He threw up his hands in the age-old Ardani gesture of no-combat.
“Kolot had his hands raised,” Krysta said, her words low and deadly. “It didn’t save him, did it?”
A new keening noise rose in the bathchamber, and Krysta realized the girl was crying out. She was hearing the sound almost in slow time, her battle senses were so focused.
On the sink, the falcon took up the call. It sounded like an accusation, a shaming condemnation.
Fergilla Number Two actually trembled.
Commotion at the door caught her attention, the girl running out as people came in, but Krysta noted the newcomers only to be certain they weren’t charging in her direction. She didn’t take her gaze off the kidnapping bastard with his hands raised. Behind her, in the pool, Fergilla Number One groaned and sputtered, still no threat as yet, since he hadn’t managed to reach the pool’s edge.
“Stay back from her!” Darkyn Weil’s command silenced the falcon instantly and brought complete stillness to the room. His voice was slurred, but no less forceful. “If you touch my hallas, I will cut off your hands!”
“Be at ease,” came Akad’s calm voice, seemingly from great distance. “They mean her no harm.”
“She was deep in the pool,” said Fergilla Number One as he struggled to swim. His voice had a satisfyingly thin, reedy quality. Soon he would have no voice at all, Krysta thought, since she would kill him when he managed to get out and find his feet.
“Communicating,” said Fergilla Number Two. He tapped his thick head on the side.
“Psi-dampeners do not reach to deep water.” Akad sighed. “Krysta, did you speak to your family?”
She spared the priest a glance and wished she could wither him with her fury. Darkyn stood beside him, supported on his arm, clearly medicated to manage his remaining mating fervor. He was dressed well in hides and belts, almost ceremonially formal, and he was wearing his double-bladed amber axe. His expression was feral and murderous as he glanced from brute to brute, sizing up the situation. Krysta knew that if Akad had not been with him, if he had not been drugged, he might have dismembered the men who had bothered her.
Somehow, this only angered Krysta more.
A man armed during new-mating. What in the name of nine hells was going on in this mad place? Who would let a fervor-bound male have access to his weapons?
Fools.
“If I spoke to my loved ones,” she growled to Akad, careful to omit names even in her rage, “it is my business, is it not? Do they not have a right to know I am alive and well, and that I have chosen to stay here with my soul’s mate?”
Akad murmured an assent and seemed surprised, or relieved. With his damned stoic countenance, who could tell?
Her sha stirred at Akad’s side, and looked at her more directly. Almost wide-eyed. Suspicious, yes, healthily so. Also pleased and aroused. He had an erection despite treatment with elixir.
Good.
Krysta scowled at him, hoping her nakedness tortured him beyond measure. She had half a mind to touch herself right there, before all the male onlookers. It would serve him right.
But there were other matters at hand.
“I want life for life,” she demanded in the formal, high speech of the People. “I claim the ancient rights of vengeance, to honor the memory of Kolot, my second in command, who fell with his hands raised. You do follow the ancient rites, yes? A commander may claim rights to execution for unjust deaths, even in battle?”
Fergilla Number Two flinched, and Number One sputtered in the pool. Akad stiffened, as did Darkyn, as much as a man could stiffen on a hefty dose of firemylk.
“Yes,” Akad answered without hesitating, and Krysta figured it was because the priest had known her for so long. She was close to killing both of Darkyn’s men with her bare hands if she could, fueled by indignation, fury, and the remnants of fervor. He probably hoped to forestall her actions, at least for a time.
“Get out,” Krysta ordered the fool in the pool, who was, in point of fact, trying his best to do just that. “Would you let a single kick drown you? What a weak, useless piece of dung you are, cowering in the water. It is no wonder you killed a man with his hands raised.”
Akad and Darkyn were approaching. Krysta expected them to begin to argue with her, or for the brutes to begin to plead their case. Instead, the big hulk standing near her simply lowered his head while the one in the pool stopped struggling to hoist himself to the rim.
