“Only because I won’t fuck him if he doesn’t.” Georgia eased away from Elise, reluctant to let go of the comfort she offered. “All men are manipulators. You used to know that.”
“I’ve learned differently now.” Elise drew a soapy spate of bubbles over her chest. “Because I let myself be open to Ki and what he had to offer. I let myself know him. My God, Georgia. You’ve touched Fari’s mind, his feelings—do you think he’s hiding some dark side?”
“I—well—no.” Georgia swam to the side of the basin and lifted herself out. “I think there are some dark corners in there, but nothing that would hurt me. It’s just—the closer I get to him, the angrier I feel. And the crazier. Old stuff, I know—but I can’t wave a wand and make it disappear.”
Elise finished soaping herself. “So, what would it take?”
“If I knew that, I’d have fixed it a long time ago.” The bath lost its appeal, as did everything in life when Georgia thought too hard about the past. About high school and her date rape at Chuck Sampson’s hands.
Every time she came close to trusting a man, to wanting anything more permanent than a few fucks and a thank-you-ma’am—that old anger rose. She got suspicious. Too nervous to live in her own skin. And she kept waiting for the man to change into…into…an asinine, self-absorbed monster.
How to get past something like that—hell. Even her Earth therapists hadn’t been much help.
Georgia got out and toweled off, oblivious to Elise’s small talk and attempts to distract. She wondered absently where Krysta was, then remembered the talk of Outlanders and black feathers, burning barns and freaky religious messages. Krysta was somewhere doing her job as Arda’s Captain of the Home Guard.
The bedchamber felt huge and empty as Georgia stepped back onto the cool marbled floor, naked except for her towel.
Maybe Krysta would swing by and pick her up for a little afternoon recreation. Georgia tried to get excited by the thought, as she would have only a week or two ago. She tried to think about experimenting with a few more Ardani warrior hunks, and even that held little appeal. Georgia felt flat. Empty. Horny but wanting only one thing.
“Fari,” Elise said, cutting into Georgia’s reverie.
As Georgia glared at her distant cousin, Elise offered Georgia a large tunic and a pair of breeches. “These are his. I thought you might want to…um, keep them.”
Still glaring, Georgia snatched the clothes.
Fari’s strong, forest-like man-smell filled her senses, and in a fit of silliness, Georgia pulled his tunic over her head.
It came down to her knees, and Elise laughed.
“I wear Ki’s all the time. With a belt. Can’t wear the pants, though. I keep them under my pillow when he’s away.”
I would never… Georgia’s thoughts trailed off as she held the soft, musky breeches.
Who was she kidding?
These were going straight to her room, and straight under her pillow.
The whys and why-nots, she’d work those out later.
Elise gave Georgia a see-you-later kiss, and Georgia headed for her own bedchamber. Camford’s halls were deserted, since most of the warriors were out sparring and the women who weren’t warriors themselves were off doing what women on Arda did—spar, ride, hike, climb mountains, learn—the possibilities were endless.
Fari’s soft tunic felt delicious against her skin, and Georgia’s desire for him increased tenfold with each step.
Take the stupid shirt off, one part of her mind demanded.
Never take it off, another part argued.
In the end, she left it on and belted it with a purple scarf. Feeling naughty and excited all at once, she didn’t put on any shoes or underwear, and left her room without a backward glance.
Krysta, Fari, and Elise all be damned. It was a good day for a ride.
Chapter 8
Fari swung his barbed blade hard against his sparring companions. The four of them were deep in the forest, halfway between Camford and Browntown. Part patrol, part workout—this was just what Fari had needed to battle back the mating fervor, at least a little.
“You have slowed,” one of the soldiers growled. “Methinks your mind stays more on a wet slit and big breasts.”
Red rage blazed through Fari’s better sense. He gripped a nearby branch and used it to swing himself at the insolent Markon. To hear Georgia reduced to such language—this fergilla would die a horrid, bloody death!
