Arda: The Captain's Fancy

by Annie Windsor

  Darkyn stood as any man munas, made of stone as the fellow placed the tips of his fingers against Darkyn’s temple. A pressure filled Darkyn’s mind—and then he knew everything. All of the answers.

  He saw in that brief moment how Krysta had channeled the pa of the pyramid and its bubble, driving away the fire that threatened to burn them to death. Forcing Barung back into the dead space of Perth, burying him deeper and deeper until the pressure crushed the last of his life force into stellar dust.

  Ord’pa, she had been thinking.

  Ord’pa, indeed. The executioner. Thank the gods.

  Instinctively, then, she had sealed them all in their own envelopes of pa without even realizing her actions. The six drifted there, anchored around Darkyn, their most sorely wounded, until the ships of Kaerad and Perth and Arda came to get them.

  By agreement of the pao, the Kaeradi took custody of the six and brought them to their home planet, where the healing sciences were most advanced. They were permitted the highest honor, that of a healing trance on an altar of their goddess, safely ensconced on the grounds of Kaerad’s Council of Wisdom.

  This mound was, possibly, the first place in the universe that had known man’s presence. As such, the Kaeradi believed its healing force to be without limit.

  More relief filled Darkyn. The other four members of his family were also alive, also well. He had been the longest in trance because of his burns, waking now, four long stellar weeks after the defeat of the Barung.

  Much more information packed itself in Darkyn’s mind. He knew the citizens of Arda and Uhr were eagerly awaiting the return of their heroes, and that Kadmyr, of all people, was serving as regent of both Arda and its rebel moon—even acting as Katryn Ilya’s guardian until her parents were restored.

  No wonder they are eager to have us back, Darkyn thought, remembering Brand’s sacrifice with a pang of pride and sorrow. He would have been glad to know the restoration of honor and faith in his family name was so complete.

  He saw also that the members of the pao who were typically at odds with one another had departed Ardani space without incident. He even saw that the Bandu consented to take a delegation of deliriously happy Nostans back to Bandu-Mother to reward them for their assistance in getting Brand’s ship airborne against the Barung’s wicked shield.

  “The universe may never be the same,” Darkyn muttered, relieved to find his words again.

  There were no pictures of Akad’s fate, however, which filled Darkyn with dread—an emotion that made him weak enough to stagger.

  The Kaeradi priest took his hand from Darkyn’s shoulder. “The fate of your brother is complex, I’m afraid. His ship was flung into a ripple in time-space, and it exploded. Yet, those of us monitoring, those of us who withstood that burst of energy, had no sense of his life essence being lost. Once we returned to Kaerad, we set about studying—ah, yes. I forget the young have no use for tales.”

  Darkyn swallowed, feeling guilt at his impatience. Being so completely open to this priest was unnerving.

  “We have determined that your brother is on Earth—no, no excitement, please. He came to rest on Earth in the Earth standard year 2800, more or less.”

  “More or less?” Darkyn sat right down on the ground. “You’re telling me my brother is lost, what, some six stellar centuries in the future?”

  The young-old man folded his hands, smiled down at Darkyn, and nodded. “Your falcon, too. Guardian, I believe her name is. They are both alive.”

  “Both alive,” Darkyn said numbly, then felt the import and amazement. “Both alive!”

  “One day, with luck and patience, we may be able to assist the two of you in communicating—much as Akad accomplished when he transferred Guardian’s black feather into Krysta’s care.”

  “Akad is alive—and he isn’t alone.” Darkyn felt his strength returning. “Guardian is good company, when she chooses to be.”

  His a’mun twin, the brother of his blood, heart, and soul, yet breathed, yet lived. One day, gods and goddesses willing, Darkyn might see his twin again. That hope seemed more than sufficient, for the time being.

  Darkyn got to his feet slowly, feeling the weakness in his limbs.

  “A few days of Kaeradi food, some exercise, time with your family, and you will be like new again.” The priest smiled. “You have some scars on your back and shoulders, but even those may heal. Barung’s flames were not natural, the pa now infused in your flesh seems to be fighting against their damage. Come. I will take you to your woman. Your…shanna.”