The priest paused at the pool and helped the murderer out. The murderer crawled over to his companion, pulled him up to stand. When he reached his full height, though, the man stooped. He stood in that posture, like a chastised child, before Krysta, Darkyn, and Akad.
“Brand? Kadmyr? Speak the truth to me, cousins. What have you done?” Darkyn questioned them in slurred, over-controlled tones. The big men hung their heads further, chins on chest. “Did you kill a soldier with his hands raised?”
Krysta found herself relaxing. She had expected many things in the split-second she attacked, but such complete support wasn’t among them. Nor such complete surrender from the murdering brutes.
She let her arms drop.
Cousins.
These two were her sha’s family.
How painful for him!
Krysta could see weary horror and deep, abiding anger etched in every line of the stern face she had come to know in tenderness and passion. She could also see that Darkyn intended to do the right thing, whatever it might be—and whoever the wrong-doers might be.
He was a fair man, her sha. On top of being sexy and powerful and wonderfully dominant in all the right ways—he was also honorable. She had known this from the things Akad had shown her the night she came to Uhr, but now, she saw it for herself. She felt it. She had joined with an honorable outlaw. Outlander.
Ta. Ta’Tanna Kon’pa.
A new awareness stirred inside her, giving her an older translation for the phrase than “Chief of The People.” She heard it as keeper. Keeper of the living substance of the universe.
Yes, said a voice that seemed neither male nor female, but older than time. Beyond time. Krysta startled, for a moment forgetting her present and her purpose as phrases from the ancient rhyme drummed in her brain. ’Six shall lead him home, blended from the triangle, joined by the stone, let loose the gentle innocents…’
It played out in the lyrical ancient Ardani language until the falcon keened, driving it back. Krysta almost sagged from relief and forcefully closed her mind from further intrusion.
Steam from the pool filled the bathchamber.
She tensed.
Had she missed anything?
Quick glances at the faces of her sha and Akad, and even the bastard guards, told her she had not.
Brand, the murderer, was the first to speak. “Yes, Ta.”
He hesitated, then coughed. Hesitated again. With a heavy whisper, he admitted. “Her soldier surprised me. Without thought. I killed him even though his hands were raised.”
“Without control,” Akad said sadly.
“I had no time to stop my brother,” Kadmyr confessed, shame evident in his dark eyes.
“Neither of you should have been there,” Darkyn said. “I had called you back. The mission failed.”
“We thought—” Kadmyr began, then stopped himself.
This is an old battle, Krysta realized, seeing her brother Ki dressing down her brother Fari for taking idiot’s chances. and vice-versa.
“On your knees,” Darkyn commanded in a voice ragged with pain and disappointment.
Kadmyr and Brand knelt without hesitation.
Each raised their head, looked directly at Krysta, and murmured, “We are sorry for wrongs against you and yours.”
She gazed back at them, studying their eyes for any sign of dissimulation or manipulation. There was none. Then, they turned around, still on their knees, showing their vulnerable backs to her in gestures of absolute surrender.
Darkyn faced her then,
clearly as Ta as much as her soul’s mate. He unstrapped his axe and handed it to her without comment.
She took it, almost overbalanced by its weight.
“A wrong has been done,” Akad intoned. “You may claim payment. A life for a life. The choice is yours.”
Krysta couldn’t help gaping at Akad and Darkyn for a moment. Both turned their backs on her and knelt, as was true to the ancient rite. The Ta and the high priest, also accepting responsibility for the conduct of their own.
Her part now was to select a life to claim in payment for Kolot’s.
The axe felt overly heavy as she walked a small circle, amazed—and pleased—by how seriously the men took their traditions of honor and justice. There was no hypocrisy here. Only a genuine mistake, and genuine regret.
Kill the Ta.
The thought came like a strike of black lightning. It was so overwhelming that Krysta actually turned toward her sha and hefted the axe as best she could, all the while crying out inside with horror and resistance.
Kill the Ta.
The sexless voice returned, murmuring, but she couldn’t hear it.
