The Captive (12 page)

They lay back to back on the ground. Too tired to think or
feel, she closed her eyes, asleep between one breath and the next.

* * * * *

The shriek of lazer weapons slowly died away. The air was
pungent with the smell of smoke and charred flesh. He stood outside the house
that had once been his, watching as two men wearing the green and gold of the
Romarian Army emerged from the wreckage bearing what was left of his wife and
child.

With a roar, he turned on Drade, his manacled hands reaching
for his enemy’s throat, but Drade slipped through his fingers like swamp fire.
The manacles on his wrists turned to
lynaziam
shackles and he collapsed
on the ground as Drade stood over him, laughing hysterically as he activated
the controller, sending shards of pain splintering through every nerve and
muscle of his body.

He screamed with pain and outrage, screamed his hatred, his
grief, screamed until his throat was raw…

“Falkon! Falkon! Wake up. Please, wake up.”

Ashlynne shook his shoulder, shook it again, as hard as she
could, in an effort to wake him, to silence his cries. Finally, in desperation,
she hit his wounded arm as hard as she could.

With a harsh cry, Falkon bolted upright, his eyes wild. His
hands closed around her throat and he had her pinned to the ground between one
heartbeat and the next.

“Don’t!” she cried, gasping for breath. “It’s me.”

“What the hell?” He released his hold on her and sat back.
“What happened?”

“You were having a nightmare. You cried out in your sleep. I
tried to wake you, but I couldn’t. I was afraid someone would hear you.”

He rubbed his wounded arm, wondering why it hurt so bad.

“I’m sorry,” Ashlynne said. “I didn’t know how else to wake
you.”

He stared at her a moment, puzzled, and then nodded as
comprehension dawned. “You did the right thing.” He would have welcomed any
pain to escape the hell of that nightmare.

Pale sunlight filtered into the cave. He noticed that she
was dressed and he wondered how long she had been awake. Her clothes were badly
wrinkled, her hair fell in disarray over her shoulders and down her back. Her
face was smudged with dirt.

“It must have been awful,” she said, not quite meeting his
eyes. “Your dream.”

“Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Awful.”

He took a deep breath, blew it out in a long slow sigh.
Always the same nightmare, he thought bleakly, reminding him of what he had
lost, of his hatred for the man who had once been his friend. In the bowels of
the mine, shackled hand and foot, shut away from the sun, he had given up all
hope of vengeance. When he had been sent to work for Ashlynne’s father, a small
spark of hope had begin to burn deep within him—hope of escape, hope of
achieving vengeance. And now…

He felt the spark within him kindle into a blaze. He was
free now, and the possibility for revenge was closer than ever. He snorted
softly as he fingered the collar on his neck. As free as he could be while
Ashlynne held the controller, he mused, and wondered why he hadn’t taken it
from her the night before.

Sooner or later they would reach Enjine Base Nine. He had no
doubt of his ability to steal a ship. When that was done, he would go to Romariz,
in disguise, and find Drade. He smiled as he thought of what it would be like
to confront his enemy, to put his hands around Drade’s throat and slowly,
slowly, squeeze the life from his body. It would be far easier, and certainly
much safer, to kill the maggot from a distance, but that would not do. He
wanted Drade to know who it was who took his life. Drade would know why.

“Falkon, do you think we could find something to eat?”

Slowly, he turned to look at the girl. Lost in dreams of
vengeance, he had completely forgotten about her.

“I’m hungry,” she said plaintively.

“Yeah.” He blew out a deep sigh. “Me, too.” He pulled on his
breeches and boots and then stood up, hands braced against his thighs, while he
gathered his strength. He wondered briefly if the cannibals would come looking
for them, but the pain in his arm and the hunger rumbling in his belly were
more urgent concerns at the moment.

Taking a deep breath, he left the cave and headed east.

Ashlynne followed him, surprised that he had the strength to
walk. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes. She knew his arm pained him,
knew he must be as hungry and thirsty as she, yet he never complained, only
kept walking, stubbornly putting one foot in front of the other.

