Men of Anderas II: Dak the Protector

by Cheryl Johnson

  “What’s wrong with your necklace, little witch?” He asked softly.

  Her answer was a sharp gasp and a death grip on the stone. In that instant, while they still shared the mental connection, he knew what caused her panic. Kierin was at the peak of her fertility and she had conceived a child!

  Shock and pain crushed him but the days and weeks of little sleep caught up with him. As he slid into exhausted slumber, he whispered, “What have you done, little witch?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Betrayed! The reality of last night crashed around Dak with all the devastation of a super nova. He knew without looking that Kierin was no longer in the room. He was alone in bed. The bed he made especially for her. The bed that made her so happy she giggled like a little girl. Her enjoyment of his effort took on a sinister note when seen through the events of last night.

  Did you feed me the need for a bed big enough for two? Was that part of this plan of yours? Why, Kierin? You gave me your word!

  Throwing off the blankets, Dak stormed naked from the room. Never in his life had he ever thought of violence and woman together. Until this morning. Until Kierin manipulated him. He needed to confront her but he needed to control the swirling cauldron of emotions ripping at his sanity first and he needed to rid himself of her scent. Everything around him reeked of sex and wildflowers.

  The water was too hot but that didn’t stop him from crawling into the tub. He scrubbed his skin until it was red but he could still smell her soap. This was his fault for letting his guard down and trusting her, for wanting to make her happy for just a little while. He loved making her laugh. She treated every item he made like gold and he felt pride in knowing he helped make her home a little more comfortable. By the Beard of the Prophet, he was a fool.

  Home. Anderas was home but he would never see it again. His actions last night violated one of their most stringently enforced laws. It wouldn’t matter to the Tribunal that a piece of rock and a devious crystal witch were to blame. She carried his child. The penalty was death.

  His child. Dak clenched his fists against the crushing pain in his chest. He almost wished he were a weaker man. A man who could cleanse his soul with tears. Instead he turned the pain into anger. Fed the anger with the loss of his future, his dreams, and his home. He ruthlessly pushed aside all the gentle memories of the past month. Buried the guilt of leaving her alone. He even tried to convince himself that the sex wasn’t the best he’d ever had--and silence the stupid little voice that kept whispering that it wasn’t the sex but the partner.

  When he felt in control he left the tub, dressed and threw the remainder of his clothes into the saddle bag. As far as he was concerned their contract agreement was null and void. He would find another way to locate his crew. It was time to confront the crystal witch.

  He found her sitting at the table, staring into the fire. She still wore the nightgown from last night and had a thin blanket wrapped around her shoulders. When she saw him, she wiped the tears from her face and straightened in the chair. For a fleeting moment he thought he saw regret in her eyes before her face went totally blank.

  “Why?” He kept his voice calm, his tone even. He had to remain in control.

  “You left me no choice.”

  “You had choices. You just refused to consider any of them. What did that damned piece of rock do to me?”

  “Nothing.” She mumbled.

  “Don’t give me that crap! I deserve the truth--although I doubt you’re capable of knowing the difference.”

  “It … enhances … everything about me that makes me female. Nothing more.”

  “Nothing more my ass! You used the fact that I wanted to fuck you blind from the minute I got rid of that rock around my neck.” He ignored her flinch at his crude comments. “We’ve been picking up each other’s thoughts for weeks. You used that knowledge. You used me--without any regard for the consequences. I told you what would happen if I fathered your child but you blindly followed your own agenda. I trusted you, Kierin! You betrayed that trust in the most despicable, underhanded ….”

  Dak took a deep breath and a firmer hold on his control. Nothing he said would change the results. “I’m leaving. Today. If you’re smart, you’ll take that piece of rock you have hidden back there,” he indicated the tunnel with a jerk of his head. “Find somewhere to hide. Somewhere Draagon can’t follow.”

  “I can’t.” She whispered.

  “Then you’re going to die, Kierin. If Draagon doesn’t kill you, some over-zealous bounty hunter will take care of the problem for him.”

