A Warrior's Heart

by DL O'Neal

  Chapter 15

  "Make the most of it, bondwife, this is the last hold of civilization," Drakthe advised as they rode in to the frontier township of Akuchi. His taiger danced sideways, picking up on his tension. He surveyed the town without being too obvious about it. If they didn't need supplies so desperately, he would have bypassed this township without ever stopping.

  "I was unaware the North Continent had townships."

  Drakthe saw the surge of anticipation hit Cheyna, saw the eagerness in his bondwife's eyes and knew she was counting on a freshening. Well, she was going to be sadly disappointed if she expected anything like the hot pools at Shhiv. She'd be lucky if he could wrangle a tub and clean water.

  "If you want to call it a township. Akuchi isn't like Class, or even Shhiv," he warned. "I doubt you could even call it civilized. Forget any romantic notions of frontier life, House-daughter, Akuchi is just a blip on the north end of the isthmus connecting the two continents. A jumping off point, if you will. People don't live here because they want to, they live here because they have to." He shifted in the saddle as he caught sight of a small, dirty man blatantly keeping pace with them.

  Akuchi was the last place in the world he wanted to bring Cheyna. A rough, rowdy and dirty frontier township, pverns outnumbered all other business combined by three to one. A fact that had never before bothered him.

  Cheyna urged her mount to quicken its pace.

  "Hold it, House-daughter." A hard hand on her arm reinforced the command. "We need to get a few things straight."

  "Yes." She tilted her head to one side, her eyes wide and innocent.

  "You are to invite no one to join us for a meal," he instructed, that last fiasco with Lcrier clear in his mind.

  She grimaced.

  "Two, you go nowhere without my permission."

  "But, my lord--"

  Drakthe raised his voice over her objections and repeated, "Nowhere. Do you understand me?"

  "What if someone requires my healing talent?"

  "I'll decide that. Akuchi is dangerous. Men here kill for a single drekel." He noted the stubborn thrust of her chin despite her respectfully lowered head. "Your word, House-daughter, or we go no further." Drakthe glared when she took time to consider.

  Eventually, she nodded. "You have my word I will inform you if someone needs my assistance."

  Confident she wouldn't try anything foolish, he released her arm.

  The sun was just beginning to set, but the township wasn't ready to settle in for the night. People were scurrying everywhere, crossing the dirt streets in mad dashes bringing curses and harshly pulled reins that caused animals to rear.

  His bondwife's nose wrinkled in a moue of distaste. Well, he'd warned her. This wasn't his first visit to the frontier township by any means, but even he found the odor of so many unwashed bodies and refuse dumped into the streets overpowering.

  Drakthe escorted Cheyna up ramshackle stairs to their room. He double checked the lock and tested the sturdiness of the door. Satisfied that the room offered as much protection as he could expect to find here, he ordered, "You wait in the room. I'm going to see about supplies." And see if he could learn if they were followed, he added silently. He turned to leave.

  "My lord?" Cheyna called before he could close the door. "Would if be possible to arrange a freshening for me?"

  Drakthe let a slow, wicked grin spread over his face. "Make a deal with you, bondwife. I'll arrange for a freshening if you'll teach me the next level of Sai and Kai." Laughing at her furious blush, he shut the door behind him and went whistling down the stairs.

  It took him longer than he expected to buy all the supplies they needed and arrange for Cheyna's bath. He'd also made a few discreet inquiries about Sirri, the missing NaturPath. Although a long shot that Sirri had ventured, or been taken, this far, he couldn't shake the strong hunch the missing woman was important somehow. He just couldn't quite figure out how yet.

  Skirting a pile rotting garbage in the street, Drakthe checked his mental list. Only a few more stops. Maybe, when he was done, he'd join his bondwife in the tub and teach her a new level of Sai and Kai. A growl of amusement escaped as he imagined her reaction, and he hurried his pace.

  All traces of humor vanished when a small man motioned him down an alley stinking of refuse and waste. It was the same man he'd noted tracking them earlier. Senses alert for treachery, Drakthe followed.

  The little man cast a furtive look about. "You the man asking about the NaturPath?"