It grew hotter as they walked. She heard the deep-throated
roar of some huge beast, tried not to think of the hundreds of slimy, creepy
creatures and poisonous snakes and spiders that inhabited the jungle. Surely
they were just as afraid of her as she was of them. Weren’t they?

She felt faint with happiness when Falkon stopped beneath a
tree and plucked a large bunch of small blue bananas. He handed her half of
them. She peeled one with fingers that shook in her haste, sighed with pleasure
as she bit into the sweet blue fruit. She devoured it in two bites and quickly
peeled another, and then another. Never had anything tasted so good.

Falkon picked two other bunches, and then they started
walking again.

With the edge taken from her hunger, she peeled another
banana. She ate slower this time, savoring the sugary sweet taste, remembering
how she had loved to have them for breakfast at home…home.

Despair washed over her. She would never see her home or her
parents again. Why, she wondered, why had the Hodorians attacked them? They had
been at peace. She had known little of politics, been aware of little beyond
the high walls of the
jinan
. Magny and Artemis had been her only
friends. She had been spoiled and pampered her whole life, until now. She
stared at Falkon’s broad scarred back. He would not pamper her. He didn’t even
like her. She was nothing but a burden to him, an inconvenience.

She felt the sting of tears behind her eyes and dashed them
away. No matter what happened, she wouldn’t cry in front of him again. She
wouldn’t!

A short time later, she heard a dull roaring sound, and
then, as they pushed their way through a tangle of thick vines, she saw a
waterfall.

She stood there, gaping in awe, as she watched the water
cascade over the side of a mountain to fall hundreds of feet into an enormous
lake. Several small overflow pools surrounded the lake.

Ashlynne could only stare, thinking she could drink her fill
at last, that she could step into one of those shallow pools and bathe away the
dirt and perspiration that clung to her.

She started forward, only to be stayed by Falkon’s hand on
her arm. “Just wait,” he said.

She frowned at him. “Why?”

“Hush.” He stood there, motionless for a full ten minutes,
all his senses attuned to his surroundings, before he stepped out of the cover
of the jungle.

Ashlynne hurried after him. They stopped at the first pool,
dropped to the ground, side by side. Falkon sniffed the water, took a small
sip, then buried his head in the pool.

The water was cold and sweet, refreshing, intoxicating, and
she drank and drank and then, feeling wonderful, she fell back on the grass and
closed her eyes.

Falkon stared at her, surprised to discover that she was
asleep.

Shaking his head, he walked toward one of the other pools.
There were a dozen of them, a few meters apart. He had thought them all to be
overflow pools from the waterfall, but the water in the nearest one had steam
rising from it. A hot spring.

Filled with anticipation, he stripped off his boots,
breeches, and briefs and slid into the shallow pool, sighing as the wonderfully
warm water closed over him. Far in the distance he could see the tip of the
mountain that housed Enjine Base Nine. He wondered just how far away it was,
and how long it would take them to reach there.

But somehow, sitting in the warm embrace of the pool, his
head back, his eyelids growing heavier by the minute, he no longer cared.

Ashlynne woke with a start. Sitting up, she looked around,
panic rising within her when she found she was alone. She clutched the
controller in her hand, wondering why he hadn’t taken it from her. Leave her
out here alone, would he? Well, he wouldn’t get any further! She stood up,
about to activate the controller in her pocket, when she saw him reclining in a
pool a few yards away.

Chin up, shoulders back, she marched toward him, determined
to remind him that, no matter what had happened, he was her slave.

As she drew closer, the first thing she noticed was his
clothing lying in the grass. That meant…heat flooded her cheeks. He was naked.

And asleep. He was leaning back against the side of the
pool, his arms resting on the edge, his head back. His hair gleamed like wet
ebony. She stared down at him, at his dark head and broad shoulders. She had a
foolish urge to run her fingers over his beard. He looked peaceful, lying there.
Steam rose from the water; even from where she stood, she could feel its
inviting warmth.

Biting down on her lower lip, she watched him a minute. He
was sleeping soundly, she had no doubt of that. Did she dare?

