Solstice 31: The Solstice 31 Saga, Books 1,2,3

by Martin Wilsey

  As Barcus slowly came awake, he realized there was skin under his right hand. His arm was over her. His hand held her. His thumb was touching the soft bit of skin just below her armpit. His fingers wrapped around her to her shoulder blade. Without thinking, he moved his thumb and caressed her skin there.

  Without waking, she reacted. She made a soft sound, a cooing sigh, her left hand finding his.

  Now he was beginning to react.

  Slowly he tried to extract his hand. He feared she would wake and a trust would be lost. As he tried to slide his hand out, as slowly as an analog watch minute hand, her hand followed his. He discovered that her night dress was pulled up high. At least now his hand was away from her breast and not up under her clothes. Over her ribs and down her belly, his plan was to gently use that hand to shift her leg from him so he could slide from bed without waking her.

  Her hand would not leave his though.

  In fact it began to guide his hand subtly again. He let her.

  His hand began to feel an increase in soft, fine hair below her navel. Hyper aware now, he could feel her leg move lightly on his body. There was delicate hair on her legs.

  She dragged his hand lower and her snore changed with a twitch. Her legs spread slightly wider, and all at once she drew his hand directly to her soft pubic area. He knew she was dreaming. He could not take any more.

  He moved all at once, like a sleeper turning so she was once again on her side with her back to him. Her own hand now occupied that place of privilege.

  As he slid out of bed with his now painfully hard erection, he was beginning to form the discussion he would have with her later. He needed to be clear. He wanted her to know that she was desired, but he also wanted her to want him. He needed to be sure.

  He paused for a moment to watch her sleep. She let out a soft moan and it almost broke his resolve. Without thinking, he raised his hand to find the scent of her skin there.

  He gathered his clothes, his boots and belt. He thought, I know how to act with women from my time and place. An amusing mental correction. You just ask, in one way or another, and no would mean no.

  But with her, there was no such thing as saying no. He would have to find a way to explain it today.

  Part of his head was saying, “Just take her, you stupid bastard, you know she wants you.” Another part said, “Don't fuck this up LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO.” Another part said, “What the FUCK are you doing? Don't get distracted. Find the ASSHOLES that killed everyone you care about and make them pay!” This sobered him. Angered him.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he sighed.

  Em's voice was in his mind as he collected clothes and his boots and passed though the curtain. “Barcus, is everything all right? Your heart rate and blood pressure are way up.” He indicated a silent “yes” in his HUD.

  He dropped the clothes in an overstuffed chair, stepped into his boots and stoked the fire. The cast iron kettle was already full and hanging from the hook arm. He swung it to the front, over the fire. Quietly, clothes and cloak in hand, he went out.

  There was a light dusting of snow that was very dry and didn't stick to anything. He made his way to the bath suite and, after hanging the clothes on a peg, went about starting a fire. He was surprised that there were a lot of coals left that he managed to draw back to life. Soon he had a large fire burning.

  He didn't wait for the bath to get warm. The cool water took the edge off. He scrubbed himself roughly. He washed his hair and beard savagely with the strong soap. Submerging himself, he scrubbed the soap from his hair. The suds floated away as the water circulated through. He could feel the water getting warmer. He laid there a while, watching the steam rise from the small waterfall of the water flow, emptying his mind, searching for clarity.

  He got out and dried off, after a long soak, with the thick towels Olias had salvaged. He stood naked in front of the fire for a while to air dry in the heat.

  He dressed in fresh clothes he had never worn before. There were layers. First he donned the under-tunic and pants. Next came the over-tunic and his belt. Then he pulled a tabard over that. The last piece was the cloak. These were the standard winter clothes, he had been told. He smiled as he thought of it.

  After adding more wood to the fire, he folded his nightshirt and headed back to the gatehouse.

  He came directly down the spiral stairs into the bed chamber this time and was amazed to find her still sleeping. He hung his nightshirt on the peg and went in search of food.

