The Captive (27 page)

Niklaus Hassrick stood at the window, gazing out over the
vast acreage that had been in his family for generations. Years to build, he
mused, and only a few moments to tear it all down. Behind him, he could hear
his mother weeping softly, hear his father’s voice as he tried to comfort her.
They had both aged in the last few days. Well, he thought bleakly, so had he.

Drade had returned to Daccar.

Upon learning of Drade’s treachery, Brezor had sent his
agent to inform Rugen that he had ten days to vacate the premises. It had all
come out then, all the dirty little secrets Niklaus had tried to hide.

“Why, Niklaus?”

The sound of his mother’s voice, asking the same question
yet again, was more than he could bear. Turning on his heels, he strode out of
the room.

Drade was out of reach, but he knew where Falkon had gone.
If he hurried, he could be there, waiting, when he arrived.

Falkon stepped out of the ASTC he had picked up at Enjine
Base Nine. On the far side of the bridge, he could see the mine compound—the
huts, the overseer’s residence, the mine’s yawning maw. It was late afternoon.
Ashlynne would be down there, sweating side by side with the other slaves. Did
she hate him yet?

Muttering an oath, he started across the bridge. Every
minute he wasted was another minute she spent in that hell.

He walked past the huts, remembering all the nights he had
spent locked up. If it had been bad for him, how much worse had it been for
Ashlynne? She had been raised to a life of luxury, pampered and spoiled all her
life. She had never known want or hunger or fear, until he’d come into her
life. Somehow, he would make it up to her. Somehow.

He was about to duck inside when two guards materialized out
of the darkness, weapons drawn. Falkon backed up, and the guards emerged from
the mine, followed by Niklaus Hassrick.

“Damn,” Falkon muttered. “I should have killed you when I
had the chance.”

One of the guards stepped forward and relieved him of his
gun.

“Welcome home,” Hassrick said. He held out his hand. “Does
this look familiar?”

Falkon shook his head as he stared at the collar in
Hassrick’s hand. “No. Never again.”

“Hold him!”

Rage. It welled up within him, simmering, boiling, exploding
in a primal cry of defiance. He would never wear that collar again. Never! He
had spent enough time sweating in a dark hole, breathing in his own stink. And
now they had Ashlynne down there. It sickened him, enraged him, to think of her
in that hellhole.

He pivoted sharply, his anger feeding on itself as he drove
his fist into the face of the guard on his left. It caught the guard on the
point of his chin, and he dropped to the ground, out cold.

The guard on his right raised his weapon but before he could
fire, Falkon kicked it out of his hand, then drove his knee into the man’s
face. Blood spurted from the guard’s nose, spraying Falkon’s shirt and face.

He backed away, looked up to find Hassrick pointing one of
the guard’s weapons at him.

Hassrick tossed the collar at Falkon’s feet. “Put it on.”

“No.”

“She’s wearing one, too, you know.”

The threat was all too clear. Falkon clenched his hands at
his sides. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would, and I did.”

Falkon sucked in a deep breath. He seemed to see the world
through a red haze, a world that was empty of everything but the man standing
before him, a man who had caused Ashlynne pain.

With a wordless cry, Falkon lunged forward. He felt a
burning pain across his left shoulder and knew Hassrick had fired at him, but
it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but killing the man in front of him before
he could hurt Ashlynne again.

He reeled backward as Hassrick fired again, his hand going
to his side, feeling the heat of the blast on his skin. He dropped to his
knees, breathing hard.

Hassrick was grinning as he took a step forward. “I’m going
to enjoy this,” he said, and lifted the weapon once again.

Summoning all his energy, Falkon rolled to the left and
grabbed the gun lying beside the dead guard. He quickly rolled to the left,
felt the heat of the blast explode past his head as Hassrick fired.

“Missed me,” he muttered and squeezed the trigger.

Hassrick stood there a moment, then the gun fell from his
hand and he topped over backwards. He twitched once, and lay still.

Falkon took a deep breath; then, using the weapon for a
crutch, he stood up and walked toward the entrance to the mine.

* * * * *

Ashlynne kept her mind carefully blank as she hefted the
pulse axe. It was easier to think of nothing than to dwell on memories of the
past. Only a few days in the mine, yet it seemed as though she had been there
for years. It was hard to remember her other life, hard to recall a time when
her skin had been clean, when she’d had a soft bed to sleep on, nice clothes to
wear, good food to eat. It seemed she had always lived in the dark, burrowing
into the ground like a sightless mole.

