Men of Anderas II: Dak the Protector (3 page)

Dak slowly closed his large hand around the
shimmering white stone hidden just beneath the surface of the
water, never breaking eye contact.

Kierin squirmed under the intensity of his
gaze. Hesitant to let the once-powerful lord see her discomfort,
she reached for the clear crystal she wore around her own neck. The
gentle pulse of the smooth stone, as steady as a heartbeat, never
failed to soothe her.

A wave of violent emotion slammed into her
mind like a physical blow. Gasping and staggering from the mental
assault, Kierin released her stone to steady herself against the
heavy wooden door. Almost instantly, the sensation ceased.

By the Goddess Jovena, what madness is
this
? Never in her life had she experienced such an invasive
episode. The riot of emotion still fresh in her mind was too
jumbled to analyze. Rage, fear, anger and hopelessness were the
strongest of what she experienced, but there was so much more.

Sneaking a quick glance at Dak, Kierin
watched his eyelids close and his head roll back against the rim of
the tub. Good. Sleep would help heal his battered body. They had a
long trip ahead of them and she hated to think of him suffering all
that time. Since there was no danger of him slipping beneath the
surface of the water in the small tub, she took advantage of his
fatigue. She needed time to regain her composure.

Risking another glance at Dak to make sure
he still slept, she eased into the only chair in the room and
reached for her amulet again. She needed a focus session to sort
the myriad threads of her memory, and she might not get another
chance for several days.

Drawing her concentration inward, she
clasped the stone between her two palms and lifted her hands. With
thumbs beneath her chin and resting her fingertips just above the
bridge of her nose, she closed her eyes and turned her mind in on
itself.

A feeling of great sadness and loneliness
settled over her, bringing tears to her closed eyes. An image took
form in her thoughts. An image of multi-colored flowers in full
bloom and peaceful sunlight. Here, in this idyllic garden, the
sadness was tempered with deep love.

Shadowy silhouettes slowly appeared amid the
rioting blossoms. Two men, both tall and strong, were joined by a
woman with long hair. The faces were unclear, but Kierin sensed
strong ties bound these people.

Pressing the crystal tighter, Kierin focused
intently on the trio. There was something familiar about them. As
if aware of her intrusion into their midst, all three turned and
she saw them with perfect clarity. All had black hair. One man's
eyes glowed brilliant blue, the other the warm dark brown of
kava
fur. Kierin saw no one she recognized. One of the men,
standing slightly apart from the couple, reached out his hands in
welcome. A surge of soul-deep caring flooded Kierin’s thoughts.
Whoever was joining them in the garden was deeply loved by the
brown-eyed man.

"Elizabeth."

Kierin jerked in response to Dak's sleepy
voice.
Elizabeth is the name in my vision
. Confused and
disoriented, she watched him come fully awake. Blinking like a baby
night bird, he scanned the room, frowning at the surroundings. When
he spotted her, still sitting by the door, all traces of sleep
vanished in an instant. Again, strong emotions bombarded her mind.
Vengeance!
The word screamed once through her
conscience.

Dak dropped the glowing stone still held in
his grasp and turned his back on her. With a gasp, she was freed
from the chaotic assault.

Dak
! She suddenly recognized the man
in her vision. The man who called out to
Elizabeth
was Dak.
With his hair clean and hanging in a wet curtain to the middle of
his back, she could see the resemblance. The same broad shoulders,
the same deep brown eyes. She couldn't see the squared jaw beneath
the matted beard covering his face, but she knew what he'd look
like without it.

Passable?
She didn’t know if she
should laugh or cry at her understatement.
When the cuts,
bruises and abrasions healed, this man wouldn't be
passable
.
Dak is devastatingly handsome. What have you gotten yourself
into
?

Kierin dropped her own stone. She didn't
understand how she could read Dak's thoughts. It had to be tied to
the crystal around his neck, but how? She desperately wished her
father still lived. If ever she needed his wisdom and guidance, it
was now.

