Kazza purred so hard that the bed shook.
“GEA-4 mentioning strange energy readings, while we in cave,” Larwin said. Kazza licked him from Adam’s apple to hairline. If he understood cat communication, the answer was yes. “I wish I knew if that was you and Nimri.” If licking was the feline’s standard response for yes, and he kept guessing correctly, he’d never need a razor. “How did you cloak yourselves?” Too many more yes’s and he’d need his dermis replaced. “Tell you what, I’ll accept a wink or purring for yes and you can swat me—lightly, mind you, no claws, for no.”
Kazza gave him exaggerated wink, leaped off the bed and went to the door. He flicked out a claw, whipped the door open, and gave Larwin an expectant look.
If this didn’t beat all.
When he didn’t jump out of bed, Kazza sat on his rear haunches and glared at him. “I’m coming. Let me get dressed.”
Larwin put on his clothing, half expecting the image to shift, so he would know this was all part of a crazy dream.
Instead, something twirled to the floor. He ignored it and continued dressing, but Kazza came over and sniffed the odd purple splotch. Then, the feline batted at it, sniffed some more, sat down and gave Larwin an expectant look.
Larwin hunkered down and studied the strange thing. It took a moment before he finally recognized it as a winged seedpod from the balata grove.
As soon as he’d identified it, he felt an urge to plant it.
He’d never planted anything in his life.
Larwin looked from Kazza’s big paws to the fragile pod. “You want me to place this in the ground?” Though he’d spoken in his native tongue, the feline purred and gave an exaggerated wink. A feeling of euphoria flooded his mind. “Do you think Nimri will like it?” Another wink. The happiness intensified, as did Kazza’s rumble.
Larwin picked up the fragile pod and held it as if it was the most valuable thing he’d ever touched. And it was, because it would be the only thing he’d ever done to try and preserve a botanical specimen.
He took a step toward the door, but Kazza blocked his way, his amber gaze centered on the crude black stick leaning in the corner. Wondering at the feline’s odd behavior, Larwin grabbed the twisted stick and brought it with him. Though it looked slick standing in the corner, it fit his hand like a glove.
Kazza preceded him to the middle of the garden. In the spot, between the menthe and lavender, the cat dug a small hole. Rich, relaxing aromas rolled over Larwin as he held the purplish wing in his palm. Then, as Kazza sat back on his haunches, Larwin laid the seed in the depression and drizzled fine black dirt over it. A songbird trilled a blessing.
Larwin sat back on his heels, feeling as if he’d done something wonderful. Even better than conquering a world. He looked at Kazza, who was twirling his whiskers in delight.
“Okay, we planted the victory tree. Now how do we win?”
Kazza surged to his paws and headed for the village path, which GEA-4 was already descending. Larwin rose. For a moment, he was torn between following the cat and staying next to the sweet earth, where he could protect the fragile seed. But the best way he could shield it was catching up with GEA-4 and getting her to help him figure out a way to defeat the demented dragon. Using the stick as a walking aid, Larwin hurried toward the path.
~0~
She could feel warm, moist puffs of air against her left hand. A glance downward revealed a barely concealed Yeti in the head-high ferns, saliva dripping from its incisors. Before the drop hit the moss-covered ground, the creature leaped at her from the undergrowth. Nimri screamed and jumped into a warm golden pool of honey. The sweetness engulfed her in a slimy embrace, which seemed to suck the life out of her.
Nimri’s eyes snapped open.
The dawn’s rays coming through an odd opening next to her bed nearly blinded her. She closed her eyes, then squeezed. Still, the glimpse was enough to see a Yeti holding her braid. She gasped a breath of thick, sugary air, and told herself she’d imagined the beast.
Another peek confirmed that her nightmare had merged with reality. Worse, she was in a whitish cavern where fractures let in light and the domed ceiling looked far too heavy to stay suspended overhead.
Scrunching her eyes closed, Nimri assured herself that she didn’t feel any tugs on her hair. Didn’t smell crushed rosemary mixed with an exotic, sour-sweet honey-like aroma. Nothing but her imagination was snuffling at her ear. She wasn’t strangling on a scream. And drool wasn’t running down her neck.
