There was something she needed to remember. Something she needed to do.
Memory started to dissolve.
Thea!
Like a shot of adrenaline, Thea's name dissipated the scented lethargy stealing her mind and will. Her muscles contracted in revolt.
"Sleep,” Tulan crooned. The vanilla and cinnamon scent intensified.
Somehow he was drugging her. It would be so easy to surrender. Only the thought of Thea fueled her resistance.
She breathed slowly and shallowly, but let her body relax. Maybe if he thought her complaisant, he would let down his guard and she could escape. She had to find Thea.
* * * *
Raf eyed the crumbling bluestone castle stronghold set on a small plateau situated between two sheer cliffs. Devros had chosen his hideout well. The track they traveled through a narrow gorge was the only approach to the castle. Without ever being seen, a hundred men could hide amid the boulders bordering the gorge and easily pick off anyone attempting an attack.
Four annum past, First Minister Cathor had used this castle as the base of operations for Dramon's rebellion against the upstart DeSanti who sought to wrest power from the rightful king. Two annum ago, just before the slavers began their raids, a ground shake had rendered the castle uninhabitable. With DeSanti defeated and Dramon at peace, Cathor had moved his family and people into the capital city.
Why hadn't Raf thought to check out the abandoned castle? Because no one thought that Devros moved his captives to market from here.
Until a horrific ground shake a hundred annum ago, this same castle had guarded the final pass through the Azul Mountains. The latest ground shake must have opened the long closed passage between Dramon and the unknown lands beyond. This was why none of Devros’ captives had escaped to return home. He was selling them into slavery beyond the mountains—and beyond hope.
The party rode into the castle courtyard. A man came out of the castle to meet them. He stood straddle-legged above them at the top of the manor house steps.
Raf recoiled in shock. Dale's look reflected the horror he felt. Fire had ravaged the man's face. Scarred and mottled, his skin stretched taut across his facial bones. Once thick and dark, his hair was reduced to a few gray wisps scattered across his skull. Set like black crystal in his pale face, madness raged in his eyes.
Despite the man's scars, Raf recognized his brother. The image of Stefan Devros’ face was burned into Raf's mind. His once handsome features had hid a corrupt ka and an evil heart.
"Welcome, to my kingdom, Raf del Jakar,” Devros rasped, in a voice obviously damaged by the blaze that had stolen his male beauty. “I've been expecting you. Laris Tulan take the woman to the infirmary. The rest of you escort our guest to his quarters. If he resists...” His thin lips twisted his abused flesh into a mockery of a smile that did not reach his cold eyes. “.. kill the woman."
Ulger and Treman yanked Raf from the saddle. Arms bound he was unable to stop his fall. His head cracked against the stone paving. His vision blurred, and he watched helplessly as the Belanite dismounted and carried a struggling Dale away.
* * * *
Hours later, his arms stretched wide and bound above his head by coarse rope and cold stone rubbing against his back, Raf stared at his half-brother.
"How easily you followed the lures into my trap.” Devros paced the floor in front of Raf. “Did you really believe I had forgotten you? That I wouldn't recognize you? I knew from the moment I started this slaving operation that you would come to me."
"Why? You killed my father. Destroyed my life. What more do you want from me?"
"Your birth stole everything from me. I want it back."
"You are mad. You betrayed your family out of petty jealousy. Gulfar loved you like a son."
In the dim yellow glow of the one crystal lamp lighting the damp cave, Raf couldn't make out Devros’ expression.
"But I was not his son, was I?” Bitterness laced Devros’ fire-hoarse voice. “Did he give me his name? His honor? No. I remained his lifemate's bastard. If he'd truly cared for me, he would have claimed me as his firstborn. Instead, he gave what should have been mine to you."
"I don't know why Gulfar didn't give you his name as custom decreed.” Perhaps he sensed the evil lurking within the boy, Raf thought. “But he couldn't call you firstborn. Aretian law commands that an adopted child may only be named firstborn if there are no other children born to the couple."
