Lost in Barbarian Space

by Anna Hackett

  Nera nodded. “I would suggest you never let a warrior in close. In hand to hand, he’ll take you.”

  Honor nodded. “If I did end up too close, I’d need to use the longest setting on my staff to keep some range.” She fingered the small, innocuous cylinder on her belt that extended out with the flick of a wrist. “And I’m guessing the highest stun setting.” She looked at her boss. “These nanami sound interesting. How much do we know about them? Just how much increased strength and stamina do they give the Markarians?”

  Nera’s multi-colored eyes flashed. “We don’t know enough. They are keeping pretty tight-lipped on the subject. Whatever information we gather while we’re here will help us flesh that out. I do know they have two hearts, and multiple copies of other main organs.”

  Honor nodded. Yes, Nera didn’t like being in the dark, either. Mostly because Nera didn’t like Niklas to be in danger. Ever.

  “They always have the advantage, Brandall, don’t forget that.”

  Honor snapped out of her musings. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Nera’s eyes narrowed. “What have I told you?”

  “Yes, Nera.”

  “Better.”

  Honor turned back to the fighting. She eyed one of the swords and wondered how heavy they were. She was Predian, and her species were built to hunt. They were naturally stronger, with enhanced senses. She was pretty sure she could lift one of the swords.

  She saw two young warriors moving in a complicated dance, both of them grinning. These barbarians sure liked to fight. She watched their footwork, memorizing the moves.

  “Would you like to try?”

  The deep voice rumbled over her and Honor turned.

  Colm Mal Kor stood in front of her.

  Sweat glistened on his bare chest, and his dark leather trousers clung to powerful legs. He wore engraved leather gauntlets on his forearms. She looked up, tilting her head back. He was a lot taller than her… Her heart tripped. She wasn’t used to that.

  He held his sword in front of him.

  Instantly, she was entranced. “It is a beautiful weapon.” She squeezed her fingers into her palm to stop from touching it.

  “Go ahead.” He moved the weapon closer.

  She dragged a finger down the hilt and into the deeper engravings. There were wicked sharp points just above the hilt. This was a sword built to kill.

  “It is forged from metals from our mines,” Colm said. “When a warrior enters his training, his sword is forged especially for him.”

  Honor felt herself practically salivating over the weapon. She stroked it again. “These decorative points are gorgeous, but aren’t you at risk of cutting yourself on them?”

  “A warrior trains until that does not happen.” He smiled. “And we wear these.”

  He held out one arm and she got a closer look at his custom-made gauntlets on his forearms. “These are beautiful.” She touched the leather. “Whoever made them is very skilled.”

  “Here. Try the sword.” Colm opened his arms and gestured her closer.

  She hesitated…for a second. She moved closer, feeling the heat pouring off him and the scent of healthy sweat and man. He pressed her hands around the hilt and his arms closed around her.

  Honor stilled. She and Nera had just spoken about not getting too close to these warriors, and here she was, practically in the arms of one.

  But he wasn’t the enemy. She blew out a breath. They weren’t in combat.

  With his help, she lifted the sword. “Oh, it’s so much heavier than I thought.” She tilted her head back. “You guys make it look easy.”

  “Our nanami.”

  Hmm. Well, the amount of increased strength those little bugs gave them was huge.

  She moved the sword in a few arcs, conscious of Colm’s hands resting on her wrists.

  “You’re strong,” he murmured.

  She tried not to bristle. Yes, she was strong, and no, she wasn’t some dainty, ultra-feminine woman. She’d seen the Markarian women among the crowd. They were tall and lean, but all wore skirts and had long, flowing hair.

  She understood clearly she wasn’t a warrior’s idea of the perfect woman. Hell, she was pretty sure she was no man’s idea of the perfect woman. She set her shoulders back. And she was perfectly fine with that.

  “The blade likes you.”

  Honor blinked. “Excuse me?”

  The warrior smiled, and that turned his rugged face into something that made her stomach clench hard.