She glanced back at the other pools. She could bathe in one
of them, she mused, but the water in the pool she had drunk from had been cold.
She looked down at Falkon again. The warm water in this pool was much more
inviting.

Before she could change her mind, she removed her dress,
petticoat, and shoes, and slipped into the pool, as far away from Falkon as she
could get. She would rinse the dirt from her hair, soak for a few minutes, and
get out before he woke up.

The water felt like heaven. It was bath water warm and
effervescent, bubbling like champagne. Keeping a wary eye on Falkon, she rinsed
the dirt from her hair. He continued to snore softly, so she lingered in the
water, enjoying the warmth, letting it soothe her weary muscles. She had never
walked so far in her whole life.

She looked up at the sky, wide and blue, and thought how
quickly her life had turned upside down. One day she was the pampered heir to a
black crystal mine, and the next she was an orphan with no home and no family,
forced to rely on a slave for her very existence.

Surely the gods must be laughing.

She looked over at Falkon to make sure he was still asleep,
only to find him watching her.

“You’re awake!” she exclaimed, and quickly crossed her arms
over her breasts.

“So are you.”

She stared at him, wondering if he was trying to make a
joke. He didn’t look like a man who laughed often. “Turn around so I can get
out.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

She reached behind her, delving into the pocket of her
dress. “I won’t ask you again.”

Falkon cursed softly. One way or another, he was going to
have to get that damned controller away from her. Why did he always think of it
too late? He wondered if, in some perverse corner of his mind, he liked being
her slave.

“You win,” he muttered, and turning his back to her, he
stood up.

She couldn’t help staring at him. His broad back and
shoulders, both scarred by the lash, tapered down to a trim waist. She chided
herself for staring at him, but couldn’t seem to draw her gaze away. She had
seen so few men in her life. She remembered the first time she had seen Falkon.
He had been nearly naked then, too, lying face down in a pool of his own blood.
She had a sudden urge to go to him, to run her fingers over the scars on his
back, to apologize for every hurt and humiliation he had endured in the mine.

“You dressed yet?”

She jerked her gaze from his back and scrambled out of the
pool. She had nothing with which to dry herself. She tugged her undergarments
up over her wet flesh, then pulled her dress over her head.

“All right,” she said. “When I tell you to…”

But he didn’t wait for her permission to get out of the
water, didn’t wait for her to turn her back. He stepped out of the pool, water
sluicing down his body. His skin glistened like wet bronze in the sunlight.

Like a rabbit mesmerized by a snake, she could only stand
there, staring. His broad back tapered to a trim waist, firm buttocks, and
long, well-muscled legs. Only when he started to turn around did sanity return.
With a squeal, she hastily put her back toward him. And then, eyes tight shut,
she wished she’d had the nerve to look.

Falkon grinned as he stood there, letting the sun bake him
dry. Shy little virgin, he mused. She had probably never seen a naked man in
her whole life. No doubt she would faint dead away if he walked over there and
took her in his arms…

Shit, where had
that
thought come from? Where,
indeed, he thought ruefully. He had wanted her ever since the first time he
laid eyes on her, looking down her nose at him as if she were a queen and he
some lowly maggot. And that, he thought, just about summed it up. She was
royalty, and he was a mercenary, and he would be wise to remember it.

Grabbing his clothes, he stepped into his briefs and
breeches, then sat down and tugged on his boots. He drew in a deep breath and
then, blowing out a long weary sigh, he stood up. “Let’s go, princess.”

Ashlynne didn’t argue. She glanced over her shoulder to make
certain he was dressed, then fell into step behind him, wondering if the
nightmare she found herself in would ever end.

“Are we going to stop soon?”

“At dusk.”

“How much longer ‘til then?”

“About an hour.”

Another hour. It seemed they had been walking for years. It
had been two days since they left the pool. They walked and walked, and yet the
distant mist-covered mountain that housed Enjine Base Nine never seemed to grow
any closer. Her legs ached, her back ached, her head ached. She was hungry and
tired and thirsty. And dirty. To look at her, you couldn’t tell she had ever
bathed. Her shoes and stockings were splattered with mud, she was sticky with
perspiration, her hair fell over her shoulders and down her back in a tangled
mass of snarls.

