Gypsy didn’t know what to do. This was some kind of trap. She wished she was as good at these verbal duels as her father and husband. Even Desmond, who usually chose to say nothing, was pretty good at the art of defending himself against words. Remaining silent and still holding the glass in her lap, she hoped he would give up and move on. He didn’t.
“It may interest you to know that I was recently regaled with a rather gossipy tale,” he scowled like the very word gossip was distasteful and beneath him. "Not long ago you were seen leaving a bar with Lieutenant Falken and crossing the street to a brothel where you both stayed well into the next day. By the teller’s account you were a little bit more of a drinker then. Perhaps you can revisit this earlier persona and humor me...before I insist.” The last word came out in a distinctive hiss.
Horrified, she sat in stunned silence. What a fucking bottom feeder this guy is. No wonder my mother didn’t like him. It took every bit of training, restraint, and consideration of the consequences to keep her from attacking Dzabol and hacking his head off.
Believing that she was making the right choice, she took a small sip. After swallowing the tiny trickle of drink she moved to set the glass down, but he shook his head.
“Finish it,” he commanded.
Without hesitation, Gypsy drained the glass. She needed to convince him of her loyalty, even if was false. The alcohol was smooth and thick, with a sharp bite. It seared a delightful burn all the way to her belly and warmed her core. It irritated her that it was not entirely unpleasant…at first.
Dzabol picked up the liquor bottle, giving it an admiring smile. On the backside of the bottle she was able to see some weird, vertical symbols with two small serpents etched. “Do you like this?”
There was a strong, sweet aftertaste that was gross. Shrugging, she again thought about her response. “It’s different.”
“I find it very pleasant. It’s an imported earthen brew of neutralized viper venom and absinthe. Very expensive stuff. Your mother is from Earth. I am surprised you have never tried it.”
Gypsy was finding it easier to not say anything unless he insisted, hoping it was keeping her out of trouble. While she gripped the empty glass low in her lap, he leaned forward and refilled it. I am so screwed. Then he resumed the mostly one sided conversation.
“Your father and I were great friends for many years. Unfortunately we had a falling out a few years back. He often had an unyielding personality, but he was a good enough leader and sometimes entertained a little dissension. We did not disagree on many things but we did disagree on one major thing. Can you guess what it was?”
Sweat had collected on her forehead and the room appeared to lurch then slowly rotate around in circles. The glass fell from her hand. Gypsy braced her palms on her knees. She was very queasy. Then disorientation set in. I’ve been drugged. A growing sense of horror clouded her mind.
“Could that disagreement have been about me?” The words formed in her mind but were slurred and almost unintelligible when they exited her mouth.
Those mean, copper eyes narrowed to slits. “You are correct.”
Gypsy tried to push herself to her feet but her legs were going limp, refusing to support her weight. Reaching out to grasp a tent pole for support, she collapsed landing hard on her side. None of her muscles would obey.
Dzabol crawled over on his hands and knees. He looked like an animal about to feed. Unbuckling her scabbard, he removed it along with all of her other weapons. She furiously willed herself to fight but any control was gone. As her vision blacked in and out, she wondered if he was going to rape her. No longer able to even speak, she focused her attention on remaining conscious.
Rising to his feet, he gripped the front of her tunic, bunching it up in his fist. Then the huge male heaved her up like a doll and pulled her face close to his.
“Now if I can get your traitorous kin to come to the party all will be settled. I have no doubt your husband and brother will come for you, all I need to do is wait.”
The sound of his voice waved in intermittent loud and soft sound. Gypsy tried to force her eyelids apart, but they were as heavy as stone. All she could manage were a few brisk blinks, but there was no orientation to time or space. Retreating to the inner recesses of her mind she readied herself for whatever was to come.
Dzabol’s first punch didn’t hurt as much as it surprised her. The beating seemed to go on for hours, but she was sure that was the effect of the drug. Luckily its numbing quality abated most of the pain, but not all.