  “The metal,” he said, “is also infused with nanami.”

  She looked at the gleam of silver again. “It’s…alive?”

  “Sort of. Nanami don’t think like we do, but they work with us, sense things from the environment, from us. They help us move the blade faster.”

  “Amazing,” she breathed. She was getting a feel for the sword now. She looked at Colm. “I think I can manage on my own.”

  He stared at her for a second and Honor noted that his eyes were a deep, rich brown. Almost as gorgeous as the bronze, metallic sheen of his skin.

  He inclined his head and stepped back.

  Honor hefted the sword. God, it was heavy. She moved it through the air, mimicking the movements he’d shown her. Then she moved, trying out a few of the moves she’d seen the warriors using in the arena.

  When she glanced up, Colm was watching her intently. She couldn’t read him well yet, but she was sure she’d just seen his eyes flicker gold. She wondered what that meant.

  “You are a fast learner, Agent Brandall. But it takes many years of intense training to master the sword.”

  Oh, really? The sheer arrogance in his tone made her straighten. She lifted the sword. “Fancy a match?”

  He raised his brows, incredulous. “You want to fight me?”

  “You don’t think I can?” she asked silkily.

  Another flicker of gold in his brown eyes. “You are a guest on my world, and a woman. I will not see you hurt.”

  She snorted. “Mal Kor, I’m a security agent, a soldier.”

  “And I am a warrior. We vow to protect those who are not as strong as us.”

  There was the firm ring of conviction in his voice. She admired that. But she was no delicate flower in need of a hero. “I can protect myself.” She raised a brow. “Not afraid, are you?”

  He looked like he was waging an internal battle. “Very well, Honor Brandall. Take the sword.” He called out for another weapon, and a young warrior rushed forward and gave Colm a new blade.

  He held it up and gave her a small smile. “Let’s fight.”

  Chapter Three

  Colm decided to indulge the female…she was a guest, after all.

  And he liked the look and smell of her. Not just her height and curves, but that determined glint in her eye.

  She had guts, this one. Courage.

  He circled around, his boots moving through the dirt. She lifted his sword again, holding it firmly with both hands. If she were a warrior, he’d forge something slightly smaller for her, lighter. But not by much. Honor Brandall had a strength he’d underestimated.

  She attacked.

  At first, her moves weren’t graceful. They were packed with power, but lacked the fluency of experience. Colm took it easy on her. He wanted her to have a taste of using the sword, but not to hurt her.

  But like he’d said before, she was a quick learner.

  She moved, with more speed than he’d guessed, and he felt her blade crash against his.

  His surprised eyes met hers.

  She smiled at him. Then she turned, stepped away, and pivoted. She came in again.

  Colm leaped back to avoid a slash across the chest. He frowned, forcing himself to concentrate. They moved across the arena—step, parry, retreat. He sensed a crowd gathering and heard some warriors calling out.

  Colm focused only on his opponent.

  She had amazing strength, speed and stamina. If he didn’t know better, he’d guess she had nanami. There was more to Hono
r Brandall than met the eye.

  A few times, her blade was there to meet his, before he’d even completed a move. His nanami stirred restlessly. He realized she was anticipating his moves. How?

  They circled each other, and she came in again. Colm felt a tiny sting on his chest, and then he knocked her sword back with his. This time, he used all his strength.

  They both pivoted, their swords clanging again. Colm lost his grip on his sword, and at the same moment, saw her blade fall from her hand.

  Both swords hit the dirt at their feet.

  She smiled at him. “A very good match, Warrior Mal Kor.”

  “You are experienced with a sword.” He knew his voice was faintly accusing.

  She shook her head. “I specialize in staff-fighting. It’s different, but some of the skills are similar. Besides, I’ve been watching you and your warriors at work. I picked up a few things.” She crouched and picked up his sword. “Thank you.” She handed it back to him.