She glared at Falkon’s back. Didn’t he ever get tired or
hungry or thirsty?

Left, right, left. She put one foot in front of the other,
too tired to think. She was almost asleep on her feet when she bumped into
Falkon, who seemed to have stopped for no apparent reason.

It jerked her out of her daze. She peered around him,
surprised to see a dozen men huddled around a campfire a short distance ahead.
A delicious aroma rose from several cook pots suspended on a rod over a small
cheery fire.

A faint rustle sounded behind her and she glanced over her
shoulder to see a man coming toward her, weapon in hand. Another man appeared
from the left.

She heard Falkon swear, only then realizing that the men
were wearing the colors of the Tierdian army. They might be his enemies, she
thought, but they were her salvation.

“Hello,” she said, relief evident in her voice.

“Who are you?” the nearest man demanded.

“Lady Ashlynne of the house of Myrafloures,” she said
imperiously.

The two men exchanged glances, then both bowed their heads
in a gesture of respect. “My lady,” they murmured.

She waved a hand in Falkon’s direction. “This is my slave,
Number Four. To my knowledge, we are the only survivors from the mine.” She
thought of Magny and Parah and Carday, of Meggie and Otry, of Dain and Dagan.
Of her parents. Always her parents. “Have you heard of any others?” she asked,
hoping for a miracle, hoping they would tell her that her mother and father and
all the others had miraculously survived.

“No, my lady,” one of the men replied. “We have made a
thorough sweep of the area. The attack was concentrated on the mine and…” His
voice trailed off and he gestured at the campfire. “Come, warm yourself. We
have food and drink.”

“Thank you.”

The men at the campfire stood up at her approach, their
lusty glances quickly turning to respect when they learned who she was. In
minutes, she was wrapped in a warm blanket and seated near the fire, a plate of
food in her lap. She took several bites. It was rough fare, almost tasteless,
but filling. A tall, slender man with short brown hair and a sweeping moustache
came forward and introduced himself as “Commander Lyle Casman, at your service,
my lady.”

Ashlynne smiled at him, then waved a hand in Falkon’s
direction. “Could you please see that my slave is given something to eat?”

“Of course, my lady.” Casman grunted softly. “He looks
familiar. What’s his name?”

Ashlynne glanced at Falkon. He shook his head imperceptibly,
a warning in his eyes, or was it a plea?

“I don’t know,” she said. “Does it matter? We call him
Number Four.”

“I guess not,” Casman said. “How long have you owned him?”

“He’s been in our family for several years,” she said. “My
father bought him from a merchant on Nardia. Is something wrong?”

“No.” Casman studied Falkon intently for a moment, then
shrugged. “He reminds me of someone I used to know. So, my lady, where are you
headed?”

“To Enjine Base Nine. I was hoping to get a transport to
Trellas.”

“Do you have relatives there?”

“A friend of my father’s lives in the capital. Rugen
Hassrick? Perhaps you know him.”

“Of course. My men and I are heading in the general
direction of Enjine Base Nine. It would be an honor to see you safely there.
One of our scouts received a transmission saying that the Romarians have
arrived at the capital. The Hodorian army has been routed and the Romarians
have sent a unit to the starbase to maintain the peace.”

“Thank you, Commander.” She smiled up at him. “If you don’t
mind, I should like to rest now.”

“Of course. Please, use my shelter.”

“Thank you.” Setting the plate on the ground, Ashlynne stood
up and beckoned for Falkon to follow her.

“Do you have the controller for the collar?” Casman asked
when they reached his shelter. “If not, we can find some restraints.”

“I have it,” Ashlynne said, reaching into her pocket. “Sit,
Number Four.” She refused to meet his eyes as she activated the shackles on his
wrists and ankles, but she could feel his angry gaze burning into her back.

“That’s better,” Casman said. “One can’t be too careful.”

Ashlynne nodded. “Yes, that’s what my…”She took a deep
breath, fighting the urge to cry. “What my father always said.”

