by Amy Miles
“I’m hoping for quite a while,” Marius speaks up. His voice is strained, still weakened from his hollering on the ship. There is a new wariness in his eyes that tells me that he is all too aware of what happened to him while lost to the dream world. I have refrained from asking if the pain lingers, not wanting to remind him of it, but I suspect that there must be. “I’m plumb tired out.”
“If we aren’t careful we’ll all end up diseased over that trek.” I turn to find Reyes attempting to inspect the condition of his feet. Like my own, they are coated in a goopy drying layer of muck. “Who knows what nasty bugs live in this place.”
“I think that is the least of your worries,” Hyde says. His voice sounds off. I lift my head to follow his gaze and see the crimson hooded Roamer heading straight for us. I shrink back from its intense gaze, knowing that it is not coming for the other men.
Vondran surprises me by placing his crossed hands over my own, as if that would be enough to protect me. Reyes shifts, placing himself slightly in front of me. The Roamer steps over the men before us with hardly a glance down. One step brings him down on a man’s foot and agonized howls rise louder than the snapping of his ankle.
I lower my gaze, praying that by some miracle the Roamer will pass me by, but I know better. We are at the back of the procession, backed up to the edge of the swamp. There is no one else for him to seek out.
I look up as his shadow first hits me. He stares down at me long enough to force me to look away. A Roamer with bright blue hair trailing down its back approaches and I listen to what I can only imagine to be a heated argument over me. I shrink back against Vondran when the hooded Roamer passes over a large sack and then points to me.
I cry out as I am yanked to my feet. My companions collapse beneath me, still attached to my chains. A single claw protrudes from the Roamer’s finger and for a moment I fear that he will run it right across my bare skin, severing my arm but it twists and the lock at my wrist releases. It slams into the back of Hyde’s neck before tumbling to the ground. A second click frees me completely.
The Roamer hoists me over his shoulder and turns, carving a path straight back through the groups. I stare at Reyes’ pained expression for as long as I can, but he is soon lost to a multitude of faces. Hundreds— perhaps thousands —of men surround me. Some seem to be from Calisted, while others sport obvious abnormalities: extra ears, webbed toes or wings on their back. Some glow like lightning bugs from Earth while others prance on hooves. I have no names to place with these creatures nor have any idea which planet they may have been stolen from.
The only thing I know for certain is that this Roamer is holding me a bit too close for comfort and I have a very bad feeling about that.
THIRTEEN
The damp cloth against my feverish skin feels amazing. I dip it once more in the clear waters and bathe the sweat, muck and tears from my face. Droplets of water fall from my chin, pattering onto the small wooden table before me.
The chair that has been provided for me is made of a wood native to this planet, something akin to a tall pine from Earth but veined with bright red fibers. It stands upon an aged wooden plan floor, a welcome change from the swamp. Before me on the table rests a small shard from a mirror for me to see to wash with. I take great care to clean every inch of my face and neck before moving to my arms, dipping the soiled cloth into the wash basin. I know that if I survive this trial I will never again take a shower or pool of clean water for granted again.
Though I was told to wash quickly, I paused long enough to down half of my cleaning water due to sheer thirst before I began to wash. The water tasted sweet and fresh against my parched throat. From what little I have seen of this filthy planet— swamp muck, stagnant pools of discolored water, animal carcasses left to rot at river edges— I can’t fathom where this clean water came from, but I don’t care.
Slowly I strip out of my tattered clothes, casting them aside. I lift the mirror, turning it this way and that to inspect my body. I am a mass of bruises and small cuts. The flesh along my right side looks red and sore, though it doesn’t appear to be discolored from any internal bleeding. My ribs must be bruised instead of broken like I first thought. At least that is a plus. I have countless scratches along my legs and feet but those are nothing more than a mere annoyance.
What I focus on now is the collar at my neck. It is a wide band of silver metal that spans from the tops of my shoulder to just below my chin. A double hole had been cut from the metal to allow the chains to loop through. Similar manacles cuff my wrists. I try to clean the damaged flesh beneath but find it too painful to do more than sprinkle water over the wounds.
The water becomes dark and murky long before I am clean. With each layer of dried blood and muck that I scrape off I feel more like my old self. When I have made sure that every part of me is clean I turn and begin to slip into the clothes that have been given me. The top is a halter made of a softened black leather-like material. Two pieces crisscross over my upper chest and connect at the back of my neck. Two wide buckles reside just beneath either arm, attaching to a cape-like back that falls to my calf. The lower hem of the halter cuts into a sharp V and ends at my belly button, leaving my sides bare to the elements.
The pants are made of a matching material, resting low on my hips yet not snug enough for me to feel suffocated in the heat. The legs flare out just above my ankles allowing me to move around. I crouch low and spring up, testing the new clothes.
I’ve certainly worn far worse, I muse as I think over the horrid see-through outfits Aloysius forced me to wear when I first arrived at Calisted. This at least covers me adequately.
A loud bang on the door startles me and I tip over my wash basin. Red water floods over the floor, creating a growing patch of moisture. “Great,” I mutter and kick my soiled clothes over the water, hoping to soak some of it up.
