FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy

by Mercedes Lackey

  “I see.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “You need to eat.”

  “You need to butt-out. And no, besides its use, I don’t understand that one, either. I know what a butt is, of course, and what ‘out’ is, but I don’t see how a naked butt, or a protruding butt, or a butt hanging out of something, makes sense in language. But yet, it makes the boys close their mouths or go away. Often times both.”

  “Why won’t you eat? Or look at me?” Cayan was getting impatient.

  “Jerrol won’t talk to me, you know. He stares often enough, and nearly vomits lust when he passes, but he won’t say two words. Was that your doing?”

  “No. Not directly.”

  “Undo it.”

  “Why?”

  A hot tear ran down Shanti’s cheek. “Because…I need him.”

  “Him, or a man?”

  “Him.” Another tear followed the first. She felt a deft finger wipe them away.

  “Why him?” the Captain whispered.

  “Because he has the same eyes. Earth brown. Deep, rich, gravitating earth brown. I want to make love to him, Cayan. One last time. I want those eyes looking into me while I hold him in my body.”

  “Jerrol isn’t…your lost love. He doesn’t look at you the same way. The eyes are the same color, that’s all.”

  “Romie.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Romie was his name. He was the sweetest person you could ever meet. He didn’t care about my status. Or my duties. Or my future before we heard of the armies coming. He would have stayed away if I’d asked. He would have loved me from a distance—let me choose one with a similar Gift. We had planned to mate. Before I left my homeland, he was the only one I had ever been with. By choice. It wasn’t really our custom—before mating we all, especially the fighters, experimented. We needed to be sure of what we wanted before we pledged ourselves. But I never wanted anyone but him. He gave me the same courtesy. Not many others, especially men, would do that.”

  Cayan sat quietly, not moving. Listening. Letting her purge.

  “I’ve defied his trust several times along the road,” she continued sadly. “Most times out of loneliness. Sometimes for sport or fun. Sometimes because I hated him for what he did. For telling me he would be safe when really he had put himself up as a Sacrifice, knowing I couldn’t follow. And sometimes…I did it for information. Everything else can be forgiven, even hating him, but I whored myself out for information. I no longer deserve him. I am no longer the woman he loved.”

  “Are you sure of that?”

  “How can I be? I am destined to live. You keep saving me. Tending to me, feeding me, carrying me unconscious to aid. You should scorn me. Outcast me. Send me away for what you witnessed in that dungeon. Yet here you are, trying to get me to eat. Do you hate me, Cayan?”

  “No, mesasha.”

  “Will you tell me what that term means, now?” She’d asked him a few times since she’d heard it first, never hearing it from anyone else, but he had declined to answer. Said if she couldn’t figure it out by stealing his thoughts, then she was half dense. Though his tone was always light and joking, he hadn’t been smiling.

  His eyes delving into hers, he slowly shook his head.

  She sighed. “Well, I don’t want your help, anymore. I will not be returning with you. I will continue on toward the sea. I will probably have to whore myself out to get a boat, but I will. That is what I am, now.”

  “You are being over-dramatic. You are not what you fear—with your Gift you wouldn’t need to use…anything else. Even still, you will make no more of your journey alone.”

  “No? You are, what, going to hire a guide? Or you have realized my value, like that swine Xandre, the Being Supreme, and now you will keep me close so I can be your weapon? Or breed for you instead of him?”

  “I know you need to make that trip. You will not do it alone.”

  Shanti opened her wet eyes and looked at him. He was dirt stained and sweaty. His arms were bared, the great muscle, bronzed, shiny where the sun hit it. His eyes were deep and so, so blue. “What has given you the change of heart?”

  “I have allies, Shanti. Many. Some will not head down the hard road, as I must, but many will. They will follow my lead. They will fight by our side. I need you. I need the people you hope to claim and bring back. I admit that, freely. But you need me. If we stay together we have a chance. If you leave, my people will surely die. The Inkna will probably come for us, first. Their masters are sure to follow if we aren’t destroyed. You need men and my power. I need the same of you. It can only work if we join forces.”