  Dak grabbed his bag and started out.

  “Dak!”

  He stopped and turned to face her. “Make it quick.”

  “I promised to pay you for your protection and to give you the list from Murdock’s. I don’t have much money ….”

  “If you have even a tiny molecule of self-preservation you will not offer me money.” His anger and hurt twisted like acid in his chest. Stud service! She wants to pay me for stud service!

  “It’s not for that.” Her face flamed when she picked up his bitter thoughts. “Will you accept the list?”

  By all the Ancient Prophets, he wanted to toss that handful of papers into the fire. He couldn’t abandon his men. If there was any chance in hell of finding them alive he had to try. Just because he couldn’t go home didn’t mean they had to suffer. He reached for the list and if his fingers lingered just a little longer against her hand, it was just an accident. Without another word he headed for the stable. The sooner he left the sooner he could forget all about Kierin and her problems.

  She was waiting at the gate to let him out and without a word he walked the horse into the barren wasteland. Just before she closed the portal he thought he heard her whisper I’m sorry but he ignored her voice as completely as the little voice in his head that kept telling him he was making the biggest mistake of his life.

  * * * *

  With nothing but the open desert around him, Dak was free to study the list from Murdock’s slave market. There truly was no honor among thieves. Murdock documented every sale with the name of the buyer, his home base, the particular variety of crime said buyer specialized in committing and a note detailing a recent job. It was his insurance policy against a dissatisfied customer coming back for a refund.

  His ship had a crew of seventy-five when they landed. He counted sixty-eight transactions which meant some of his men didn’t survive long enough for a sale or more than one man went to the same buyer. He would deal with that when he found the survivors. They were now part of a gang. Dak almost smiled knowing these thugs would play hell getting his men involved in their underground world.

  That she managed to talk Murdock into giving her the list was proof positive of the degree of fear his little crystal witch instilled in the slave trader.

  Get it through your thick skull that she is not your crystal witch. She’s not your anything. You have got to keep the woman out of your head! She betrayed you! Remember that.

  There was nothing in the quiet solitude around him to keep his mind occupied and away from Kierin. Images of the month he spent with her flashed like lightning with no rhyme or reason. Her delight at the bath tent when they arrived on her planet replaced the image of that pathetic doll. The night she tasted her first bite of roasted kava mutated into the sight of her in the middle of that huge bed. On and on it went through the morning hours. Each memory triggered a different emotion. From anger to lust; from contentment to frustration; from vengeance to betrayal and through it all the crushing pain in his chest threatened to destroy him.

  In the distance he saw a cloud of dust and the unmistakable flash of a laser gun blast. Fragmented voices carried by the wind gave no hint of who was fighting or why. With nothing but clumps of grass in any direction, sneaking up on the fight was out of the question. With any luck, they were more interested in continuing their battle than in watching for an approaching rider. Dak was close enough now to make out individ
ual figures and it looked like there were about a dozen men shooting at a man pinned under his dead horse. Voices were clearer now and what he heard made his blood run cold.

  Talon! Phantom Riders! They’re going to kill Talon! The lousy bastards are toying with him like a cat with a mouse. They could have killed him with a single blast but they’re slowly cutting his horse to pieces until they can start on him! Not bloody likely! Not today!

  Dak armed his laser gun and kicked his horse into a gallop. Since stealth wasn’t an option, he’d go with shock. With a roar of primal rage, he raced toward Talon, firing as he rode. This was the outlet he needed for his rage and hurt. This he could control. The surprised Riders recovered quickly but not before Dak killed three of their patrol. By the time he reached Talon he was a mad man. A man gone berserk. In less than fifteen minutes it was over. Draagon’s Phantom Riders and their horses lay in bloody pieces. Never again would they prey on the defenseless.

  “We did it, Talon.” Dak whispered, his chest heaving from exertion. When Talon didn’t answer, he rushed to where he lay pinned beneath what was left of his horse.

  “Talon!” Dak pushed at the remains until his friend was free. “Come on, man, talk to me.”