I glance back in the mirror shard one final time and mentally prepare myself. I take three steady breaths and then unlatch the door and step through into a long hall. Doors line either side. All are closed except the one at the far end. I do not bother to look at the two guards who step in behind me as I walk. They are the same who escorted me here earlier, kicking and screaming.
I won’t deny that it wasn’t exactly Queen-like behavior but at the time I did not care. How was I to know what waited for me on the other side of that door?
My feet tread along the floor as room after room passes by. I do not pause to wonder what lies behind each door. All that matters is that I figure out where the heck I am where they have taken Bastien.
The floor changes as I step through a curtained door. Gone is the wooden planks, only to be replaced by a material very similar to straw. It has been woven into long mats. The colorful patterns are intricate. Someone with an eye for detail spent many hours creating these.
Two enormous hands clamp down on my arms. I rise off the ground, no longer walking on my own accord. Apparently I took too long in my bathing, or these guys just really want to get this over with. Can’t say that I agree with them. I’d rather this next part never even happen.
With a unified shove, I find myself face down on a mat. The fibers leave burn marks on my skin as I slide palms first to stop myself. A snarled hiss sends the guards back several steps.
I raise my head to see the hooded Roamer seated before me on a chair nearly three times the size of my own throne back on Calisted. Razor sharp claws curl around the armrest. Its legs are parted and I realize too late that even though a crimson cloth drapes over its lap it does not fully conceal him from my sight.
I cry out in surprise when a hand latches onto my neck and jerks me around. I stare into the vivid blue eyes of a man who stands only a foot taller than me. His skin is as red as a setting sun, his lips purple and full. His head is hairless, as are his arms and legs. He looks as if someone waxed him recently judging by the patches of raw flesh across his bare chest. A strange woodsy scent clings to his skin as he reaches out and presses hi
s hand to my ear.
“Who are you?” I whisper.
The man glances down at me and I force myself not to react when I see his eyes have no pupils. They are a wash of blue, brilliant and startling at the same time. Can he even see me?
I feel a slight pinch against my ear and wince, fidgeting in his grasp. He steps back and bows low. It is only then that I realize he possesses the same manacles that I do. He is a slave.
“The device that has been attached to your ear will translate my words.” I turn, surprised by the deep voice that fills my ear. “Can you understand me clearly now?”
I nod slowly, wary of taking my gaze off the Roamer as the slave melds back into the shadows of the room. It is not an overly large space, barren of furniture or frills. There is a solid wooden table that rests on the far side of the room. Each chair is made of the same wood that I noticed on the stool in the wash room. All of the chairs are backless and curved at the sides to accommodate the great width of these creatures.
“Good.” The Roamer’s lips peel back to reveal multiple rows of needle-like teeth. I suppress my shiver and clasp my hands before me tightly so that I can hide the near constant tremor. “I wish us to be friends, you and I.”
“Friends?”
He nods. “It is good to have friends, is it not?”
“I suppose, though I can’t remember the last time I kidnapped a friend and nearly starved them to death before such a proposal.”
A barking laugh erupts from its throat. The creature shifts toward the edge of its seat. “No. Perhaps you do not, though your ways are not like ours.”
I lift my chin, well aware of the fact that I am speaking to a creature of great power. He sees me as an equal and for the moment that is a good thing. “What is it that you want from me, other than friendship?”
“Knowledge.” The creature splays its hands out before him in the air. “You possess the sight. I would like to know what it is that you see.”
“I see nothing,” I answer honestly.
It raises its claw and trails down its cheek. A narrow line of flesh peels back and brown blood oozes forth. “The collar on your neck took me years to perfect. I am quite proud of its design.”
I remain silent, waiting for my captor to embellish more but it does not. Instead, he sinks back into the seat. “I have waited a very long time for this moment.”
“Well that makes one of us.”
Another bark. I smile, matching wits with him and knowing all the while how risky my actions are. Though this creature seems intrigued by me, I hold no delusions that he would not snap my neck in a moment if it felt the desire to.
“Although you may not realize this, many among the stars are aware of you. They have followed your birth, waiting for you to rise to power. I knew that one day we would meet. It was written.”
“Seems to be an awful lot of things written about me. They can’t all be true,” I mutter.
He smiles. “I summoned you here, bought your life from the slave traders at a very high price, though not as high as it should have been if they had truly known who you are.”
“A half-price bargain. You sure know how to make a girl feel special!”
“Oh, but you are special. This much I know.” He clasps his hands around the ends of his chair. The wood creaks as he leans forward. “I saved you from slavery. Saved you from starvation and disease. The mines are no place for a woman like you. It is a dangerous place. Too unstable. Too many deaths. You should be grateful for my sacrifice.”
“Grateful?” I scoff, rolling my eyes. If Kyan were here he would be fuming over my complete lack of decorum. Knowing this I attempt to rein my anger in a bit. “I am here now. What is it that you want from me?”
“I have something that belongs to you and you have something that I desire. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”
“I believe you are mistaken,” I reply, forcing my voice to a volume that makes me sound confident rather than hint at the weakness that I feel. I am riddled with doubts, and exhaustion weighs heavily on my mind. This circular talk is beginning to sap my strength. “I have brought nothing with me.”
