Wind and Fire

by T. J. Michaels

  Off in the distance, RuArk spotted a faint glimmer on the ground. The light appeared to be a small campfire, out in the middle of the ice-covered lands. What would anyone be doing way out here in midwinter? They circled around as RuArk searched for any signs of life. The place was deserted.

  “What’s going on here?” RuArk asked in a whisper.

  The Wind gave no answer, but instead settled directly over the small flames, whipping them up into a firestorm. It flared wildly in spite of the snow covering the ground. The energy from the fire joined itself to that of the Wind, and the Wind became a great storm also. Side by side, the firestorm and the windstorm grew together, reaching up into the starlit sky until it seemed brightened by a second sun.

  Then RuArk felt it, just as the Grandfather said. A taint. A subtle hint of foul aura just out of reach, focused on the flame. It faltered until it ceased to give as much energy to its union with the Wind. As the flame wavered, the windstorm and the firestorm were both diminished. The mighty forces of nature became nothing more than a slight breeze and a small campfire once more.

  Here, just as in the Dream, he didn’t experience true physical sensation, but only a fool would ignore the trickle of apprehension slipping up his arms. He turned to the North, but saw nothing. To the South, East and West, all was silent. But he knew something, someone, was out there. Perhaps multiple someones.

  After endless moments, he spotted a woman alone in the night, gliding along the snow-covered meadows. The sleek outline of her body was shrouded in shadow. She moved with easy grace. Careful yet confident, she possessed an inner strength that made her appear more hunter than prey. Who was this woman, now almost as near as his own skin?

  Looking more closely, RuArk almost tumbled out of the Seeking and back into his physical body in surprise. The glow from her amber eyes pierced his soul—Rhia Greysomne, daughter of the High Counsel of Draema Province.

  Oh, he remembered Rhia, stubborn and headstrong as a young girl. He was now being set on the path back to her as a woman. There was danger, yes, but he sensed that she needed something more than protection. But what could she need more than her own life?

  It had been endless seasons since he’d seen her, yet even after all this time, and in this place, his body reacted strongly to her presence. Gods, her essence was exquisite; her aura strong and clean. She was not the source of the foulness on the air. But whoever, or whatever it was, seemed to follow her, long for her, covet her from a distance. Strange.

  RuArk reached out, but she didn’t respond. Didn’t seem to sense him at all.

  Flashes of him and Rhia in a loving embrace danced before his eyes. They were smiling. Touching. Arms twined around one another as he loved her fiercely. Then they were sharing stolen moments, a quiet word.

  RuArk rolled over in his bed and let the memory of the Seeking continue to wash through him and fill his mind even as sleep claimed him. After accepting what had been shown to him, he remembered being returned to his physical body. And there he’d sat until gooseflesh had risen on his bare arms and legs. In fact, he’d watched the sunrise through the opening of the Seeking place and breathed in the lingering scent of sweet, warm female until it had completely faded away.

  And now, the woman of his Seeking was just across the landing. Just out of reach. A woman he’d thought of often, but hadn’t pursued. Had longed for, but believed to be out of reach. RuArk had no idea how things would develop, but it wasn’t his job to worry about it. All he needed to do was find and stay on the path that had obviously been chosen for him.

  Rhia was his, and he would protect her from whatever danger lurked.

  And RuArk couldn’t wait to begin his new job.

  Chapter Four

  Back from Harbor Station, Rhia woke refreshed, but not relieved. The nightmares hadn’t returned, but the calming presence of the sweet old man that had replaced the horrors had been usurped by a towering gray-eyed god that beckoned her with a shameless grin and the crook of a finger.

  RuArk Miwatani.

  Her dreams now bordered on sensually insane. In them, RuArk had stroked and touched her in places no hands had ever been but her own. Just imagining what true, downright dirty sex might be like with him, sent the blood rushing beneath her skin, made her breasts swell and her nipples strain against her underclothes.

  Too bad hot-n-wild sex came with a mate. RuArk had never expressed any interest in her like that, plus Rhia had no prospects and sure as hell wasn’t looking for any.

