A Warrior's Heart

by DL O'Neal

  A hard shudder went through Drakthe as he realized the Trade Baron held the Raipierian original of the metallic focusing device.

  High Lord Krthe positioned the crystal helmet.

  "Wait!"

  Krthe slanted a glance at his former Merchant Master. To Drakthe's complete and utter relief, he paused.

  "You're making a mistake. She can't help you."

  "My lord," Cheyna began to interrupt.

  "Be quiet, bondwife. It is time Lord Krthe knows the truth." He willed Cheyna not to interfere.

  Krthe looked from one to the other. He arched a brow in silent query. "What truth is that, Merchant Master? That you bear a fondness for your tradewife?"

  Drakthe managed a negligent shrug despite his restraints. "While it is true I have become accustomed to her, I am talking about something else." He didn't say anymore, silently urging Krthe to take the bait.

  Krthe fingered the device. "Well," the High Lord prodded, "what is this mistake you say I'm about to make?"

  Drakthe's heart settled into a slow and steady rhythm. He had him. "I always believed you a man who learned from his mistakes, High Lord. It's a trait I've long admired in you. Now I'm beginning to have second thoughts," Drakthe gibed.

  The severe lines of the High Lord's face tightened. He produced the daegar from the folds of his ebony traveling cape. Krthe placed the blade against the vulnerable hollow of Cheyna's throat.

  "Do not try my patience, Fire Krees," he warned.

  "We both know you won't kill her. Not while she can profit you." Drakthe managed to sound unconcerned, but inside the gold flame of destruction burned higher. When this was over, he was going to enjoy wreaking vengeance against the High Lord. He would personally see to it that all traces of the House of Hagar ceased to exist.

  Krthe considered Drakthe's assertion. "You are quite right, Fire Krees. I will not kill her. However, that is not to say she will not pay for your insolence." He drew the blade across Cheyna's neck to emphasize his point.

  The flame turned to pure raging fire, but Drakthe managed to keep his voice even, almost disinterested. "Hurt her and I won't help you."

  "Why should you care?" Krthe slowly trailed the tip of the blade up until it came to a rest below Cheyna's left eye.

  Cheyna stared up at the High Lord, not one trace of fear or anger visible.

  Krthe scowled.

  "She belongs to me. You gave her to me yourself. You, of all people, know that I keep what is mine. A trait you have found valuable all these years." Drakthe lifted both shoulders in another shrug that, despite being curbed, gave the impression of enormous power. "Besides, she cannot help you."

  Krthe's brow furled. "So you said."

  "You need me."

  "And I shall have you. Your power shall be mine. Just as I always intended. Once your power is mine, no man will be able to stand against me."

  "Not if you attempt to use Cheyna."

  Krthe's hand tightened on the daegar. "Give me one reason I should believe you."

  "How many NaturPaths have you used your device on?"

  "I don't know. I suppose thirty or forty twenties. Why should you ask?" A wary expression entered the black gaze.

  Krthe's utter indifference to the unspeakable horror of mind rape sent another surge of rage through Drakthe. His voice low with restraint, he stated, "And each time you failed. You were able to transfer only a small portion of their power to yourself."

  "I will succeed this time," Krthe asserted.

  Despite the High Lord's outward assurance, Drakthe detected a hint of reservation. "No. You will fail yet again." He wriggled his hands, working to restore circulation.

  Krthe's expression turned ugly. "You're wrong. She is the key. Her knowledge will allow me to take what I want at will." The blade of the daegar, so close to Cheyna's face, caught the refracted light of the crystal cavern, and winked silver death.

  A muscle in his jaw flexed once, violently, before Drakthe could control it. He had to remind himself he was succeeding in rattling Krthe. The trembling of the Trade Baron's hand was proof. Drakthe cautioned himself not to push the Trade Baron past his breaking point. "You'll fail because she is not the key." He paused for effect.

  "I am."

  "Drakthe, no!" Cheyna entreated.

  The High Lord turned a flat ebony gaze on the captive woman. He studied her for a long moment.

  Drakthe ignored Cheyna's cry and concentrated on convincing the Trade Baron he had the wrong person.

  "Think, Krthe. You tried infiltrating Cheyna's mind and failed. Not until you began using me were you actually able to get inside her thoughts."