In the distance, something grunted. A man laughed.
Memory of the previous night returned. She’d spent the night in Cartwright’s home. The blubbering beast was his pet and supposedly harmless. Nothing that looked like that could be safe, no matter what he said. Just as Thunder Cartwright didn’t seem at all like what he was supposed to be. He should have been old and manly as mold; instead, like Larwin, he looked like masculinity personified.
Remembering the way his chest muscles had rippled under his unlaced vest made her breath catch. Since meeting Larwin, she’d often felt hot twinges move across her flesh. Though the intensity of the heat was less with Cartwright, the sense that she had always known him was strong. Could the sense of acquaintance be caused by all the stories she’d heard of him?
Nimri bit the insides of her cheeks. She’d heard countless tales of Lou Wren, the Son of Light, and Throp Anthrus the prophetess, too. While she’d felt a bone-deep awareness of Larwin, she’d never experienced this odd sense of association with him.
And why should someone who was so opposite of how she’d imagined him seem familiar?
A bird warbled. To her relief, the Yeti ambled out the largest crevice without tearing a bite out of her throat.
Nimri leapt out of bed and tried to smooth the wrinkles out of her grass-stained tunic.
If the dragon hadn’t been in the Star Bridge and she didn’t need to save this planet, she would sneak out the narrow window and try to get back across the river before she was missed.
But times were desperate and if Cartwright didn’t help her, Chatterre with its beautiful valley and bisecting river would cease to exist. So, it wouldn’t matter that she’d crossed the river and was now banned, except on Market Day. If the planet turned into a cinder, it wouldn’t matter that she couldn’t even go to her garden for the plants she needed to make medicine for her tribe.
Nothing mattered except dealing with the Ghilly dragon. If they could defeat that, she would have time to worry about salves and potions.
And she’d given her word that she’d stay here until he was ready to tell her what he truly wanted.
Giving up on looking presentable, Nimri crept to the largest fissure in the wall and peered at the main room where she’d had her first good look at the enemy.
Except for the cushions, table and other typical things found in a home, the room was empty.
In the distance, a man chuckled and a beast whined. Nimri swallowed hard, then went in search of Cartwright. She saw him in the sun-filled center of an unexpectedly lush garden. He was seated on a squared off grayish rock next to a large slab of tan stone, one Yeti squatted on his left side the other beast perched on another seating rock. A third rock sat empty.
Nimri stopped in the main room’s shadows and watched the odd trio. All three were eating something reddish orange. Juice oozed through the Yeti's fists and matted their dark fur as blood saturated predator’s coats. A gust of air buffeted the raised hair on her arms and brought the exotic, sour-sweet honey aroma of her dream. She shivered.
The intimacy between man and beasts reminded her of the bond she had with Kazza. As she grappled with that thought, Cartwright glanced at the spot where she stood. His smile widened to reveal perfect white teeth.
“Good morning,” he said. “After getting to bed so late, I thought you’d sleep in.” She was amazed that she had relaxed enough to sleep at all.
He motioned for her to join him. She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, the
n entered the sun-drenched garden, which seemed to have been cut into the side of a rocky cliff. Though the Yeti closest to her made a lip-smacking sound, she tried to ignore it. Cartwright smiled and motioned for her to sit on the flat-topped rock across from him. There was no way she was going to eat shoulder to shoulder with a Yeti. She glanced at the beast. “I prefer to stand.” He laughed, much as she’d been tempted to do, when Larwin first met Kazza.
Nimri took a deep breath and moved around the hairy creature. She focused on the lush foliage that filled the walled garden and recognized several herbal shrubs that she kept in her own yard.
Uncomfortable with her back turned to the other three: she looked over her shoulder and caught Cartwright’s speculative gaze on her. “I never sleep in.”
Cartwright’s chuckle was a rich, familiar sound that made her think of security, sadness and yummy raspberry pie.
The shrubbery swayed in the wind and revealed a solid stone wall enclosing the garden.