His sword connected with Markon’s obsidian blade, and the crack and crackle made the two other warriors, Sai and Numo, howl with battle lust.
Slay. Destroy. Fari barely processed that he was trying to kill his under-keeper, the man who would take his place as Sailkeeper should he be lost in battle.
Markon sensed the change in Fari’s mood and fought harder.
“I spoke in jest,” the under-keeper asserted, climbing a nearby stump to give himself advantage.
“And with great disrespect.” Fari’s deranged growl made Sai and Numo snap to attention. They moved in immediately, intent on restraining their master.
Dizzy with the urge to destroy any and all who might insult his shanna, Fari took them all on, swinging wide pivots and making grand, piercing thrusts.
Thankfully none of his blows struck their marks before Sai managed to lung beneath a parry, grab Fari’s ankle, and uproot him.
It took the three of them to sit on Fari’s back until the wave of madness had passed.
“This is out of hand,” Markon said with quiet deliberation.
Fari bucked beneath them, calming in half-measures and remembering Ki’s similar senseless behavior on Astoria, after Elise’s capture.
“Your mating fervor must be better managed, or you need to spar alone until it is settled.” Markon’s tone was infuriatingly logical, and his words were correct. Fari didn’t wish to hear him, however, and gave one last mighty push from the ground.
Markon and the two other warriors held fast. “Give me your word, Fari. No more battle-soldiering until you have resolved things with your Lorelei.”
Fari responded with a snarl. Yet even as he tried to reject Markon’s wisdom, he knew it to be true. Lulled calm, distraction, obsession—these were ingredients for disaster and tragedy.
His mother’s smile, radiant as she boarded the vacation schooner…
His father’s affable handshake…
They trusted me, and I let them down. I let my own parents fly to an early death.
Perhaps Markon would be the better Sailkeeper, after all.
Fari kicked against Markon, then fell still. “No battles until the fervor abates. Agreed.”
At that moment, a great shrieking and thunderous explosions smashed the silence of the wood.
Markon, Sai, and Numo were up before the first shocks died away, with Fari close behind them.
Blindly, they ran toward the chaos, swords drawn.
Thick, acrid smoke tore at Fari’s eyes and throat. He coughed and blinked as branches smacked his shoulders and face. Vines made him stumble, but he managed to keep his footing as he plunged forward.
“That way!” Krysta’s voice rose over the racket, and Fari heard the thundering sound of Chimera at full gallop.
As the four warriors burst into a clearing, Krysta and a patrol of Home Guard, mounted with weapons drawn, swept past them.
“The building yards!” Krysta cried. “The new ships!”
Fari and his group set out on foot behind the Chimera, running as hard as they could and damn near keeping up.
In a few stellar minutes, they broke free of the forest, to the western shore of Camford Lake, which fed into Camford River and quickly into the Arda Sea.
With each step, the smoke grew heavier.
Krysta waved her free hand and sword above her head, using psi-skill to part the dark, burning clouds.
Ahead of them, the building yards waited at the river’s mouth. Roiling black fog obscured many of the building cradles and support structures—
but the damage was obvious.
Someone had blown up most of the newer vessels.
A quick inspection told Fari that only his new ship remained. A small first-assault frigate he planned to name Lorelei, in honor of the women he loved.
Yard workers scrambled and ran. Some had burns, or burning clothing. The Home Guard was already fanning out into the melee, and Fari’s three companions waded in as well. Overhead, a Home Guard speeder squadron sped in to assess the situation.
“Report!” Fari barked, aloud and in full psi-command.
Information trickled in rapid-fire.
Charges set deliberately.
Lorelei not rigged for explosion.
Thirty-six wounded.
Where are the priests? We need the healers!
A black falcon feather.
Several. One beside each destroyed ship.
Brother. Krysta’s voice overrode the rest. Come here, to the gates. You must see this.