Yes, it was better to keep her memories at bay, but
sometimes, late at night, when her body craved sleep and sleep wouldn’t come,
she opened the door to her memories and thought about Falkon, remembering the
first time she had seen him on the landing dock, fighting for his freedom. His
presence in the
jinan
had turned her whole world upside down. He had
teased and tormented her at every turn, sparked her anger, fascinated her with
his defiance. She had lost so much, it wasn’t fair that she should lose him,
too.

She lifted her hand to wipe the sweat from her face and her
fingers brushed against the collar at her throat. She knew now why Falkon had
hated it so. It wasn’t just that it was heavy and uncomfortable and capable of
inflicting the worst pain she had ever known; it was what it stood for.

She looked down the line to where Chaney and Darf were
toiling side by side. She knew they were even more miserable than she was, and
yet she envied them because they were together, at least in the mine, and she
would never see Falkon again.

Falkon. Her heart ached for him, yearned for him. If not for
the child she carried beneath her heart, she would have given up, but she had
to go on, had to be strong, for the baby, even though it would be taken from
her.

She felt the sting of tears in her eyes and dashed them
away. If she let herself cry now, she would never stop. She’d cry and cry,
until she flooded the mine with her tears.

She paused in mid-swing at the sound of a commotion near the
entrance to the mine. There was the dull whoosh of a laser blast, the sound a
man’s scream. She bit down on her lip, certain one of the slaves had been
killed trying to escape. And then she heard something she’d never thought to
hear again—Falkon’s voice, calling her name.

“Here,” she cried. “Down here.”

A guard stepped out of the darkness. “Shut up, slave, and
get back to work.”

“Falkon!”

“Ashlynne!” He moved past the guard. Wrapping one arm around
her, he pulled her up against him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the guard demanded.

“I’m taking my woman out of here.” Falkon leveled his weapon
at the guard’s chest. “I’m taking everybody out of here.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Watch me.”

The guard looked back at the entrance to the mine, his
expression uncertain.

“They’re dead,” Falkon said quietly. “You can join them or
not, it’s up to you.” He glanced at Ashlynne. “Are you all right?”

“I am now.”

Falkon looked at the guard. “There’s been a mistake. This is
Lady Ashlynne Myrafloures. The mine belongs to her.”

The guard looked at Ashlynne and at the gun in Falkon’s
hand, and shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

“Falkon, is that you?”

“Damn right, Darf,” Falkon called as he took the guard’s
weapon. “Get your furry butt up here. Tell the others to come out, too.”

Taking Ashlynne by the hand, he led her up out of the mine.

One by one, the slaves emerged from the mine and gathered
around Falkon. The guard brought up the rear.

“What’s going on?” Darf asked.

“We’re taking over.” Falkon’s gaze ran over Darf. His friend
had lost a good deal of weight since he’d been in the mine. He stood with his
arms around Chaney. “Come on,” he said, “let’s get out of here.”

Ashlynne blinked against the sun’s bright light, gasped when
she saw Hassrick sprawled in the dirt.

She looked up at Falkon, only then noticing the laser burns
on his shoulder and side. “You’re been hurt!”

“I’m all right.” His hand stroked her hair, and she looked
away.

“Hey,” he said, “it’ll grow back.”

She wrapped her arms around him. “I was afraid I’d never see
you again,” she whispered, and buried her face against his chest, not wanting
him to see her tears.

He held her close while she cried, his lips brushing the top
of her head.

“What now?”

Falkon looked up to see Darf and Chaney standing beside him.

The other prisoners stood behind them in a loose
semi-circle. The guard stood a little apart, looking uneasy.

“Darf, get the release mechanism,” Falkon said, unwilling to
leave Ashlynne’s side for even a few minutes. He looked at the slaves. “You’re
all free to go.”

A hum of excitement rose in the air as the prisoners
realized they were truly free.

Darf took the release mechanism from the guard and after
removing the restraints from Chaney and Ashlynne, he freed the prisoners, and
then himself.

Ashlynne breathed a sigh of relief as Darf removed the
collar from her neck, unlocked the shackles on her hands and feet.

She thanked him, then smiled at Falkon as she massaged her
neck. “I feel like I could fly.”

He nodded, knowing just how she felt. “Come on, let’s get
out of here. Darf. Chaney, I’ve got good news for you. I know where your baby
is. And she’s fine.”

“Where is she?” Chaney asked anxiously.

“She’s with one of Hassrick’s servants on Trellis. Once we
get things squared away here, we’ll send for her.”