Chapter 17
Desmond felt more relaxed than he had in months. Scarlet and his son were safe and now he could concentrate on the mission at hand—find the girls. This type of existence carried him back to the time before he met his wife. He loved his wife and son but there was a reason it had taken him so long to settle down. To him there was no shame in admitting he preferred traveling with Kharon, even more than he did with Gypsy.
Since he and the commander were both experienced soldiers, routines were quickly established. Within the first few hours they worked out who would take the first watch, alternating sleep, camp set-up, scouting and hunting. If the time allotted to hunt proved unsuccessful, then the other would pitch in and they would hunt together. No arguments, no complaints, no drama. The organic ease of their journey made him feel normal for the first time in over a year. This was why he loved the military. Everything had a purpose and everyone had a job to do. It was uncomplicated.
Luckily he and Kharon could read each other fluently which greatly enhanced their chance at survival. In contrast to Scarlet, Kharon didn’t ask him every half hour to rate his pain or if he needed a break. The commander didn’t care and Desmond was grateful.
So when Kharon woke him early to break camp and ride, Desmond didn’t question. He simply packed their gear while Kharon buried the burned remnants of their fire, then scattered some dead plant debris over the campsite. It wouldn’t fool a seasoned hunter, but it would trick an inexperienced moron. They didn’t need anyone accidentally complicating their mission. All of the morning’s activities were done in silence. Not being a big talker, it suited him just fine.
They rode for hours until the twin suns were high. It was only when they stopped to water their hyperia by a stream that Kharon finally spoke. Touching his index finger against his temple, his face became dark and somber.
“Gypsy and I, we have a way to communicate,” he began. “The Primal Fever has knitted us together in an odd way. I don’t completely understand it, but sometimes we can feel and interpret each other’s thoughts.”
As he and Kharon dismounted, Desmond tried to imagine what it would be like to read Scarlet’s thoughts. He concluded it would give him a constant headache. There was too much swirling around in that enormous brain of hers. If there were a list of things he didn’t want, knowing her every thought would definitely be on it.
“Do you like having that kind of connection to her?”
Kharon stared at the stream trickling past them. His face had taken on the strain of worry Desmond knew well.
“Sometimes, sometimes not. We do have a choice as to whether or not we will let the other in. That helps. The thing is, even if she doesn’t let me in, I at least know that she’s alive.”
Kharon loosened the saddle and his hyperia nuzzled him in gratitude. Kneeling on the rocky bank, he leaned down and splashed some water on his face. Turning toward Desmond he gave him a sober frown, coated in fear.
“Since yesterday, I haven’t been able to communicate with her. She isn’t shutting me out. Something’s wrong. I know she’s alive, but that’s all.”
Desmond crouched by the stream next to him. Scooping up a handful of the cold water, he rubbed it up and down his mount’s legs. “Do you know where she is?”
“No. We lack experience with our connection. We’re still learning. She has always been somewhat reluctant to explore it. So for now I have to follow my instinct and it’s leading me back to the emp
ire. You should return to the Queendom and make an appeal to rejoin your wife and son. The Queen may show you some mercy.”
“You’re fucking joking, right? There is no way in hell I am going to purposely plant my ass amidst a bunch of arrogant women who hate me because I’m a male and a Theron. My wife and son are safe and I am a soldier. Gypsy may be your wife but she is my sister. I’m coming whether you want me or not.”
Kharon met Desmond’s gaze. “Going after her will probably get us both killed.”
“That’s what we do, isn’t it?” Desmond stood and stretched his arms over his head. His hyperia hissed in annoyance when he heaved himself up into the saddle. “Quit your bitching, you fucking brat.”
As he shifted his weight in the saddle, the pain in his ribs crashed through every nerve in his torso. Desmond froze until the pain subsided a little. If a hyperia could smile, his did at that moment.
