Tracker (Outcasts Book 3)

by Cyndi Friberg

  “How did you escape the elves and why do you have the karron?” Torak persisted, his stern tone demanding answers.

  Xorran would have tried a different approach, but Torak was right. They needed to understand what was happening before they took a battle cat anywhere near the settlement. The cub might be relatively harmless, but what happened if her mother took exception to being separated from her cub? They’d already lost two guards and suffered multiple injuries thanks to the battle cats.

  The borrowed shirt started to slip, so she brought it back up to her shoulders and held the sides together in front. “Wenny is part of the deal. I have to keep her safe and taken care of or Isolaund will drag us both back to the Underground.”

  “Isolaund is the female elf Arton has seen in his visions?” Torak obviously knew more about the elves than Xorran did. Not surprising. Torak was part of the High Command, the overlord’s advisory board.

  “Yes.” Sara shivered, clutching the shirt with both hands. “Isolaund trains the battle cats. They’re like children to her.”

  “If Isolaund was willing to release you, why did she keep Heather?” Sara’s teeth were chattering again, so Torak reluctantly started walking. “Explain,” he prompted when she didn’t answer his question.

  “The boy you guys captured is the youngest son of an elf general. The general is furious and terrified for his son. Isolaund agreed to trade Heather for the boy.”

  “First of all, the captured elf is no boy. He is a well-trained soldier. He might be young, but I assure you he’s deadly,” Torak argued. “As for a prisoner exchange, that’s up to the overlord.”

  They reached the building site, which meant the Wheel was just around the river bend. Xorran sighed, knowing he’d soon be free of Wenny’s claws. But Torak stopped walking and pointed to the half-built barracks. “A row of rooms at the back are enclosed. We’ll leave the karron there.”

  “Then I stay too,” Sara insisted. “I promised Isolaund that Wenny would not leave my sight. I mean to honor that promise, at least until she has settled in to her new situation.”

  Torak crossed his arms over his chest. The warlord was not used to anyone arguing with him, much less a small human female. “You need to change out of those wet clothes, or you’re going to...”

  As he spoke, she turned around and kicked off her shoes, then took off her soggy pants. Careful to keep his shirt covering her, she removed her uniform top and shoved her arms into the sleeves of Torak’s shirt. She fastened the front, then rolled up the sleeves as she turned back around. “I’m not leaving Wenny.” Just to make sure he understood her position, she kicked the wet clothes onto his boots.

  The warlord stared back at her in stunned silence. Then his gaze narrowed and he took a step toward her.

  Wenny came alive with sudden speed, retracting her claws and lightly dropping to the ground. Xorran frantically tried to catch her, but the karron was too fast. She positioned herself in front of Sara and growled. White teeth gleamed in the moonlight and tufts of fur stood up along her shoulders and neck.

  Xorran chuckled, unable to resist the irony. The fiercest warrior in a group of ruthless mercenaries was being confronted by two unarmed females.

  Torak squared his shoulders and pointed at the cat. “This is the reason that creature is not welcome in the Wheel. Karrons are vicious animals, even the tiny ones.”

  “I’ll guard them,” Xorran volunteered.

  “I still need to speak with the overlord,” Sara reminded.

  “We can com him from here,” Xorran told her.

  She shook her head, determination gleaming in her eyes. “This requires an old-fashion face to face. You won’t believe everything I learned while I was with the elves.”

  “See if he’ll agree to come here,” Xorran suggested.

  Torak acknowledged the idea with a terse nod and headed for the Wheel.

  “We need dry clothes and clean blankets,” Sara yelled at Torak’s back. “Maybe something to eat!”

  Torak didn’t reply, but a break in his angry strides indicated he’d heard the directives.

  There were fewer trees now, and Xorran could finally see her face. She had big, dark eyes and delicate features. Her face was too sophisticated for pretty, and striking fit her better than beautiful. Torak’s shirt engulfed her body from neck to knees, but he could still remember her curvy shape outlined in the moonlight. He desperately wanted to see it again, without the distraction of her uniform this time.

  “Are you always this feisty?” Xorran asked with a lazy smile.