Casman cleared his throat, clearly disconcerted by her
tears. “Rest well, my lady.”

“Thank you for everything, Commander,” she said, and ducked
inside the small shelter. Left alone, she sank down on the cot and let her
tears flow. She would be safe now. Casman would see her safely to Enjine Base
Nine, where she could get a transport to Trellas. Niklaus and his family would
take care of her. For some reason, that thought only made her cry harder.

“Ashlynne?”

She sat up with a start at the sound of Falkon’s voice.

“Leave me alone.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked gruffly.

“Nothing.” She sniffed back her tears.

Falkon stared at the door of the shelter. He could picture
Ashlynne sitting inside, her eyes red and swollen. His first reaction to the
sound of her tears had been to let her cry. Spoiled princess. How quickly she
had fallen back into the role of lady of the manor! Asking Casman to feed him
as if he were some stray dog she had picked up along the way instead of the man
who had saved her life.

He swore softly. “Ashlynne? Release me.”

He could almost hear her thinking about it. A moment later,
the manacles separated.

Certain he was making a mistake, he entered the shelter. She
was sitting in the middle of a pile of blankets, silent tears washing down her
cheeks. He should hate her, he thought. He should wring her pretty little neck,
grab the controller, and make a break for it. With any luck, he could get away
unseen. Instead, he drew her into his arms. She stiffened in his embrace, then
relaxed against him, crying softly. Her tears fell like warm rain on his chest.

She hiccoughed as her tears subsided, then drew back to look
at him. “Why didn’t you want me to tell Commander Casman your name?”

“We went to flight school together. He’s a stickler for
obeying the law. He’d probably execute me on the spot if he knew who I was.”

“You don’t think I would let him do that, do you?”

“I don’t think you could stop him. Shh.”

“Lady Ashlynne?”

“Yes, Commander?”

“Your slave is gone.”

“No. He’s in here, with me.”

There was a pause. “In there?” She could hear the suspicion,
the disapproval, in Casman’s voice.

“Yes. I…” Ashlynne grabbed the controller and activated the
manacles on Falkon’s wrists. “I thought I saw a… a…”

“Snake,” Falkon whispered.

“I thought I saw a snake in here.”

Falkon grinned at her, then turned and scuttled out of the
shelter, careful to keep his head down so Casman couldn’t see his face.

“Should I come in?” Casman asked.

“No, thank you, Commander.” She forced a laugh. “I feel so
silly. It was just a…a stick.”

“Good night, then, my Lady.”

“Good night.”

The sentries were posted, the fire was extinguished, and
silence joined the darkness of the night.

Falkon gazed into the distance, weighing the wisdom of
trying to make a break for it with his hands bound together.

He cursed softly as Ashlynne activated the shackles on his
feet, thereby making the decision for him.

Staring up at the sky, his hands and feet effectively
hobbled, he cursed the spoiled young woman in the shelter until sleep claimed
him, and he dreamed of freedom, and revenge.

* * * * *

They broke camp early the following morning. Ashlynne sat in
the front of the shuttle, beside the Commander, who was, in Falkon’s opinion,
overly solicitous, fawning and fussing over her as if she were as fragile and
helpless as she thought she was. Falkon rode on the floor in the back of the
shuttle, his back braced against the rear wall, his hands and feet bound at the
Commander’s insistence.

They reached Enjine Base Nine two hours later. Ashlynne
released the manacles on Falkon’s ankles so he could walk and he followed her
and Casman down the narrow corridor that led directly from the shuttle landing
bay into the base. Everywhere he looked, he saw the hated dark blue uniform of
the Romarians. They had already taken over, he thought, and wondered again why
they had sent the Hodorians to attack Tierde. Try as he might, he could find no
logical reason for it. Tierde had been a neutral planet, sanctioned as such by
the Confederation.

Casman escorted Ashlynne to his private quarters and bid her
make herself at home.

“You,” he said, beckoning to Falkon, “will come with me.”

“Where are you taking him?” Ashlynne asked.

“No need to worry your pretty head,” Casman said. “He will
be well taken care of.”