  With surprising speed, the ageless man turned and headed into the red-barked trees. Darkyn followed after him, watching golden, glittering leaves swirl at his passage.

  Pa infused in my flesh. In my very stone of power. Well. I suppose Arda and Uhr will get back six silver beings instead of the normal-toned creatures they sent forth. He let out a breath. That, of all things, seems a small price.

  The path toward the House of Wisdom wound through endless trees, and a forest of enough beauty to rival those on his home world. He noted that there was a symmetry and perfection to most of what he saw, as if the plants and trees had been sewn on purpose—but instinctively, he knew they were not. This was simply a balanced world, a seat of great knowledge and healing. A place of wonder.

  So why did he have a sense of unease, as if something were slightly off-kilter?

  He found himself breathing harder than he should have as the young-old man at last led him out of the woods, toward a wooden structure of impressive proportion. Built in the shape of a five-pointed star, the House of Wisdom’s points almost touched an outer ring of red and yellow flowering trees.

  Darkyn’s keen vision picked up activity in the windows of the center section, and near the large main door. His senses told him that his shanna waited there, and soon he would hold her softness against him and smell her soft, spicy scent. Bayflowers. The outdoors. Life itself.

  “Krysta,” he said to himself. “Hallas.”

  He didn’t have to wait until he entered the structure. From the door came a shout of joy, and she was running toward him.

  Even to his sensitive eyes, the changes in her were subtle. Where once pa had flowed and shimmered in great fluid patches, it now seemed quiescent, more under control—with no spaces between the patches.

  Otherwise, Krysta was Krysta, but for a yellow robe with blue trim where her jumpsuit should have been.

  Darkyn quickened his pace to meet her despite the persistent weakness in his limbs.

  “Shanna!”

  She fell into his arms, and when their flesh met, Darkyn felt an instant bolstering of his physical strength. Silvery energy flowed back and forth between them as their lips met.

  Darkyn was aware of the oddity, but he didn’t care. His attention was all for his beautiful mate, his precious hallas. He kissed her until he couldn’t breathe, then kissed her again, wishing he could unzip his flesh and fold her inside him, never to be released.

  “I was so afraid for you,” he murmured into her ear, kissing the soft flesh, feeling the hum of her pa against his mouth. It didn’t burn or sting.

  “You’re the one who slept for nearly a stellar month.” Her laughter felt like salve on his scarred back, loosening his mind and emotions.

  When he pulled back to look at her, he felt blessed.

  “Ah.” The young-old man swept past them, heading into the House of Wisdom. “You are rejoined. The healing is complete. Good. Good! Dinner is in three stellar hours in the main hall. Don’t be late!”

  Krysta held her sha, knowing beyond all knowledge that he meant more to her than anything ever had or ever would. Here, in his embrace, she was home. She would be home wherever she went with him, so long as he stood beside her.

  My turn. Yes. He is my turn. I couldn’t have asked for better.

  “I love you,” she told him without reservation. Her hands caressed his almost-hairless head, then found the scars on his back and caressed them. The marks of hi
s bravery, his valor. The Kaeradi elders said the rope-like burns might be healed by the unusual concentrations of pa they all now bore—and if Darkyn preferred that, so be it.

  For her part, Krysta didn’t mind if the scars stayed. Another part of her lover’s body to memorize with her lips and fingers. She rather liked him without hair, too, though she would love the unusual streaked mane when it grew back. The sensation of the bristles on her fingers made her wonder how they might feel on her belly, on her thighs.

  In fact, the feel of his erection against her belly made her want to begin memorizing every new, sexy imperfection, here, on the steps of the Kaeradi motherhouse, but her more recent training gave her restraint.

  “Come inside with me,” she urged. “The others want to see you. Me, I’d like to get that over with so I can show you our rooms and have you to myself.”

  Darkyn’s yellow eyes, almost the same shade of golden as the leaves on Kaerad’s trees, captured hers. “Yes,” he said simply.

  The single syllable made Krysta’s whole being hum with desire.

  She kissed his cheek, feeling the delicious warmth of flesh and pa, then led him through the door of the House of Wisdom.