Fari turned to his left and strode to where his sister waited. The building yard’s main gates, crumpled and smoking, hulked over a message etched in the dirt.
Vessels of war will not save you. Repent and believe, before it is too late. The Great Darkness is coming. I have left you one ship. Sail it into the sky in peace, and let us talk of saving our world.
“I will kill Weil with my bare hands.” Krysta planted her sword in the torn ground. “Destructive, senseless fools!”
The Great Darkness. Fari shook his head. For years, the Outlanders had been prophesizing the end of time. Some doom would come from space and swallow the Ardani system whole, planet and person alike.
First, they pushed for migration to another home.
Then they demanded a return to the old knowledge. The old magic and the old ways. Surely the answer had to be in the ancient texts.
“Idiots. This will take stellar months to overcome.” Fari clenched his hands at the sound of a late-arriving speeder. “We need guards on every town, every building yard, Camford—“
“Agreed.” Krysta’s wrathful expression spoke volumes. It had been years since the mainland of Arda faced such a direct threat, the recent Battle of Camford notwithstanding. “And I think we should—“
“Fari! Krysta!” Elise’s panicked voice shocked Fari into wheeling around.
His sister-by-marriage was disembarking from the late-landing speeder. “What happened?”
Krysta reached her first and caught her in a protective embrace. “You should not be here. There are wounded, and the Outlanders may still be close.”
Elise gripped Krysta’s shoulders. “But, where’s Georgia? She went for a ride in the forest a while ago, and when the explosions hit, I lost my sense of her—”
Fari heard no other words.
He grabbed Krysta’s Chimera and mounted with the beast already on the move. They headed into the trees at a dead gallop.
Focused, breathing only to sustain life, Fari’s mind opened wide, pushing through the hundreds of psi-conversations flying up from the building yards, the thousands of psi-inquiries coursing over the planet’s surface. From bird to slinking creature in the grass, he searched psi-signature after psi-signature.
Geor-gia, his mind called, saying the name in a two-syllable rhythm. Geor-gia.
It was an old technique, a sort of psychic drumming, designed to reach through noise and confusion and establish a link with a willing mind. If only his shanna were seeking his thoughts as well.
Geor-gia. Geor-gia.
Nothing answered him.
Fari swore.
He should be able to sense his beloved in this state of urgency, even if she had her thoughts shielded.
Was she unconscious?
Had she been taken off-planet?
Everyone I love…I have no worth as a protector!
He urged his mount into a faster run. Trees loomed like opposing warriors, then flew by.
Help me!
Georgia’s shout came all of a sudden, aloud and along psi-channels.
Fari nearly broke the Chimera’s neck turning the beast back toward Camford.
Lead me, shanna! His answering call blasted from his mind as he thundered toward his beloved. I am near!
This time, the only response was a blood-chilling scream.
Chapter 9
Georgia Steel clawed and kicked and fought off two of the biggest men she had ever seen. They had black hair like Arda’s warriors, but no pa marks. Instead, set center in their chests, were stones. Shining coal, or maybe obsidian.
And they smelled strange. Metallic—almost like gunpowder.
Her ears rang from the explosions. She tasted her own blood from biting her lip during their first assault, when they had yanked her off her Chimera.
The poor beast fled in terror.
Georgia held up her hands to scratch the first one who dared to take a step toward her.
“We do not wish to harm you,” said the nearest giant. His words—wooden new-style Ardani, like he’d just learned to talk.
His companion bared his teeth.
“Yeah, well, if you take another step, I’ll harm you.” Georgia spoke Earth English and kept her hands up. Her heart hammered so hard she thought it would break her chest. Something nudged at her mind, a sound, almost like a clock ticking.
Fari, calling her name.
She tried to concentrate enough to answer.
“Come with us peacefully.” The first man beckoned, still in stilted Ardani. He obviously had no idea what Georgia had said. There was no mind-to-mind link at all, not even a rudimentary connection to allow them to understand each other. “You will not be harmed.”