“You’re a good man, Desmond,” Kharon said.
Chuckling made his injuries hurt all the more, but he couldn’t help himself. “I challenge you to find someone who agrees.”
Chapter 18
The Theron child, Missy, was light to ride with but a pain in every other way. She fought him off and on from the moment Makara had abducted her. All in all, close to seven hours that first day. The following day she fought him to exhaustion, finally falling into a dead sleep, slumped against the neck of his mount. When she awoke and began her assaults all over again, he’d had enough. This is a child and I am in charge here.
Rather than ride with her biting, spitting and struggling, he tied a rope from his saddle to the leather strap binding her wrists together. He let out fifteen feet of length and pulled her along behind his hyperia at a slow pace. Whenever she began to fight, she fell and was dragged a few feet until he noticed. Then he would stop his animal and wait for her to get to her feet. As soon as she was up they proceeded. It didn’t take long to wear her out. Eventually she stopped all resistance, focusing all of her attention on not falling and keeping up.
His experience with children was limited to his younger siblings and a few whores’ bastards. Turning this child in for a bounty couldn’t come fast enough. Even so, she was remarkably interesting and infuriating all at once. In all honesty she wasn’t a bad traveling companion. There was no screaming, no hysterical crying and no complaining. Only fighting and pathetic attempts to run away. Her tenacity easily surpassed most adult bounties. Fortunately, her small size made her a breeze to subdue.
The rope to his saddle pulled taut and he knew she had fallen again. Makara stopped to wait and happened to glance back when he saw her sitting on the ground. She was holding the rope with her small hands and her head was hung. A flood of tears streamed down her dirty face. This was an incredibly stupid mistake. I should have never abducted this kid. Makara really didn’t want to cause her any unnecessary suffering, he just wanted to collect his bounty and move on.
When she didn’t look at him, he turned his hyperia around and rode back to her. The animal made it about three feet before her head suddenly snapped up. She glowered at him, despite the falling tears. Her pretty blue-gold eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles under her lower lid. He was suddenly very sorry for her.
Using deliberate, uncomplicated motions he signed, Do you want to ride?
Missy squinted up at him without comprehension.
Makara sighed and repeated the sign, only this time he finished with a short tug on the rope and a gesture toward the front of his saddle. The little girl looked back down at the ground in thoughtful consideration, then reluctantly nodded and got to her feet. He left her hands bound, but detached the length of rope and scooped her up. Once he situated her in front of him they rode on with no further difficulty. At least she wasn’t battling him anymore.
There were no moons tonight, making the dark mountain trail even more dangerous, so Makara decided to camp earlier than usual. They stopped to rest and Missy immediately abandoned their truce. She bolted twice but didn’t get more than a few yards away. So it became necessary to secure her to a tree. She had already attempted several escapes before this and he wasn’t taking any chances. Despite the sturdy thickness of the leather straps binding her wrists, she gnawed at them anyway. This child was so young and small that most restraints he kept with him were too big to hold any part of her. Makara improvised by taking apart an extra bridle that was fairly worn anyway.
When he’d first abducted her he used an extra piece of rope he had found in his gear. That proved to be a really bad idea. Missy was so wild and aggressive that within the first ten minutes she rubbed her wrists raw and bloody. Makara felt a twinge of pity that he wasn’t able to trade out her bindings for several hours. Unfortunately escaping her siblings was his primary concern at the time. Once he’d eluded them, he found some time to make her more comfortable.
Makara unsaddled his mount and staked its lead rope into the ground. He recalled what one of his companions had said about the child when they’d first come upon her group. The young man, who was now sadly deceased, had said they stood to make a handsome sum off this little one. Prior to the information, Makara wouldn’t have given the child a second glance. But now there was word that General Caraculla was offering a triple bounty over the emperor’s for any of the Therons. That was a generous bounty indeed. But Makara knew how rumors went, sometimes true, sometimes fantasy. So he decided to verify the information before risking the long trek to the general’s kingdom.