  Yes, her childhood-friend-now-dream-lover had saved her very real backside by not allowing her to kill that frog-eyed idiot, Bryan. But that was no reason to start dreaming about him, right?

  She rolled over and untangled herself from the bed covers. Thanks to a quick trip to the Society of Physicians before heading out of town to Harbor Station, all of the bruises and swelling in her arms, back, and face from her little confrontation with Bryan Collaidh were practically healed in spite of the spectacular spectrum of colors on her skin.

  She’d known RuArk forever and hadn’t seen him for just as long, and all that time she’d remained happily free of hunky-Gaian-warrior-please-touch-me dreams. Yet the very night he’d gotten rid of her unwanted guest, the man had started waltzing into her head at night, and brought with him a ridiculous longing that shadowed her no matter what she was doing. Asleep or awake, all she could think about was him.

  And it was starting to piss her off.

  “Come in,” she called out at the light chime of the door. Her companion, Brita, and her best friend, Joan, bustled in with breakfast. Well, Brita bustled and Joan shuffled. True to his word, her father had given all of Rhia’s training classes to other officers, with the exception of the one Joan was to assist her with this morning. How the High Counsel ever talked Joan into getting out of bed this early was beyond Rhia.

  Joan waved sleepily and passed Rhia’s bed as she followed Brita to the dining table. In obvious need of caffeine and food, the woman pounced as soon as Brita sat the covered tray down. She quickly poured herself a cup of black coffee and inhaled the reviving aroma.

  “Joan, I don’t think I’ll ever understand the whole coffee thing,” Rhia said around a big yawn. “Don’t get me wrong, I like a pot of black bean water as much as the next person, but I don’t need it to become conscious in the mornings. You should get more sleep.”

  Joan stuck her tongue out at Rhia, who grinned earnestly after her friend had taken a couple of fortifying sips and began to show signs of life. Those signs included piling her plate with grainbread slathered with calmonut butter and taking small bites between big gulps of coffee. Each mouthful was accompanied by a grimace. Rhia couldn’t blame Joan. After all, the stuff did taste like woodboard covered with adhesive paste.

  Brita pulled all of the heavy drapes back from the windows. Bright sunshine flooded every inch of the large suite. Such brilliant light and clear blue skies were rare for this time of year, but certainly most welcome.

  Rhia climbed out of bed and padded naked to the bathing alcove. A quick look in the mirror had her shaking her head. The purple and blue splotches below her eye had faded to a faint outline of sickly yellow brown. It still looked like hell, but at least it wasn’t painful anymore.

  She tied up her hair, climbed into the tub—thankfully it was always filled and ready—and began to wash briskly. This was probably her favorite room in this whole building. Draeman were brilliant, really. The pool’s water was continuously cycled through a filtration system and kept at a set temp so she could bathe anytime. And because the water was constantly cleaned, she didn’t have to sit in a tub of gunk and pretend she was getting clean.

  “Brita, there’s something I’ve been thinking about since I started dreaming of that old Gaian man I told you about,” Rhia called from the bath, leaving out the fact that RuArk had taken the old man’s place. “Gaian don’t typically make their homes here. Other than Mannon, the Sensuan females who came with my mother a long time ago, and myself, sor
t of, I don’t think there are any Gaian people in the entire province. What could have possibly brought my mother to a place where she was practically the only one of her kind?”

  “Your mother came here because she fell in love with your father. He traveled to their lands more often than he needed to when he was younger. We all knew he was working on more than trade agreements,” Brita said as she popped in, turned on the iozene fireplace and popped out again. “He loved her deeply. Everyone loved her. She was such a marvelous woman, strong and honorable. You’re a lot like her, you know.”

  Rhia listened quietly. The deep, desolate pit of her soul that used to overflow with her mother’s love was now filled with her own ambition. She’d accomplished everything she’d ever set out to do yet, there had been no satisfaction in it lately. She needed... what?

  An image of RuArk filled her mind. It was quickly squashed into the carpet of her mind and stomped on ruthlessly. She couldn’t have him, so it made no sense to allow herself to dwell on the man.