  Drakthe recalled Cheyna's terror at the bonding reception. On a hunch, he told Krthe, "At the reception you could do no more than touch Cheyna's mind before she repelled you. You entered my mind as a last resort that night. I became your krees."

  "I entered her thoughts at other times," Krthe grated, his hatred of what he saw as his lack, blatant.

  "Oh, yes, you entered her mind, but that is all you could do. Those other times, Cheyna sensed your presence and put up blocks to repel you. Only when you used me as a conduit were you able to break through her barriers. That's because I'm the key."

  "Me."

  "Not Cheyna."

  The muscles in Drakthe's stomach knotted as he waited for Krthe's reaction.

  "What you say has merit, Fire Krees. Yet how can I be sure you are not tricking me?"

  Drakthe met the High Lord's eyes across the huge cavern. "If I'm lying, you still have Cheyna."

  A slight smile curved Krthe's lips. "True. So true." He tapped the tip of the daegar against his lower lip, his lashes veiling his thoughts while he considered Drakthe's argument. He slid a glance toward his dead henchman. "Lcrier is dead," he pondered. "Yet that could be because of a flaw in the device I fashioned."

  Triumph welled up in Drakthe. Krthe was going to go along with his plan. "Then again, it might not be."

  "True." Abruptly, Krthe decided. "We will try it your way. As you say, if this is a trick or if it fails, I still have your bondwife." He was almost across the room to Drakthe when Cheyna spoke.

  "The Sheathe is useless without the Krees."

  Krthe halted midstride. He spun slowly on one foot.

  Drakthe wanted to roar with frustration as he saw his mental battle with Krthe coming undone. He lifted his head from the stone table and glared at Cheyna. "Stay out of this, bondwife," he ordered from between gritted teeth.

  Cheyna gave Drakthe back a perfectly serene look. He knew then she was terrified. A feeling of helplessness bunched the muscles in his arms and legs. The veins in his throat corded in impotent rage.

  Krthe looked from his Merchant Master to the NaturPath. "The Krees was destroyed many years ago. Now it is no more than a legend."

  "So was the Sheathe," Cheyna countered, her blue gaze switching to meet Krthe's black one.

  Krthe nodded an acknowledgment of her point. "Are you saying you know where the Crystal Krees is located?"

  "I have it."

  "Cheyna, do not! High Lord, do not listen to her. She is only trying to protect me," Drakthe called out desperately. When they got out of this mess, he was going to teach his bondwife an entirely new application of Sai and Kai, he vowed savagely to himself.

  "Is that true, NaturPath? Are you trying to protect your bondmate?"

  "Yes."

  "So you were lying about the Krees?" Displeasure laced the suave tones.

  Drakthe and Cheyna spoke simultaneously.

  "Of course she was."

  "No. I do not lie."

  Krthe resumed tapping the tip of the daegar against his lower lip. When he spoke, his voice was soft and dark with menace. "You, of all people, Fire Krees, know I dislike being played for a fool. You might convince your bondwife."

  "I am not playing at anything, High Lord," Cheyna told him with great dignity.

  Drakthe nearly groaned aloud. His bondwife was determined to ruin a perfectly
workable strategy.

  "Cheyna," Drakthe growled.

  If she heard his low snarl, she blocked it out, focusing her entire attention on High Lord Krthe.

  "So you are saying my Merchant Master is tricking me?"

  "No, High Lord, I am not saying Drakthe is lying," Cheyna corrected, her voice utterly composed. "Drakthe presented the facts as he knew them. He possessed no knowledge of the role of the Krees."

  Drakthe tried to catch her glance, to convey she should shut up, but she wouldn't look at him. Instead, she leveled a calm gaze on Krthe.

  "High Lord, you will continue to fail unless you use the Sheathe and Krees in conjunction." Cheyna spoke with such convincing gravity that even Drakthe believed her. He wondered what his bondwife was up to.

  "Why are you willing to help me?" Krthe asked suspiciously.

  "Because it is my duty to protect my lord."

  This time Drakthe did groan aloud.

  "If he attempts to access the Sheathe without the balancing energy of the Krees, he will die. I cannot allow that to happen."

