Instructing the Novice

by Evangeline Anderson

  Lone had to admit she was draped heavily in the thick purple fur wraps which were specially made for extremely cold and bitter weather. But she still looked too feminine—too beautiful—in his estimation.

  "I can still see your eyes,” he pointed out.

  “Because if you couldn’t, then I couldn’t see where I was going.” She put a hand on her fur-padded hip. “Look, I understand that we’re going into hostile territory but there’s only so much I can do to hide the fact that I’m a woman. Besides, we didn’t see anyone on the 360 view when we landed.”

  Lone had to admit that was true. But he didn’t want to take any chances. His own furs were considerably lighter than hers, for added maneuverability, but he didn’t want Lizabeth getting frost bite in the bitter weather or looking like an attractive female target to any Friezens who might be in the area.

  “I think we’ll be fine,” Lizabeth said. “Could we just go, Lone? I don’t know when night falls here but it’s already pretty gray out there. I’d rather do this in the daylight than when it gets dark.”

  “Good point.” Lone sighed and checked his blaster one more time. “All right, we’re going out. Stay close.”

  He opened the door hatch and immediately a blast of icy air whipped inside, stealing their breath away.

  “Oh my God!” Lizabeth gasped, wrapping her arms around herself. “I knew it was going to be cold but didn’t that guard from the Tower say it was supposed to be summer here right now?”

  “From what I understand, the whole planet is completely impassible in their winter months,” Lone informed her. “I know it’s not very warm but apparently this is as warm as it gets on Yonnie Two.”

  “Not very warm?” She gave a breathless little laugh. “That’s an understatement. Ugh—come on. Let’s get out there before I lose my nerve.”

  They stepped outside, into the howling wind, and Lone shut and locked the shuttle and put up the anti-theft shield for good measure. He surveyed the landscape which was flat and barren in all directions without a single bit of vegetation as far as the eye could see. The ground they were standing on was naked rock and small swirls of icy snow scudded over it as the ferocious wind whipped and howled.

  He didn’t see any of the Friezens—in fact, he didn’t see anyone at all. But he did see a large, yellow arrow pointing off to the left over the frozen landscape.

  “This way!” he shouted to Lizabeth who was shivering visibly. He hoped she would be all right during the walk to the train platform. She came from a warm part of the Earth—the South-Eastern United States—and he knew she wasn’t used to such bitter weather.

  He took her hand and they made their way to the arrow but the wind was blowing so fiercely that she was soon shivering almost uncontrollably. Though he wanted to keep her in sight, Lone reluctantly decided to put her behind him, so he could act as a kind of wind-break for her.

  “Walk behind me, Lizabeth,” he shouted, raising his voice to be heard over the whining moan of the weather. “Just stay close.”

  She nodded, apparently too cold to say anything, and they started forward again. Lone saw the next large, yellow arrow painted on the bare, gray rock and then the next after that. He pressed forward, intent on making their goal.

  It wasn’t until they got to the last arrow that he saw they weren’t alone anymore.

  Lizabeth looked up when Lone halted abruptly. She’d been keeping her head down and concentrating on staying directly behind his broad back so she didn’t immediately see why they were stopping. Nerving herself up for a blast of freezing air, she peered around one of his muscular arms and frowned.

  Their path seemed to end abruptly up ahead. After the last arrow all she saw was a sheer face of rock, rising up into the grayish air. There was a deep oval opening in the rock face and a kind of metal platform was coming out of it. Steep metal stairs led up to it. Lizabeth thought it must be where the train came out.

  But the train station, which was their ultimate destination, wasn’t what drew Lizabeth’s eyes. Directly in the middle of the yellow paint of the last arrow, a shivering female form huddled. She must not have been there long because when she saw them she looked up and cried out something. The wind snatched her words and despite the translation bacteria she’d been given aboard the Mother Ship, Lizabeth couldn’t make out what she was trying to say.

  “Is she hurt?” she shouted to Lone. “We should check on her.”

  “We should be careful,” he shouted back. “Could be a trap.”