Devros snorted. “Law? What need had Gulfar for lowland city law? He was a mountain rul, lord of all he surveyed. In his pride he wanted a child of his seed to inherit his holdings when he died.” He stroked his scarred hand across his face. “Though it cost me dear, I made sure he lived long enough to watch his home burn and to see you and his family reduced to human chattel."
Raf remembered well the moment the loving, trusting child had died and the angry man bent on vengeance was born. Those memories tempered the pity he now felt for Devros.
"And what of our mother? Did you sell her into slavery, too?"
"Not at first,” Devros’ voice softened. His gaze turned inward. “I had thought to spare her, but she refused to understand my actions were necessary and justified. The she-hound renounced me and ran into the burning house. I followed and earned these scars as my reward."
"Our mother?” Raf repeated.
"She survived unscathed. She spat on me. My associates had to force her to care for my injuries. When I was well enough, I sold her to the Belanites."
"Where is she now?"
"Dead.” Remorse flickered in Devros’ eyes.
"How did she die?"
"I'm not sure. But Laris Tulan assured me she died happy.” Sorrow faded from Devros’ eyes. “Belanites have a way of calming and controlling women that other men would pay dearly to learn. How long, I wonder, will it take for him to make your little she-cat purr?"
Raf's gut clenched. As long as he drew breath, no man would touch Dale. He strained uselessly against the ropes binding him to the wall. Lungs burning, muscles screaming, he sagged. Defeat tasted bitter.
"Young Zbar is Tulan's and our mother's son, our half-brother, but he'll never acknowledge the relationship. Only those connected by male bloodlines are considered family.” Devros laughed. “Ironic isn't it? Three men have taken my mother and none have ever called me son."
He shrugged. “Tulan brought me word of her death several annum ago. He never related the details of how she died. What does it matter?"
"What of our sisters?” Raf forced himself to control his tongue.
"Last I heard the little sluts were alive and well, happily increasing the Belanite population."
Like angry water worms, rage churned in Raf's belly. Someday, before he ended these miserable creatures’ lives, Devros and Tulan would reveal how his mother had died and tell him his sisters’ whereabouts.
* * * *
Wearing nothing but a scratchy sheet, Dale shivered as she looked around the small, clean infirmary. The sterile white environment brought back painful memories of other hospitals. She pushed aside thoughts of the night her father and Steven were killed, and the time she'd recently spent in the hospital with Thea. She forced herself to concentrate on the present. She had to stay focused and find a way out of here.
She feigned the doped, dazed look she'd seen in the women in the compound. She wasn't sure yet how it worked, but the smells the Belanites gave off appeared to drug women into a submissive state. For some reason she had partial immunity. The scents soothed her, but didn't render her mindless or completely complaisant.
Standing next to her bed, neither Devros nor Tulan noticed the way she watched them beneath half-closed eyelids. They talked freely.
Devros’ damaged face contrasted sharply with Tulan's appealing blue features. Having spent a lot of time with Cathy at the rehab center, Dale was normally comfortable around the disabled. But she sensed Devros’ scars went deeper than his skin and warped his soul.
"Have
the healer examine her,” Devros told Tulan. “And don't drug the male. I want him aware of everything."
Tulan's odd eyes, now almost completely black, narrowed. “To kill the warrior is best. Dangerous is your plan."
"Do you question my authority here?” Devros asked. “Follow my orders and the women will be yours. Defy me and...” He let his words trail away.
Tulan's mouth tightened into a hard line. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and looked down at Devros. “And?"
Devros didn't flinch. “The women are your payment for services rendered to me. If you do not provide the service, why should I provide payment?"
"Think you your men, without Belanite help, control can your captives?"
Devros bristled. “You dare to threaten me?"
"Belanites threaten not."
Dale held her breath to keep from gagging against the foul smell Tulan emitted in his anger.
Devros waved his hand. “Don't try and gas me with your stink. I am not a woman to be frightened by a bad smell."
