Mira was happily paired with a man who suited her to a tee. Her younger brother, David, filled with teenaged angst fueled by a heavy dose of anger and resentment, had finally found his place in the world under the tutelage of the taciturn soldier, Harm. The children were happy and surrounded by those who loved them as much as she did.
It almost seemed fitting that the mistake of her extended life be corrected now. Her makeshift family was as safe and as happy as circumstance would allow and their future would be looking brighter every day.
Wynne knew she should accept her fate with grace just as she tried to accept the last seven years. She should be grateful for the extra days she'd been given. She wasn't grateful, however. With the warm comfort of the intriguing stranger's body beneath her and his fingers stroking lovingly through her hair, Wynne suddenly felt cheated.
His strong body, the strange feelings that his teasing brought her, and his now gentle touch, reminded her of all that she'd missed. She'd lived as a nun, quiet and devout in her dedication to her vocation, but she now realized it wasn't a vocation of her choosing. It had been thrust upon her by guilt and grief and it saddened her that she would never know what it was like to be loved for herself –not as daughter, or sister, or caregiver, but as Wynne. Just Wynne.
Her eyes misted over with tears for a life never lived.
"I don't know your name," she whispered against his chest.
"Tor," he whispered back.
"Like a mountain?" The translator called it a crest, so similar to its English counterpart, but mountain seemed more fitting.
"Like a mountain," he agreed. His breath was a long tug of worthless air.
"I like it."
It seemed a fitting name for this giant of a man. She snuggled into the mountain of his body in the hope that her determined but false calm would ease his struggle against what was coming. It was getting harder to breathe. Each breath left her wanting more.
"I'm Wynne."
"I know."
"You know?" Something wasn't right about that.
"Shush, Princess," he whispered into her hair just as the computer made its final pronouncement. Their oxygen supply had run out.
"Oh shit," she said, though she hadn't meant to.
She heard the rumble of a laugh in Tor's chest. "Not nearly so bad as that, Wynne. Listen."
Brain fogged and fighting the panic that grew with each insufficient breath, Wynne tried to follow his instructions. All she heard was the heavy thud of another ugly tentacle slapping over the pod. She pulled in two more deep breaths before she understood that Tor wasn't referring to sound, but the lack of it.
The burning rain had stopped.
Thinking only of the air outside their coffin, Wynne fumbled for a latch that would open the lid. His hand stopped hers.
"Not yet."
Deprived of the air that was only inches away, the panic she'd fought to keep at bay broke through and she fought him. She would have clawed her way through the glass if he'd let her. Strong arms held her close.
"Listen," he ordered harshly. His voice was like a slap that brought Wynne to her senses long enough to obey, "The latch is on the panel. I can't reach it, you can. First, I need my knife. It's in my..."
Wynne was already moving, not caring where her knee or elbow struck. Air. Air. Air.
"Knife." Tor's voice snapped like a whip.
She knew where it was. She'd seen the hilt of it at the top of his boot the first time she'd reached for the controls. There was something wrong with it, something she'd forced herself to ignore.
She grabbed the spattered hilt, and tossed it behind her. She cared nothing for blood or knives, only air.
He was talking again, shouting, or maybe it only sounded that way to her fog shrouded mind. The pounding of her pulse in her ears drowned out all else. Her hands slammed buttons whether they were meant to be pushed or not. Her fingers worked switches. Unable to tell if she hit them all, she began again. At last she found several she missed, not on the front panel, but to the side. She slammed her hand against them, over and over, until her fingers dipped into a square space that tactile memory recognized as a latch.
She pulled, the coffin hissed, the lid began to rise, and fresh air leaked through; warm, moist, but blessedly oxygenated air.
Which was almost immediately cut off.
"No!"
She'd no sooner shouted her protest than the air came again. Tor's voice came with it.
"Could use some help here."
Wynne wiggled around to see him fighting both the automatic opening of the lid and the creatures that tried to force their way in each time it did. It became a contest to see who would win. An inch of opening was enough for the finger like tips of the tentacle to reach in and lift with a frightening muscular power.
Battered by Tor's knees and elbows as he turned and twisted to stab at the creatures now invading from the three sides, Wynne helped as best she could to bring the lid down. At last they succeeded, but only temporarily. Their previous lack, added to the heavy breathing of their exertions, ate up the fresh air that filled the pod almost as quickly as they let it in. They had no choice but to open it again.
"As the water recedes, so will they," Tor assured her after their third battle.
"What are they?"
"Predators like everything else on this island. I've only heard them called bloodsuckers."
Not very scientific, but descriptive nonetheless.
"How long before the water recedes?"
Her hands were bleeding from the fine lines of scratches left by the needle sharp projections at the tentacles' tips. Tor's were worse. His hand was bleeding badly enough that it slickened his hold on the knife.
"Don't know. The sun's out, which should help, but I can't tell if it's sinking or rising. The sun is on our side. The dark is on theirs. As long as there's moisture, they'll stay.