  "Why? Do you know something?" It struck Drakthe as too convenient that his inquiry had netted results so quickly. He moved so that his back was toward the wall. Slime slid down the rough bricks in slow trickles that oozed into small stagnant puddles. Drakthe stepped in one. He hoped water was all it was, but wasn't overly optimistic. His attention, though, never wavered from the small man. Drakthe didn't trust him one bit. He looked like he'd sell Consonance, itself, for a few drekels.

  The man's eyes narrowed to crafty slits. "Could be. Could be. If'n I do, how much are you willing to pay?" he asked in a voice hoarse from too much cheap ale.

  "Depends on what you're selling?" Drakthe bared his teeth in a travesty of a smile. He withdrew a small sack from the folds of his mantle. "I can be a generous man." He shrugged. A small whirlwind dashed down the alleyway, causing his mantle to swirl about his calves. "On the other hand, if I feel cheated, I'm an even more implacable enemy."

  The man smirked. "Two hundred drekels."

  Drakthe lifted one brow. "Quite a sum. How do I know you're worth it? You haven't given me anything yet except useless air."

  "Oh, ol' Jmal is worth that, and more." He nodded. "Much more."

  Drakthe grew impatient with the bantering. If he didn't hurry, Cheyna would be finished with her freshening. "Then tell me. If the information is worth it, I'll pay you."

  Jmal, sensing he was losing his customer, hurried to speak. "The NaturPath from Shhiv, she isn't the first t' disappear." The little man smiled smugly at Drakthe's suddenly intent expression.

  "How many others?"

  "Five, maybe six, that I know of. Every couple of months, a group of men will come traipsing through here with a NaturPath. The men return. The NaturPaths never do." He held out his hand. It shook. The money would be gone before morn, spent on ale and, maybe, a woman.

  "Who are the men? Do you recognize them?" Drakthe tossed the heavy sack from one hand to the other.

  The man's greedy gaze followed the path of the purse. He licked his lips. "Don't know. Wouldn't tell if'n I did. They'd soon as cut your throat as look at you."

  Drakthe tossed the sack. The little man caught it in midair. Drakthe turned to leave.

  "How much you pay to learn about the NaturPath who ain't no NaturPath?" the small man called after Drakthe's retreating figure.

  Drakthe went absolutely still. Even his heart seemed to stop. Slowly, he pivoted on one heel and retraced his path, each step slow and deliberate.

  Jmal swallowed, looking suddenly sorry he'd said anything at all.

  "What are you talking about?" Drakthe asked in a whisper almost too low to hear.

  Jmal's shoulders straightened, reassured by the trader's soft tones. To his misfortune, he didn't know Drakthe. If he had, he'd known the more furious, the more dangerous Drakthe became, the lower his voice. It was a mistake Jmal soon regretted.

  "Nothing." He grinned, a cocky twist to his lips. "Nothing at all for this two hundred drekels."

  Quicker than the eye could follow, Drakthe pinned Jmal against the slimy wall, his krees to the other man's throat.

  To the small man's horror, the krees glowed a faint, fiery gold. Sweat poured into his eyes as, terror stricken, he realized he'd been dealing with the Fire Krees himself.

  "Tell me."

  The little man's Adam's apple bobbed as he tried to moisten his dry mouth so he could speak. "I saw them ride by more than an hour ago. They had a woman with them. Rumor has it that she's an unapprenticed Natur
Path."

  "Was she alive?" Drakthe prayed as never before in his life. Jkael, Cheyna had to be alive. He refused to consider any other possibility. He would know if his bondwife was dead, he told himself.

  Wouldn't he?

  "I think so." Jmal's eyes stretched impossibly wide when the blade inched closer to vulnerable flesh.

  "What do you mean, 'you think so'?" Drakthe prodded softly.

  "S--she appeared unconscious, but alive." Jmal began promising every god he knew of that he would change his ways if only the Fire Krees allowed him to live.

  "How many carried her away?"

  "Six, my l--lord. Dressed all in black."

  Drakthe lowered the little man until his toes touched the ground. "I have one suggestion for you," he grated in a soft growl.