  “Just when people piss me off.” She tossed her head and bent down and scooped up Wenny. “Damn it, you’re still wet.”

  Xorran handed her his shirt, which was also damp. She turned the damp side out, then wrapped it around the cat. “She’s likely warmer than you are,” he pointed out. “I understand why you did this, but you are in danger of catching cold out here.”

  “So are you.” She motioned toward his pants with her chin, unable to use a more conventional gesture with her arms full of squirming karron. “You should take off your pants too. I assure you, I’ve seen a naked man before.”

  Her casual suggestion took his semi-erect cock to full attention so fast he had to stifle a groan. Was she serious?

  When he just stared at her in stunned silence, she laughed, the sound wonderfully light and musical. “I’m kidding. All you guys take yourselves way too seriously. You can even have your shirt back if you want it. If we get out of the wind, Wenny will be fine without it.”

  “I’m used to the cold.” It wasn’t a lie. Rodyte soldiers were trained to endure all sorts of hardships. Inclement weather was an annoyance, nothing more.

  “Is Rodymia colder than Earth?” She walked into the barracks, looking around curiously at the skeleton-like structure. The karron had calmed somewhat. It seemed less squirmy.

  “Rodyte soldiers are desensitized. It prepares us for all sorts of extremes.”

  She flashed a playful smile. “Then you are Rodyte. I can’t see you that well, so I wasn’t sure.”

  He tensed. “I am half Rodyte, and half Bilarrian.”

  “Ah,” she muttered. “Battle born?”

  “Does it matter?” he snapped. “Would you feel more comfortable if my mother were from Mejikon rather than Bilarri?”

  She seemed to shrink right before his eyes. Her shoulders sagged and she lowered her gaze. “I obviously struck a nerve. Forget I brought it up. Your past is none of my business.”

  Xorran sighed. He was being a jerk and he wasn’t sure why. She’d been friendly, almost flirtatious and he bit her head off. He lightly touched her arm, drawing her to a stop. “I’m sorry. This night has been extremely frustrating. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

  Her smile returned, though it wasn’t quite as enthusiastic. “You called him warlord, so I presume that was Torak Payne. But I don’t know your name.”

  Thinking back, Xorran realized neither Torak nor he had introduced themselves, even after they asked her name. “Damn,” he muttered. “We were both being rude. I’m Xorran Entor. Please call me Xorran.”

  “You’re the tracker,” she mused. “Is that why the night was frustrating, because you couldn’t locate the elves?” Not waiting for his answer, she started walking again.

  Everyone seemed to know about his abilities now and it felt very strange. He’d spent half his life trying to hide the fact that he had access to his magic. “I’d latch onto a signal, and then it would just stop, ending for no apparent reason. How did you get to their stronghold? You said something about the Underground.”

  “The entire stronghold is underground. According to Arrista, they can no longer tolerate the daylight. It’s literally toxic to them.”

  He nodded. Ever since Arton introduced the idea of other inhabitants on the planet, everyone had been speculating on how they stayed hidden and why they would hide. Xorran had been a fan of the underground city concept. It simply made the most sense,
as did an extreme intolerance to ultraviolet light. “Can they teleport? Is that how they took you underground?”

  She shook her head. “We climbed down a ladder on the way in and the floor just angled up on the way out.”

  Then why in all of hells’ torments couldn’t he find even one of their entrances? They must be using some sort of illusion or holographic camouflage, or if the legends about elves were based on fact, some sort of magic shield.

  They reached the back of the barracks and Xorran opened the door to one of the enclosures. And that was all it was, four walls, a wooden floor and half-finished ceiling. As much as Wenny liked water, things could get interesting if it started to rain.

  “Be it ever so humble,” Sara muttered under her breath. “I hope Torak took me seriously. Staying here will be pretty miserable without some basic supplies.”

  “If he doesn’t return in a few minutes, I’ll wake one of my friends and have them bring supplies out to us.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Cradling the cat with one arm and keeping the oversized shirt under her with the other, she carefully sat down. Then she stretched her long legs out in front of her and rested back against the wall. “I guess if the overlord doesn’t drop by tonight, I can make an appointment with him tomorrow. But I really don’t want to leave Wenny alone.” She hesitated for a second before asking, “Will you stay with her?”