Wynne was facing away from him, watching the edges of the lid, terrified those probing tentacles would find a way in. Whether it was the smell of blood or the sensing of warm bodies within that drew them, once the lid was open, the creatures swarmed. How Tor could tell the sun was shining was a mystery to her. She couldn't see anything beyond the dark mass of flattened tentacles and gaping red mouths.
"Will you be all right?" he asked when they'd closed the lid yet again.
"Do I have a choice?" she asked in return.
She was surprised by the laughter in his voice. "Of course you have a choice. Fight on or be dinner."
"That's no choice, but next time it would be helpful if you brought another knife in your other boot."
"Next time?"
She felt him run his hand down her back, stroking the hair that now fell to her waist. What once had been a neat braid rolled in a cushion of bun at the back of her head was now a tangled mess.
"You shouldn't hide this."
"Hide what?" she asked before she realized he was referring to her hair.
He ran his fingers through the loose tail, gently combing out the snarls. "A man could get lost in this."
The way he said it sent a strange yet pleasant shiver through her body, but it didn't stop her from turning her head and giving him what her family called the evil eye.
"You're thinking about that at a time like this?"
He shrugged and grinned. "What else is there to think about?"
Wynne turned back to her watching. "Gee, I don't know, how about where we are, how we're going to get out of here, what we're going to eat. You know, all those piddling, inconsequential things that are so much less important than sex."
"Finally," he sighed with seeming relief, "a woman who understands my priorities."
Wynne gave him her best I'm-done-with-your-nonsense frown. Apparently, that look was universal because he responded the same way the children did when she used it on them. He rolled his eyes before he reluctantly complied.
"We're on the largest island on the planetoid. It's called Empor's Tor, Giant's Mountain
. We'll get out when sun and tide allow and there's food and water under the seat. See? Nothing else to think about."
"Then start thinking about how we're going to get off of this, this... What did you call it?"
"Planetoid. It's an asteroid that was terra formed as part of an evolutionary experiment that didn't end well."
"More things like that?"
"I told you, nothing I can't handle."
"With a knife?" Wynne figured she had a right to sound skeptical.
"And fire," he said. "We'll have a fire starter once we get under the seat."
"There wouldn't be a little inflatable spaceship under there to get us off this failed experiment, would there?"
"No, that's going to be little harder, but I have a few ideas." He raised one winged eyebrow. "A good toss in the sheets might help me think it through. You wouldn't be interested, would you?"
She laughed at his nonsense. "There are no sheets, and I have no interest in being tossed."
"That's only because you haven't been tossed by me."
Wynne shook her head. The man did not give up. And a newly awakened part of her hoped he never did.
Chapter 5
She was reminded of those words hours later when Tor finally found a spot he felt was suitable to make camp.
Sun and tide had finally won the battle of the sea beasts. Once the vicious creatures crawled back into the water, she thought Tor might allow them, lid open, some well-deserved rest, but no. He was determined to put as much distance between them and the shore as he could before the sun set.
Her pod was gone, swallowed by the tide. Tor's was pulled back from the edge of the trees to where it had landed on the beach. Wynne wondered if their combined weight was what saved them from being drawn beneath the waves. Once he was sure the danger was past, Tor set about tearing the pod apart. Using his knife, he pried open the control panel and gutted the inside, pocketing small bits and pieces until he came to a small yellow box lit by a pulsing light from within.
Yanking it free from its mooring, he ran with it to the edge of the water and hurled it into the sea. Wynne screamed a warning, but he was already aware of the bloodsucker lurking in the shallows and easily avoided the tentacle rising up and reaching out for this post-storm snack.
"I hate those things," she told him after swallowing the heart that had risen to her throat with the rising of the beast. "I'll be dreaming about them for months. What was that thing you threw and was it worth the risk?"
"Homing beacon and yes, it was worth the risk."
He tore his shirt up over his head, tied two firm knots in the bottom and the sleeves together at the cuffs.
"Wait! Isn't that beacon for rescue? Don't we want someone to find us?"
"Depends on who's doing the rescuing." He began stuffing the makeshift pack with everything he found beneath the seat. "I need to see them before they see us and they're probably already looking. Right now, I need to get this pod in the water. Let the bloodsuckers carry it out. Let whoever comes looking for us think the beasts won."
"Wait!" she cried again. "What if it's still there, the one that tried to get you?" It was frightening enough inside the protection of the pod. Meeting it outside the pod was terrifying. "What if it tries to get you again?"
"You'll stab it and run." He handed her the knife. "I'll pull, you push, and when we get close enough, you stab anything that comes up from the water. Anything."
"Wait!" she objected a third time. "Are you saying there are other things out there? Are they as big as the bloodsuckers?"
"Bigger. There are things that eat the things that tried to eat us. Now move it, we don't have much time. You can ask your questions later.
He pulled. She pushed. She stabbed, but it was a small one. She saw nothing larger until they were moving up the beach and the open escape pod sank beneath the surface.