  "How do I know I can trust your words? Perhaps this is an elaborate ploy devised by the Fire Krees."

  "Then why was it not employed against Lord Lcrier?"

  Krthe didn't answer.

  Cheyna continued. "The Sheathe and Krees were designed as two halves of a single whole. One without the other is unbalanced, worse than useless. Dangerous, in fact, as you have learned to your cost. Look about you, High Lord. This cavern, the equipment in it, is old. More than old. It is ancient. Does the craftsmanship appear human? No? Because it is Raipierian."

  Krthe still appeared skeptical.

  For the first time, Drakthe saw fear pass over Cheyna's face. Dread filled him. His bondwife knew she wasn't convincing the High Lord. Drakthe was scared she'd try a bolder approach.

  "Drakthe was correct in one aspect; he is the key. However, I am the lock. Discard one of us, and doom the other to failure." She took a deep breath and Drakthe's breath lodged in his throat. "What all your endeavors have lacked to date is a true telepath."

  Rage darkened Krthe's features. "Lies. I am a true telepath. The last on this planet. All I require is training to refine my abilities."

  "No," Cheyna corrected with an unstoppable determination.

  Drakthe felt a sudden sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He was very much afraid he knew what his bondwife was about to confess. Don't do it, bondwife. Please don't do it.

  "No," she repeated. "You are not the last telepath on this planet. The House of Talis produces strong telepaths."

  "The House of Talis is dead," Krthe raged. Spittle flew from his lips. "I destroyed it when I killed Nrth Ktal."

  Pain filled Cheyna's blue eyes. Drakthe could only imagine the agony she was going through, but she did not falter.

  "You made a mistake, High Lord. You allowed his daughter to live. You allowed me to live."

  "Cheyna, no!" His worse fear realized, Drakthe growled the protest on a half-breath of sound.

  Krthe's mouth opened and closed as he sought the words to refute Cheyna's assertion. His throat worked as he swallowed the taste of truth. "That doesn't mean you possess the Talent," he rasped. "The fact you are of the House of Talis doesn't make you a telepath."

  "True. You know I am, though, do you not? You have traveled in my mind. Felt the power of my ability. You cannot deny it, High Lord. You need my skills to propel the House of Hagar to its proper position," she said, playing on Krthe's obsession with a skill Drakthe could only admire.

  "How? How did you escape?" he stormed, all traces of refined control gone. "I was so careful." His hand clenched around the haft of the daegar.

  Careful, House-daughter, Drakthe begged. Do not push him too far. Drakthe worked at the bracelets on his wrists. Great drops of sweat beaded his brow from the effort. His wrists became raw. He ignored the burning pain. He had to get loose before Cheyna pushed Krthe into killing her.

  "Be glad you did not succeed, High Lord, for you would have sown your own defeat."

  "What do you mean?" he demanded.

  "Those rumors of an unapprenticed NaturPath?"

  Drakthe's head shot up, horror congealing the blood in his veins. She wouldn't...please. Saints, please don't let her tell him the one thing guaranteed to cause Krthe to use her instead.

  "My foster parents seeded them. Slia and Sbraithe, of the Clan Ktana."

  She did.

  "What are you saying? Those are Raipierian...." Air hissed from between his teeth. "Of course. No wonder there was never any evidence of your existence. You were off-world. I believed you died on the Plains, still in your mother's belly."

  The Trade Baron's gaze glanced off the crystal walls and the bank of strange equipment. "They trained you in the Raipierian way," he murmured.

  "You begin to understand."

  Krthe smiled.

  Cheyna shivered, at the malevolent twist of his lips. Had she overestimated her ability to deal with the High Lord?

  "Thank you, my dear. I was wondering what to do with the Fire Krees. You've convinced me I no longer need him. Despite the strength of his psi energy, he is not a telepath. No, all I need is to combine my talent with yours and my power shall be unstoppable."

  Cheyna kept her expression blank so Krthe would not learn how wrong he was about Drakthe's talent. "We have gone that route already," she reminded him. "I can keep you out at will. No, High Lord, you need both Drakthe and me." She chanced a glance at Drakthe. He mouthed the words "my krees". Cheyna switched her gaze back to Krthe without acknowledging she understood, hoping the High Lord had not noticed the exchange.

