He ignored the screams and curses of the men being dragged from the room. Their deaths would serve as a warning to the others. Peasants were too stupid to understand the spoken word. He had to constantly give them examples. Was there not a man anywhere on this planet--this boil on the ass of the universe--with the education and skills to make a worthy opponent? It was hard being so much … more … than everyone else. It made a man lonely for someone special to share in all his remarkable achievements.
Draagon had someone special. Someone promised to him at her birth. Everything would be perfect as soon as he found his betrothed. She was proving to be quite contrary in her actions, but he knew the proper combination of pain and reward tamed the most stubborn of women. Unfortunately, it would be some time before she earned any rewards. Her deliberate evasion wasn't merely costing him a great deal of gold. She was the one element missing from his self-proclaimed destiny. His plans were much grander than the modest inn that currently served as his headquarters in this remote village. This entire planet was nothing more than a stepping-stone to an empire. An empire he intended to rule.
His quest would be so much simpler if he knew her name. All he had was a vague idea of her age; that she and her brother lived with their father on this planet; and a useless description. Every pure-blood crystal witch shared the same white hair and aqua eyes.
His deceitful mother knew the girl's name, but the bitch managed to withhold that most important piece of this puzzle from him. She was free enough with her secrets when it suited her purpose. Not even his most persuasive torture had forced her to talk. Oh well, it was something of a comfort to know she'd never reveal any of his secrets.
Draagon checked the locked window overlooking the town square. He had two fears. One was an open window, the other a mirror. Both were portals to demons and nightmares. An old seer, in a town he’d burned years ago, foretold that his death would enter through a window seen in reflection. From that very day, after he’d killed the old crone and destroyed the town, he made sure he was never in a room with an open window or any reflective surface.
A quiet knock at the door interrupted his mental self-criticism.
"Enter."
"Lord Draagon," the captain of the guard reported, slapping his fist against his shoulder in salute, "the patrol was attacked. Luc is the only survivor and says he has urgent information for you."
"I'll see him in the outer room.” Who could possibly have the courage to fight his Phantom Riders? A tingling anticipation spread through his body. A sensation not unlike sexual arousal. He may have to see about a companion for the night.
Jud pulled a chair into the center of the room for Luc then took his place beside the closed door.
"Report. And do stop bleeding on my rug."
"The crystal witch arrived at the transport station with two men. One left when they got to town. He registered with the chancellor's office as an assassin. Talon was the only name he used. The other two ordered supplies, made a stop at the bathhouse while they waited for Smiley to deliver the goods, then headed north. When it …."
"Who is the man still with her?” If she was the one, a man in the picture could be a problem. He would be killed, of course; but a crystal witch mated for life and was only able to produce young with her mate. The "after death" release didn't always work. That would be a problem.
"We couldn't find out. She traveled with a resident authorization so she didn't have to register with the chancellor's office. The flight records show she left here alone and she caught the return shuttle at Safe Haven with her companion."
"Continue with your report.” Good help was so hard to find anymore. How hard could it be to ask a few simple questions? Safe Haven? What would a crystal witch need from that hovel?
"They traveled the north road most of the afternoon when the man suddenly rode off into the woods. When he got back, maybe an hour later, he led the crystal witch to a secluded clearing a mile or so from the road. We waited until dark when they settled down for the night before we attacked. We saw them crawling into the vines and …."
"Didn't you say it was dark?” Draagon interrupted. "How did you see them?"
"It was bright as daylight from the laser guns firing into the clearing."
"I see.” Draagon slowly circled the table he used for a desk and carefully sat down. "Are you telling me you and your men fired at random into an area where my betrothed may have been sleeping?"
"Y-yes-s, Lord Draagon."
"I can tell by your sudden nervousness that you've realized the precarious state of your own life. We'll discuss that later. Please, do continue with this report. And Luc," Draagon paused for effect, "you're still bleeding on my rug."
Luc tightened the tourniquet around his leg until not a single drop of blood welled from the bone-deep gash in his thigh.
