by Anny Cook
His rough fingers brushed against his soft cock and that reminded him of Wrenna, which meant that his cock instantly sprang up and begged for personal attention. Why not? The door was closed. And even if it had been open, people in the valley didn’t seem to care one way or the other about such things. Certainly, no one would be embarrassed. At the most, whoever happened to see him would simply go away. Of all the things that baffled him about the valley, the casual acceptance of sex was the most baffling.
Absently, he stroked his cock as he puzzled over the information he’d gleaned from discussions with his grandfather and Llyon. No one seemed to know why they were blue or why they turned blue after a single bite from their semtorn. No one could explain how an out-valley woman suddenly developed a schela after the bite when she didn’t have one before. What about the pointed ears and fangs? Why fangs, anyway? Maybe they had been predators in the past? Were they aliens? How could the valley act as a sentient entity, making life-and-death decisions?
His balls tightened and drew up close to his body as he continued to stroke and rub the sensitive spot just below the corona. Clear drops of pre-cum dribbled down over his fingers and enhanced the stroking. He thought about Dancer’s description of how Eppie’s schela held his cock like a flexible snug cock ring. When he tried to imagine how it would feel with Wrenna, his cock erupted in waves of hot sensation. How long until they could bond?
Depression settled back over him like a blanket as he cleaned himself off with a corner of the sheet. What was he going to do now? He couldn’t spend the rest of the afternoon jerking off.
A quick knock was all the warning he had before Llyon strolled into his room. A discreet sniff and Llyon quirked a questioning brow. “Shall I come back later? Or would you like to go out on Mama’s patio and sit in the shade?”
Trav tossed the covers off the bed and struggled to sit up. “No! No, don’t go. Just give me a minute to sit up here…” he trailed off as Llyon helped him up with a careful boost.
“Sit there a minute while I find you a clean sharda,” Ly suggested. “Take a deep breath and calm down. We’ll do this in slow easy steps.”
“Outside.” Trav sighed. “I don’t remember the last time I was outside.”
Llyon grinned as he tossed the sharda on the end of the bed. “Allow me to remind you. It was the day you arrived in the valley and we carried you here on a stretcher.”
“Like I said,” Trav replied sourly. “I don’t remember.”
“Okay. Ready?” When Trav nodded, Llyon helped him down out of the gently swinging bed and steadied him until he was ready to stand on his own. Then he waited patiently while Trav slipped on the sharda, found his slippers and shuffled into the bathing room.
While Trav took care of his personal business, Llyon stripped the sheets off the bed, found clean sheets and briskly remade it so it would be ready when Trav completed his outing. When Trav reappeared, they set off on the slow trek to Jade’s patio. By the time they arrived there, Trav was more than ready to sink into the Adirondack chair Llyon had prepared with soft cushions and blankets.
Hawke trotted out onto the patio with a small table and set it next to Trav. A few minutes later he deposited a tall cool glass of quoltania juice and a small plate with honey cookies on the table.
“Thank you, Hawke,” Trav called as he disappeared back into the house. Hawke waved an acknowledgment and kept on moving.
Llyon perched on his heels next to Trav’s chair and said, “Papa thought you might be willing to sharpen some of our flicknives for us. If you could do that I would really appreciate the help.”
“You use a whetstone? And oil?”
“Yes. I have everything you would need. Just say when you’re ready and I’ll bring it out.”
Trav grinned. “I’m ready. Bring it on.”
“Now?” Llyon was clearly startled by his enthusiasm.
“Llyon, if you don’t find something for me to do, I’ll be tempted to use those flicknives on myself,” Trav explained frankly. “I’m bored to death.”
“Ah? Well, in that case, I’ll bring the lot out. When you get tired, just let me know.” Llyon bounced to his feet and went into the house to get the supplies and knives for Trav’s chore. He reappeared with a table neatly arranged with several types of knives, whetstone and a small bottle of sweet reefah oil. He added a basket with small rags and sighed. “You’re sure you don’t mind? Normally, we all take care of our own knives but everyone’s so busy.”
“Llyon.” When Trav was sure he had Llyon’s attention, he said very firmly, “I need to be doing something to help. If this is the way I can help you, then I’ll be thrilled to do it. Now explain the various knives to me and how they’re used.”
After a moment, Llyon nodded and pointed to the pile of flicknives. “Flicknives. They are worn in sheathes on the leg. The glyphs on the carved handles identify the owner.”
“And why are they called flicknives? These don’t fold. Out-valley, a flick knife is a folding knife that you flick open.”
Llyon picked one up and flicked it backhanded toward the tree at the edge of the patio. Unlike a standard throwing knife, it spun like a serrated drill. Trav tried to imagine what a spinning knife blade would do to a target and utterly failed. With a hollow thunk, the blade sank into the tree trunk.
“All right! Flicknife, it is. What are these tiny ones here?” Trav asked, poking with a blunt finger at three little sheathed knives with exquisite inlaid cases.