  The greeting room, or main reception area for visitors, was as broad as it was long—and that was long. Easily four times the size of any room in Camford, save perhaps the Great Hall where banquets were held.

  Ki, Fari, Elise, and Georgia were seated at the hearth of a quietly burning and smokeless fire when Krysta entered, but they stood immediately upon sight of Darkyn.

  All the Kaeradi in the area moved away to tend their own tasks.

  Krysta felt Darkyn stop behind her just as they reached the fireplace. Before even greeting his family, he said, “Now I know what’s wrong. Do they have no women here? I saw none in their pao delegation on Uhr. I see none here, and I feel so little…how do I say it…well, feminine energy in the life force of this planet.”

  “It’s a problem,” Elise agreed. “But we’re going to try to help them with it.”

  She came forward, wrapped her arms around Darkyn’s neck, and kissed him on the mouth. When she finished, Georgia did the same. Both times, the soft hiss and crackle of mingling pa could be heard.

  Krysta saw the look of nervous doubt in her sha’s eyes as he glanced from the women to Ki and Fari.

  The Sailmaster and Sailkeeper of Arda stepped forward, knelt, and placed their right fist over their heart.

  Darkyn’s eyebrows lifted from the shock of seeing the ancient Ardani gesture of total respect and fealty, typically observed only by Tonna Kon’pa, given to him by these men—of all people.

  “Rise.” He spoke the automatic word with a question in his voice.

  Ki and Fari stood. Ki looked at Elise, then at Darkyn. “You almost gave your life to protect my shanna from a terrible death. For that, I can never repay you.”

  “Nor I,” said Fari. “All we can do is give you our trust and respect, and our welcome into our family.”

  “And our word that Arda and Uhr will come to some accord that suits us all.”

  Krysta felt a lightness in her heart. This was as it should be, as she had so wanted it to be.

  “Accepted,” Darkyn said in his quiet fashion. “On all counts, and returned.”

  He slipped an arm around Krysta’s waist. She pulled closer to him, loving the feel of his male body next to hers.

  “The Kaeradi healers want to keep us another week,” Ki said, seating himself on the hearth once more. “Though they will want the women to come back for different training sessions.”

  Darkyn glanced sidelong at Krysta, who snuggled closer to him. “I’ll explain later,” she assured him.

  There would be time enough to discuss the fact that Akad’s role would be filled—until his return—by not one High Priest, but three. High Priestesses, actually. That she and her sisters-by-marriage would be trained in the disciplines of old Arda, Kaerad, and Perth, in hopes of beginning a new and more holistic, unified tradition. And in hopes of keeping close to the basic rhythm of the universe, and preventing the dangerous isolation and arrogance that nearly destroyed Arda during the Barung crisis.

  She’d also explain later about how their daughters (many, according to the far-seers of Kaerad) would spend at least one stellar year on Kaerad once they reached adulthood, to see if they might find a mate amongst the Kaeradi, who were indeed desperate for females. The breeding program established by the ancients to mingle the blood of the three worlds had upset Kaerad’s delicate natural balance. Female births were at alarmingly low rates.

  Sharing potentials in such a way seemed the least they could do, in honor of their rescue and healing after battling Barung.

  Sharing potentials. Gods, Akad. If you could hear the way my mind talks now. The ways I sound like you.

  The pa-feather, which had turned black against the silvery skin on her chest, tingled. Krysta caressed it.

  Perhaps you can hear. With life, with pa, with love, there is nothing outside the range of possibility. I’ll remember until you come home to tell me again.

  Elise placed a hand on her belly as she spoke to Darkyn, telling him she was pregnant with a child conceived on the soil of Kaerad.

  “They think I’m their Ban’ania, the mother of their future. That my son’s, son’s, son—and so on—somewhere down the line may save their planet. Hence my ever-present friends.”

  She gestured to the red-robed Legio across the room, seven of them, sitting utterly still in a straight line with their eyes trained on her. Krysta saw Darkyn’s brows lift again, and knew that like her, he hadn’t noticed them until Elise pointed them out. The wolfish guards were eerie that way.