  Brita swooped into the bath just as Rhia climbed from the water. With sure solid strokes, Brita dried her charge from neck to knees. The smirk on the older woman’s face when she glanced at Rhia’s tightly-drawn nipples conveyed her thoughts. Rhia scowled. Brita snorted, unmoved by the sour expression. No surprise there. The woman had never been moved by expression, stubbornness, obstinance, or anything else typical of a headstrong young lady.

  “Rhia, why do you put yourself through this torture?” Brita asked, handing Rhia her clothes for the day. “You’ve done a pretty good job of hiding it until now, but admit it, girlie. You’re horny. I don’t understand what you’re waiting for.”

  Not bothering to answer as she dressed, Rhia yanked her shirt over her head. She flinched as the soft fabric scraped over tender flesh through her underwear. Damn it. Maybe her monthly time was coming up or something. No way her skin should be this sensitive.

  “There are plenty of men in Draema. You’ve got seven colonies of male flesh to choose from in this blasted province. Maybe if you stopped carrying that big knife around...”

  “It’s not a knife, Brita. It’s a katana.”

  “Whatever, young lady. You knew that once you hit the Age of Consent all those hormones would kick into overdrive. It’s been that way since the Breaking of the World.”

  “Yep. That synthetic food you all eat is the problem. All those growth accelerators, hormones and god knows what else,” Joan snorted with laughter from the other room.

  The woman was a total advocate for returning to eating ‘real’ food rather than the bioengineered stuff developed to keep people from totally starving after the Breaking. Problem was, very few people knew how to make real food anymore.

  In fact, Rhia didn’t personally know anyone with the skills except Joan and she’d learned from an old Gaian Sensuan who’d passed on some years ago. That left the history books as the only means of knowledge when the Houseman became inspired enough to try one of the old recipes, for which they rarely had the correct ingredients. Yuck.

  “So you’d rather us eat bull balls soup, Joan? Really?”

  “The dish was called Rocky Mountain Oysters, Rhia. It wasn’t a soup, and we couldn’t make it if we wanted to, considering buffalo don’t exist this far south anymore.” Her chuckle was followed by a very sisterly sounding, “Smart ass.”

  Brita cast Joan her “hush up” glare and picked up where she’d left off. “Anyway, I don’t understand why you don’t just get the paperwork done for an assigned lover or at least a Sensuan. If you had sense enough to get that pesky virginity taken care of at the Age of Consent, why not take the next step?”

  “You know we Draeman folk are highly sexual people,” Joan chimed in. “Having an assigned partner is wonderful. Having one you love is even better. But, oh girl, a Sensuan is past amazing. You don’t even have to take off your clothes. They just work their, well, whatever it is they do and my goodness.” Her best friend fanned herself and whispered, “Whooo!”

  Sex without having sex? Now that was a hell of a feat. But Rhia had never been interested in half-way or “sort of” doing anything.

  “There’s more to it than the sex for me. You both know that, Joan. I won’t be stuck with a man that cares more for my title than for me as a woman.” Like that Bryan Collaidh asshat. “And I certainly don’t want one I can kick to pieces whenever he pisses me off.”

  “First off, kicking your man for any reason is dysfunctional as hell. And yeah, you say that’s what you want, but you’re so used to running things, could you really handle a man that you can’t push around?” Joan asked as she abandoned a small square of grainbread for a handful of dried winterberries she fished out of her pocket.

  Rhia curled a lip in a sneer. Joan simply crossed her arms over her chest. One side of her mouth lifted in a challenging you-know-I’m-right grin. Rather than answer the question, Rhia’s mind wandered. How did Joan stay in such good shape? The woman hated sparring, loved her bed and often skipped the typical Draeman diet of vitamin and protein rich synthetic fare. Instead, she gorged on calorie loaded, old-fashioned food whenever she could spend enough time in her kitchen to make it. In spite of her unconventional diet, Joan sported compact, firm muscle.

  Shorter than Rhia by at least a head, Joan was a gorgeous woman. Skin as silken as deep cocoa. Cropped, natural platinum curls contrasted with her skin and gleamed in the bright sunlight streaming in from the balcony windows. Dark brown eyes were set under thick lashes and manicured brows of the same striking blond hue. A pert little nose, full hips, lips and, even Rhia could admit, a nice set of breasts, finished off what was a very nice package. In a word, her best friend was a knockout. So why didn’t Joan have a mate herself?