Ashlynne bit down on her lower lip, not liking the look in
the Commander’s cold gray eyes. “He is not to be hurt,” she warned. “He is my
property, and I will not have him abused.”

“I know how to handle slaves,” Casman said.

“I think I would rather he stayed here, with me,” she
decided, and, with a wave of her hand, commanded, “Sit there, Number Four.”

Choking back a sharp retort, Falkon sat on the floor where
she indicated, careful to keep his head lowered.

“You spoil him, I think,” Casman said.

“He saved my life,” Ashlynne reminded him. She smiled
sweetly. “For all his rather fearsome appearance, he is quite harmless.” She
bit back a smile. “Almost a eunuch.”

Casman grunted. “I’ll post one of my men outside the door,
just in case. There is a bathing salon off the bedchamber at the end of the
hall.”

“Thank you, you’ve been very kind. Would it be possible for
me to get in touch with Ambassador Hassrick?”

“Certainly.” He gestured at the comport. “My home is yours.”

“Thank you.”

He bowed over her hand, kissed her fingertips, and promised
he would return in an hour with a change of clothing. Then, with a last
disdainful look at Falkon’s bowed head, he left the room.

As soon as the door slid shut, Falkon stood up and held out
his arms. “Release me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Dammit, woman, turn me loose!”

She shook her head. “You had best behave yourself,” she
warned.

“Or what? You’ll sic Casman’s hounds on me?”

She drew the controller from her pocket. “I don’t think that
will be necessary.”

Falkon glared at her, his hands flexing. He had large hands,
capable of breaking her in half. “I’m warning you,” he said, his voice a low
growl, “don’t use that damn thing on me again unless you intend to kill me.”

Ashlynne glared back at him. “Don’t threaten me.”

“I’m not threatening you. I’m warning you.”

“I should have let Commander Casman take you away.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. But it isn’t too late.”

“Go ahead, then, call him back.”

Ashlynne blew out a deep breath. “Why are you being so
difficult?”

“I’m not the one being difficult, princess.”

“I’m trying to help you. And stop calling me that.”

“Then turn me loose, dammit.”

“No.” She lifted the controller, intending to activate the
shackles on his feet. “I’m going to make a call and then I want to take a long
hot bath.”

“Dammit, at least leave my legs free.”

She hesitated, frightened by the anger in his eyes. “But I
want to bathe.”

“So bathe! I’m not going to stop you, or spy on you.” He
glanced longingly at the bed in the next room. “All I want to do is get some
sleep.”

Her thumb hovered over the controls. “I don’t trust you.”

“Dammit, princess, I don’t have any designs on you. I just
want some sleep.”

“Very well.” She watched him walk into the bedroom and sink
down on the bed.

With a sigh, she went to the comport. Moments later, Niklaus
appeared on the screen.

“Ashlynne!” His eyes widened with surprise. “Is that you?”

“Yes.” Sitting down, she put the controller on the table
beside her.

“Where are you?”

“Enjine Base Nine.”

“I thought…that is, we heard Tierde had been attacked, and
the
jinan
had been destroyed. Leveled.” He shook his head.

“Yes, yes, it was awful.”

“But you’re all right?”

She nodded.

“And your parents?”

Ashlynne shook her head, not wanting to say the words aloud.

“I’m sorry, Ashlynne.”

“Thank you.”

“At least you are safe. I’ll come for you as soon as I can.”

Maybe he did care, she thought. “Thank you, Niklaus, but
that won’t be necessary. Commander Casman has already arranged for transport to
Trellis.”

“Good. Good.” He smiled at her. “Get here as soon as you
can.”

“Yes, I will.”

She bid him goodbye and broke the connection. She had never
wanted to marry Niklaus; now, just knowing she had somewhere to go gave her a
measure of peace. He had seemed genuinely glad to know she was alive, anxious
to have her join him. Maybe everything would work out after all.

Overhead lights came on when she entered the bathing salon.
She closed and locked the door, then turned on the faucet, punching in her
selection for vanilla scented bubbles. Hot fragrant water gushed from the tap.