The water that had settled back to a glassy surface erupted into a geyser of spray. A bloodsucker was tossed into the air. An octopus of sorts, its many legs flailed in every direction. For the first time, she got the full impact of its enormous size, but it was the massive jaws of the creature that followed it upward that caused her to stop and stare. The size of a small whale, it looked to be more mouth than body. The jaws widened, seemed to unhinge to form a basket of row upon row of long, pointed teeth. The bloodsucker fell into that deadly basket to be instantly pierced by the razor sharp points. The jaws closed over it and she could have sworn the creature's black and soulless eye zeroed in on her.
"Showtime's over, Princess."
Tor grabbed her hand and dragged her with him. He snagged the pack on the way by and only let her hand go once they were well away and deep under the canopy formed by the broad, leathery leaves of the trees. He settled the pack over his shoulders. It reminded Wynne of the way a boy her sister once dated always wore his sweater.
She'd been about ten at the time and for some reason thought he, and the way he wore that sweater was the coolest thing she'd ever seen. That kid's shoulders were nothing compared to what she was looking at now.
Tor, with the shirt sleeves capping his broad shoulders and the knot pulling tight at the center of his massively muscled chest, was way more than cool. He was spectacular.
"I've shown you mine, now it's your turn to show me yours," he quipped when he caught her admiring stare.
Embarrassed, she turned and walked a little faster. "In your dreams, cowboy."
"Obviously in yours too, Princess." He laughed, caught up with her in two quick steps, and then grabbed her hand again. He veered left. "Unless you know where you're going, it's best to let me lead."
That was the last smile he gave her for what felt like hours as they trudged uphill. Wynne didn't ask for relief. While he said nothing, his tension was communicated though the hand holding hers. The other held the knife. He paused fairly regularly, but only long enough to listen and scan the surrounding area. She wanted to ask what he was searching for, but his silence was so complete, she didn't dare.
Several times she thought she heard movement or saw dark shapes melting into the lighter shadows cast by the trees. Twice, Tor stopped and dropped the pack to the ground. Both times he made a stirrup with his hands and motioned with his chin to a branch high above his head. He never asked her if she could complete the climb, just accepted that she would.
And she did. She never could have reached the lowest branch without his helpful boost. She was too short. What surprised her was that once there, she had the strength to pull herself up onto the branch. It was a struggle, but she managed, and when he tossed her the pack, she actually caught it. Another chin lift told her to move upward. She did it with the heavy pack held firmly on her arm.
Even more amazing than this personal and heretofore unrealized athleticism was Tor's leap, unaided, from ground to branch. With one swing, he was on the lower limb and with the next he was sitting on the upper branch beside her.
The grin he gave her was the grin of any schoolyard show-off. Had the forest not been so eerily quiet, she would have giggled aloud. Instead, she rewarded him with silent applause.
His bow was interrupted by his sudden alertness to something she couldn't hear or see. He put his finger to his lips in a familiar gesture for silence.
Wynne returned his gesture with a frown. After noiselessly clapping her approval of his athletic skill, did he really think she might shout out now?
She didn't see what passed by their tree that first time because Tor shrank back and with arm around her shoulders, took her with him. He froze and thinking it best to take her cues from him, Wynne froze, too. Minutes passed before he relaxed.
She did see the second creature, though. Whether it was the same type of animal as the first, she didn't know and didn't want to know. All she knew was that she didn't want to see one again unless Tor carried something more lethal than a knife.
The creature was shaped, more or less, like an alligator with a thick and powerful body rising up on four short,
but muscular looking legs. Claws, long and curled, dug into the ground beneath its feet. Its tail was as long as its body, heavily built, and just as powerful looking. Like the familiar reptile, its elongated mouth was generously supplied with nasty looking teeth. It was not a reptile, however. This creature was covered in a smooth, dark brown pelt and it was larger than any can-you-believe-the-size-of-this-one gator she'd ever seen on television.
When it opened its mouth, Wynne expected the honking roar of its earthly cousin. Instead, it belched and released a fume rancid enough to make her gag. Her eyes stung with it. Fear and Tor's steadying hand kept her from crying out.
It was only her trust in Tor's sixth sense that gave her the courage to hang from the branch and drop into his arms. Alone, she would have died in that tree.
She stayed there, head resting against his comforting wall of chest for longer than necessity dictated, but he didn't seem to mind if the hand at the back of her head was any indication. When she finally looked up, it was to see him watching her with soft and gentle eyes.
"Ready?" he asked.
"As I'll ever be," she said, and knew that it was true.
The growth thinned as they climbed higher. The trees became shorter and their coverage less dense. By the time Tor dropped the pack, dusk was falling. Wynne was about to fall, too. She'd never walked so far or so fast in her life. The only thing that allowed her to keep up with Tor's pace was her fear of being left behind with that thing she'd seen in the woods. A distant scream added to her determination. She almost cried with relief when he finally spoke.
"We'll stop here for the night."
Wynne looked around for the tree in which they would rest. "They're not big enough," she muttered and the thought of moving on until they found a tall one brought tears to her eyes.
"What's not big enough?" He must have seen her looking up. "You mean the trees?" He laughed. "We're not spending the night off the ground, but on it."
Tor (Women of Earth Book 2) Page 4