"Who sent you on this fool's mission?"
"My lord is no fool, and the plan is mine."
"So, once you find Devros, what are you planning to do?"
"I will send a message back revealing his stronghold."
"And just how do you intend to accomplish this?"
"Ava will carry the message. Once Devros’ location is known, troops will be sent in. With my map to guide them, they will not wander aimlessly until Devros’ men pick them off."
Dale looked around for the annoying bird then asked, “Excuse me, but where's Ava?"
"She will return."
"Maybe. In the meantime, why should Devros trust you?"
"I have information he needs to further his trade."
"Okay, but what's to prevent him from torturing you for that information then killing you? Or selling you into slavery?"
Shadow's body went rigid. “No man will ever enslave me again."
He'd been a slave. Dolan had guessed right. The horrible scars crisscrossing Shadow's back were the marks of his captivity. How much he'd suffered. Despite her anger at him, the thought of this strong proud man forced to bend to the will and whims of another softened her heart. Warmth spread through her when his arm brushed against the underside of her breasts. “Did Devros give you those scars?"
"No.” Soul deep anger vibrated in his voice. “Another has already paid with his life for that pleasure."
"Tell me."
Remembered fear, pain and rage lowered Raf's voice to a harsh whisper as he spoke of the night his childhood ended and events beyond his control forged him into the man he was.
Long suppressed images rose in his mind. He could see and feel the flames engulfing the comfortable manor house he'd called home. Heat from the blaze dried the tears on his cheeks as he lay bound and gagged on the ground like a shoat for slaughter, helpless to prevent the destruction.
The acrid scent of smoke and burning flesh singed his nostrils. His mother's screams echoed in his ears as she struggled in Devros’ steely grip, his father lying broken and bloody at her feet.
His sisters’ wails of terror as they were carried away haunted him still.
When Dale placed a comforting hand on his arm, he pulled back from her touch.
Hurt by Raf's rejection, Dale blinked away the moisture from her eyes and stared ahead. Let him keep his demons. She had her own troubles to deal with. “What do you do, when you're not out chasing slavers?"
"I serve as Master of Arms to Prince de Gar."
"Degar? Ash Degar.” Her fingers bit into his arm. Thea's theories and dreams were true. If Cathy was still here on this strange world, they could find Thea together and go home. “You know him? He's here? I have to speak to him."
Shadow looked puzzled. “He is not here. I would not allow him to risk his person in this quest. My Lord resides at Castle Mar with his lifemate, Princess Katrina of Mardelan."
"Married? Degar is married? What about Cathy? What did that bastard do with my sister?"
"Speak softly. You draw the attention of our comrades.” Shadow nodded pointedly at the men gazing curiously back at them.
"I don't care.” Dale lowered her voice. “Your prince made off with my sister and I want to know what he did with her."
"Who is your sister?"
Dale got the feeling Shadow knew the answer to his own question, but for some reason he refused to acknowledge it. “Cathy Lawrence. Short brown hair and brown eyes. Uses a cane to walk. The playing cards in the cave are her artwork. Was she there? With Degar? Where is she now?"
His long pause made Dale's heart sink. He tightened his arm around her waist. Her brief hope of finding Cathy alive died.
"She's dead, isn't she?” Fresh pain lanced through Dale, and she sagged against Shadow. After seven years of grieving, Dale thought she'd come to terms with the loss of her foster sister. Now she knew she'd never truly accepted Cathy's death. “How did she die?"
"She died a hero. Your sister put herself between Prince de Gar and Kersin, a man determined to kill him. Kersin's sword pierced her heart. She died in Ash's arms, her love for him on her lips. Lightning took her remains."
"Thank you for telling me.” The pain felt raw. Another loss. Dale struggled to rebury this new grief along with the others she refused to acknowledge. This information, though painful, reminded her she had to focus on finding Thea. Once they were home and Thea was well, she'd revisit her grief.