What she did hear was her own will telling her to fight. Fight it. It’s not true. It’s not you.
Kill the Ta.
Kill the Ta!
Swaying, arms trembling, Krysta fought with the black cloud around her brain. It was trying to confuse her, blanket her choice and take it from her. If she had full control of herself, she would have screamed with rage or called out to Darkyn or Akad or anyone who might help her.
As it was, Krysta forced her eyes away from her mate’s vulnerable neck.
The black cloud in her mind bellowed in protest, equaled only by the sexless voice roaring back at it.
Get out of my head, Krysta told the two forces, slowly, carefully, with as much psi-strength as she could muster.
They continued to yell back and forth across her consciousness.
Krysta steeled herself, bracing her knees and elbows. With every ounce of psi-energy she possessed, she focused on the two forces and emitted a single mental order.
GET OUT OF MY HEAD!
A sound like thunder startled her as the dual presence departed. She stumbled, letting the axe down to the chamber floor to steady her. All around, the four men still sat, heads down. Obviously, they hadn’t heard the argument inside her, or the thunder. She shivered, then tried to regroup.
Whatever was happening, whatever was attacking her mind, she would need to discuss it with Akad just as soon as she settled the issue of Kolot’s honor. Breathing hard, she studied Brand and Kadmyr from behind. Even through her rattled distress, she sensed they were much like Fari, indeed, before tragedy taught Fari to always take his time, to never allow himself to lose control.
Would Kolot want one of them killed to avenge him? True enough, he had no love for Outlanders. But blood for blood would do little to restore anyone’s honor, or honor anyone’s memory.
Krysta let go the axe and let it clatter to the chamber floor.
“Get up,” she instructed. “All of you.”
The four men rose and faced her, still expressionless.
“My choice is this,” she said with a spurt of her usual confidence. “Kadmyr will go to Arda and offer himself to the family of Kolot in service. He had many children. His soul’s mate will require much assistance. Do you agree to these terms to spare your brother’s life?”
Kadmyr nodded.
Brand looked miserable. “I should do this. The crime was mine.”
“No.” Krysta shook her head. “His shanna would never accept your presence. She would kill you, perhaps feel some closure, but still be without the support she needs.”
“Ta’shanna is as wise as the Ta,” Brand acquiesced, paying her an ancient compliment along with a slight bow. Then he turned to his Ta and lowered his head again.
“Go to your cabin,” Darkyn instructed. “Remain there until I tell you otherwise. I have much to consider and accomplish these next days. After that, I will decide what to do with you.”
To Kadmyr, he said, “The Tul’Mars may kill you when you arrive.”
Kadmyr stood stoic and nodded.
“They will not,” said Akad quickly, before Krysta could reveal her identity as she fully intended to do. The priest cut her a warning glance, holding back her confession.
Why? she wondered, but too many years of trusting him held her silent.
“I will send a scroll with you, giving explanation. The most the widow will do is reject you, or perhaps deal you some bruises. The Tul’Mars will not intervene.”
Kadmyr nodded, remaining silent, eyes straight forward.
Akad took him by the elbow. “Come. I will help you ready for the journey, and then come back to assist my brother in readying for the pao.”
Another pointed glance from Akad told Krysta to make use of the time they would have in the interim, to relieve the mating urges swelling yet again.
When the priest had gone, Krysta faced her sha feeling a mix of respect and awe, coupled with renewed fury…and yes, desire. And a little bit of fear and dread, remembering her murderous impulses earlier.
No. Not me. That wasn’t me, I would never do that.
“Why did you leave me with no word of where you were going?” she demanded, shoving her fears aside with the help of renewed Chimera song drifting in the distance, somewhere outside the cabin. Seemingly all around it. “Why did you take elixir instead of relieving your desires with me before you left—as you should have?”
“I want you.” Darkyn’s husky words touched her as surely as his fingers. “Later for explanations.”
Clearly reading her furious gaze, he added, “Please?”