"Thank you so much. Please continue.” Draagon settled back against the thick cushions. It didn't matter that Luc wasn't the leader of the patrol. His Phantom Riders took responsibility for the actions of each other. If someone issued an order perceived as being contrary to Draagon's ultimate goal, he fully expected another Phantom Rider to eliminate the problem using any method necessary.
"Uh … we … uh … were ordered to wait for daylight before taking them prisoner and we just … uh … fired into the trees to let them know we were out there. We didn't know he followed us until he started picking us off one-by-one. I was the only one left so I grabbed a horse and headed back here for help. That's when the guy's gunfire caught my leg. He was close enough to spit on so I got a good look at him. It was the assassin. The one from the transport station."
"And did you kill this … assassin?” Draagon stroked the crystal amulet he wore.
"N-no, Lord Draagon. I dropped my laser gun."
"Excuse me? I'm sorry; I don't think I heard you correctly. For just a moment, I mistakenly thought you said you dropped your weapon. I was mistaken, was I not?"
Luc slowly stood, using the chair to maintain his balance, and faced Draagon. "I offer no excuse, my lord."
"I don't want excuses, Luc. I want results. You didn't kill the man because you dropped your weapon. In your rush to seek assistance, did you perchance notice if he followed you here? Or did you suddenly become blind as well as stupid?"
"No, my lord. He rushed to the aid of the crystal witch. I scattered the horses in all directions so he wouldn't know which tracks were mine."
"Very well," Draagon dismissed the wounded man. "If you have nothing further to report, seek medical attention. We will discuss your punishment later, provided you survive your injury."
"Yes, Lord Draagon. There is one thing we learned that I think …."
"Don't think--just report. I'll decide if the information is relevant. Understood?"
"Two months ago, an assassin--a different one than the one who shot me--took the heads of a man and his son in one of the nameless hamlets in the foothills. The bounty for each was five thousand gold coins."
Draagon tried to make a connection between the actions of a bounty hunter and his quest for his bride. Shaking his head in confusion, he tried another approach.
"And this means … what?"
"I don't know if it means anything, my lord. It's just … they both had snow-white hair. Even the son--and they said he didn't look to be more than about thirty summers. Their bodies were claimed by a woman named Kierin."
Draagon was incapable of speech. Finally, after years of searching, this bumbling fool had given him a name. He had followed the migration path of every crystal witch family to leave the home world around the time that his bride's family escaped the authorities. Dead-ends every time. He was down to three families with daughters the right age, but he didn't know about older brothers. His bride would be about twenty-eight with a father in his mid-sixties and a brother about thirty-five.
It was too much of a coincidence. Five thousand gold coins. Draagon knew there was an enormous bounty on the head of any member of the family he was seeking. His b
ride's father was a dangerous political criminal. Kierin. She had to be the one.
As soon as the door closed behind Luc, Draagon turned to his senior officer. "Send a patrol back the way Luc traveled. If someone did follow him, I trust you will take care of the problem. Next, take this message to the Communications Center. It authorizes you to draw whatever funds are necessary to locate that other bounty hunter and bring him back here. I want to know who he was after and why. Use your discretion as to whom you send. Make sure they know I expect a full accounting upon their return.
"Find out exactly where the executions took place. Take a patrol and scout the area. Find out where these men lived. I want her, Jud, and I want to know if she's the same one Luc encountered last night."
"By your command, my lord.” Jud slipped the message into his jacket and turned for the door.
"Jud," Draagon stopped the soldier just before he opened the outer door. "Stop by the medic's on your way out of town. Tell him I want Luc's injured leg removed. That should prevent him from running away from danger in the future. Don't you agree?"
* * * *
Dak grabbed a shovel from the supply pack. It would take him the rest of what remained of the night to bury the horses. Considering the mood he was in, he didn't figure he'd sleep much, anyway. The laser guns did a thorough job of dissecting the animals. It wouldn't take a very deep hole--just a lot of shallow ones. Setting a torch into the ground for light, Dak pushed the shovel through the grass into the dirt.