  When Talon groaned and rolled to his back, Dak sent a silent prayer of thanks to every deity he knew and checked for injuries. “Nothing missing--that’s good. Can you sit up?”

  “I think I’m okay, thanks to you. I have a bitch of a headache. Must have passed out since its dark now. Man, I’ve never seen such a totally dark night. Not even a star in sight.”

  Every word from Talon’s mouth sent cold chills down Dak’s back. The sun blazed down on them. It was just past midday.

  “Talon. Let me have a look at your head.”

  “Come on, Dak. You can’t even find your own head in this darkness. It can wait until morning. Did any of the Riders escape? I figured the one that got away the last time we met brought his friends looking for Kierin. How is she, by the way?”

  Dak’s heart twisted when Talon looked in his direction. A laser burn cut across his forehead. He was damned lucky to be alive but he didn’t think the bounty hunter would think so when he realized the light beam fried his retinas.

  “I’ve got to get you back to Kierin’s fortress. She’s an excellent healer. I’m sure there’s something she can do to help.” He grabbed Talon’s arm to help him stand.

  Talon pulled free and stumbled to his feet on his own. “I’m fine, Dak.”

  “No. You’re not fine.” Dak ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “A laser blast grazed your head which explains being unconscious but ….”

  “Just say it.” Talon’s neutral monotone told Dak he was beginning to sense something was wrong.

  “Damn it, Talon. It’s not dark. It’s the middle of the day.”

  For the space of several heartbeats Talon just stood there. As the truth of Dak’s statement registered, his knees buckled and he sat down hard. When Dak tried to help him stand Talon pushed him away.

  “Get the fuck away from me!” Talon yelled. “Why the hell didn’t you mind your own business, Dak?”

  “The Riders would have killed you.”

  “They did kill me. Get out of here! Leave me the hell alone!”

  “I’m not leaving you out here. Come back to Kierin’s. You know how talented she is with her crystals.” He couldn’t believe he was actually praising the witch’s use of her cursed rocks. “There’s bound to be one that can heal the burn.”

  “What if there’s not a way to fix it, Dak? What am I supposed to do then? It’s a little difficult to be a bounty hunter when you can’t see to wipe your own ass. I have no desire to sit out my remaining days on a corner in some backwater town begging for coins and food.”

  “Talon ….”

  “I once offered to kill you to set you free. I now ask you for the same. Kill me, Dak. Set me free.”

  “I can’t do that, at least until we find out if Kierin can help or not. Come with me and let her examine you. If she can’t help we’ll talk about it again. Deal?”

  “I want your word.”

  “I give you my word that we’ll talk about it after you see Kierin.”

  “That will be some trick.”

  “What?” Dak asked, confused by Talon’s comment.

  “I can’t see Kierin. Remember?”

  Dak shook his head in disgust. “Just get on the damned horse. It will be dark before we get back.”

  “Your horse can’t carry both of us for long. Why don’t you go get help and I’ll wait here?”

  “Why don’t you just shut up?” Dak hit Talon’s chin hard enough to snap his neck and caught him before he hit the ground. “You couldn’t make this easy on either of us, could you?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kierin confirmed what he already knew. Talon was permanently blind. She implanted tiny crystal shards behind each eye that would allow him to see the heat image released from living organisms but that was all she could do for him. She promised to watch over him while he adjusted to his new reality. He didn’t envy her that task. Talon was proud and driven by some serious demons. It would take a pretty powerful incentive for him to accept that he was no longer the man he thought himself to be. Dak was grateful he wouldn’t be around for the process.

  Ten days later he rode into Cypriana. It was as crowded and unruly as he remembered. The first order of business was to find a place to stay and a job. He needed enough coin to send a message to JarDan and to look for his crew. The trouble with being a trained warrior--not many honest folks needed to hire one and he wasn’t desperate enough to go with the criminal option.