  He collected utensils, two plates and mugs on a tray. He added bread, butter, honey, cheese, ham and apples to the tray and carried it back to the gatehouse after stuffing a big chunk of ham into his own mouth.

  Soon the table was set and tea was brewing.

  The table next to his chair held the most recent book. He looked forward to spending time with it. But as he sipped his tea, he reviewed the morning reports Em had prepared. The most notable item today was that the Redoubt was draining at eighteen centimeters per day. That rate would increase, though, as the diameter of the Redoubt decreased.

  Thirty minutes later, he was reading the book about bee keeping, when he heard Po stir. It was just after 10 a.m. She had never slept that long.

  Quiet stirrings suddenly turned into panicked rustling. The curtain flew back. Her hair was loose, long and wild. Her night dress had fallen off her shoulder and she was more beautiful than he had ever seen her.

  “Good morning,” Barcus said over his steaming cup. “The bath should be warm now if you want to clean up before breakfast. Tea's ready whenever you are.”

  Her eyes darted from Barcus to the food waiting for them both at the table, to the teapot on the hearth and kettle over the fire.

  Her face fell, “I am so sorry, my Lord.” Barcus rolled his eyes “I never intended to sleep so long. I... I...”

  “Po. Stop. Please. I wanted you to sleep in. I will try to explain it again.” He set his tea and book down, got up, poured her a mug of tea and carried it to her. “I want you safe, well fed, well rested, strong, healthy, clean and happy. Your mind will work best then. I have a lot for you to learn.” She had one hand holding back the curtain and the other on the door frame, staring at the tea. “I need your help, Po. This is the only way.”

  He extended his hand offering her the tea. She took it after a moment.

  He tucked a few wild hairs behind her left ear and on a whim he kissed her forehead. Her body almost imperceptibly drew nearer, like there was extra gravity between them. He moved away then, and looked at her again.

  “Thank you.” There was a long pause. “Barcus?”

  “Yes, Po.” He picked up his tea.

  “I know it's true. All of it.” Po said.

  “What is true?”

  “The magic. It's not just in written words. It's in spoken ones if the speaker says them true. It's in the fire and the food and in sun and rain. It's in the rest, my sleep, my touch and my dreams. It's even in the water and air I think. Everywhere. I feel it. I never felt anything before except fear and pain. And even those are magic I think.”

  “Yes, Po. Especially those,” Barcus said quietly.

  “I don't understand any of it, but I know it's true.”

  “That was a good night's sleep.” Barcus smiled.

  She sipped her tea and set it down on the table by her plate. “I will clean up after breakfast,” she said.

  “Excellent.” Barcus said as he retrieved the teapot from the hearth and brought it to the table. He topped off his mug.

  Po was tearing apart the loaf of bread as Barcus sliced the apples. They ate buttered bread with honey amid bites of apples and cheese and conversation about the coming day’s tasks.

  He told her that Pardosa, Ash and Olias would arrive in Greenwarren today around noon. If she had any other requests, things to get, to call him on the Plate and let him know.

  Breakfast was over too soon.

  “One day this winter, you will have to begin teaching me ho
w to bake bread. I'd love to know how,” he said.

  This for some reason made her smile wide. She collected her fresh clothes and went up the spiral stairs heading toward the bath.

  He wanted to watch her but decided he should not. He needed a clear mind when he tried to talk to her later. The BUGs would keep an eye out and let him know if there was a problem.

  He took the dishes to the kitchen, while thinking about the wall cap stones that would go over the aqueduct. Slabs from the quarry that had already been cut would serve nicely.

  ***

  “Barcus...” it was Po's voice. She had called out his name. He instantly panicked. A window popped up immediately showing her in the tub reclining. She said his name again, but whispered it this time.

  He was just in time to see the end of her shuddering orgasm.

  He was hypnotized by her arched back, her nipples breaking the surface of the water. Her arms pressed her breasts together as she touched herself with both hands.

  By the time she was finished, she was limp.