As the hours passed, Dak replayed the memories of his life hoping to find an incident--some proof--that he wasn't a coward. The night his parents died he went running to JarDan's mother and cried himself to sleep in her arms. Okay, so you were five-years-old. You can't count that one.
When Morandoni kidnapped Arica, he sought the company of JarDan and Zeth, too afraid to be alone. Everyone thought he was helping JarDan deal with the loss of his mother, but looking back, Dak could see the truth. He couldn't bear the thought of losing anyone else he thought of as family. He was afraid of being alone.
The face of the first man he killed in battle still haunted his nightmares and brought the sour taste of bile into his throat. Every time he gagged and emptied his stomach during that battle, he'd been terrified that the enemy would catch him bent over behind the bushes.
On and on through the night, Dak tallied his sins. It surprised him to realize that Kierin’s lack of trust hurt more than his pride. It twisted deep, awakening emotions he refused to acknowledge.
When the last evidence of tonight's attack disappeared beneath the dirt, Dak stabbed the shovel into the ground and stretched the aching muscles in his back and shoulders. Twisting his shoulders from side-to-side and arching his back helped, but he knew he'd be sore tomorrow. He hadn't had such a physical workout since leaving Anderas.
Grabbing one of the water bags Talon left for them, Dak poured most of it over his head and shoulders. He was hot and sweaty despite the cold night air. Adding another log to the fire for Kierin’s comfort, he moved as far from the heat as he could. With a soft groan, he straddled the lowest branch of a huge evergreen tree and settled back against the trunk. Sipping the cool water, Dak stared out across the meadow. It would be light in a couple of hours. It was anybody's guess what the day would bring.
A son. That's what this whole business has been about. The woman is insane if she thinks I would be a party to such a foolhardy scheme. As though conjured from his thoughts, an image of Kierin swollen with his child appeared. That place deep in his chest--the place he refused to acknowledge--softened and expanded. Forget it. It's not going to happen.
A sudden gust of wind shook the branches above his head sending a shower of needles and seedpods raining down on his head. Brushing the stuff from his shoulders, Dak suddenly remembered Talon's parting comments. Everything that goes up will fall down. With slow, deliberate movements, Dak lifted one of the palm-size seedpods from his lap and dropped it to the ground. Gravity. Yes! Thank you, Talon! I know what you were trying to tell me.
A quick glance told him Kierin was still sleeping. He had to make sure she didn't get any images of what he was about to do. He had to act on instinct alone or the stone would stop him. Dak let his mind wander, reliving the agonizing memories of all his failures again.
Quietly, with grim determination, he climbed from one branch to another until he was about ten feet up. Focusing on Anderas, Dak scooted along the branch until he felt it bounce with his movements. Each scrape of limb against limb sounded like thunder to his ears. Even his own heartbeat threatened to deafen him. How could Kierin sleep through all the noise he was making?
Don't think about Kierin. Think about … Elizabeth and her sweet baby smell. Elizabeth and her dimples. Elizabeth. Elizabeth. Elizabeth.
Repeating the name in his mind like a litany, Dak hooked his knees around the limb and slowly leaned back until he was hanging suspended from the tree. Just like when he and JarDan were kids, he pushed his body forward enough to create a swinging action.
When the chain slipped past his chin, he wanted to shout for joy.
When it caught on his nose, he wanted to howl in frustration.
Knowing he couldn't touch the chain, Dak slowly shook his head back and forth. The silver chain with its cursed rock fell to the ground with barely a sound.
Chapter Ten
It was such a lovely dream. She was safe and secure within her fortress. A small, dark-haired baby played on the rug near the fire while she sorted her freshly harvested herbs. Thundering hooves and jangling harness announced the arrival of the baby’s father. Wiping her hands on her apron, she quickly smoothed her hair into place and reached for the baby--but the baby wasn’t there. Something was terribly wrong. Dak now held the baby nestled in his lap. Without a backward glance, he turned the horse and galloped from the fortress, taking his son with him.