The Yeti next to Cartwright looked up at her, its muzzle black with juice. Obviously, Cartwright didn’t get many guests. No surprise, since he lived with killer beasts.
Again, he motioned her to sit down. Nimri shook her head.
“Maybe some things do change,” he said.
A shiver of recognition coursed down her spine. “Do you have people watching me?”
“People?” He barked a short laugh and shook his head.
Perhaps the tales that he communicated with birds and that they spied for him were true. If so, it could explain why he seemed to know so much about her. But it didn’t account for why he seemed so familiar. Nimri pretended to study a yellow swallowtail as it circled the buddleia bush’s deep purple spikes. While she loved butterflies, the shrub’s main attraction was its distance from her captor.
Or should she think of Cartwright as her host?
To her horror, the standing Yeti lumbered over to her and raked her hair with a soggy juice-saturated paw. The exotic, sour-sweet aroma intensified until it seemed overpowering. Nimri stood still as death and prayed the beast wouldn’t yank her braid hard enough to break her neck.
Cartwright glanced up. “Gunda, stop.” He chuckled. “She’s trying to groom you. I guess it’s her mothering instinct.”
She swallowed the suffocating fear, but a large lump remained firmly lodged in her throat. “Gunda is a female?” Nimri tried to look at the shaggy dark beast without moving her head.
“You’ve never been close to a Yeti, have you?”
“I’ve never even seen one at any distance.” Or ever wanted to. “I have a pet feline, he’s at least six–hundred-pounds and has teeth and claws that could shred me to pieces, but I feel safe with him.”
“Why wouldn’t you feel safe with Kazza?” The casual intimacy of his tone made her throat dry. “He’s protected you since birth.”
How long had he had his creatures been watching her? Rolf hadn’t even been gone for a full moon-cycle. The in-depth fact of how long she’d had Kazza wouldn’t have been something, which should have interested him as he tried to gather information about his new foe.
Cartwright, unaware of her astonishment, focused on dividing a bumpy, russet-colored fruit into crescents. He smiled and handed her a juicy crimson crescent. “Try a pange. It’s from my own tree.” He gestured toward the distant corner of his garden.
“You know about Kazza.” Nimri stared at him, uncertain whether she was more shocked over his detailed knowledge about her life or her own sense of having known him forever.
Cartwright gave her an odd look, but instead of responding simply held out the fruit. Nimri took it.
He looked at the sandstone, which covered the ground. “It would be easier if this planet had large masses of fresh water.”
“What do you mean?” Nimri sniffed the pange, which was unlike anything she’d ever imagined.
“Solterre had fresh water oceans. This planet’s oceans are saline.”
She nearly dropped the fruit. “There are oceans?” Why hadn’t her great-grandfather mentioned them?
“You don’t remember?” Cartwright looked genuinely surprised. He blinked. “After we defeat the beast, we’ll get Kazza to come with us on a tour of Chatterre. In the meantime, the only body of fresh water which might be large enough to kill a Ghilly is the river, so despite the fact that it may endanger our tribes, our own valley is where we’ll need to make our stand.”
“Because of the lack of salt in its waters?” Cartwright nodded. She hoped her confusion and skepticism didn’t show.
His gaze focused on her; his expression turned thoughtful. “Did Rolf teach you anything useful? Take you anywhere?”
She wished he hadn’t asked. She wished she could lie. Nimri pretended to concentrate on tasting the pange.
The silence lengthened. A swallowtail butterfly landed on the Yeti’s sticky nose. Oblivious of the fluttering yellow and black wings, the Yeti continued to fondle her hair. Streaks of reddish grit stained her tunic.
“Well?” Cartwright asked.
“Great-grandfather was too feeble to travel.” Cartwright smirked. Nimri rushed on to add, “But he and my great aunt taught me about herbs. He taught me everything I was capable of learning.”
His harsh laugh startled the Yeti and swallowtail. “He knew nothing of herbs value.” Nimri bit her lower lip to hold back comment about that truth. “Rolf was a selfish, lazy, egotistical tyrant and he was afraid of competition.” His brilliant green eyes studied her. “I’d be surprised if he taught you anything of real value.”