Chapter 9
Darkyn struggled out of his clothing and held his breath as his hallas approached, virtually shooting fire from her eyes. The elixir he had taken—useless. Already run its course. Rehearsing for the pao be damned. The fate of the known universe be damned. He had to spend some time with Krysta.
If she didn’t try to kill him for leaving her alone at so inopportune a time. He pointedly tossed his garments over his axe, as if to hide it.
Krysta’s unabashed nakedness thrilled him, though he knew it was custom for modern Ardani women to take no shame in an unclothed state, even around strangers. The People had a few more reservations—but at the moment, modern felt finer than fine to Darkyn. Though if Brand and Kadmyr had seemed to enjoy her overmuch, he might have beheaded them.
“I don’t take well to being abandoned at such a sacred time without giving you leave,” Krysta said in a low, sultry voice that doubled the pain in his cock. “Explain yourself, sha.”
This last word she said with a definitive bite.
Darkyn reflexively covered his painful erection with both hands as she approached. Two parts of his nature went to war: dominating Ta and simple man in love.
In love and in heat, he corrected himself. He studied the fiery creature before him, her petal-soft skin alight with silver from her striking cheek-to-toe pa marking. His own pa burned, as did the stone in his chest.
“You were a commander of men and women, my hallas,” he said huskily. “You well know some responsibilities cannot wait, even for natural—and intense—passions. Akad was putting me through my paces, making certain I am fit for duties later this week, when our many interstellar guests arrive.”
Krysta halted an arm’s length from him. She seemed to consider his words, discard them, then consider them again. Two parts of her at war as well? The commander and the woman?
That thought only fueled Darkyn’s passion. If his made-of-fire bride felt division in her nature, surely he could help her meld her energies into one undeniable force.
“Enough of this,” he growled, feeling the ancient madness of the fervor creeping once more through his blood. “You should trust me to see to your best interests. To ours. You should know I would not leave you now, during new-mating, unless I could not avoid it.”
<
br /> “And you trust me for nothing,” Krysta growled back.
Darkyn saw the gleam of fervor in her eyes just before she sprang at him. He caught her, half-surprised, half-enraged at the challenge. Old biology. Feral biology. An Ardani female in full fervor, yes, gods. Nothing sweeter.
The two of them hit the ground hard, taking Darkyn’s breath. Krysta landed on top of him, her hands at his throat.
“You still keep me prisoner here, though I have given myself and my heart fully to you.” She bit his shoulder, his ear. Her pa joined with his, her lips joined with his, her hands moving from his neck up into his hair. Fighting for breath, Darkyn felt fire melt into fire as their bodies became one from head to toe.
“You leave me with guards and attendants like some helpless, flighty female without her own brain, her own will.” She bit him again. “I’ve had enough. I’m your shanna. I’ve accepted you. Now accept me!”
His cock was a misery, needing relief and sanctuary. Without a second thought, he upset Krysta’s balance and flipped her over, bracing his arms beside her head as he tried to settle between her clamped thighs.
“Spread your legs,” he commanded, rubbing his chest against the hard nubs of her nipples. pa crackled between them.
She pushed against his tooth-marked shoulders with her fists. “Make me.”
Darkyn kissed her, consumed her mouth in his as she gripped his shoulders and bit his lip, fueling the fire in chest and cock. Using just his strength and no energy bonds, he grabbed her wrists and forced her arms over her head. In the same movement, he used his knee to push her legs apart.
“Why do you challenge me?” he asked, rubbing his cock on the wet lips of her quim. “Do you enjoy a fight?”
“I’m a warrior,” she answered simply, and bucked against his positioned cock, sucking it in so fast and deep that it was his turn to gasp.
“You’re a woman, here, now, with me.” He pulled back out, grabbing her hip with his free hand to control her.
“I don’t know what I am anymore,” she grumbled. “Don’t leave me again without telling me you’re going. No more confinement. No more secrets.”
Arda: The Captain's Fancy Page 11