Forever One

by L. F. Hampton

  When she ran out of bandages, she tore the hem of her gown, muttering to herself as she bound the slash wounds on Lairdi’s chest. She sighed in exasperation. Children. These two were certainly like overgrown, ornery cubs, happy to be set free. She sucked in a sympathetic hissing breath, dabbing antiseptic on Lairdi’s wounded shoulder. He never flinched. They really didn’t need or want the ship’s broken mechanical med unit. A red Kasar healer would fix them better when they reached home anyway. She patted both in dismissal, putting her medicines away, not noticing the worried look Tyrei sent her way. He had shrugged away her attempt to treat the burn that scored his back although it was the worst injury of the three. “It can wait until we reach Kasara’s safety.” He stoically manned the flight controls that barely operated after the Xeetag had removed all that they understood. Thankfully, Tyrei was knowledgeable enough to wire components that lacked proper alignment. Her vision misted. All the lieutenants were so very brave throughout all their misfortune. The sight of the raw score across Tyrei’s shoulders made her burn with sympathy. Her affection for the warriors mixed with her love for Vadyn suddenly overwhelmed her, and her throat tightened. She hated to see their blood spilt—any of their blood. They could have all died. Her heart seized at the thought of losing any of them. But, she made a vow that upon reaching Kasara she would be sending all back against the Xeetag. Looking at all four competent warriors, she realized the loving pride Vadyn felt for them all; the Kasar—his people—her people now—were her responsibility. She was their ly’teal. She was expected to lead them, to take care of them. Her heart stuttered. Oh, may the heavens help her! She was so inadequate for this job. She dropped her forehead against the ship’s vibrating plastine bulkhead again. Tears she had refused to shed now threatened to flood her. The further they sped away, the more her thin link to Vadyn wavered and fluttered with awareness. She couldn’t actively feel his pain anymore, yet she knew he was alive and hurt. One fat tear managed to escape. She smeared it on her shoulder and held back the torrent that threatened to follow. She was Kasara’s ly’teal. No tears allowed.

  Popi, at least her bandage said he was the proper twin, came to her side and lifted her chin with a gentle touch of his thick fingers. Soft-looking golden eyes, fringed with long, dusty lashes, warmed her. “We will come back for him, ly’teal. We will bring the el’kota home.” He solemnly purred.

  She nodded mutely, still feeling the mind-stealing darkness of despair. Her hands curved in protection over her abdomen. At least, their child would be safe. She would be safe, but what about Vadyn? What about Kasara? Without Vadyn to lead them, could the warriors defeat the brutal Xeetag? The Xeetag fought out of desperation. It was clear that they needed a new home. Why hadn’t they just appealed to the Alliance’s Council?

  That is not their way.

  Vadyn! Her mind leaped to meet his weak message. The warriors on deck heard her cry and stared at her in hopeful anticipation. They saw the obvious joy on her face, but she ignored them in favor of the link. Oh gods, they’ve hurt you so badly! Vadyn didn’t waste time enjoying her concern.

  Rally our people—tell Tyrei—change all codes—shield locations. Their link suddenly wavered and flexed in urgency. Do not rescue—love—child—

  She grabbed for the stuttering link that steadily faded. I understand, Vadyn. We’ll be back with reinforcements. She didn’t know if he heard. The rest of his message grew garbled.

  Wait—Kasara—I love—White blinding pain interrupted. Their link thinned to a mere filament then snapped.

  She cried out and fell to the ship’s deck. She hadn’t even told him that she loved him, loved him more than life itself. “Nooo!” she screamed. Rage took the place of his pain. “I’ll kill them all. I swear I will.” She beat her fists against the metal decking until blood flew, spattering the bridge. Pain intruded on her grief, and she looked at her hand in surprise. The deck’s sharp gripping tread had punctured the sides of her palms, but she felt only Vadyn’s pain. His sheer agony still swept through her in echoes.