Could he be correct? What if her incompetence wasn’t due to her own lack?
“He wanted the tribes divided so that his position was assured. That’s why he started the rumors about the Lost.” Cartwright’s tone was filled with disdain.
Much as his assessment coincided with her own suspicions, Nimri couldn’t voice her agreement to the enemy. “I don’t want to discuss my great-grandfather.”
He gazed at her for a moment then gave an abrupt nod. “At least he taught you how to spirit travel…actually, that’s more than I expected.”
Nimri glanced at the soft red sandstone. “I don’t know how I did that.” She raised her head and locked gazes with him. Familiarity, hot as fresh cooked bread, rippled through her.
The Yeti grabbed the pange crescent out of her hand, stuffed it into its mouth and ambled back toward Cartwright.
“Dealing with a dragon will require both of us, but I don’t know if you’ll be able to learn everything you need to know in time,” he said.
“So you don’t think we have a chance.” Would it be her fault for being so stupid or her grandfather’s for not teaching her?
“I didn’t say that, but we both need to be able to control our auras and each accomplish one part of the plan. I can’t both create a storm and lure—”
“Like Rolf did?”
His mouth flattened with anger. The intimate feeling which had permeated the clearing vanished.
Still, she felt drawn to him. Nimri settled onto the sun-warmed rock. “You can do that? Control storms? Kill—”
“My plan isn’t to exterminate humans.” Cartwright’s look was sharp as his tone. “We need to bait the beast to a remote area—preferably far downstream, but before the ocean mixes its brine with the water.”
“How could we do that?”
“You said you saw the beast in a vision.”
The way Cartwright changed subjects was disconcerting. Nimri took a section of pange from the pile before him and nibbled. Strange sweetly acidic flavor burst across her tongue.
“Didn’t the Ghilly’s ability to pursue you strike you as odd?” His knowing green gaze seemed to hold the secrets of the universe.
Suddenly she understood.
“It could sense my power.” She’d spirit traveled! “I actually used myst!” Then the reality of the threat hit her. “That’s what attracted the dragon. It sensed me.” It was her fault that their world was in danger.
He nodded. “Zurgon is correct up to a point; Ghilly Dragons do feed off atomic, radiation, and electrical power. But they love auras as much as Kazza loves pumpernickel. If you learn to control yours and are willing to be the bait, we’ll have a chance to defeat it.” Cartwright frowned. “Where is Kazza?”
Again, he’d managed to unsettle her with his unexpected knowledge. “I don’t know. He comes and goes.”
Cartwright waved his hand as if everyone knew her cat’s odd habits personally. “He’ll be here when we need him.” His expression grew pensive. “Pearl’s story is true, too, but she didn’t tell all of it.”
“Zurgon didn’t want her to tell me any of it.” Nimri licked the honey-sweet juice from her fingers. “What didn’t she tell me?”
“Her ancestor won the first round, when the dragon fell into the ocean.” Cartwright’s expression darkened. “But its death wail attracted others.”
Nimri hoped she had misunderstood his insinuation that if they killed this one, a whole flock of the horrible creatures would follow. “Are you saying we have two problems? First we have to get the Ghilly wet with river water; second, we either need to make sure it doesn’t contact others, or fill the Star Bridge with water?”
“None of this is simple,” he said. “You saw how massive the beast is. Did you notice its heat?”
Nimri started to shake her head, then remembered the searing heat from the creature’s tongue. “Hot enough to vaporize water and melt rock.” She swallowed. “It’ll take a lot of water to annihilate it.”
Cartwright nodded and stood up. “So, now you understand how difficult it will be to actually get the beast wet.” The seated Yeti lumbered to its paws and moved behind him like an awkward shadow. He stretched. Well-toned muscles rippled as he paced between the buddleia bush’s deep purple spikes and the smooth gold trunk of a twisting firespike tree.
Star Bridge (Chaterre Trilogy Book 1) Page 24