  “But she—” Lizabeth began but the woman got up and staggered over to them before they could debate any longer. She was wrapped in ragged brown and gray furs and from the glimpse Lizabeth got of her face, she looked humanoid and seemed to be about her own age—somewhere in her mid-forties.

  “Please!” she gasped when she got to them. “Please, are you going to the mountain stronghold? Will you take me with you?”

  “Who are you?” Lizabeth asked, raising her voice above the wind. “Are you all right?”

  “I am Anya. They were holding me in the ripening hut but I ran away before the shaman could cut me.” The woman was almost crying now, her large brown eyes filled with emotion. “I don’t want to be the Snow Queen!”

  The Snow Queen? Lizabeth frowned. Hadn’t Karx, the head guard they’d talked to on the viewscreen said something about that? Had this woman run away from the savage Friezens before they could force her to participate in their rituals?

  “Of course we’ll—” she shouted to Anya. But just then the wind died abruptly and her voice came out much too loud. “Of course we’ll help you,” she finished in a more normal tone of voice.

  “Thank you.” The woman blinked back tears. “Oh, thank you so much! I said to myself when I got away that I would come to the last marker and wait and if anyone came I would beg for help. And if not…I would freeze.”

  “You mean freeze to death?” Lizabeth asked, frowning. She pulled down the scarf that covered her face and stared at the woman. “Why would you want to do that?”

  Anya lifted her chin. “I would rather die than become the Snow Queen. The cold is a kinder death.”

  She shivered as she spoke and Lizabeth could see that her attempted suicide would almost certainly have been successful. Her ragged furs didn’t look warm enough to withstand the freezing cold.

  “Look at you—you’re already freezing! Here, take some of my furs,” she told Anya.

  “No, take some of mine.” Lone frowned and unwrapped the heavy purple mantle he had around his broad shoulders.

  “It’s all right, Lone—I’ve got more on than you—I can spare some,” Lizabeth protested.

  But Lone shook his head firmly.

  “I won’t have you freezing. I’m much better adapted to handle cold weather than you. Kindred anatomy is tougher than human.” He draped the mantle around the woman’s shivering shoulders. “Come—we need to get up to the platform.” He motioned to the metal platform embedded in the rock face above the last arrow.

  “You’re going nowhere off-worlder—not until you give back what you have stolen.”

  The new voice was deep and harsh and it came from behind them. They had been huddled together, Lone and Lizabeth concentrating on Anya. Now all three of them whirled around.

  Standing there, wrapped in gray and black furs which looked much warmer and more substantial than the ones Anya was wearing, were three big, burly men. They were all heavily bearded and their faces looked almost gray with frost. Or was that just the natural color of their skin?

  Lizabeth didn’t know and didn’t care. What concerned her most were the crude but effective-looking bows the three men held in their hands. They all had bone and metal tipped arrows and the arrows were pointed directly at her heart.

  Suddenly, Lone shoved her roughly behind him and drew his blaster.

  “We’re going,” he said in a grim, steady voice. “And you won’t try to stop us unless you have a death wish. I will kill any male who comes nea
r my lady.”

  “Give us back what is ours,” the leader growled—at least Lizabeth assumed he was the leader since he was in front. “You have our Snow Queen—give her back.”

  “Don’t let them have me!” Anya begged. “I don’t want to be cut! I’d rather die!”

  “Shut your mouth, woman!” the leader growled. “You were always a rebellious one—that’s why Terg, our shaman picked you in the first place.”

  “He picked me because I have no father or husband to watch over me,” Anya said bitterly. “He picked me because I was easy prey.”

  “It doesn’t matter why you were picked. You’ve been lazing around in the ripening hut for months and now you decide you don’t want to do your duty?” the leader demanded. “You know we have no time to ripen another female before the time of sacrifice is over!”

  “Leave me alone, Brut,” Anya shouted back. “I never asked to be chosen! I didn’t want to go into the hut—I would have stayed a gray-face all my days if you hadn’t forced me in there!”