  "Yes, m--my lord?"

  "Hide." Drakthe flung the offal away.

  Jkael take it. Where was that benighted mindtouch his bondwife insisted existed?

  * * *

  "The Merchant Master will kill you." Cheyna winced as pain lanced through her head. Her mouth tasted as if a taiger had had the bad manners to die in it. She had not felt this miserable the morning after visiting the pverns.

  The man, dressed head to toe in black, spared her a single glance. "He will try."

  Cheyna regretted she had not the warrior's mind-set. The moment the thought entered her mind, she was appalled. Her bondhusband's influence was definitely detrimental to her foster parents' teachings.

  "You sound like you want my bondhusband to appear?"

  The guard ran a derisive glance over her bound figure. "Why else would we bother with you?"

  Arrested by the statement, she stopped tugging at the leather binding her wrists behind her back. "You wish to capture Drakthe?"

  "No, my lady," he spat the address with exaggerated respect. "We do not wish to capture the Fire Krees. We intend to kill him."

  Cheyna's nails dug into the soft skin of her palms. "My lord will not be so easy to kill." Inwardly, she began the calming ritual of Sai and Kai. She needed her mind utterly collected before attempting to touch Drakthe's. She had to warn him. "He will not just walk into a trap."

  "He'll have no choice," the man scoffed. "Not if he wants to see you alive. The Fire Krees will do whatever is necessary to free you."

  Immediately, she realized the truth of his words. Her lord would not allow harm to befall her, not even at the cost of his own life. Her heart sank. She dared not contact Drakthe and warn him. He would follow the mindlink despite the danger to himself and find her.

  When he did, he would die.

  "Why did you not attack us on the trail?"

  "The Fire Krees is too wary to surprise on the trail. We had to wait until his guard was down." The man sounded disgruntled.

  "Precisely the reason my lord will not come. He is too smart to walk into a trap."

  "He will come. He wanted you enough to steal you. He will come."

  Cheyna had the awful fear the man was right. That, somehow, Drakthe would find her despite her refusal to link. Since he was going to come whether she contacted him or not, maybe she should link. But, no, if she did, his fury might override his common sense. The mindtouch had a very powerful effect on Drakthe. Cheyna quickly sorted out her options and came up with one conclusion.

  She must be prepared when Drakthe came

  It was the sixth day since they had kidnaped Cheyna. The second since he had found her.

  Flat on the ground, sparse vegetation his only protection from detection, Drakthe willed himself to patience. Never had it been so hard. He'd spent the past two days scouting the area and learning the routine of the men holding his bondwife. Though his stomach ached with the need to rush in and rescue her, Drakthe knew they anticipated such a move.

  They were holding her in a building carved deep in the side of a mountain. Only once had he risked getting close enough to see inside. The front of the building consisted of two large rooms, one of which seemed to be some kind of laboratory. From the way guards were placed at a door adjoining the two rooms, Drakthe guessed that's where they kept Cheyna. If there was another entrance into the building, he hadn't found it. A fact that infinitely complicated her release. He was left with only one choice: to go in the front.

  He had yet to see his bondwife. Drakthe grimaced, acid burning a hole in his stomach. He'd gotten so desperate he'd tried initiating a mental link with his bondwife. Either she was still unconscious or she was deliberately blocking him. Drakthe shifted, easing deeper into the slight depression cradling his exhausted body. His arm, the one the firecat had mauled, twinged. His back and calf decided to chime in. He willed himself to ignore the aches. Cheyna's safety depended on his skill as a warrior. He had no time to worry about wounds, except to the extent they affected his ability to function. Anyway, thanks to Cheyna's talent, the nearly healed scars only pained him now and then.

  Patience, he reminded himself, rubbing his forearm, patience. To hurry now would get them both killed.

  Within minutes he was rewarded. The two guards below were relieved.

  He began to move.

  Drakthe was near. She had felt the tendrils of his thoughts, at first tentative and unsure, later powerful with fury and frustration, touch her mind.

  Cheyna drew a deep breath and set about convincing her captor that Drakthe would not attempt a rescue. "I told you the Merchant Master would not come."