The smell faded as Tulan's body relaxed.
"This argument is futile,” Devros continued. “We're partners. Fulfill your duties, and you'll have the women. But I want the man awake and aware. I have a score to settle with him."
"What to you is this man?” Tulan asked.
"Nothing ... everything."
Tulan arched a bushy white eyebrow. “In riddles you speak."
"He's my half-brother."
This was why Shadow was so determined to stop Devros! Dale thought, startled by the revelation.
"Harm you would one of your blood? Your tuni—your father's son?” Tulan's fingers closed around the hilt of his sword.
Devros chuckled. “Easy, Belanite. His mother was mine. I do not share my father's blood with that drot."
Tulan left the room as another Belanite entered.
Though she did her best to remain calm and keep her body limp, she tensed at the feel of the Belanite healer's warm, gentle fingers probing her body. Even her annual physical wasn't this thorough. Having Devros in the room as witness to the humiliation of being touched so intimately grated on her nerves. Though embarrassing, the healer's examination didn't disturb her as much as Devros’ avid gaze. He ate her with his stare. She wanted to squirm. Instead, she tried to imagine herself elsewhere. Apparently, she wasn't totally successful. The Belanite's gaze connected with hers.
The healer's hands paused in their intimate travels over her body. “Aware is she."
"Well, turn on your Belanite charm,” Devros snapped. “My half-brother claims this woman as his. And what was his is now mine."
A scent like lavender wafted over her. Her thoughts remained clear, but her body relaxed. She let her eyes drift fully shut.
"Calm now is she.” The healer continued his examination.
To distance herself from the healer's invasion of her body, she concentrated on formulating an escape plan.
God help her if they discovered her partial immunity to their drugging scents. She needed to find Shadow and get out of this place. Though why she should worry about the infuriating man was beyond her. It was his fault she was here. In fact, her presence on this bizarre world was probably his fault as well. Even as she told herself she'd rescue him because she needed his help to find Thea, she knew it was a lie. She could no more leave him enslaved than she could stop searching for her daughter.
In some inexplicable way Shadow's fate was bound with hers and Thea's.
Finally, the healer finished and tucked the sheet around her.
"Well, is she healthy?” Devros asked.
"Healthy is the female, but..."
"But what?"
"Breeding is she."
Dale barely controlled her startled gasp.
She was pregnant? Why hadn't she considered the possibility? She thought back and realized her period was overdue. Regular as clockwork she was never late, but with everything that had occurred she hadn't noticed.
A baby. Shadow's baby. Familiar emotions tumbled through her—fear, excitement, despair, joy. The same emotions she'd experienced fifteen years ago when she'd learned she was pregnant with Thea.
"The drot!” Devros smacked the examination table with his fist.
Dale flinched then forced herself to be still. The healer's red-black eyes narrowed.
"Abort the moon blighted thing,” Devros shouted.
She nearly scrambled off the table. No one was going to kill her baby. His next words stopped her.
"No. Wait. Let me think."
She watched as he paced the small room. Then he began to laugh.
The humorless sound echoed around the room and made Dale grow cold with dread.
"What will she whelp?"
"A boy is the child."
A son? She and Shadow were going to have a son!
"How appropriate. Along with everything else, I will take my half-brother's son. Before I let him die he'll know the despair of seeing his son suffer for his father's sins. Leave us now."
The healer cast a worried look at her.
"Be gone, man. I'll not harm her or the child.” Devros shooed the reluctant healer out and shut the door behind him. His thin lips curled in a mockery of a smile as he looked at Dale. “Yet. I have plans for her and the drot's whelp."
He reached out and stroked the back of his hand down her cheek. A cold chill invaded her belly.
Only the knowledge that she'd lose her slim advantage if he realized her awareness helped her maintain her facade of mindlessness. Unsure how she should react to his touch if she were truly under the Belanite's influence, she forced herself to remain totally limp. Better too much than not enough.