  Tyrei left the Cobra’s controls to Lairdi and Popi, who gazed at her, wide-eyed. The lieutenant raised her from the deck, and, at first, she blindly fought him, crying out and pushing against his solid chest. But he didn’t give up until he hugged her into quiet submission there in his arms. His voice rumbled against her ear as he growled from deep in his throat as if he, too, shared Vadyn’s agony. “Scream if you must, ly’teal. Scream for the el’kota.” He smoothed her tangled, sweaty hair from her face with hands that again held extended fighting claws. He obviously fought futile red battle haze. She knew, too, she should speak to him, but she lacked the strength and the will. He just held her still while Batla clumsily bandaged her hands. Again, Tyrei urged her to scream despite the dark looks that Batla sent him. The old warrior clearly didn’t appreciate hysterical females. But she wasn’t hysterical. She felt dead inside, trapped, as empty as if her soul had been ripped out. She didn’t have the energy to scream, to fight, or to do anything.

  “Can’t you do something, Tyrei?” Batla growled. He still squatted on massive haunches next to them. She heard the two of them speaking as if from a great distance. A person would have to be deaf not to hear their belligerent snarls. Tyrei must be getting as short-tempered as Batla, for his growl rose to a near roar.

  “I’m doing all I can, Batla! She’s beyond caring right now. I’m sure she has felt the el’kota’s torture. If you think you can do more, then feel free to take over command.”

  Batla stood, looming over them. Through hazy sight, Cayla promised herself if the two came to blows, she would filet both of them—as soon as she had the strength to rise.

  Tyrei stood, stepping over her and meeting Batla’s demanding stare. Wide nostrils flared in helpless, frustrated anger. Kasar against Kasar, warrior against warrior, they squared off. Fangs bared. Claws rose. Growls deepened to snarls. She had to do something! “Stop it!” Amazingly, her shrill order brought instant sanity. Quickly, Tyrei turned from Batla, kneeling again beside her, wiping her forehead with his furred knuckles. His battle claws had safely retracted. The haze of vache rage in his eyes slowly faded. That soft, golden reverence was back.

  “Is the el’kota—” he began.

  She batted at his comforting hands. Her voice came out in a near growl; she was so frustrated at this useless bickering. “He’s out again. But he didn’t tell them the landing codes. They’ve p-pu-ulled out his claws.” The twins snarled loudly in the background, but she didn’t take her gaze from Tyrei’s. She must impress the need for unity on him. “He wouldn’t tell them anything. They’ll kill him next time, and here we are fighting in futile anger!” Despite her control, her voice rose to that near hysterical shriek that Batla had obviously dreaded. The old warrior ducked his head nearer his neck and hid his gaze from her as she continued. “We don’t have time for your territorial ranking disputes. And, warriors, I won’t tolerate this disunity.” She banged Tyrei’s broad chest with her bandaged fists and glared first at him, then at Batla who gazed at her meekly. “Do you hear me? You stop this right now, right here, right this minute.”

  Tyrei dipped his head. “Yes, my liege.” Batla echoed a hasty agreement a second later. The grizzled, old veteran’s gaze returned to gazing at the deck. It was amazing to her how contrite those warriors could look. Again, the thought of her husband’s pride in them overcame her, but she gazed fiercely at each for several more moments. Then she lowered her voice in complete control now.

  “The el’kota protects us all with his sacrifice. Warriors, at least do him some honor. Let us not fail him with petty arguments.” Solemn nods echoed her words. But she didn’t feel as if she had won a victory. Delayed a confrontation, perhaps, but, eventually, the warriors would come to blows. And she was certain, that even if Vadyn told the Xeetag exactly what they wanted to know, they would still kill him—and all of Kasara. He would be of no further use to them. Vadyn
had successfully delayed the Xeetag’s attack, allowing them time to escape by holding onto useless information. She held back a sob that threatened.

  If the Kasar were going to rescue their leader, they would have to return soon. She shook her tired head free of the numbing exhaustion and let it fall forward. She had to think, to plan.

  Another battle would be fought when they reached Kasara. Even if they accepted her as ly’teal, without the el’kota to lead them, the clans would delay rescue to choose a second-in-command to lead the war clans. After Tallas, Tyrei was first lieutenant, but Batla’s clan would never follow Tyrei. Just as Tyrei’s clan would never follow Batla. An age-old hatred flowed between the two. Tallas had been a neutral buffer, but she was gone to Earth with Sean.