  Barcus closed the window and then his eyes.

  Em's voice startled him, “I have been monitoring her for months now. This behavior is a recent development. Her health continues to improve, physically and mentally.”

  “Em, I don't know what I'm doing,” Barcus said.

  Em appeared in the chair at the table. No casual walk in from another room or from behind him like she usually did.

  “You are surviving. You have secured shelter, food, water, comfort, cultural intel and real companionship. You are ready for the snow. You are far more prepared than we could have hoped for. The snow will act as another layer of security while we break their comms. Once we do that, we find out how this happened. Who did it and what we can do about it.”

  “I know. I just...” Barcus said. “All I want to do is...” he trailed off. Em didn’t ask him to finish the thought. She knew he wanted to hunt these bastards down, one at a time, and tear their heads off as they screamed. But that would not help him survive.

  Barcus went back to work. He finished the cleanup and went to inspect the wall repairs. He had dispatched BUGs into the water system to find the clogs first. They had to be careful because the BUGs were a limited resource and now he was beginning to think long-term. He was at the wall repair, looking into the open top of the repaired aqueduct, wondering how fast Ash could cut and carry the correct size stone blocks here. This made him look down the ramp of rubble there, on the outside of the wall, which Ash had used to repair the wall thus far. The top of the rubble was still about two meters shy of the top of the repaired wall section.

  That's when he saw the tracks.

  There was a light dusting of snow here that made it easy to see the trail once it was past the rubble, as it ran directly to the tree line.

  Looking closer, he could see traces of where it had gone down the rubble on the inside of the wall.

  That's when the screams began.

  It was not a human scream. It was a screeching howl of fear from an animal. It was enough to start him running. He moved along the top of the wall fast. As he rounded to a view of the paddock he saw the source of the now silenced screams. It was a goat in the jaws of something shaped like a lion, but was broader in the chest. It looked like a reptile and had a very long tail that was swishing back and forth.

  He knew it was a predator of some kind, but it was like nothing he had ever seen. The other goats began mewing loudly together. They were pressed against the wall opposite the stables.

  The beast was tearing off a hind quarter and ignoring the other goats as their screams rose.

  Barcus’s heart froze and time slowed as the gate opened and Po entered the paddock wiping her hands on an apron. Her eyes were on the goats crowded together in the corner to her left. She hadn't noticed the predator looking up at her with its bloody face.

  In seeming slow motion, it began stalking towards her. When she saw it, her hands flew to her mouth in shock. It was only ten meters from her when he left the wall, ran down the slate tiles of the roof of the dorms above the stables, placed one foot on the stable porch roof and launched into the air.

  The gravity held him aloft far too long it seemed. In slow motion he turned in flight. He landed with a ground-shaking impact on his feet, arms wide, cloak spread, directly between the thing and Po.

  Barcus had surprised the beast. It reacted like a cat. A large ruff of a mane came up at its neck. It was more like feathers than fur. It was a reptile. Eyes on the front of its skull, a giant snout of bloody, snarling, teeth. It had gray mottled skin that looked like stone. It began to move like a cat about to fight, its back arched, its body pivoted to the side. Its head didn't move.

  Its tail lashed him so quickly that he didn't see it until it was returning from a strike that hit him on his left collar bone, gashing downward across his sternum.

  His gun was just clearing its holster when the second strike hit full force across his face. His left cheek bone took the most of it, knocking him off his feet to the ground as the predator advanced, arching for another blow.

  Barcus could not miss the massive target of its ribcage when he opened fire, despite his blurred vision. The first shot would have been enough to kill it, blowing its heart and lungs out the far side, but it didn't go down. As he began to sit up, he shot it three more times. It fell off its feet as Barcus was regaining his.

  The report of the gunfire echoed and faded into deeper silence.

  He slowly turned to Po and said in a voice that didn't sound like his own, “Are you all right?” She was still frozen. Only seconds had passed, her hands on her mouth, eyes growing wider still.