  Darkyn nodded, and Krysta felt his weariness—and his desire.

  So did the other four. They smiled in that carefree way they had learned from the aged, experienced priests in the House of Wisdom.

  “Where there are no secrets, there are few if any sorrows.” Georgia intoned, then laughed at Darkyn’s perplexed look.

  Krysta took her mate by the elbow and led him out of the main room, promising to fill him in on everything. “Later. Later. When it makes a difference. For tonight, it doesn’t.”

  “You sound like my brother,” he noted as she led him into their spacious bedroom, to the edge of their large, waiting four-poster bed.

  “Mmm,” was Krysta’s only answer as she gripped her wrap-around robe at the neck and removed it with one easy motion. Kaeradi had perfected the art of clothing—comfortable, durable, quickly dispensed.

  Darkyn glanced at the yellow and sapphire fabric, now a puddle on the floor.

  When he turned his attention back to Krysta, the weariness in his eyes had departed. She saw only hunger and want and loving affection.

  He reached to the laces of his own breeches, loosened them quickly, and pushed them down past his swollen staff. She never even saw him step out of them, so quickly did he have her on her back, legs parted, pressing his hard cock into her quim as he bent forward to kiss her lips, then her ears and neck.

  Krysta felt her pa flow and mingle with his as he circled his tongue around one nipple. Slowly, and with no sense of urgency, he pinched the other.

  She groaned.

  His hands felt like paradise, joining her skin and retreating, exciting her beyond measure. He brushed kisses over the feather-mark between her breasts, and each of these seemed to tingle against her clit.

  Moving at the speed of the patient man he was, Darkyn ran his tongue down her belly, stirring the rivers of silver to new heat. Krysta thought she might combust, wondered if her pa could truly catch fire. His tongue plunged ever deeper, pushing the issue, tempting the pa to expand and swallow them both.

  Krysta’s heart hammered. Her throat felt tight and dry as all the moisture in her body headed down, down to where Darkyn teased the lips of her quim with his mouth. He kissed the apex, paused, suckled her clit until she felt an orgasm rushing toward her with the speed of a pa vessel, then
paused again.

  Before she could speak, he briefly kissed her clit again, giving her body-shudders.

  Then he stopped completely, pulled back, and studied her with his intense yellow gaze. “Tell me, hallas, have we any reason to be at our strongest?”

  “What?” The oddity of the question barely penetrated the sexual haze hanging over her thoughts.

  It took her a moment to process. To understand.

  To her awareness came the image of Fari and Georgia, making love as usual. They were out behind the House of Wisdom, just inside the nearest grove of trees. Elise and Ki had been making love all day. They remained in a satisfied knot, intertwined near the fireplace, discussing names for their unborn son.

  “No,” Krysta said emphatically, moving her hips to position his cock for entry. “We do not have to be strong. Absolutely not. Frustration can wait for another day.”

  Maddeningly, Darkyn didn’t move, except to flick the hard ends of both nipples with his thumbs and forefingers. Exquisite shocks traveled the length of Krysta’s body, making her quim ache so badly she thought about screaming.

  “Perhaps we should…practice,” he suggested. “After all, frustration, like any discipline, is an art.”

  Krysta lifted her head and let it drop on the bed. “Bastard. If you make me wait, I’ll strangle you. I’ve waited long enough.”

  “An art form you have yet to master, I see.” Darkyn gave her the first real grin she had seen since his waking. He allowed the tip of his cock to graze her agonized clit, making her jump. When she tried to move, he pinned her shoulders.

  Still grinning. His yellow eyes filled with teasing and passion.

  “Bastard. Bastard. Bastard!” She tried to grab his hair, but he still didn’t have any. Stupid fire! “You heard the elder who roused you from trance. Dinner is in a few stellar hours, and we shouldn’t be late.”

  “A few stellar hours. I see.” Darkyn slipped his cock inside her quim, right where she wanted it, deeper, deeper—and then pulled it out. “I might let you come by then.”

  Krysta screamed at the top of her lungs, and in the light rapport she now kept constantly with her brothers and sisters-by-marriage, she heard the rich—though not at all satisfying—sound of laughter.