  If only she were a man or at least a warrior like Tallas! Cayla almost laughed in pathetic humor at thinking such a thought. By the stars! For the first time, she realized that she was very glad to be Vadyn’s life-mate. He was the most important thing in her entire life. The irrational fears and the misconceptions she had experienced when they had joined were long gone. With a shock, she realized that memories of Vadyn’s bloodthirsty battles no longer frightened her. She was glad he was such a fierce, vicious fighter. Only that bravery sustained him now. Oh, why had she been so afraid of him? Other memories of his sweet lovemaking filled her. What a fool she had been! Wearily, she laid her head on her forearms and closed her eyes. Guilt at her neglect and prior rejection of him swept through her along with newly discovered great happiness. Without a doubt, Vadyn loved her. Even when she had rejected him, he had only shown her love. In her heart, sudden conviction bloomed. They would be together again. And she would make up for all the hurt she had caused. Just as swiftly as that assurance came, doubts followed.

  By the stars, if anything happened to Vadyn, her life was surely over.

  Chapter 14

  CAYLA AWOKE TO high-pitched keening. She listened, disoriented for a moment. What? Where was she? The sound continued, so she focused on it until she was fully awake.

  The brown females. They were home on Kasara. She moved her head. A soft pillow rustled underneath. A familiar scent comforted her, her husband’s scent. She breathed deep, resting in her own soft bed in Vadyn’s great room with the deep purple silk hangings draping the windows. The twin suns of Kasara turned the shadows on the sandstone walls to blood red. The sight made her rise, bleary and again disoriented for a moment. How long had she been here resting in comfort while he was on Dalhum, still being tortured?

  She must have slept through the rest of the journey from the Xeetag’s home and missed the report Tyrei had made to the rest of Kasara. The sounds of grief informed her that all had heard the news of Vadyn’s imprisonment. But the weeping only fired her rage. Damn it! He-was-not-dead! She would know. In her heart, she would know. She grabbed a robe and confronted the females. “Why are you all just standing around weeping, for the gods’ sakes? Do something! He isn’t dead!” She swept her hair back from her face, braided it, and glared at the browns. “Ready the hospital with the healers if you must entertain such dire thoughts, but, whatever you do”—her voice rose to a shout that shook the rafters—“stop that damned wailing!” Their cries had ceased at her snarl, and, now, the females quickly scattered out of her sight. She drew a deep breath then blew it out. One hurdle down, on to the next. She knew where the rest of Kasara was gathered—the clans’ great hall. She hurried there and watched the argument from the shadowed wing.

  Tyrei, the closest Kasar to the el’kota, was the favored warlord, but others fought for the honor. Batla was heavily favored too. She fumed at such useless delay. Everything waited as the war leaders of the clans argued? It was as if all these years that Vadyn had worked to restore peace and prosperity to Kasara had disappeared—gone up in smoke in the petty territorial jealousies. After one too many a warlord stalked to the podium, spouting his virtues, his battle prowess, her patience finally snapped. Divided by age-old prejudices, the main fighting clans, the warriors, divided between Batla and Tyrei. Neither one would follow the leadership of the other. Consequently, even though the Kasar armed and readied their ships, they had not launched an attack against the Xeetag—nor attempted a rescue of Vadyn. Anger overwhelmed her. By the gods, she vowed that they would be so sorry they had crossed her! If she wanted something done right, she’d have to do it herself. She should have known better. Ly’teal? Hell, she couldn’t even get a damned rat to follow her. And she knew the rat that caused the problem. That bull-headed Batla; the old, proud fool would surely lead them to their deaths. And their deaths meant the end of Kasara. And of the el’kota. No! The rhythm of her heart stalled. Every minute of delay surely cost him. She straightened her back and refused to think of the consequences this further delay meant. She focused her attention on the problem. Batla had always been jealous of the affection between their leader and Tyrei. He had looked for every unintended slight, using the remembrances now to fire his men. Above her head, the wooden rafters of the Council hall shook with the vache-filled roars of aroused warriors. They wanted to tear apart all those who stood in the way of reaching the el’kota, even if those standing before them were their own people. Both leaders used Vadyn’s rescue as a means of inciting the warriors to battle anger. Idiots! All of them!