  Leaving his horse at the same stable Kierin used on their arrival, Dak made his way through the seedier side of town. Here the canvas tents formed a continuous line of bars, gambling dens and whore houses. The stench of stale alcohol, body sweat and cheap perfume sent him hurrying toward fresher air and fewer vagrants.

  Luck was on his side for a change when he rounded a corner and found the local law enforcement rounding up the walking wounded from a major fight. A man sitting on an upturned barrel and sporting an impressive black eye was shaking his fist and cussing for all he was worth.

  “I warned you the last time you let these sons-a-bitches wreck my place, Bull.”

  “But they wuz jus’ havin’ a little fun, Mr. Jamison. It weren’t nothin’ serious.”

  Bull was built like his namesake but with half the brains. Dak almost laughed at the man twisting his hat in his ham-sized hands acting like a kid caught stealing an extra cookie.

  “FUN? You call all that damage FUN? You’re fired! And you get no wages for this week.” Mr. Jamison glared at his former employee through the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut. “Now, get outta my sight before I have you arrested with the rest of these friggin’ bastards.”

  “Who’s gonna keep peace in the bar tonight if you fire me, Mr. Jamison?”

  “My crippled grandmother could do a better job than you do, you dumbass! Go on, get outta here.”

  It didn’t take long for Bull to disappear into the crowd gathered to see what was happening. Dak started to make his way through the crowd when he caught Mr. Jamison’s comments to the policeman in charge of the arrests.

  “Bull’s a good man, officer, but he just looks mean. As soon as folks figured out he didn’t like to fight they took advantage of him. Hell, I didn’t’ want to let him go but I just can’t friggin’ afford the damage.”

  “I understand, sir.” The officer replied. “I’ll arrange for extra patrols by here until you can hire another guard. If I hear of anyone looking for a job I’ll send him your way.”

  “Thanks, officer. It will take me a couple of days to get the place back together enough to open. Maybe I’ll get lucky before then.”

  Mr. Jamison went back into his bar and the police left with all of the brawlers who didn’t need medical assistance. Dak waited until the street was quiet before walking into t
he dim bar.

  “Sorry, son, but you can see I’m not open for business. You’ll have to find your pleasure elsewhere.” Mr. Jamison was sitting on the floor with a piece of cold meat against his black eye.

  “You do know that it’s the cold of the meat that makes the swelling go down and not the meat itself?” Dak asked mildly.

  “You do know I don’t give a shit?” Mr. Jamison answered just as mildly.

  Dak laughed and extended his hand to the man on the floor. “I’m Dak and I’m looking for a job.”

  “Pull up a spot here on the floor, young man, ‘cause there ain’t a chair in the place that’s safe to sit in after this mornin’.”

  Dak kicked broken glass and splintered wood until he cleared a space and sat down. Looking around the large room, he smiled.

  “Looks like it was one hellava disagreement. I can repair most of the chairs in a couple of hours. You may have to get creative for the tables to go with them. If you can scrounge up enough glassware and the liquor to fill them you should be able to open by sundown tonight.”

  “The hell you say! And you’re gonna do all this outta the goodness of your heart?”

  “Absolutely--if you’ll give me Bull’s job.”

  “Why would I do somethin’ like that?” Mr. Jamison asked around a crooked grin.

  “Because I need a job and you need a guard.”

  “Lots of folks around here lookin’ for work. Don’t mean I’d hire ‘em.”

  “That may be true, but I have an advantage the rest don’t have.”

  “You’re a cocky bastard, I’ll give ya that.” Jamison cackled. “Okay, sonny, jus’ what is it you got?”

  “You mean besides the fact that I’ve been trained in hand-to-hand warfare since I was old enough to hold a sword?” Dak had to wait for Jamison to finish laughing before he continued. “I’m one mean bastard who isn’t afraid to fight.”

  Jamison laughed until tears ran from his eyes. “Son of a bitch! That burns like a muther ….” Wiping at the wetness with his shirtsleeve, he turned his good eye on Dak. “You’re bold as brass, and that’s a fact. I like you, boy. Can you do it? Can you get my place fixed up enough to open tonight?”