"It took me time to connect the crystal I found with you to the one Cathy had used,” Shadow continued. “Magic crystals and other worlds are not an easy concept to accept. For me, there can be only one world. To remain sane, I strived to put what I saw from my mind. Your presence now makes that impossible. I saw the lightning transport you. But why did you return?"
Was there another question hidden in his eyes.
"Thea is here. I have to find her and get her home before it's too late."
She felt him nod. “We will find her."
Shadow's vow melted the remainder of Dale's anger.
Ahead, the trail widened onto a small plateau. Ulger stopped his quinar and waited for the rest of them to catch up. Shadow's muscles went taut around her. He unsheathed his sword and slipped his dagger into her hand. Further questions would have to wait. She cleared her mind and prepared herself to react to whatever came next.
Shadow stopped his quinar several yards away from the three slavers. “Why do we stop here?"
Dale looked around the plateau. Covered with knee high grass and a scattering of bushes and stunted trees, the plateau seemed deserted of life. An odd blue fog bank obscured the base of the cliff in the distance.
"We wait here for Devros’ sentries to alert him. If he wants to see us, he'll send a guide.” Treman smirked.
"And if he does not?” Shadow asked.
Ulger shrugged. “We're known here. Our welcome is assured. Yours? Well, we'll have to wait and see, won't we?"
"Shadow, I don't think this is such a good idea,” Dale whispered. “Why don't we just leave?"
"Too late.” Shadow directed her gaze to the five armed men emerging like ghosts from the blue fog.
Chapter Thirteen
Seeing her mother appear in a flash of light stole Thea's breath. Watching those creatures masquerading as men attack her, made her blood boil. Only T'Nar's strong arm around her waist prevented her from charging out of the rocks to her mother's side.
"That's my mom! I have to help her!” She twisted in his grip.
"Shhh,” T'Nar whispered in her ear. “They will hear you."
"Wait. Watch.” T'Mal's voice calmed her.
She went still and watched as another man came up behind her mother.
Though her logical side said that despite her bizarre connection with T'Nar, his father, T'Mal, was not her father, her Shakar memories and human emotions said otherwise. From the moment T'Nar presented her to his father, she'd felt a bond with him. Without a flicker of hesitation he accepted her as T'Nar's hapala, as his saara—daughter.
Thea's memories of her real father were vague and dreamlike. He'd died when she was only six. Until T'Mal claimed that position in her life, she hadn't really felt deprived. She and her mother were a family of two. Now she mourned for what she'd missed and rejoiced in what she'd found.
Fear twisted in her heart. Had she gained a father only to lose her mother?
T'Mal touched her shoulder. She looked away from her mother and met his understanding gaze. He held out his hand. “Come. Your mother and the man are the ones who saved T'ala and me. Even if I were not now bound with them through you and T'Nar, I could do no less for them. We will follow."
With complete trust she placed her fingers within his strong grip and let him guide her.
They trailed her mother's party until they reached another plateau and were surrounded by more riders. A short while later this new group headed toward yet another mountain pass.
"They're leaving,” Thea whispered. “How can we rescu
e them?"
"Father will find a way.” Hero worship shone in T'Nar's eyes.
Looking up at the powerful Shakar, her father, Thea's doubts and fears faded. She didn't argue as he led her and T'Nar back into the mountain tunnels, away from her mother.
* * * *
Raf watched the riders approach. Silhouetted against the blue fog the men loomed large. Dale tensed. Then the men rode out of the mist into the sunshine.
"Belanites! Of all the moonless luck.” Two of the riders were Belanites. He swore and threw his cloak over Dale.
"What the Hell are you doing?” She tried to shove aside the heavy fabric.
"Be still and quiet, and cease your squirming before you unseat us both."
She sat still, but peeked out from beneath his cloak. Her breath caught. “My God! What are they?"
Tall and well built, with long white blond hair, eerie red-black eyes and skin the hue of the surrounding mountains, the two Belanites were an awesome sight. They dwarfed and overshadowed the three humans who rode with them.