  Sheltered in one of the hall’s wings, she heavily breathed through her anger and stilled her racing heartbeat. She was amazed at how many times in the past few months she’d had to do such a thing. All her life, she had been quiet and accepting. Not so since joining with Vadyn. Since that momentous day, she hadn’t had one moment of peace. Such a riot of emotions filled her—completed her. She smiled briefly in memory of some of the more tumultuous moments of battle—verbal and sexual. They would have those again, she vowed and fisted her hands. The back of her neck heated further. She had, indeed, taken on her mate’s quick-tempered warrior reactions. Well, she planned to put those reactions to better use in just a moment—just as soon as she caught her breath. At present, Tyrei strode to the podium of the war Council, his anxious strides carrying him back and forth. He roared his white-fanged rage at the audience. She spared a moment of pride in Vadyn’s first lieutenant. He, at least, tried to speak reasonably. “The el’kota depends on us. And we have failed him.” Tyrei shook his shaggy head and glared. “Oh, we have gotten the ly’teal to safety, but for what purpose? Will she survive the babe’s birth without the el’kota? If she loses the babe, it will be entirely our fault. She depends on us to return the el’kota, and what do we, the mighty warriors of Kasara, do? We fight among ourselves. I—” Disruptive roars drowned out his words.

  “Order! Damn it, you bunch of raging beasts! I will have order!” Her yell brought the front line lieutenant around in a spin. She stalked to the stage while the audience died down to muttering growls. Staring without actually seeing their faces, she snapped at the crowd. “I am not as helpless as you intimate, Tyrei.” She let a cruel, taunting smile twist her mouth. “Though I’m sure some of you wish it otherwise.” Fierce denials rose but died at her raised fist. “I forgive you for I’ve seen how a warrior in the heat of battle can sometimes become lost in vache’s fighting rage. How some warriors in vache’s grip kill their own companions when they, unwittingly, stray in front of them. A vache-blinded warrior cannot see or hear until the red battle haze has left him. They even fight when their own body has been slashed—their life’s blood dripping away. But how did I see and know this?” She tapped her head and glared at them. “I share my mate’s memories. I’ve fought in his battles. I know what he knows.” She paused. “Do any doubt that I know this?” Fierce shouts voiced their denials. More than several shaggy head nodded. She glared at them until they stopped then she moved in to drive home her command. “It is time for all of you to direct that same vache toward the Xeetag instead of each other.” Her voice rose scornfully. “Mighty warriors, ha! The el’kota will surely charge you when I tell him of your dismal
failure. Is this how you honor him?” She shook her fist in the air. “You are Kasara’s best! Act like it. Before it is too late—” She hesitated then added in a softer but deadlier voice, “Before it is too late for all of us. If you do not agree, you are free to leave Kasara. We do not need cowards here.” She straightened and pointed her finger at the silent crowd. “This is my command as your ly’teal and leader!” They roared at her next words. “Ready your ships. We are leaving.” Quickly, they dispersed, and she filled the lieutenants in on her plans.

  She had set the trap. Now she just needed the Xeetag to take the bait.

  LIGHT YEARS AWAY, Vadyn sensed when Cayla finally slumbered, and he slowly relaxed his tight guard. Good, she slept in safety. He despaired of her ever taking that comfort. Now he used his little remaining strength to shield himself from the pain. Slowly, he breathed in the meditative Kasar ritual, reaching the third level at last. The calming process took the painful sensations from his broken body. Agony receded to the back of his mind. He looked at the view as if from outside himself, indifferent to the horror of torture.

  A new Xeetag approached. It looked different from the rest. Bigger, heavier. Even more cold and deadly. The unblinking, yellow reptile stare drilled him before the creature spoke. “Ssso, Kasssar, you resssissst our wissshesss.” The lizard’s words, the first Vadyn had ever heard spoken aloud without a computer translator, hissed past him on fetid, sour breath. Despite his trance, he retched at the offensive smell. Bruised stomach muscles clenched his middle. He gasped, fighting to regain control of his meditation’s escape. He lost it. Pain! Would he never be free of pain? Choked honking drew his attention. He looked up into the Xeetag’s frozen stare. The lizard laughed at him!