  Em chimed in his mind, “Barcus you are badly wounded. You are frightening the girl. You need her.” A window opened and it showed his own ruined face. The thing’s tail had slashed his face to the bone. His right cheek had been peeled from his face from just below his eye to his jawline. The flap of skin hung there, his skull exposed, white in places, teeth showing. He could see a deep score line in his skull on the bone of his cheek to his teeth.

  He watched himself, almost casually, dropped the gun to reach up and press the flap back up to cover his skull.

  That is when he felt the blood running down his belly and over his genitals.

  Em chimed in again, or maybe she had never stopped, “BARCUS! If there is another one of those she is dead. You will go into shock soon.” This got him moving.

  Through gritted teeth he said to Po, “Hurry,” and grabbed her with his left hand and moved to the gatehouse. This jump-started Po as well.

  In a loud whisper he said, “I will go into shock soon. You need to help me and fast.” They moved into the gatehouse and he slammed then bolted the door closed.

  “Under the bed is a large red case. Bring it.” She ran and was back in seconds. She lifted the case onto the table, sending items flying to the floor as Barcus sat. Barcus opened the first latch, and Po quickly opened the other three and flung it open.

  Barcus reached in and withdrew a small tube marked “Trauma Pen: for use in emergencies only.” He pressed it down against his thigh. It made a snapping and a hiss sound. It felt like ice water being flooded into his veins. His vision cleared and the pain subsided. But it became clear where his damage was. He picked up a small towel from the table and pressed it to his face. “Hold this. We have to hurry,” he said to Po. Without hesitation, Po placed direct pressure to his cheek. “Stand here.”

  When she moved to the side, the BUG showed the expanding blood stain on his chest around a great cut in his tabard.

  With one swift motion, Barcus grasped the edges of the torn tabard and tunics and ripped them wide until his chest was bare all the way to his lap. Pain shot though him like an electric shock as he moved.

  A giant gash went diagonally from his collarbone to his ribs on the opposite side. Ribs and sternum bones were exposed. Blood ran freely from the wound. From the case he withdrew a canister.

  “W
atch what I do with this, Po. I will need you to repeat it with my other wound.” He seemed to be staring off into the distance. He was actually examining the wound via the BUG. Em was silent.

  The canister functioned like a spray paint can. It looked like a dust of fine white chalk, as it covered the wound. When it was covered, he pressed on the canister a red button that lit. He winced as the blood flow seemed to almost stop immediately.

  “Po, now watch this next part. I have to close the wound.”

  “I know how to stitch wounds,” she said in gasping but controlled words.

  “This is much the same, but uses medical adhesive. It uses magic. Watch.”

  He grabbed a device that looked like a syringe. He turned the base, and it activated lights that illuminated the area of the wound. Pressing a small button on the side caused a bit of active foam to excrete from the tip into the top edge of the wound. “Press the edges together as you go. See?” Barcus showed her. He handed her the device. His clarity was beginning to fade.

  “Hurry. I will pass out soon.” He pressed the towel to his face again so she could use both hands. She didn't ask a single question as she began to close the wound.

  His focus shifted from the HUD to her face as she worked. Her brow was deeply etched in concentration and concern as she worked unflinchingly. As she reached the bottom of the wound, he reached into the case and pressed a button and a moist towelette was dispensed. “Clean it with this,” Barcus said to her.

  She set down the medical adhesive canister and took the towelette. She could feel a cool sizzle where she touched it. As she wiped around the wound, the towel caused a bubbling reaction as it absorbed and somehow consumed the blood and soil from the area until it was just his very pale skin and a horrific, somehow pulsing line on his chest. There was no bleeding at all.

  “Last thing.” Barcus took another canister from the case and shook it. A thumb release allowed a cover to slide, revealing a soft-looking brush. “Don't ever use this unless you have cleaned it with that first.” He gestured drunkenly to the towelette. He painted the wound with the brush. A clear coating covered the wound.