"Legend and myth,” Raf murmured.
"They look real enough to me. What does legend say about them?"
"A warrior race. Few have ever seen them. Even fewer have lived to tell the tale. They are fiercely independent, solitary creatures. Why have they joined forces with Devros? What can he offer them in exchange for their skill and strength?” he mused aloud.
The answer struck him like a blow.
"Women."
"What?"
"Legend also claims Belanites either cannot or will not father female children. Therefore, they steal women to bear their offspring. None of the women ever return. Protective mountain parents use tales of Belanite enslavement to keep their young daughters from straying too far from home.” He felt Dale shudder as he whispered his explanation. “Stay out of sight."
The riders pulled abreast of Raf and the others. An aura of arrogant self-confidence shimmered around the two Belanites. By the creases on his face, the older had at least three score of annum. The younger, despite his size, had barely reached sexual maturity. Except for Dale and himself, the other humans automatically paid them homage.
"Laris Tulan. Laris Zbar.” Ulger, Treman and Faxan all bowed their heads and touched their foreheads with the first two fingers of their right hands.
Laris Tulan's red-black gaze raked over Raf. He lifted one bushy white eyebrow at Raf's direct stare. “Who be you?” His gaze strayed to the lump that was Dale. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air like a wolve catching the scent of a lost lambie. “What hide you?"
"He's Shad...” Ulger started.
"Silence, little man. I asked you not."
Ulger shrank back.
"I am Shadow. I hide noth..."
Before Raf could move away, the younger Belanite snatched the cloak aside, exposing Dale's presence. Defiantly, Dale threw back her head and glared at the two now highly interested Belanites. Raf choked back his groan.
In an instant, the younger one's eyes shifted from black to red. The air crackled with tension.
Raf bristled at the creature's undeniable sexual interest in Dale. He pulled her tight against his chest. “The woman is mine."
"See we shall,” Tulan said. “Your weapon surrender now and...” he paused and motioned to the other men to surround Raf.” ... the female."
Alone, Raf would fight to the death and take more than a few of them along to Oblivion. Dale's presence rendered him helpless. He could not fight these warriors and protect her. Their blades would not discriminate between his flesh and hers.
Foolish pride and a quest for long denied vengeance had led him into a trap. To save her life, must he consign her to a worse fate?
"Zbar, his weapon take. The female take will I.” Tulan reached out his arm.
How easy it would be to lop it off.
Over Dale's head their eyes met. Wordlessly they fought, each seeking to command the other. The light of battle blazed red in Tulan's eyes. Rasping over Raf's nerves like ground crystal, the stink of fear-induced sweat—his—soured the air. He shoved aside the unaccustomed emotion and held Tulan's stare.
Respect entered Tulan's gaze, but neither did he waver.
"Dead or alive, the female have will I. Matters it not to me. Choose."
Raf gave a shallow nod and dropped his gaze. The Belanite won this battle, but the war was far from over. Zbar relieved Raf of his sword. He slipped his arm from around Dale's waist.
She flashed him a startled glance.
"Female, come you to me.” Tulan reached out for her.
"Wait just one damned minute!"
His fingers curled around her upper arm to pull her to him.
He didn't flinch as the knife in her hand slashed across his hand. A thin line of crimson welled on his blue flesh.
"Touch me again, you bloody blue freak, and you'll pull back a stump."
Tulan grinned up at Raf. “Why her claws haven't you pulled from this little cat?"
Raf shrugged. “What use to a warrior is a cat without claws?"
"Good it is has she fire and courage. Well will she do as mother to many Belanite warriors."
Raf smothered his cry of denial. Dale would never belong to another.
"Try that and you'll lose something more important than a hand.” Dale waved the knife beneath the smiling Belanite's nose. “Shadow, do something."
He plucked the knife from her hand and tossed it to Zbar. She sputtered her outrage, then swore when he handed her, kicking and screaming epitaphs, to Tulan.
"Harm her and I will kill you."
At Raf's threat, Tulan's smile faded.