  “I sure hope you aren’t going to talk about fate and divinity and all that crap. I’ve had enough of that with Sterling.”

  “Sterling?”

  “Yes, he’s pledged his sword, whatever that means. And his God, and the fates, and other things I didn’t understand.”

  “It means he has vowed to protect you when you cannot protect yourself.”

  “Oh. A second Chance. Well, my Chances tend to die, so thankfully he is more your man than he’ll ever be mine. But it would’ve been nice if he’d cut to the wick of it, instead of carrying on and on about the-Elders-can-only-be-sure.”

  “Back to the subject at hand. In order to use you, I need you living. You need to eat and let Marc baby you.” Cayan was smiling. He had a lovely smile that always seemed to touch his eyes, making them twinkle like the surface of a rippling lake in the noon sun.

  Shanti couldn’t find the humor, though. “I hurt, Cayan. A part of me died with Romie.”

  “You need to heal. He died for a cause. You were forced to live for one. Don’t fail him or insult his memory with these thoughts. I don’t know much about love, but I think anyone would give you the same advice. If he truly loved you, he would have wanted you to regain your happiness. I’m sure he loved when you smiled.”

  Shanti choked on a sob. Her chest felt like it was filled with rocks. “How did you know?”

  “Because you have a beautiful smile.” Cayan looked deeply into her soul as he sat immobile, his heavy arms resting on his knees. “Rest. Eat. When you’re ready, we’ll spar. You can beat on me to ease your pain.”

  “Let me have Jerrol. Please, Cayan. I’ll be discrete.”

  “No. It’s not in me to allow it, and it would only torture you, anyway. Please do not ask again.”

  He got up and moved away. He checked on a few of the men who were awake, laughing with one who had to get an arrow extracted from his leg. He knelt beside Sanders and put his hand on a bare arm. He moved to the other two and did the same. He probably determined that they were healing. Their brains were mending. The process would be quicker if Shanti were healthy. She hated to admit it, but Cayan had made a lot of sense. She needed to keep going. She had a job to do. If she did not see this thing to the end, her people would have died in vain. She could not let that happen.

  Chapter XLIX

  “ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE UP to it?”

  Cayan was looking at her with a twinkle in his eyes. He wanted to laugh at her but kept himself from indulging.

  They had been stationary for a week, putting together the crippled city of Tonnicka. The Inkna had all been killed and burned in a great pyre, the townspeople celebrating their demise and worshipping Cayan as their savior, but there were still months of destruction that had to be undone. Lucius had reestablished the local government, and they were already reshaping their community. Half of Cayan’s men returned to their homes, taking word of their victory, the bodies of those that did not make it, and the sick that could sit on a horse for the trip back. The rest remained to finish rebuilding the city with their sweat and hard work, or to recover.

  With the trees at Shanti’s back, and nightly visits from Cayan to give her energy through the healing process, plus what she had learned from the little mouse they had captured in Cayan’s city, she was quickly mending. She gave that same benefit to Sanders and the other two that suffered m
entally, and they were awake more often, their bodies filling out after being half starved, and their nightmares becoming less frequent.

  She decided that since Cayan had sent Jerrol back to the city, and no one else had caught her interest, she would take Cayan up on his offer and beat some sense into him. Except for that nightly energy transfer, in which he insisted on holding her hand with fingers entwined, they rarely spoke or were in each other’s company. She was usually hovering on the outskirts of the fires, eyes closed, feeling the night, and he was with his men, talking and laughing and sharing a roasted something or other that the hunters had returned with or the townspeople had brought. He had his place, his world, and she didn’t belong in it. She couldn’t belong in it—she still freaked most of his men out.