“Those are ceremonial knives used in oath-bindings, warrior vows, things like that. They are called sliths and most warriors wear them as a hair ornament.” Llyon tapped the edge of a basket of small straight knives with handles carved of chinka material. The handles all had glyphs etched along the lengths. “These are kroniche throwing knives and they are worn in slots on a kroniche, usually six to the left and six to the right.”
“Uh-huh. And the rest of this lot?”
“Kitchen knives. Carver, bread knife, filet knife, vegetable knife…”
“I get the picture. Which do you want done first?”
“Kitchen knives,” Llyon answered promptly. “Then the flicknives. After that, whatever you want to work on.”
“Okay. Go away,” Trav commanded as he decided what to do first.
Time passed quickly as Traveller was absorbed in the familiar chore of sharpening knives. It was something that required concentration and meticulous care but still allowed him time to think. He puzzled over the glyphs on the handles, noting which glyphs were identical from knife to knife and which were different. From that he deduced that the identical glyph probably stood for Llewellyn. Every single knife he handled, even the kitchen knives had at least that one glyph embossed on the handle.
Interesting. Trav had noticed that most everyday items had that glyph embossed or etched on them somewhere. The pottery, glasses, utensils, all had that glyph. With a shrug, he decided that it was one way to keep track of your belongings but it kind of gave him the same feeling he had when he went away to camp and had his name sewn on his underwear. Something about it smacked of that feeling that he needed his name sewn on his clothes so he would have an identity.
He put his materials down and took a snack break, studying the terrain surrounding the patio with a calculating glance. If an invading force made it this far, there was absolutely nothing to hinder their progress through the village. According to Dancer’s assessment, the warriors in the valley had next to no experience in fighting as a cohesive unit. Individually they were highly skilled. And that’s exactly how fighting was done in the valley—individually.
But if Fremont Llewellyn succeeded in invading, he wouldn’t be coming in as an individual. Traveller believed he would send in several small elite fighting groups. He tossed the rest of the juice down his throat and swallowed. Time was waiting for no man or woman. He needed to be on his feet and training the warriors to fight together.
Shoving his frustration away, he went back to his chore
while he considered the list of skills the warriors needed to develop. His appraisal of their potential deficiencies was interrupted by terrified screams and loud shouts. Struggling up out of the chair, he hobbled over to the stone wall, cursing his injuries and stupid legs.
Trav! Wrenna was shrieking in his mind.
Snarling, a sleek long-haired golden body soared over the wall and streaked toward the tangled knot of human and animals. With horror, Trav realized Wrenna was the human fighting with the grimahrs. Galvanized, Trav stalked down the hill toward the snapping, growling animals, entirely unconscious of the pain in his legs. When he was close enough, he threw the knife in his hands with desperate force, striking the grimahr that had seized Wrenna’s leg with his powerful jaws squarely between the eyes. It keeled over, dragging her with it to the ground. Seconds later two more flicknives were buried in the heart of the second grimahr and then Hawke and Llyon ran past him, completely focused on reaching Wrenna’s crumpled body.
Abruptly, help arrived from all over the village. A man Traveller didn’t even know led him to a nearby boulder and gently helped him sit down. Several men dragged the grimahr carcasses away once they were disentangled with Wrenna. Two other men and a woman knelt next to Harmony, working swiftly to staunch the bleeding from her wounds.
And Traveller saw none of it as he strained to see what was happening with Wrenna. Dancer and Eppie arrived and immediately joined Trav, taking charge of him. “Are you all right?” Dancer gasped out as he stared at the chaos on the incline above the river.
Trav watched the healers desperately working over Wrenna’s still body and he started shaking. Robyn brought a blanket from his chair in the garden and carefully wrapped it around him.
“Stay with him, Eppie. I’ll go find out what’s going on.” Dancer trotted down where they worked on Wrenna and spoke softly to Merlyn. After a moment, he ran back up the hill where they waited for word.
“They have the bleeding under control. They’re going to get her ready to carry up to the house where they can treat her better.” He watched slow tears trickle down Trav’s cheeks and he squatted down next to Trav while Eppie rubbed his back. “Trav, she’s going to be okay. They need to do a lot of stitching, though.”
“Harmony?” Trav asked with dread.
“They don’t know,” Dancer admitted. “They’re having a hard time stopping the bleeding. She has a terrible gash where one of the grimahrs ripped her throat.”
Trav gazed down at the scene, not really taking in the reality. “She saved her, Dance. I couldn’t move fast enough and Harmony just flew over the wall and went after them.”
“You saved her too, Trav. Llyon said they wouldn’t have made it in time.” Dancer shook his head. “Come on. We’ll go inside and wait for her.”
“Not until they carry her in,” Trav replied stubbornly. “I can’t hold her but I’m not leaving her, either. It’s all I can do.”
Falcon led Jade up to the little group. “It isn’t all you can do,” she said quietly wiping her own tears away with one hand. “You can link with her, Trav. More than anything, she needs to know you’re with her. Do you remember how she linked with you when you were hurting so badly?”