If he were alive, you wouldn't be in this
position
. Feeling trapped and out-of control, she frantically
searched for a reason to leave the room.

"Dak," she called to the broad expanse of
his back. "While you finish your bath, I'm going to gather food and
ointments and bandages for your injuries. You are not to leave the
room. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Lady."

Without another word, she scurried from the
room, not bothering to lock the door behind her. There was no
reason. Dak would be unable to disobey her orders.

Dak felt, more than heard, the departure of
the crystal witch. How could one small woman create such
debilitating weakness of mind and body?

Yes, Lady. No, Lady. Whatever you say,
Lady. I sound like a trained mimic bird. By the Beard of the
Prophet, what am I to do? I thought it would be easier to escape
from a woman than from Murdock. It's this damn stone around my
neck
.

Easing back against the rim of the too-small
tub, Dak tried again to remove the strange chain. The small white
stone, half the size of his thumb, glowed like moonlight. With all
the power at his command, he pushed the stone upward. The harder he
fought to raise the chain above his head, the heavier the stone
became until he could no longer hold it aloft. With a groan of
defeat, he dropped the sliver of rock. Instead of the splash he
expected from the heaviness he experienced, there was a gentle
plop
.

A wave of dizziness washed over him, just
like at the slave market when Kierin placed the stone around his
neck. His thought processes scattered leaving him confused and
disoriented.
Focus, dammit. This isn't the first tough spot
you've been in. All you need to do is think. You've got to gain her
trust enough to remove the blasted rock if you want to escape. She
said something about arranging for transport, but I have to stay
here; at least long enough to discover what happened to my
crew
.

A wave of homesick longing hit Dak, bringing
images and memories alive in his head. Zeth and Arica, his foster
parents. JarDan and Melodie.
Do you believe me dead, JarDan? Or
do you still search for us? By the Beard of the Prophet, I miss
you, my brother
.

And Elizabeth. Sweet, full-of-life,
Elizabeth, with her curling black hair and sparkling blue eyes. Dak
never thought to love another human being as deeply as he loved
Elizabeth. How long would it take before her memories of him began
to fade? Every time he closed his eyes in sleep, he dreamed of
Anderas and the people he longed to see.

Think about escape. Don't dwell on what
you can't change right here, right now. The Crystal Witch said I
would enjoy my duties. Ha! There can be no enjoyment when there is
no choice. I'll do whatever I have to do to survive and find a way
to get home
.

Dak pulled his aching body from the tub,
grimacing at the filth swirling in the water. It felt so good to be
clean again. Not wanting to further abuse his flesh with the rough
toweling, he allowed his skin to dry in the cool breeze created by
the ventilation system. Unsure of how long he would be left alone,
he slipped into the pants
she
left on the bed, frowning at
the length of exposed leg. Wasn't there a man somewhere on this
cursed planet more than six feet tall? Average in height and build
for an Anderan, he knew from his space travels that he often
towered above other men.
You just never had to wear their
clothes
. After studying the matching shirt, he ripped the
sleeves from the shoulders and tossed them aside. By opening the
side seams about six inches, he figured the shirt would fit his own
shoulders--after
she
bandaged his back. It wasn't much, but
it would protect him from the elements. It probably wouldn't
button, but he could tie the ends together at his waist.

Exhausted from his meager exertion, he sat
on the lumpy mattress. Careful not to make any sudden moves that
would pull against his cracked ribs, he eased himself onto his
stomach, resting his head on his forearms.
Damn, it feels good
to lie down on more than a stinking pile of moldy straw
.
Closing his eyes, he surrendered to the healing arms of sleep, his
last thoughts filled with the memories of rose-scented breezes and
the violet sunsets of Falcon Tor.