  He stared at her slim hands on his blade for a second before he took it from her. “I will see you at the feast.”

  “Count on it.” Then she turned and walked away.

  Colm watched the sway of her hips until the warriors surrounded him and blocked his view. They started giving him a ribbing for losing to a woman, but he ignored them. He rubbed the small cut on his chest, deep in thought. His nanami were already healing it.

  Soon, the training arena cleared as people headed off to get ready for the feast. Colm found himself with an extra spring in his step as he made his way up to his rooms. Kavon’s large house was a hive of activity, people rushing here and there, to the kitchens and the great hall.

  Colm caught Morghan, the head of Kavon’s household, and had a quick word with the older woman.

  She shot him a harried look. “The seating is already arranged, Colm. I don’t have time for this.”

  He shot her his most charming smile. “I’ll owe you a favor, sweet Morghan.”

  She made a harrumphing sound, wiping her hands on her skirts. “Fine.” She waved him away. “Now, shoo. I have lots of work I still need to finish.”

  Colm took the stairs two at a time. Inside his rooms, the air was cool, and he wasted no time stripping off. Used to bathing and dressing as quickly and efficiently as he could, Colm took a little more time than usual. He selected his best black-leather trousers and pulled on a small leather vest. He lifted a silver chain with a small medallion at the bottom from a box in his closet. It showed the image of a preda wolf howling—his own personal totem.

  Most warriors wore a medallion with their family crest engraved on it. Colm felt a muscle tick in his jaw. He had no interest in wearing his father’s crest.

  His father had already given him something far worse. A reminder Colm could never escape.

  Colm settled the medallion on his chest, then pulled his long hair back and tied it with a strip of leather. Then he found the bottle of scent Aurina had given him for his birthday. She’d told him it was from a distant planet and highly prized. It smelled like the forest to Colm—something green and earthy. He splashed a little on his neck and then headed out.

  As he descended the stairs, he heard the din of voices. In the great hall, the space was already filling up. Markarian men and women mingled with groups of skyflyers—many wearing their black-and-gray uniforms.

  Colm spotted Niklas Phoenix and Nera Darc at the head table, where Kavon and Aurina were seated.

  And then he spotted Honor. She was also in her uniform. Damn, he’d hoped to see her in something else.

  He nodded at everyone and dropped into the empty chair beside her. The chair he’d bribed Morghan to ensure was beside Honor’s.

  “Excellent display today, Colm,” Niklas said. “It’s fascinating to see how you and the warriors move with your swords. And interact with the nanami.”

  “Glad you enjoyed it.” He glanced to his other side. “And did you enjoy it?”

  Honor raised a brow. “Very much. I enjoy winning.”

  There was a round of good-natured laughter. Colm lifted his mug of ale to Honor. “But you didn’t win, Agent Brandall. It was a draw.” He took a sip and watched as her gaze zeroed in on his mouth. He saw a flash of something in her pale-green eyes.

  “But I will next time,” she said.

  His gut tightened. He found this woman very intriguing. There was no room in his life for a woman—not a permanent one, and never a bondmate. His nanami roused, anger rising. He took another sip and pushed the sensations away. But this fascinating skyflyer who would leave when her mission was over… How long would it take him to talk her into his bed?

  They ate the various courses the servers brought out from the kitchens. Wide platters filled with all manner of Markarian game, and fruit and vegetables from Kavon’s farmlands. Colm noted most of their visitors avoided the raw-meat delicacies.

  He nudged a platter of meat toward Honor. “This is the meat from a wulver beast. I brought him down myself, just before you arrived. Women don’t usually eat it, it is the food of a warrior.”

  “Oh?” There was a stubborn undertone to her voice. She lifted her fork and speared some of the meat. Not breaking her gaze from his, she popped the morsel into her mouth and chewed.

  She had a strong face, Colm decided. Strength covered with that warm, golden-colored skin. He wondered what that skin would feel like under his hands.