  “I’m so short on time, if I didn’t love my duties as First Heir and Blademaster I swear I’d...”

  “You’d go nuts is what. And being horny isn’t helping,” Joan said matter-of-factly.

  “Then I guess it’s a good thing I work off most of my stress while I’m teaching.”

  “Teaching? You mean thrashing the soldiers? I’d hate to be a student in one of your combat classes, Rhia.”

  “Speaking of classes, we have one to teach, so let’s go.”

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  A tall circular building covered with a dome of unbreakable glass-like material, the pavilion allowed light to flood down into a second floor observatory as well as the training floor directly below. Eight tall, open archways led into the building—one representing each governing member of the Council of Seven, and one for the High Counsel.

  As they passed beneath the arch of the House of Greysomne, Rhia smoothed down the edges of her sparring uniform. While the charcoal gray of the fabric attested both her house and her rank of Blademaster, the cut had another purpose.

  Her clothing was more than pieces of cloth fused together to cover her body, it was a teaching tool. The cropped top dipped just enough to reveal the valley between her breasts, but fell several inches short of her waist to show her tummy. The leggings were pliable and stretchy so she could move through the exercise forms more easily. And the whole thing looked painted on.

  Distractions could get a soldier killed, and there was nothing Rhia loved more than teaching, even if it meant she needed to occasionally use underhanded combat techniques. If she could make her students better fighters, it was worth every minute spent laser scrubbing congealed blood off the tiles of the training floor or sending them off to the Society of Physicians to be stitched up.

  Joan moved off to the edge of the group while Rhia stepped into the middle of the room. All talking ceased and every eye turned to her.

  “Whether you’re returning to your own province or accepting an assignment in Draema, before you are given a classification and released, you’ll accompany some of our seasoned soldiers to Draema Porto. There you’ll join the crew of the DP Tactical I to observe and participate in patrols of the coastal waters to the south. I only have a few more weeks to pr
epare you for those exercises, so expect a rigorous workout every time you step into this building. Understood?”

  The reply was a unified and hearty “Yes, sir!”

  “Good. While I was away, our Society’s most skilled commanders have led you through the forms with the blades. Today we’ll wrap up your blade training with a few changes I’m sure you’ll appreciate.” Not bothering to hide a sly grin, Rhia gestured to the specially delivered muck on the floor.

  The utter silence told her that the students were surprised. Excellent.

  “Joan, send the first soldier into the circle,” Rhia called clearly before placing her sparring mask over her head, and then drawing her blade.

  Joan quickly chose a short, stocky Midjey man from the northeastern hills. He was so hairy and thick-necked he looked more like a dwarf from the ancient fairy tales. There were very few full blood Midjey anymore since their people, like so many others, integrated into other societies for survival’s sake after the Breaking. The Midjey were amazing stonecutters who, in spite of their thick fingers, could create the most intricately carved stone pieces with such detail the rock seemed almost alive. Carving alone made them experts with heavy weaponry since wielding a hammer with skill could down an opponent.

  As the man approached, each step made a crunching sound in the gravel, sand and dirt until the mud sucked at the ankles of his boots.

  The Midjey crouched, made his first thrust and saw too late that Rhia had already moved. Over extending as he raised his much thicker blade to meet hers, he slipped in the mud and landed flat on his back with a thud and a very loud ‘uummph.’ Eyes as wide as saucers and grumbling under his breath, he dared not move a muscle with Rhia’s exquisitely sharp katana pressed against his neck.

  “You can’t expect an enemy to be a gentleman by always allowing you to strike first. If that’s the case, you may as well have him over for tea.” It was the nastiest analogy she could think of given how much she hated tea. She smiled as she helped the stocky, and now very dirty, Midjey to his feet as the rest of the class chuckled quietly. The back of his tunic plastered in mud, he bowed politely and left the circle with a grin and a bit of a limp. The man was a good sport. After all, she was right about the tea.