Kierin ushered the last of the cleaning team
from the room. When she returned a short while ago and found Dak
asleep, she ordered the removal of the tub and left instructions
for another to be brought in the morning. She thought longingly of
a bath for herself, but she didn't think she could perform such an
intimate chore with a strange man in the room. Allowing him to
sleep, Kierin took a small portion of the mountain of food sitting
on the table. A man Dak's size would have a big appetite. Nibbling
on the flat, tough bread, she studied the sleeping man. Although
she still didn't understand exactly how she was able to tap into
his thoughts, the prospect intrigued her. Could she do it again? At
will? Was it possible to direct his thoughts by implanting her own?
Maybe she could reveal her requirement without having to actually
explain her actions.

First things first. His injuries required
immediate attention to prevent the spread of infection. Retrieving
the bundle of clean rags and a small basket of dried leaves and
herbs, she set about mixing an ointment that would numb the pain
while aiding in the healing process. She preferred the snow-white
curd rendered from the root of a
srallo
plant as a base for
ointments. Since there were no such plants on this world and she
didn't think to bring any from her own, she had to make do with the
cooking lard from the kitchen.

Grimacing at the rancid smell of the fat,
she quickly crumbled the dried leaves into the bowl, kneading the
mixture with her hand to form a pungent paste. Easing down on the
side of the bed, she decided to try her theory of thought transfer.
Closing her free hand around her amulet, Kierin projected her
thoughts toward the still sleeping Dak.

I have medicines for your back. They will
sting but you need to remain as still as possible until I finish. I
mean you no harm, Dak. You need have no fear of me
.

Dak jerked awake at the first touch of her
hand. His lips thinned and his gaze remained fixed on the wall
opposite the bed, but he never moved as she carefully smoothed the
ointment across the raw flesh of his back. Her fingers trembled
when she brushed the long, silky strands of his hair out of her
way. Touching him did strange things to her system. Acutely aware
of the firmness of his hip against hers on the bed, she struggled
to keep her breathing even. As she worked the ointment lower and
lower on Dak's back, she wondered what his skin would feel like
when healed. Would it be as warm as her flushed body felt?

Pushing the disturbing thoughts away, she
wiped her hands and picked up the bandages. "You'll have to sit up
for me to wrap these around you."

Without a word, Dak slowly eased himself up
and lifted his arms out to the side. Kierin watched the color fade
from the small part of his face she could see above the beard and
knew his movements caused him great pain.

"This won't take long.” She promised as she
reached around him with the first strip of material. If touching
his back produced disturbing sensations, enfolding him in her arms
created a riot. Growing up with only her father and brother, she
was accustomed to the sight of a naked male chest. Why did seeing
the dark patches of hair beneath Dak's arms make her knees weak?
Why did harsh soap smell so good when she leaned close to his chest
to wrap the bandage around his back? And why did she want nothing
more than to snuggle against the soft curls of dark hair on his
chest and stay there forever?

"There," she smiled weakly when she secured
the final round of the bandage, "you should feel much better by
morning. Are you hungry? There's plenty of food and water to drink.
I've ordered another bath for you in the morning. You have to keep
the wounds clean."

Dak's raised eyebrow effectively shut
Kierin’s mouth with a snap. She didn't understand her reaction to
this stranger. One minute she was flushed and panting, the next she
rambled as if she had sunstroke. This wouldn't do at all. If she
hoped to accomplish her goal, she must remain in control--of
herself as well as Dak.

Chapter Three

"Wake up, Dak. The transport leaves in two
hours. We must hurry."

He heard the soft, feminine voice in the
sleepy recesses of his mind and responded to the gentle siren call.
The purr rumbling in his throat changed to a groan of pain when he
rolled toward the voice.

"Wait. Don't try to rise. Let me help
you."

I don't want your help
. His grumbling
refusal might have carried more weight if he were capable of
speaking past a jaw locked in pain--and the crystal around his
neck. He would cut out his tongue before admitting just how weak he
felt.

"What's wrong? Where is this pain coming
from? The powdered yellow crystal in the ointment should have
healed all but the worst of your wounds."

"I have a cracked rib, maybe two.”
Damn
. He grudgingly accepted the effect of the stone around
his neck, and his inability to fight it.