  “Of course I will, but the overlord will probably come. You have firsthand information about our enemy.”

  She acknowledged his statement with a nod, then asked, “Can you swing the door shut? I’d like to let her go.”

  “Of course.”

  He closed the door and tried not to stare at her, but he couldn’t drag his gaze away. She sat in a pool of moonlight streaming in through one of the open sections in the roof. Her long dark hair was tousled and fatigue shadowed her eyes, and still he found her beautiful. This had to be the pull. He’d heard about the urgent need that engaged whenever a Rodyte male encountered a compatible female. But he hadn’t understood how different it felt from ordinary lust. He didn’t just want to share pleasure with her—though that was definitely a big part of what he was feeling. He wanted to protect her and provide for her, ensure she lacked for nothing as long as she lived. He wanted to mate with her.

  Sara carefully opened Xorran’s shirt and freed Wenny. The karron cub shook her entire body, fluffing out her dark fur. Even in the dim light her eyes appeared blue as she looked around the unfamiliar room. Then she crept around, sniffing everything, including Xorran. He reached down and scratched behind her ears and Wenny rubbed against his calves. The tracker had made a friend, and it fascinated Sara to see so large a male being so gentle.

  “Do they grow armor, or is it implanted once they’re fully grown?” Xorran asked.

  “I don’t know. They didn’t tell me much about karrons, not nearly as much as I’d like to know if I’m going to be her new caregiver.”

  He looked at her, dark gaze gleaming in the moonlight. “If the cats are so important to Isolaund, why would she give one to the enemy?”

  At first glance, she’d thought the warlord was better looking, but Torak’s personality soon changed her mind. The warlord was autocratic and inflexible, basically a militant jerk. Xorran, on the other hand, was watchful, still assertive, yet willing to compromise. And Wenny liked him. Often animals were better judges of character than people. Lord knows Sara had gotten it seriously wrong a couple of times.

  “If a karron isn’t aggressive enough to be a battle cat, he or she becomes part of the labor pool,” she explained. “Arrista said they’re trained to be beasts of burden. Isolaund didn’t want that sort of life for one of her babies, so she offered my freedom in exchange for rescuing Wenny. I’m also supposed to convince the overlord to exchange the captured elf for Heather. That should be everyone’s top priority. I’m not sure Isolaund can keep her safe.”

  Xorran nodded, his expression thoughtful as he walked around the enclosure. His arms swung loosely at his sides and moonlight played across the curves and ridges of his muscular physique. It wasn’t hard to imagine what it would feel like to run her hands over those same bumps and hallows, to press against him and arch up into him. God above, the man was a walking, talking fantasy.

  He seemed even more restless in the confined space than Wenny. Like most Rodyte hybrids, his hair was dark. The sides and back were short, but there was just enough length on top to reveal its tendency to curl. His features were bold, overtly masculine, without being brutish. His eyes were dark, but the color of his phitons was lost in the shadows. Phitons were the strange luminescent rings that separated a Rodyte’s irises from their pupils. The irises were almost always dark, but the phitons came in all sorts of colors, red, blue, purple, green, even silver and gold.

  Xorran stared past her for a moment, then announced, “The overlord is on his way, and he doesn’t sound pleased with this development.”

  “He’s not pleased that I’m free and unharmed. Wow, that’s awesome.”

  “Sara, for the most part, Kage Razel is reasonable and will listen to all the information before making a decision. But you need to dial back the defensiveness, or all you’re going to accomplish is making him angry.”

  She sighed, knowing he was right. But pressure was closing in on her from every side. The overlord would doubtlessly want to know everything she’d learned about the Sarronti, while the Sarronti wanted her to campaign for the release of the general’s son. Isolaund expected her to care for Wenny, but the Outcasts didn’t want a karron anywhere near the settlement. And lastly, Heather stood on the sidelines, ringing her hands, terrified that the elf general would rape her. They all had legitimate needs, and they were all looking to Sara to fulfill them.