Kierin woke with a start, struggling against the lingering fragments of the dream. The sun, barely above the horizon, brought little relief to the early morning chill. Shifting her position on the hard ground, she tried to find a comfortable position. It was warm beneath the blanket with the fire snapping and crackling behind her. As long as she stayed cocooned she could ignore the troubles waiting for her this morning.
It took her several minutes to realize the camp was quiet. Too quiet. Not even the calls of awakening birds broke the unnatural silence. Moving slowly, she located her crystal beneath the folds of her tunic. A focus session would not only help her deal with the problems of the morning, she might be able to sense Dak’s mood. She prayed he wasn’t as despondent as he’d been last night. Closing her eyes and holding the crystal between her palms, Kierin let her conscience expand. In her mind she could see the edge of the fire pit, the stack of dishes exactly where she left them last night, the fire blazing with fresh wood. Opening herself completely, she reached out for the energy of the amulet around Dak’s neck.
With a shocked gasp, Kierin jerked around, tangling herself in her blanket in her haste.
"Good morning, little witch. Did you sleep well?"
It couldn’t be! He had removed the amulet! It wasn’t possible! Yet, the proof glowed softly in the light of the fire--suspended from the end of the stick Dak held in his hand!
"How?” It was the only word she managed to sort from the jumble of chaos and confusion clouding her mind.
"It was simple enough, thanks to Talon," Dak grinned and settled back against his saddle. "There’s fresh tea in the pot. Why don’t you pour yourself a cup? We have a great deal to discuss this morning."
Dak’s voice and manner would have been perfectly acceptable in any social situation, yet Kierin’s instincts were on full alert. She didn’t believe for one instant that Dak was just making friendly conversation. There was an alertness about him--a hard-as-steel glint in his deep brown eyes. He was playing a subtle game of cat and mouse. She managed to free herself from the tangled blanket and mumble an excuse in Dak’s general direction befor
e seeking a little privacy for her personal needs. When she returned to the warmth of the fire, Dak had a cup of clover tea waiting for her. Even now, after everything she’d done to him, he couldn’t stop being the provider--the protector.
The rising sun brightened their small camp. The evidence of last night’s attack lay buried beneath the ground under a dozen or more mounds of freshly turned dirt. It must have taken him most of the night to remove all traces of the carnage. Kierin wondered if Dak had slept at all. Probably not, if he had time to figure out how to remove the stone. He certainly looked like a man without a care or worry to his name and that was another cause for her unrest. Dak reminded her of her father and brother, bent over their game board in deep concentration. Each waited for their opponent to make a fatal mistake, to show the weakness that would guarantee the success of the game. Dak was waiting for her to blink.
"Drink your tea while it’s still warm, Kierin. Our discussion can wait that long."
Kierin chose a spot near the fire opposite from where Dak waited and obediently lifted the metal cup to her lips, careful not to burn her mouth on the hot brew. She could have been drinking swamp water and not known the difference. The knot in her stomach wasn’t going to go away until she knew what Dak was planning, but she didn’t really want to hear him say the words. Seeking a safer topic of conversation would delay the inevitable at least until she felt more in control. She suddenly realized that Dak was dressed differently.
"Where did you get the clothes? From Talon?"
"From a pack bag tied behind one of the horses. One of Draagon’s goons decided to update his wardrobe, apparently. Everything in the bag is new. The pants are a little snug but the shirts fit and the vest is warm. Even the shoes fit. I buried the rags I’ve been wearing. A symbolic end to everything associated with Safe Haven. You’re stalling, little witch."
So much for emotional control. Dak was in charge now and he wasn’t about to let her forget it. "I shouldn’t be surprised that you found a way around the stone. Its primary function is to control large wild animals. Most are dangerous, but none have your intelligence. How did you do it?"
Men of Anderas II: Dak the Protector Page 9