  “Ungrateful bitch!” The leader raised his arrow higher, pointing it not as the woman, but at Lone, Lizabeth saw with terror. How had things gotten out of hand so quickly?

  Lone didn’t flinch.

  “Stay back and lower your bow. I assure you the weapon in my hand can do much more damage than your arrows.” His voice was low and steady as he continued to shield Lizabeth and Anya from the Friezens.

  “Give us back our Snow Queen!” the leader, Brut, insisted. His black eyes crawled greedily over Lizabeth’s face. “Or else give us your female in exchange—she looks as ripe as Anya is and she’s probably less trouble. Her beauty would be a credit to our sacrifice.”

  “Never.” Lone’s voice was a low, angry growl. Hiding behind him as she was, Lizabeth couldn’t see his face but she wondered if his eyes were turning red—a sure sign that a Kindred warrior was going into Rage. It was a state of almost berserker anger—a protective fury that came over a Kindred when he thought the female he loved was in danger.

  But Lone didn’t love her—why would he go into Rage for her? She must be mistaken, Lizabeth thought distractedly. Reaching for Anya, she gripped the other woman’s hand.

  “Don’t worry,” she said through numb lips. “Lone won’t let them take either of us. Everything is going to be all right.”

  She hoped.

  The three Friezen males seemed to be talking about something—muttering to each other in low voices that Lizabeth couldn’t hear over the wind, which was beginning to pick up again. Looking around Lone’s muscular arm, she saw them conferring and gesturing—it appeared towards her. At last the leader looked at Lone again.

  “Since you will not give us that which is ours, we will take it—and take your female too,” he snarled. “She will make a much better Snow Queen than that rebellions bitch Anya anyway.”

  All three bows, which had drifted downward as the men talked, were suddenly raised and Lizabeth heard the twang of bowstrings even over the rising wind. At the same time Lone must have squeezed the trigger of his blaster because a beam of energy shot out and made a smoking hole in the center of one of the Friezen’s chests.

  But the damage had been done. Lone gasped and stiffened and suddenly there was an arrow sticking out of his bicep. It was fletched not with feathers, but with some kind of stiff, dark hair, Lizabeth saw distractedly.

  “Lone!” she gasped. “Oh God, no!”

  “Get to the platform!” he shouted at her, not turning his head. He aimed again and another blast of red energy caught a second archer in the leg, vaporizing the extremity from the knee down.

  The Friezen fell to the bare stone howling and grasping at the blackened stump which was all that remained of his lower leg. The leader, Brut, was still on his feet though, and he already had another arrow on the string. Then suddenly, five more Friezens joined him, appearing out of the gray mist like wraiths in a nightmare. And then another five. And another.

  Lizabeth tasted fear at the back of her throat—electric and sour like bile. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt as though it was shaking her entire body. But she couldn’t go—not when Lone was wounded and there was only one of him against so many.

  “There are too many of them! I won’t leave you,” she cried as Lone and the Friezens faced off.

  “Go!” Lone’s normally mild voice was a roar. “Now, Lizabeth! Fucking run!”

  He almost never swore—maybe that was what made her obey his shouted order. Or maybe it was the knowledge that she wasn’t armed herself and she and Anya needed to try and get to the relative safety of the platform if they could.

  She was just turning to head for the metal stairs that climbed the sheer face of the rock wall when a shower of red and blue beams shot over her head. The blasts of energy landed with deadly effect among the Friezens. Several of them dropped with smoking holes in their chests and one’s head exploded like a ripe melon, spraying a fine mist of blood into the swirling wind.

  Lizabeth looked up and saw that an armed group of men dressed in black uniforms were standing on the platform above them now. They were aiming at the Friezens and one of them—it looked like Karx—was shouting and waving for her and Lone to come up the metal stairs.

  “Lone, we have help!” she shouted. “Come on—let’s go!”

  The big Kindred fired once more at the Friezens—he was aiming for Brut, apparently but the shot went wide. Then he turned and herded Lizabeth and Anya before him—one again making himself a shield as the three of them ran for the metal stairs in the rock face.