  He spotted the glint of metal on her finger and looked harder. A ring. He frowned. He hadn’t seen it when she was sword-fighting with him. He hoped that didn’t mean she was taken. “What’s this?”

  She held her hand out. “It was my mother’s. I usually keep it on a chain around my neck when I’m working.” She smiled at it a little sadly.

  “You lost her,” he said.

  Honor nodded. “My planet, Predia, was destroyed in the Frontier Wars. My parents were soldiers, and my mother was killed in the fighting.” Honor stroked the pretty twist of what looked like gold, silver and platinum. “I was only a baby. My father managed to escape with me and my brothers.”

  Colm couldn’t imagine his entire planet being destroyed. “I’m sorry. I…lost my parents, too.” Ugly, black emotion swelled. He’d kept nothing that reminded himself of the toxic relationship his parents had shared.

  Her gaze traced his face. Colm got the impression she sensed more and was trying to read him.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Niklas Phoenix cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Kavon, Colm…I think it’s time we discuss our expedition and what I discovered in my research.”

  Colm reluctantly looked away from Honor and focused on the man.

  “I did extensive research on the First Warriors and their ship. As you know, records from old Earth are patchy. But since our expedition to the planet, we have managed to attain new information. I found a record of the Excalibur leaving Earth. That was the name of their ship. It was named after a mythical sword.”

  Kavon nodded. With one hand, he pushed food onto Aurina’s plate. It was warrior tradition to show your interest in a woman by feeding her, providing for her. “That is good news, Niklas. At first, I was concerned that the very foundation of Markarian beliefs, and the Way of the Warrior, would be ruined by learning more about our ancestors.” He glanced at Aurina with a smile. “But my mate convinced me that nothing can change the culture we have built for ourselves. The First Warriors were men and women, just like us, and whatever choices and mistakes they may have made, they made life better for us.”

  Niklas nodded and leaned forward, lacing his hands together on the table. “I also found a record of a second ship that left with the Excalibur.”

  Conversation at the table died. Colm raised a brow. “We did not find a second ship inside the mines under Mount Furioso.”

  “Our legends do not speak of others,” Kavon said.

  “That’s what we’d like to investigate. The ships were traveling together. All the passengers were ex-military, and
looking for a more peaceful life. Perhaps they parted ways before the Excalibur got this far.”

  Or perhaps it, too, had been hit by the meteor storm that had caused the First Warriors to crash-land on Markaria. They’d eventually used their science to create the nanami and turn the native beast-like humanoids into the Markarians that existed today. They’d taught Colm’s ancestors the Way of the Warrior and how to control their beastly urges.

  But for a few—his hand curled into a fist on the table—they’d also cursed them to an early death.

  “The second ship was called the Valhalla. But there is more…” Niklas’ gaze met Kavon’s. “The Excalibur housed the group’s labs, but the Valhalla was their primary storage ship.” Niklas took a breath. “It was filled with treasures from old Earth.”

  A round of excited gasps.

  “Maybe they didn’t get hit by the storm,” Colm suggested.

  “Or maybe they crashed in an inhospitable and unreachable part of your planet,” Nik countered.

  “Possibly,” Kavon said. “If the second ship did land here, we need to find it.”

  Nik smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Kavon inclined his head.

  “We did run some preliminary surface scans of the planet as we entered orbit.” Niklas leaned back in his chair. “We found a few promising signs of what could be ship-grade metal. One on Mount Furioso.”

  “The wreck of the Excalibur,” Kavon said.

  “And a smaller sign just west of your estate.”

  Colm frowned. “That is rolling meadow, dotted with a few lakes. If a ship had crashed there, it would have been discovered.”

  “It could be buried,” Honor said. “It was a long time ago.”

  “With your permission,” Nik said, “I’d like to take one team to the wreck of the Excalibur, and send a secondary team to investigate the second signature.”

  Kavon nodded thoughtfully. “Very well. I will take your team to Mount Furioso myself. Colm will help your secondary team.”