His hand moved down her throat to the rise of her breast, then lower to close around it. A frown creased his brow. He jerked his hand away. “Moon blasted Belanite scum. I didn't tell him to render you senseless. Ah well, perhaps it is best. A night spent chained to a stone wall might take some of the fight out of my dear half-brother. In the morn, you'll be less groggy. Then we'll pay your lover a nice visit.” He leaned close, his breath moist against her cheek. “All the better if you're alert. There's no excitement in bedding a breathing corpse. But no matter, even if you still stink of Belanite, I'll enjoy taking you while he watches helplessly."
He extinguished all but one small lamp and left the room.
The second the door closed behind him Dale jumped off the examination table. Her clothes were nowhere around. Tying the sheet around her body toga style she quickly scanned the room for a weapon. Apparently the Belanites insisted on a well-stocked infirmary to keep their female stock healthy, because in one drawer she found a lethal looking crystal scalpel.
The room's window overlooked a sheer cliff. No possibility of escape there. Whatever the challenges, she'd have to go out the front door.
Clutching the knife in one hand, she eased the door open a crack and peeked out.
Chapter Fourteen
Dale's toes curled against the cold stone floor as she peered into the castle's great hall. On the far side of the hall a fire burned brightly in a huge hearth, but the light didn't reach far. She saw the shape of a young boy slouched by the fire. He looked straight at Dale and their eyes met across the room. Something about the lad's eyes struck a chord of recognition in her. Before she could figure out what, he slipped into the deep shadows blanketing the perimeter of the hall. Other than an occasional snore from the men camped on the room's floor and the crackle of the fire, silence reigned.
She sniffed the air for the distinctive spicy Belanite scent, but she only smelled the rank odor of unwashed men, burned meat and rancid leavings. Apparently, the Belanites slept elsewhere. They probably didn't care for the stench of their partners anymore than she did.
In the gloom, the white sheet she wore would stand out like a banner. She needed clothes. To her left a man rolled over and grunted in his sleep. His pack laid next to him. She eased out of the infirmary and crept along the wall, careful to s
tay in the shadows. With her foot she snagged the shabby bundle and pulled it toward her. The sound of cloth rasping against stone echoed like a cannon shot to her ears. She froze. No one stirred.
Heart pounding, she clasped the pack to her chest and darted toward the main door. Once there she stopped and stared in horror. A massive board, slipped between two braces, barred the door. Even if she could lift the damned thing, the noise would rouse the whole castle. There had to be another way out.
The heat from the fire didn't warm this far. She shivered and huddled undecided against the wall.
"Psst. Lady."
She jumped at the voice coming out of the darkness. “Who's there?"
"A friend sent me,” the sibilant voice whispered. A young Shakar stepped forward. His dark sleek fur blended into the blackness surrounding them. Only his piercing green eyes stood out.
"You're Shakar. Are you from T'Mal's clan? How did you find us? Can you help us escape?"
"These mountains have been our home since before recorded time. Nothing happens here without our knowledge.” Despite the Shakar's obvious youth, he spoke with uncanny maturity. “You cannot escape this night. Go back. Be ready to act midmorning on the morrow."
He turned to leave.
"Wait,” she cried in a hoarse whisper. “What's going to happen tomorrow? What about Shadow?"
His gaze darted around the hall. A man snorted in his sleep and the young Shakar backed out of the light. “I cannot linger here. If I am seen all will be lost. All will be clear on the morrow.” With that he melted into the shadows.
"Why should I trust you?” she whispered.
"Be brave. Trust T'ea.” The answer wafted back on the cool night air blowing in through the chinks in the door.
T'ea? Thea was here! Alive. Relief made her knees weak.
Dale started to chase after the boy, but the darkness swallowed him. And if she wasn't careful she'd trip over one of the men littering the floor like so much trash. She didn't want to consider her fate if they woke and found her in their midst.
She crept back the way she'd come, dropping the pack near the sleeping slaver as she passed, and reentered the infirmary. Where could she hide the scalpel?
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