  "He'll come. My master has studied him well."

  "Your master has not studied well enough, it seems," she retorted. "Six days and not one glimpse of the Merchant Master. He is not a fool. You would have done better to attack him on the trail."

  "He is too well prepared on the trail."

  "He is not now?" she scoffed. "No, the Fire Krees will not come after me on these terms."

  "He must. My master says the Fire Krees keeps what is his. We took you. He will come," the guard repeated, but Cheyna saw the growing fear in his eyes.

  "No," she argued. "The Fire Krees no longer needs me. The trade route is secured. He will not walk into a trap." The man shook his head vigorously in denial. She decided to try another tack.

  "You say you did not attack the Fire Krees on the trail because he is too wary. If your master is correct and my lord intends to rescue me, have you not given him time to devise a plan?"

  "He can plan all he wants. We are too well guarded for one man to surprise us. No, the Fire Krees must come to us on our terms." The guard's expression turned ugly. "Once the Fire Krees is no longer of any use, I will ask my master for you." A sneer twisted the man's face. "You might keep me entertained. I hear the Fire Krees has several," he paused lewdly, "unusual tricks."

  Cheyna stared at the man blankly, then his meaning sank in. A hot wash of fury scalded her cheeks. "How dare you impugn the honor of--My lord!"

  A forearm hard with muscle and fury slid about the kidnapper's throat, and Drakthe whispered in his ear, "Would you care to see some of my tricks firsthand?" The tip of Drakthe's krees touched the vein pulsing madly in the guard's throat. "I regret to say they are not quite of the nature you were hoping for, but interesting nonetheless."

  "Are you all right, bondwife?" he asked without taking his attention away from the guard.

  Cheyna shivered at the low, soft tone. "I am fine, my lord." Relief at her rescue turned to worry. "You should not be here. It is a trap."

  Drakthe tightened his arm. The man clawed at the granite hard muscles, his face turning a distressing shade of red. "For whom do you work?" The man shook his head stubbornly. Drakthe cut off his supply of air completely. He eased the pressure a fraction when the man quit struggling and hung limp in his hold.

  "For whom do you work?" he asked again.

  Gasping, the guard had to try several times before his voice would work. "My master will win. He always does. You stole what was his. When it is his again, he will kill you, Fire Krees," he snarled.

  Drakthe pressed hard against the kidnapper's windpipe. "
If he succeeds, you won't be around to see it." The man sagged. Drakthe let him drop to the floor. He raised his hand with the krees.

  "Drakthe, no!" Cheyna exclaimed, horrified. "You cannot kill him."

  "Cheyna, we can't let him warn the others," Drakthe said, his patience badly strained.

  "Fine. Do what you must. Just do not kill him."

  Drakthe stared at the determination in his bondwife's face. His shoulders slumped. Turning back to the prone man, he slammed his fist into the man's jaw.

  "Thank you, my lord," Cheyna said with great dignity.

  "Don't thank me until we get out of here in one piece," he growled back. "As far as I'm concerned, we're going to regret letting this taiger droppings live." Drakthe started down the corridor leading outside, his krees held low by his side.

  Cheyna meekly followed. She cringed inwardly but did not say a word as she stepped over three men on the way out. She could not help but wondered if they were dead or merely unconscious. Then she decided she would really rather not know.

  The taigers were but a short distance away, hidden in a slight depression. He threw her into the saddle, and then mounted his own animal in one sleek, fluid movement.

  Drakthe pushed hard, sparing neither Cheyna nor the animals. Not until they were several leagues distant from the kidnappers did he slow the brutal pace and camp for the night.

  "I underestimated the danger of your mission," he admitted, a muscle flexing in the hard jaw and grim lines fanning out from his eyes. He met her gaze squarely. "I believed your quest for the Crystal Sheathe part of an overactive imagination. A legend whose time was long past to die."

  "But you saw the memory crystal." Cheyna tried to understand, but couldn't. How could he doubt the Crystal after all they'd learned? The low flames of the fire picked out and highlighted the gold in Drakthe's eyes.