  Looking over her shoulder, Lizabeth saw the Friezens fire a few more arrows but this time they were aiming into the wind up at the high metal platform. The arrows went wild and were answered with another volley of red and blue blasts. Cursing, Brut motioned for his men and they turned and ran into the swirling mists, disappearing as suddenly as they had appeared.

  “Thank the Goddess, I think they’re gone,” Lone said, his deep voice hoarse as they finally reached the metal staircase. “Lizabeth, are you well?”

  “I’m fine but you’re wounded!” She eyed the arrow sticking out of his muscular arm. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll be fine. Go up the stairs—we don’t want to risk them coming back.”

  Lizabeth nodded in agreement.

  “Go on—go,” she said to Anya, who didn’t need any urging. She was already skittering up the metal steps as fast as she could. Lizabeth followed with Lone close behind her. When they got to the top, Karx was glaring at them. His heavy black beard hid much of his face but she could see his red lips pulled down into an angry frown.

  “What’s this?” he demanded, speaking to Lone and pointing at Lizabeth and Anya. “You said you were bringing only one female with you.”

  “This is my lady, Councilor Lizabeth,” Lone answered nodding at Lizabeth. “This female we found as we made our way here.” He indicated Anya.

  “They were going to make me Snow Queen. Please—please don’t send me back,” Anya pleaded, looking up at him.

  Karx’s face was hard as he glared from Anya to Lone.

  “You took their fucking Snow Queen? Gods, do you know what a mess you’ve made?”

  “We didn’t take her—she was running from them,” Lizabeth protested.

  “You’ve stirred up all kinds of trouble—trouble we didn’t need.” Karx was still speaking to Lone as though she didn’t exist. Lizabeth thought with irritation that for a guard at a place where women were supposedly revered as being superior to men, he certainly wasn’t acting the part.

  “Nevertheless, we couldn’t leave her to be brutalized,” Lone said shortly. “She comes with us.”

  “She ought to go back,” Karx snapped. “The Friezens won’t forget or forgive the theft of their Snow Queen.”

  “What?” Lizabeth demanded, shoving herself in front of Anya and glaring up at Karx. “I thought the Tower of the Higher Mind revered and protected females!”

  “I protect
my own lady,” Karx snarled. “And I’m protecting her interests now. The Friezens can make things fucking hard for us if they want to. They can disrupt our supplies or make it impossible for new applicants to get to us.”

  “She stays with us or you can tell your Mistress that she can refund my money!” Lizabeth said coolly. “All women are important—not just the one you serve or the rich ones who comes to study with you at the Tower. I will not send Anya back to those savages to be hurt or killed!”

  For a moment Karx looked so angry she thought he might hit her. Lone must have thought the same because he came to stand a little in front of her and faced down the other man.

  “You heard my lady,” he said. He spoke quietly but there was a deep, growling menace in his voice. “Either let the Friezen female come with us to the Tower or refund our fees. Which will it be?”

  Karx’s face was like a thundercloud but at last he jerked his chin at the glass and metal train car to their left.

  “Fine. But Mistress Superior won’t be happy about this.”

  Lizabeth didn’t care if the director of the Tower of the Higher Mind was happy or not. She just wanted to get in out of this freezing cold and go someplace safe where they could find Lone some medical attention for the arrow still sticking out of his arm.

  She reflected that she had never been on an alien world before and so far, she wasn’t enjoying her first off-planet experience at all.

  Six

  Karx led the way and the five men he’d brought with him—all dressed in identical black uniforms with red piping—kept their weapons aimed down at the bare rock below as Lizabeth and Lone followed him. Anya, still sniffling, trailed behind as all of them filed into the sleek metal and glass car which hung suspended from a single bronze-colored rail fixed to the roof of the cavern.

  When everyone was inside, Karx ordered the doors shut and one of the guards went to the front where a small control box was mounted. With a sharp lurch, the train car began to move, sliding slowly into the dark mouth of the cave. Apparently they were literally going to travel through the mountains to get to the Tower of the Higher Mind.