  "They call him the Fire Krees. Why?" The muscles in her stomach did a weird little flip-flop. Nerves, she analyzed. An unpleasant fact of life she had avoided until becoming enmeshed in Drakthe's life.

  "They say he controls the Fire of Destruction," Krthe replied, his impatience obvious. "That is why his krees glows."

  "Exactly, High Lord. Drakthe is my natural opposite. He is a warrior. I am a NaturPath. His power, strong enough to master the Fire of Destruction, comes from the dark end of the spectrum. Mine the light. We balance each other. No other can serve."

  "Not another NaturPath, not Lcrier, and not, I regret to say, you, High Lord. Not even if you are able to take his power for your own."

  A muscle in Krthe's jaw worked furiously. Ultimately, however, he was a practical man. He bowed, a stiff little motion at odds with his normal grace. "I weary of talk. Any tricks, NaturPath, and I will kill him." Cheyna indicated her understanding. "Release me so we can have done with this entire matter," she commanded, letting a note of imperious demand seep into her voice.

  "No." Drakthe's denial rang out. He became motionless when Krthe's attention turned to him. "Not until we get some guarantees." His unflinching gaze met the High Lord's.

  Cheyna wondered what her bondhusband was up to now.

  "You get nothing I am not willing to give, Merchant Master. You are not in a position to bargain."

  "Think so? From my point of view, quite the opposite is true. You need me, Trade Baron. That places me in an excellent position from which to bargain."

  A vein throbbed in Krthe's temple. "What are these guarantees you want?" he asked querulously.

  "A promise to allow Cheyna and myself to leave here unharmed." Drakthe smiled, a grim, taunting lift of his lips that showed strong, white teeth.

  "That is all?" Krthe's lip curled in disbelief.

  "You know me better than that, High Lord."

  A glint of true amusement shone in the High Lord's dark eyes. "Yes, I do, don't I. What do you want in exchange, Merchant Master?"

  Drakthe sounded nonchalant. Only Cheyna saw the effort it required. "The same deal as I had with the Plains of Skaen trade route."

  Krthe gave him a hard glance. "You expect me to believe that will satisfy you?"

  "Why not? I'll have what I want: drekels and position. You'll have what you want: title of Great Lord
."

  "What of the little NaturPath? She'll be content with our deal?"

  "I'm her bondhusband. She'll do as I say." A slow smile spread over Drakthe's face, confusing Krthe.

  In spite of their predicament, Cheyna nearly smiled in return. So Drakthe had caught on that while she gave the impression of doing as he wished, in fact she rarely did so.

  "So be it." Krthe turned toward Cheyna.

  She waited until he released her bonds to break her silence. "High Lord?"

  Krthe jumped, the lack of grace showing just how close he was to the edge.

  Cheyna allowed him to recover his poise before asking a question that had been bothering her. "Drakthe trusted you, High Lord. How could you betray him?"

  Krthe smiled with cynical amusement. "There is much you need to learn of your lord, NaturPath. The Fire Krees trusts no one."

  There, High Lord Krthe erred. Of that Cheyna was completely and utterly sure.

  Because Drakthe trusted her.

  Chapter 20

  A deep peace entered the depths of her being, one very similar to when she was in the deepest level of Sai and Kai. He did trust her. And she trusted him. Drakthe had even managed to accept her Talent. He would always forcibly express his views, it was his way of trying to protect her, but he would also back her, with his life if necessary. Though she had never heard of a vision being wrong, hers out on the Plains must have been.

  Her decision made, Cheyna withdrew the pieces of the Krees from the depths of her iridescent burnuese.

  Krthe's eyes lit with an avid gleam.

  Cheyna fit the pieces together. From the tip of the black crystal blade to the end of the oblong haft, the Crystal Krees was nearly a foot long. The workmanship was incredible. It resembled the serpentine warrior's weapon right down to its serrated edge. Polished to an impossibly smooth finish, nary a nick or mark marred its surface.

  Such a beautiful object to be the cause of so much death, she thought, staring down into its ever-changing depths. The crystal warmed. Motionless for one long moment, she held the reassembled Krees between her palms.

  Krthe made an impatient sound.