"What can he do against the eight of us? Let me kill him now.” Ulger snickered.
"You're welcome to try.” Raf readied himself for Ulger's attack.
"No.” Tulan moved his mount between them. “Alive Devros wants him. His time to die will come."
Fortunately for Raf, Tulan seemed unwilling to perform that task—just yet.
"Understand you, I do. But know you this, flatlander, the female now is mine."
Raf didn't bother to argue the point or to inform the Belanite that he called the rugged mountains of Arete home. Soon enough he would rue his mistake—not killing Raf when he'd had the opportunity.
Tulan bundled the still struggling Dale in front of him. Whirling his mount around, he shouted to his men. “Bring him. His fate decide will Devros."
"Damn you, Shadow,” Dale swore. What else on this crazy world could go wrong and keep her from finding Thea?
Dale watched as Shadow meekly allowed his hands to be tied behind his back and his mount led away by a grinning Ulger. She twisted her head to glare at her captor. “Let me go, you ... you ugly ... Smurf!"
Tulan held her securely, binding her arms uselessly against her side, with one inflexible arm. Without leverage, she was reduced to kicking. The sandals on her feet made little impact against the tough leather knee-high boots he wore. Her toes took the brunt of the blows. His quinar stood steady beneath them as she continued to struggle and swear, until he tightened his hold and breathing became difficult. When she gave up in exhaustion, his grip eased, becoming almost gentle.
He kneed his quinar into motion and they followed behind the others.
After awhile, Tulan asked, “What be smurf?"
"Huh?” His question roused Dale from a half-doze. Stress, fear and exertion, in addition to the transfer, had left her disoriented.
"Matters it not. Seasons, how many have you?"
She looked up at his strange, yet oddly appealing, blue features. Flat black now, not a hint of red showed in his eyes. “Seasons?"
"Annum. Old, how are you?"
"Thirty-two."
"Pity. Too old you are for my son. But others there are who will take you to mate. Strong, you are. A fine tupia will you be. Many etu ohna will you bear."
Dale stiffened. She wasn't sure exactly what a tupia or an etu ohna might be, but she didn't like the sound of i
t. “Now just hold on. No overgrown Smurf is going to dictate my life. I've got better things to do."
"Accept you will your fate. No human female resist can a Belanite."
The Belanite's arrogant attitude, not to mention his manhandling of her person, grated on her already overwrought nerves. “I don't know about other women, but I find you extremely resistible."
Tulan's deep rumble of laughter vibrated through her body.
"Amuse me you do, female. Tell me, what call they you?"
She hesitated for a moment, then answered on a yawn, “Dale.” What harm could it do for him to know her name?
"Dal.” On the Belanite's tongue her name sounded soft and musical.
She looked up at him. Like white silk, his hair brushed against her cheeks. On each side of his face thin braids of different colored hairs were woven into his own. As they rode his hair swung. As they knocked together, the blue crystal beads decorating the length of each braid made a pleasant chiming sound. The other Belanite had also worn beaded braids, though not as many as Tulan.
Curiosity made her touch a beaded braid and ask, “What are these?” These Belanite warriors seemed unlikely to spend time and effort weaving ornaments into their hair.
"A braid I wear for each of my females. And a bead for the etu ohnas, sons, borne they have for me."
Dale counted at least a dozen braids and with the constant motion she lost count of the beads at twenty-four.
He met her startled gaze and smiled. “Sleep, little Dal."
She flinched as he lifted his hand to her face, but he merely smoothed the tangled hair from her cheek. At his gentle touch her eyelids drooped heavily. Exhaustion drained her of fight. A scent like that of warm vanilla and cinnamon drifted through her fast fading consciousness.
She struggled to keep her eyes open. “Wh-what are you doing to me?"
Tulan's face wavered, appearing angelic above her. “Sleep. Better will you feel when you waken."
Fear and anger floated away as she fought against the lure of peace and contentment sleep offered. She slumped against his hard warm chest.
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