“Ah,” it nods its head. A black tongue flickers out over its lips. “It is you that is mistaken.”
With a clack of its claws, the purple lipped slave rushes from the room. I hear a door open and close, followed by hurried footsteps. I wait with my hands clasped. The tips of my fingers have gone numb from my tight grip but still I do not relent for fear of letting myself unravel.
The creature surveys me, its eyes a darker shade of red than I have seen on the others. “What is your name?” I ask.
“Only my kind can speak it. It is forbidden for outsiders to use.”
“Fair enough.” I dip my head in acknowledgement. Thank you Kyan for teaching me how to be respectful even when it’s the last thing I want to do! “Then by what name should I call you?”
The Roamer seems to ponder my question. I wait in silence for several moments, wondering what is taking the slave so long. Finally the creature sits forward once more. “You may call me Drach. On my world this means killer of the innocent.”
I swallow down my disgust, knowing that he has chosen this term to unsettle me. “A fine name,” I manage to say.
I feel the tremble in the ground long before the two Roamers appear. Hanging between their raised arms is Bastien. His eyes are open but appear to be unseeing. His mouth hangs ajar, obviously knocked out of joint. Bruises cover every inch of exposed skin. Blood clings to him like a second skin.
My heart cries out for him but I show no external emotion. I can feel Drach watching me. “Is this what you think is mine?”
A veil of skin closes over Drach’s eyes and then opens once more. “This is your mate, yes?”
I laugh, thankful that it is a genuine laugh. “Him? No. He is my guard, my protector, but certainly not my mate.”
The nostrils on Drach’s nose flare out and I see anger alight in his eyes. A guttural growl rises from his throat as he thrusts to his feet. “You lie.”
“I do not.”
Drach storms forward and seizes me by my face, lifting me from the ground. He forces me to meet him at eye level. “I can smell it on you. You have feelings for him.”
“I care for him, yes. He is mine to protect just as much as I am his, but I do not love him.” Even as I speak the words I hear my voice falter when I say love. Drach hears it too.
He lowers me to the ground and releases me but does not step back. I find myself staring into the lower portion of his chest. I see now why Earth was overrun with these beasts. Their sheer size would be enough to make any man cower.
As this thought strikes me I realize that this battle on Earth has yet to happen. On my Earth this siege won’t occur for another year or so. Aloysius came back in time to try to prevent losing a second time. Now it is my task to ensure that these creatures never set foot on Earth in the first place.
I have long since given up trying to understand the ribbons of time, how they can weave together so perfectly to allow myself to be present and also in the past and future. Every thought, every action can shift the balance. Though Earth has already lost this war in the future, in the present I can still change the course of events. I can still save my people.
“Do you wish to barter for his life?” He asks, drawing me from my thoughts.
“With what?” I raise my hands out to my side for him to see that they are empty. “I have nothing to offer you.”
Drach steps back and kneels before me. Even then he is still taller than I am. I am too intent on meeting his gaze to realize until it is too late that his hand has pressed against my abdomen. “On the contrary,” he smiles as his claws curl possessively around my belly. I shudder as his rope-thin lips peel back into a gruesome smile. “You possess two very small things that I desire greatly.”
FOURTEEN
I stare into the dark, numb and unseeing. I can hear Bastien’s steady breaths even though I can�
�t see him. I keep reminding myself that I should be thankful that at least he is near, that I know for now he is safe, but all I can think about is myself.
I place a hand over my stomach and close my eyes. Pregnant? How could I not have known? Drach knew before I even did! What kind of mother does that make me?
With everything that has happened over the past couple of weeks I had assumed that stress and imprisonment was the reason for my unsettled stomach. Apparently not.
What am I going to do? Plays on a constant repeat in my mind. I lean my head back against the wall as tears slip from between my eyes. Eamon doesn’t even know he’s going to be a father yet.
I linger somewhere between despair and anger for several hours. I cradle myself, wishing more than anything that Eamon were here to hold me. He would know how to make it all right. He always has.
But has he? I open my eyes and look toward the area I know Bastien to lie. He has not moved, has not groaned in his sleep. What if Hyde is right? What if a piece of my life has just been cut out and tossed aside? Would Kyan really do that to me?
Even as I ponder that last question I know the answer without any doubt: yes, he would, if he saw it as the right thing to do to protect me.
But protect me from what? Bastien isn’t a threat to me. I’ve known that from the very first time that I dreamt of him.
Slowly my eyes widen with dawning horror as I begin to remember small details from my dreams. Bastien atop a building beating relentlessly against a practice dummy until his knuckles were bloodied and he was out of breath. Of him standing for hours staring up at Calisted from his room with tears threatening to fall. Of him refusing to speak with Kyan because the pain was still too raw. Memories of him sitting alone at the base of a waterfall, his shoulders quaking as he doubled over in tears. Bastien does not seem like the sort of man to cry easily.
“I have truly lost her,” I whisper to the dark, remembering the words spoken at the very end of the dream that awoke me on the morning I decided to return to Calisted. Those words cut deep though I did not know why. Oh God! He was referring to me!