now Raf sensed they were being observed. Devros knew others were coming. To turn away now meant failure, possibly death.
After a few minutes of silence, Dale asked, “Did you find T'Sela?"
"No, but I located T'Mal's village and they will look for her."
"Good,” she said and fell silent again.
The sun beat down on Raf's shoulders, but Dale, in her thin shirt, shivered in the crisp mountain air. He sheathed his sword and wrapped an arm around her waist. She went rigid, refusing to lean into his chest for comfort.
"Where is the soft, willing woman who shared my bed?"
"That fool is gone."
With
gentle force he pulled her stiff body against him. “Is it foolish to follow your heart?” He pulled up her shirt and stroked the warm skin beneath her unbound breasts.
A tremor ran through her. “Stop that.” She tried to squirm away from his hand. “You're mistaking lust for love. You owe me some explanations.” She captured his hand with her own.
Raf nodded. He owed her more than explanations. He owed her life. Freedom. Love. None of which he could promise to deliver. “Ask your questions. I will answer."
"About time,” she muttered. “Who are you?"
He spared a glance for the slavers plodding ahead. They moved along a narrow mountain trail. The surrounding cliffs gave little access to anyone seeking to ambush them. Nor did it allow them an escape route if attacked.
"Well?” Dale prompted.
"I have asked for your trust, so I must give you mine. Repeat what I tell you and I will die, while you will soon wish for death."
Dale shivered at Shadow's ominous tone. What could be worse than being a slaver? Squeezed between his thighs and the saddle horn, she shifted again, trying to find a more comfortable position. His soft groan brought a smile to her lips. “Payback's a bitch, ain't it big guy?” she muttered.
"What say you?"
"Nothing. Tell me what's going on."
She felt him lift his head. Her skin tingled as his hair brushed against her cheek and neck. She jerked away.
"My true name is Raf del Jakar. My lord has charged me with the task of ending the slave trade. By posing as a slaver, I seek to find and destroy Stefan Devros, the man who controls the slave trade through these mountains."
"All by yourself? Wouldn't it be better to send in soldiers to track down and arrest this Devros?"
"Troops were sent. Their very numbers caused their failure and deaths. Devros easily tracked them through the passes and picked them off one by one, leaving only a few to return and tell the tale as a warning. But a single man can slip undetected through this mountain maze and surprise the shardak in his lair.
Shadow Moon Page 14