From his saddle bag he removed a large portion of dried meat still attached to some bones. He also found a small ration cube composed of cured meat and animal fat. They were packed with calories and useful when game was hard to come by. Right now he wasn’t comfortable leaving his tiny prisoner so he could go hunt. He tossed a generous portion of dried meaty ribs over to his hyperia, who gratefully curled up next to it and began gnawing on some sinew. The creature’s sharp teeth scraped noisily against the bone as it tore into its dinner.
Doing a recheck of his inventory, he looked for something more comfortable to restrain Missy. He had nothing because he had never hunted a child. Children usually weren’t worth anything. So he grabbed a few more leftover bridle straps, and untied her from the tree. He unbound her wrists but secured her arms to her sides with one of the longer straps. Then he carefully bound her ankles together. She fought him the entire time. The child was like a hyper aggressive rodent that had no perception of how much bigger the rest of the world was compared to it.
Makara held the ration cube up to her lips, but she ignored him and continued to fight. He expected as much. Whenever he offered food she refused. Tomorrow she would be even hungrier. The little girl would relent. She was only a child after all.
In addition to her struggling, every time he handled her, she would try and bite him. Once again, he’d had enough of her defiance. To teach her some manners, he cut a thick strip off a bandage roll and wrapped it across her mouth. It wasn’t ideal, but at least he could see to her without getting bitten.
After twenty minutes passed, he removed the gag. She tried to bite him again so he placed it back over her mouth. They did this four to five times. The kid was resilient; he had to give her that. She was also smart. When she finally decided she was tired of having her mouth bound, she stopped trying to bite him. In return he left the gag off.
Usually he gagged bounties to shut them up so he wouldn’t have to listen to them talk, beg, or scream. Very rarely did he have to gag one to keep from being bitten. Though they seemed to have reached another agreement regarding her captivity, she still glared and bared her teeth when he came too close. It amused him that such a small child would try and look so menacing.
Paying her little mind, he reduced the fire to embers and settled in for the night. A little while after that, he heard the heavy sighs of her sleep. While listening to the cadence of her breaths Makara stared up at the stars, thinking. In his mind he expertly revisited the terrain they had covered and mentally plotted h
is way using a less traveled route.
Amidst his pondering he remembered there was a small town on the route back. The general’s bounty should be common knowledge by then, especially since it was a lot of money. If the bounty offer was indeed accurate he would continue on to Leviathan’s kingdom. Like many other bounty hunters, he had no desire to get screwed out of credits by Megolyth’s empty promises. There was also the fact that the emperor hadn’t actually issued a bounty for the child, only her siblings. The emperor would buy this child for nothing more than a bargaining piece. That would bring a low price, if any at all. But General Caraculla opened up a whole new prospect for generous compensation, all he had to do was get there and return to hunting the others in the family.
At any rate, this journey was going to take a minimum of two weeks. A bigger problem than the time and distance was traveling with a young child who looked every bit the human her mother was. Though there were some human hybrids in other kingdoms, only General Theron had such recognizable children. It came with his infamy. Makara knew he would need to disguise her as much as he could, for her protection as well as his.
Makara watched Missy as she slept. The child had an uncanny spirit he wanted to preserve. With General Theron reportedly dead and the child now separated from the rest of her family, he had no doubt she was grieving despite her ferocity. Once they were far enough away from the empire, he was certain he could convince the remote village residents that she was his daughter.
Even though the girl looked mostly human, she still exhibited some undeniable AEssyrian features. Maybe he could pass her off as a Kirillian half-breed. Even though the four front teeth looked human, the rest were sharp and predatory. In addition the color of her eyes, the shape of her pupil and the thickness of her fingernails spoke to her non-human heritage. Even her coloring was not entirely human. There were no green hues, but she had a duskier complexion like winter grass, not the pale creamy skin of her mother and sister.
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