  What else was new? Her parents ran a group home for abused and neglected children, and she was their eldest biological child. People had been looking to her for solutions her entire life.

  The overlord arrived a short time later, carrying a compact solar lantern. With his strange, asymmetrical hairstyle and penetrating eyes, he looked even meaner than Torak. Sara scrambled to her feet, feeling vulnerable on the floor. Wenny scampered toward her and growled softly at the overlord. She wasn’t as insistent as she’d been with Torak, but the overlord’s dark gaze immediately shifted to the cat.

  “So you’re what all this fuss is about?” He bent to one knee and held out his hand, palm down. Wenny cautiously sniffed his fingers, looked at him, then gave his knuckles a gentle lick. “That’s right, girl. I’m no threat to you.” He pushed back to his feet, towering over Sara.

  She looked at Xorran, not even sure what she expected from him. His phitons were purple. The light from the overlord’s lantern finally revealed their color. He didn’t say anything, but he offered an encouraging smile.

  The overlord glanced at Xorran, then chuckled as his gaze returned to her. “Do I need to take off my shirt in your presence? That seems to be the practice of my men.”

  “I’ll make an exception for you.” She felt her cheeks heat and instinctively averted her gaze. Authority emanated off the overlord as if he’d been born to power. Maybe he had. No one seemed to know very much about him.

  “Torak told me you weren’t harmed.” He waited until she looked at him to ask, “Is this true? Are you okay? Not all wounds are physical.”

  Pleased that he cared enough to make his own determination, she nodded. “I’m fine, but Heather is still in mortal danger. We cannot leave her in the Underground.”

  “Rather than me asking a million questions, why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what happened tonight?” The overlord set the lantern on the floor, then surprised her again as he sat against the opposite wall and crossed his long legs at the ankle.

  Had he realized she felt uncomfortable with him staring down at her? Kage Razel wasn’t at all what she’d expected. Trying to match his nonchalance, she resumed her earlier pose, carefully covering her thighs with the oversized
top. Wenny crawled onto her lap, kneaded her thighs for a moment, then lay down. The karron’s claws barely penetrated the sturdy material covering Sara’s legs, but she was glad when Wenny stopped and curled back into a furry ball.

  Taking his cue from the other two, Xorran sat as well. He chose the wall directly across from the door. Had he just chosen a position that allowed him to see her and the overlord, or was Xorran demonstrating his neutrality?

  “You and your cabin mates gathered by the river to catch up after Lily’s absence,” the overlord prompted. His tone was light, conversational, but his gaze remained sharp and assessing.

  She quickly organized her thoughts, deciding which details to explain and which didn’t really matter. “The attack came out of nowhere. I was being dragged through the forest before I even had time to scream.” The overlord silently waited for more information, so she continued, “They took us down a ladder and into their underground fortress. I saw miles of passageways and many large rooms. The place is massive.”

  “How many elves did you see?”

  “Twenty or thirty, but I have no doubt there are many more.”

  He nodded. Tension lifted his shoulders and thinned his lips. “I know you made a deal with Isolaund. How did that come about?”

  A firm knock on the door postponed Sara’s response. Wenny raised her head and looked around. Xorran rose and opened the door, admitting two Outcasts, each laden with supplies. The karron cub didn’t seem to feel threatened by the intruders. She watched them silently from the security of Sara’s lap, then closed her eyes and tucked her head under her paws.

  “Did they get everything, her royal highness demanded?” the overlord asked with a lazy half-smile.

  Sara felt a tiny pang of guilt about her attitude, but Torak had been a total jerk at the time.

  Xorran sorted through the supplies, then nodded. “Our demanding princess will be pleased.”

  The overlord nodded to the newcomers. “Thank you, gentlemen.”

  They returned his nod, then gazed at Sara as they ambled toward the door.

  Xorran watched the others, and his gaze narrowed, gleaming dangerously. If Sara didn’t know better, she’d worry that he was going to fly across the room and pummel the other two. But why would he react that way? Xorran barely knew her.