  The day of the challenge, the sun was streaming down, losing some of its heat as the season drew to a close and winter loomed. The men were all gathered around, creating a large circle, wanting to watch the woman fight without any other distractions. Legend had it she was pretty good. Marc and Leilius swore up and down that she was better than Lucius or Sterling, but it was said Marc and Leilius had a crush on the exotic woman and couldn’t be trusted.

  Those that bet for her had seen a snippet of her in battle, though they hadn’t gotten long to gawk. Those that bet against had a bias, largely based off fear. They had heard what she had done with her mind, not believed the Captain was capable of it, and didn’t trust what they didn’t understand. They knew she was necessary, but didn’t want to get close to something so unpredictable as a woman who killed men with her mind, and worst of all, cried. Right in the middle of them sometimes!

  Those were the men who learned that fear and arousal could sometimes go hand-in-hand.

  Shanti was swinging her arm, warming up her weakened shoulder. It had been a shallow stab wound that was currently a scar, and would soon be smooth skin. The Gift wasn’t just for violence, especially when Cayan worked his version of healing. “Marc says no, I’m not ready, but you know him.”

  “Doesn’t have a clue how to doctor,” Cayan said with a laugh, winking at an outraged Cadet.

  “Weapons?” Shanti asked, motioning toward wooden practice swords.

  “Nah. Mental?”

  She stopped swinging her arm. “You want to go up against my Gift?”

  He smiled so big it took up his whole face. His dimples were deeper than she had ever seen them. Too bad she was about to bloody that handsome face.

  “I have a good block,” he said, pacing across the clearing like a jungle cat.

  “I have a great attack.”

  “Well, then…”

  “Tobias, does that change the odds?” Shanti called.

  “Yes, s’am. You are the underdog right now, but using the ol’ noggin will definitely change things.”

  “Did you bet for me or against?”

  “I appreciate you saving my life ’n all, but he’s bigger, stronger, and faster. I’m against. Although, now I’m not sure. Even match with the noggin, maybe.”

  “Noggin is head, then?” Shanti asked a still smiling Cayan.

  He nodded and feinted at her. She didn’t bother to react. Instead, she opened and released her power, flexed, spread it out, then condensed it down. She took hold of his mind and found his block.

  “Ready, then?” she asked.

  He must have known what she found because he smiled bigger. “I’ve learned a thing or two.”

  “I don’t care, I’m getting bored. Let’s do this.”

  She barely had time to react, he came at her so fast. Giant spans of arms and legs speeding toward her body with incredible strength behind them. She didn’t want to take a solid hit from him and she couldn’t block without risking damage. For him it meant deflecting and returning the attack when he compensated.

  His arm arched toward her face. She stepped into him instead of ducking away, caught his thick arm with her raised elbow to stop it and then hammered her fists into the valleys of his muscle. His breath went out in a whoosh but he was moving again, grabbing for her body to fling her over his shoulder in a throw. She swiveled and kicked up, connecting with the side of his face. He took the blow and turned, leg out, sweeping her leg out from under her. She turned it into a roll, dodged a kick, and came up on the other side of him.

  That was when he started the mental warfare. He advanced on her, a solid Push from his mind jarring her bones and sparking her power. Power turned to heat within her body. She almost stopped where she was, but if she did she would have been flat on her back from his fist in the next second. Instead, she backed up and half ran to the edge of the clearing, her back to Tobias.

  “Running away?” Cayan asked with hungry eyes. Power made his irises glow. The answering power within her nearly roared in response.

  “Are you sure you want to play with this much power?” she asked, trying to hide her shaky voice. “Can you control it?”

  “Can you?”

  “Yes?”

  He laughed. “Bring it on little girl. I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Yeah, but I am a little afraid of me,” she muttered, gingerly walking back toward him.

  She faced him like she would’ve faced any of her opponents so long ago when she was on the sparring pad. She took in a deep breath and drew in her power, wearing it about her person like a cloak. His eyes glowed in response, feeling it calling him, reaching out to her in return. She wanted to join it and play. It felt exciting. Invigorating. Extremely dangerous. Just like him.