“I remember.”
“So will she. Go in the house. Falcon will make sure there is a chair in the treatment room so that you can sit next to her. She will know you’re there.” Jade slipped an arm across his back and hugged him tightly. “Take care of her for me, Trav.”
Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he nodded. “I will.”
This time when Dancer offered his arm, Trav accepted his help. They slowly made their way back into the house and down the long hallway to the treatment room. Though Traveller didn’t mention his legs at all, Dancer was anxiously aware of the terrible difficulty he was having walking.
Once he had Trav seated, he caught Merlyn’s attention long enough to ask him to check Trav as soon as Wrenna was settled. Merlyn nodded to let him know that he would take care of Trav, before focusing his attention back on his daughter.
Through the long afternoon, Trav sat quietly holding her hand while they went about the business of healing. Merlyn patiently stitched her wounds, freeing Llyon to expend his efforts on the deadly infectious moorash disease, spread in the grimahrs’ saliva. More patients died from moorash than the actual wounds.
Late in the afternoon, when the evening shadows were creeping across the paths, mournful howling filled the air, letting them know that Harmony had died. Silent tears flowed down Trav’s face as he bowed his head in unaccustomed prayer.
Wrenna! Do you hear me? Don’t you die on me. You made me love you. Now I can’t live without you! Do you hear me?
I hear you, she acknowledged tiredly. So does every other telepath in the valley, probably.
Good! Then they all know I love you! He squeezed her hand gently. I was so scared, Wrenna. So afraid I wouldn’t get there in time.
Shhh. It’s over now.
Llyon straightened up and rolled his shoulders. “I’ve done everything I can for now. Did Tyger and Dai ever get here?” he asked with a deep sigh. “We need to get her to bed.”
“My room,” Trav demanded authoritatively. “I want her with me.”
“Her room,” Merlyn answered mildly. “You can move to her room. Besides, it doesn’t have a swinging bed so you’ll be able to maneuver better on your own—when we let you get up again.”
Dai and Tyger moved into the room from their observation post in the hall. “That won’t be for a while,” Dai said sternly. “Tyger, take Llyon away before he falls down.”
“Going, going,” Llyon said in a faint singsong tone.
Dai directed Wrenna’s relocation to her room. He left her in the care of Robyn and Merlyn and returned to take care of Trav. “I’m too tired to argue with you,” he snapped at Trav. “So hike your butt up on the table and let me see how much damage you did.”
Dancer came to his rescue and practically lifted him up to the table. When Dai’s exam was complete, he sighed heavily and took Trav’s clenched fist in his trembling hands. “You saved her, Traveller. But by doing so, you’ve done considerable damage. I’m torn between wanting to hug you for saving her and wanting to smack you for doing so much damage.”
Trav snorted. “So which is it going to be?”
Dai laid his head on Trav’s chest and shuddered. “A hug, of course. Because when I straighten those bones and reset them, you’ll wish I smacked you.”
The next little while would have probably been quite painful but Falcon, in his role as guide, led Jade into the small treatment room and Dancer watched her demonstrate a fascinating ability that no one had talked about before. She placed two fingers on Trav’s brow and between one breath and the next, Trav went into a deep sleep.
“Enough?” she asked Dai with a little smile.
“I hope so. Will you stay?”
“Of course.” She stroked Trav’s brow in a slow, soothing motion while Dai and the other healer volunteers from the village grimly reset Trav’s legs and strapped his ribs. While he was still unconscious, they moved him down to Wrenna’s room and got him settled next to her in the wide bed. Then Dai led Jade up to the bed where she placed her palm on Trav’s forehead and asked doubtfully, “Are you sure he needs to be awake?”
“Yes, he needs to be awake. A little pain will be a great motivator to stay put.”
Trav groaned. Wrenna whimpered. Robyn and Eppie sighed. It was going to be a very long night but at least both of their patients would live.
Chapter Sixteen
The next few eight-days passed in a crawl. Summer turned into fall, bringing cooler weather. In spite of Llyon and Dai’s best efforts infections spread throughout Wrenna’s body, spiking high fevers and delirium. Trav spent hours alternately praying and cursing while he sponged her body with cool water.
With startling abruptness, the fever dropped and she opened her eyes, staring around the dim room with a blurry frown. “Trav?”
After swiping her dried lips with her tongue, she very slowly tilted her head and asked, “What are you doing in here?”
He smiled at her baffled confusion and answered carefully. “You needed someone to be with you all day and night. I was elected. Actually,” he admitted, “I elected myself and I guess the others figured it would be easier to take care of us together. Do you remember what happened?”
Her brow wrinkled in concentration. “The grimahrs—they’re dead?”
“Oh, yeah. They’re dead, skinned and the hides are hanging on the green. Arturo came back from Dai’s retreat long enough to lead a hunt to find their lair and kill the rest of them. They were carrying moorash disease.”