Chaney collapsed against her husband, weeping softly.

Falkon looked at the slaves milling around the compound.
“There’s an ASTC across the bridge. You’re welcome to it. You can clean up in
the overseer’s house. Help yourself to whatever you need and go.”

“Go,” one of men said. “Go where?”

“Go to Cherlin Four,” Darf said. “You’ll be welcome there.”

Amid a flurry of “thank yous”, the freed men headed for the
overseer’s house at the far end of the compound.

Ashlynne tugged on Falkon’s hand. “What about them?” she
asked, pointing at the bodies.

“We’ll send someone from the house down to bury the guards.
Hassrick’s parents will probably want his body. Come on, let’s get out of
here.”

Though she had been a prisoner only a short time, it felt
strange to be free again. Ashlynne held tight to Falkon’s hand as they walked
up the path that led to the
jinan
. Darf and Chaney followed behind them.

Hana was reclining on one of the sofa in the living room of
the house when they entered. She stood up, her surprise clear in her eyes when
she saw Ashlynne.

“Is this how you spend your days, Hana?” Ashlynne asked.

The housekeeper shook her head, her gaze moving from
Ashlynne to the others and back again. “Shall I ask Kerolena to draw you a
bath?”

“Yes. We’ll all be wanting one. I’m putting Darf and his
wife in the corner room on the second floor. And we’ll be wanting something to
eat after we’ve bathed.”

“And where will the other…” Hana’s glanced at Falkon, who
stood with his arm around Ashlynne’s shoulders. “Where will the other gentleman
be staying?”

“In my room.”

Hana’s mouth dropped open. She closed it quickly, her hands
fluttering like lost birds. “And will Lord Hassrick be joining you and
your…your guests?”

An image of Hassrick, lying sprawled in the dirt, flashed
before Ashlynne’s eyes. “No. That will be all, Hana.”

With a nod, the housekeeper hurried out of the room.

“Nice place,” Falkon muttered, looking around.

“Very,” Darf said.

Ashlynne tugged on Falkon’s hand. “Let’s go upstairs. Your
wounds need tending.”

He didn’t argue.

Ashlynne showed Darf and Chaney to their room. “If you need
anything, just ask.”

“Our thanks, Lady Ashlynne,” Darf said.

Chaney clasped Ashlynne’s hand in hers. “How can we ever
repay you?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You’ve taken us into your home.”

“You made me welcome in yours.” She smiled up at Falkon.
“Here’s the one who deserves our thanks.”

“You can thank me later,” Falkon muttered. “Which room is
yours?”

“We’ll meet you downstairs in about an hour, then,” Ashlynne
said.

Darf looked at Falkon and grinned. “Better make it two,” he
said, and drawing Chaney into the room, he closed the door.

* * * * *

Falkon reclined in a tub made of blue marble, his eyes
closed, while Ashlynne bathed him. He could have done it himself, but it was
far more pleasant to lie there and feel her hands moving over him, her breath
warm upon his face.

When she finished, she sat back, expecting him to get out.
Instead, he reached for her and lifted her into the tub with him, clothes and
all.

“Falkon! What are you doing?”

“I’m lonely.”

He settled her on his lap, facing him, and began to undress
her, tossing her wet clothes on the floor.

He lifted her hands, anger and regret stirring inside him
when he saw the blisters on her palms. Gently, he kissed first one hand and
then the other. And then he placed one hand on her belly, his fingers spread
wide. “I should be taking care of you.”

She put her hand over his. “I’m fine.” She smiled. “We’re
fine.”

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, his face
pressed in the warm valley between her breasts. She smelled of sweat and
crystal dust, of woman. Of home. He clung to her, thinking how close he had
come to losing her forever, thinking of the long hours she had spent in the
mine, laboring as no woman should be made to do, especially one with child. He
thought of her toiling from dawn ‘til dark, then locked in a stone cell,
sleeping on a blanket on the ground, eating food not fit for a warf hog. He
thought of all she had endured, the loss of her home and her parents, and
regretted that he could kill Hassrick only once.

He washed her gently from head to foot, his hands lingering
on her hair. So short it was now, yet soft and silky beneath his fingertips.

When he finished, he stepped out of the tub and wrapped a
towel around his waist, then turned and lifted Ashlynne from the water. He held
her close for a moment, his breath catching in his throat as he felt her body
pressed against his, the slight swell of her belly, the warmth of her breasts.
He wrapped her in a thick towel, then carried her into the bedroom and sat her
on the bed. “I’ll make it all up to you somehow,” he promised.