  “You better have your shield on as tight as you can make it, or else this might hurt a little.” She grinned wickedly.

  She attacked, her power unleashing like a splinter, hurled into the center of his forehead as she advanced with hands moving constantly. Kick, punch, wipe away his answering punch, poke to the neck, elbow to the face, then back out, rolling under a kick and turning back with a slap of power. He couldn’t keep up physically, not with her mental bombardment. He was taking punch after kick, staggering, grunting, and straightening for more.

  She couldn’t get through his muscle, couldn’t do any real damage. He was fast enough to move that little bit to where she was less effective and block her mental prowess. After about ten minutes he stopped with a hand up. She backed off.

  He was breathing heavy and his eyes were contemplative. “You win round one.”

  “That’s it?” she asked, working her shoulder. “We can use weapons if you want. No more mental stuff.”

  “No, I’m not done. I need to regroup. You’ve done this before. I haven’t.”

  “You’re bigger and stronger. Tobias says that gives you an edge.”

  “Tobias doesn’t know how lethal a woman’s mind can be when she’s pissed off.”

  “Yes I do,” Tobias called from amid the crowd. “But Captain, you are now the underdog. You aren’t making us men folk look all that great right now.”

  Cayan nodded. “Again.”

  Shanti went at him again, whirling, attacking his mind and body. When she got within his reach she bombarded him with punches, hitting the same places as before, trying to work the bruises through the layers of muscle. As she worked, evading his grabs and answering attacks, a feeling started working up from her inner thighs. It wasn’t unpleasant—in fact…it was only pleasant.

  Finishing her punches and ducking out, it felt like a giant, wet, slightly coarse tongue licked between her legs. When it got to the top of her slit it went in lazy circles, and tingles spiraled up her body. Shanti froze, unable to tear her mind away from the sensation. An instant later she was airborne, landing ten feet away flat on her back. Where she stayed for a second, shivering.

  “Remind me to apologize to Sanders. Then say you’re welcome,” she said to the air. Cayan started laughing.

  “What happened?” Tobias called out.

  “The Captain seems to know his way around the female anatomy, and is coloring outside the lines,” Shanti explained, getting up slowly.

 
“I win round two,” Cayan said with a delighted smile.

  “You were paying attention that day…” Shanti said, circling him.

  “Not really. But I’m a man. I have an active imagination. It seems visualization is the key.”

  “Atta boy, Captain. Way to pull ahead by thinking with your dick,” Tobias called, taking another bet.

  “Language,” Cayan said firmly.

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “Way to give her a taste of her own medicine!” Sanders yelled from off field somewhere.

  Shanti continued to circle, a firm hand on his mind. She kneaded his head, pushing at his block, poking it, trying to move it to the side, feathering it. Then, with one swift spike of power, she struck at it, focusing all on one tiny point as she moved in, hands and feet moving. The power speared him, his shield unable to handle such a concentrated attack as her kick landed on his solar plexus.

  He wasn’t used to two tiers of fighting, not yet, so he wasn’t organized enough to choose which to block. He took the hit in both places, staggering back, bent, unable to counter. Shanti merely watched, not pursuing, as he dropped down to one knee.

  “Ouch,” he said, running a hand over his head.

  She reached out immediately, brushing away the hurt with a soft caress, lessoning the residual pain. He looked up with that blue gaze and lingered in her eyes. In her mind.

  “Want to just stick to physical sparring for a while?” she asked by way of apology.

  “Can you hit harder than that? Can you make it more potent?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do it.”

  “No.”

  He climbed to his feet. “I want to see it happen. I want to know what it feels like.”

  “I know you can hit really hard. I don’t ask you to prove it.”

  “That’s because you already know how to hit.”

  Shanti put her fists on her hips. “You know how to do what I just did; all you have to do is apply more power. And then it hurts more.”

  “An ape knows that much.” It sounded like Sanders.

  Cayan ignored him. “Show me.”