They started toward her, and Georgia screamed as loud as she could—in her mind and out loud.
Arms stronger than vise grips clamped around her shoulders, and then her legs. She tried to kick, hit, scream again—anything—but she was helpless as they lifted her like a log. Her breath choked to nothing. Images from the past rushed through her mind—images of fighting, for nothing, against someone so much stronger.
Even powered by rage and terror, she couldn’t free herself. And yet her years of recovery and her months of finding strength on Arda rose like a wave inside her.
Not again. This will not happen to me a second time!
A meaty hand clamped over her mouth, and Georgia sank her teeth into it until she felt bone.
One of her attackers bellowed, and they dropped her.
She hit the ground, rolled, and scrambled to her feet just in time to see the blue flash of a wicked barbed sword.
“Fari!” A rush of relief nearly drove Georgia back to her knees.
The Sailkeeper of Arda did not answer her greeting.
He had waded in against the tree-men, sword slicing and gouging. The two giants might have been taller, but Fari was definitely faster.
The grim set of his mouth, the blaze in his eyes—this was more than doing his job. Georgia could tell this was personal. Fari was fighting for her.
And winning.
“Kick their asses!” Georgia hopped up and down, spitting out blood—hers and that of the giant she bit.
The big intruders never had a chance to draw their own swords. Howling and guarding wounds from Fari’s blade, they fled into the trees.
For a moment, Georgia felt sure Fari would chase them.
He didn’t. Instead, he stood between Georgia and the retreating men, gory blade drawn, until he was certain they would not reverse course.
Then he turned to her.
He was flecked with sweat and blood. His black tunic was ripped in several places, and dirt smears highlighted his face and hands. The fire of battle still sizzled in his eyes, but the rage quickly drained from his expression as he stared at her.
“Are you injured?” he asked in a quiet voice.
Georgia shook her head.
Fari sheathed his sword, then took a tentative step toward her, as if he feared she would run away from him, too.
A thousan
d reactions flicked like cue cards through Georgia’s mind, ranging from thankful to sarcastic. Sarcasm would be typical. Anything to keep a little distance, preserve a little pride.
For what?
She shook her head again, startled by her own question. As corny as it sounded, having a man fight for her—really lay his life on the line and fight to protect her—that felt damned good.
Georgia discarded her well-rehearsed caustic remarks and did what she most wanted to do.
She hurried forward and threw herself into Fari’s arms.
“Beloved.” He caught her easily and held her, kissing the top of her head. “I was so worried.”
“Thank you.” Georgia realized she was shaking. “I—I—thank you!”
Fari cradled her, whispering comfort, offering his thoughts and emotions freely through their psi-link.
Georgia clung to him, body and mind, and before she knew it, sobs welled up. Painful sobs, from some cavern of despair deep inside her. Fari didn’t flinch from her emotions. Quite the opposite, he stayed as steady as a rock.
I am here, shanna. Cry until the fear is spent. Nothing will hurt you now. And if I can prevent it, ever again.
It was so easy to hold on to this man. And even easier to believe him. Georgia let herself melt into his chest. She cried and cried, until exhaustion rendered her dry and limp in his embrace.
Still, Fari held her. The gentle press of his cheek on her head felt like medicine for her old wounds.
“Kiss me,” she murmured, offering her mouth.
Fari brushed his lips against hers. “Come. Let me take you back to Camford. Elise and Krysta will be worried.”
“I don’t care.” Georgia moved against Fari’s muscular chest. “Kiss me.”
Desire brightened Fari’s midnight eyes, but he cupped Georgia’s face in his hands. “Nothing would please me more than to lay you on this ground and make love to you until morning—but you were just attacked. You are frightened and vulnerable, and I fear you think you owe me something for your protection.”
Georgia started to protest, but she was too stunned to speak.
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