Sun Warrior

by P. C. Cast

  “What if the man wants the mating to end—or not to end? What can he do?” Nik asked.

  “Nothing. Part of his pledge to his mate is swearing an oath that he will not leave unless she sends him away, then he must do as she says and agree to end their relationship.…” Mari paused, considering. “You know, I’ve never really thought about it until now—it’s just how the Clan has always worked—but that’s odd, isn’t it? That a man must give himself to a woman and give up his right to have a way out of the relationship. Huh. Really odd.”

  “Really love,” Nik said.

  “You think so?” His response surprised her.

  “I think the only reason a man, or a woman, would make that kind of deal is love.”

  “And I think Mama would have called you a romantic.” For some reason that thought made Mari feel light and happy.

  “I wish I could have met your mama. I would have liked her.”

  “She would have loved you. And you did meet her. Yours was the last face she saw before she died.” Mari blinked hard, trying not to cry. “She thought you were my father. She died believing that she was with the man she loved again. Th-thank you.” She swiped at her cheeks.

  “I hope I helped at the end.”

  “I know you did.” She wiped the rest of her tears away, determined not to allow the conversation to devolve into sadness and missed opportunities. “So, I was raised by a woman who lost the love of her life when she was young and she never seemed even vaguely interested in finding another lover or mate. And, of course, I couldn’t let any male get close enough to me to discover I’m part Companion. Mama and I were quite a pair. Good thing the procreation of the Clan wasn’t our responsibility.”

  “Didn’t you ever wish things were different?”

  “Well, yes. I used to wish Jaxom would look at me like he looked at Sora, but that was just because I wanted to know what it would be like to be desired.”

  Nik’s gaze met hers and held. “I desire you, Mari. Very much.”

  Mari’s cheeks felt blazing hot, but she didn’t let herself look away from him. “Are you a virgin, too?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Her gaze fell to her lap. “Oh.” She hadn’t even thought to ask him if there was a girl back at the Tribe who had spoken for him. She’d just assumed—

  “Hey, don’t stop talking to me. We’re in this together now, or at least I hope we are. I’m sorry, Mari, I don’t know much about your Clan’s attitude about sex.”

  She looked up at him again. “The Clan’s attitude is that it’s natural and good to mate—and to have sex. But it is always the woman’s choice.”

  “That does make sense, with what happens to Clansmen with Night Fever.”

  Mari nodded. “Women make all of the major decisions for the Clan. Our men are our protectors, our Hunters, and our Builders, but they rarely live within the women’s burrows. Women congregate together, raise children together, plant and harvest crops, weave and trade with other Clans, while our men, in comparison, lead solitary lives. Of course there are some men who prefer to take other men as their mates, as well as women who prefer women, which is accepted by the Clan.”

  “That seems sad to me.”

  “That some men prefer men and some women prefer women?”

  Nik chuckled. “No, that’s not sad. Same-sex matings are accepted by the Tribe, as they should be. Love is love. I was thinking of the solitary lives your males live. Seems sad and lonely.”

  “I have to admit it never seemed sad to me until now. I used to think it was a good thing most of our women choose to live in burrows without their mates.”

  Nik took Mari’s hand, turned it over, and began gently tracing a spiral circle on her palm. “Why does it seem sad to you now? What changed?”

  “I changed. You changed me.”

  “Tell me how,” Nik said.

  “First, you tell me about losing your virginity.”

  “Can I just say it was an awkward, underwhelming event and leave it at that?”

  “No, probably not,” Mari said.

  Nik sighed. “Okay, let’s get this over with. Ask me anything.”

  “Have you only done it that one time?”

  “No. I did it more than one time. And, yes, it got a lot less awkward and a lot more fun.”

  Mari chewed the side of her cheek and tried to get a handle on her rising jealousy, though she knew being jealous of what Nik had done before they met was illogical and unfair. She stared at his finger as it continued to trace a circular pattern on her skin, sending ripples of heat from her hand through her arm and the rest of her body. “With more than one woman?”

  “Yes, with more than one woman.”

  “At the same time!”

  “No! Not that that’s a terrible idea.” At Mari’s wide-eyed expression, he bumped her shoulder with his and added, “Hey, I’m kidding you. Mostly. Mari, in the Tribe we’re encouraged to experiment with different partners, especially when we’re young. How else are we to find the right mate? And there is the lust that we share with our Companions. I haven’t experienced it, but I’ve watched what it does to canines and their humans. It can get very interesting during estrus, especially as canines who live in close proximity tend to come into season at the same time.”

  “But you’re not mated?”

  “Mari! Of course I’m not mated. I wouldn’t be here with you if I had a mate.”

  “You haven’t ever almost mated?”

  His finger started tracing its way up her smooth forearm. “Well, I thought I might be almost mated. I hoped I might be. But I’ve just learned that’s entirely up to you.”

  Her gaze flew to his. “Me?”

  “Yes, you. You and no one else, Mari.” Nik leaned into her, finding her lips with his as he pulled her gently into his arms.

  Mari returned the kiss, at first nervous and tentative, but the heat building within her body had her forgetting nerves and second thoughts. The kiss deepened with Mari’s breath. Sensations sizzled through her body, following Nik’s touch as his clever hands explored her. Without knowing exactly how, Mari found herself beneath him as he pressed to her, his body hard, straining against hers. But when his hand slid up under her tunic and began stroking the bare skin of her breast, Mari froze.

  Nik had to have felt her hesitation. He lifted himself so that he could meet her gaze. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes. No. I’m nervous, Nik,” she admitted.

  He lay next to her, brushing the hair from her face. “I’m nervous, too.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Absolutely. I want it to be good for you—really good for you—and I know that has a lot to do with my prowess in bed.” He waggled his eyebrows, making her laugh. “And that’s pressure, which makes me nervous. Hey! Let’s make a pact. How about I swear that when you start feeling nervous, all you have to do is just tell me, and I’ll stop whatever I’m doing?”

  “But what if I’m always nervous?”

  Nik laughed a little. “Well, then I haven’t courted you properly and I’ll go to Sora for advice.”

  Mari giggled so hard she snorted. “She’d love that. I can hear her now, giving you a bunch of questionable advice on purpose, just so that she could dissolve into hysterical laughter when I report everything to her.”

  “Bloody beetle balls! You’re going to report everything to Sora?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Come here, you. How about we just cuddle tonight and worry about sex and changing the world tomorrow?”

  “Do we have to worry about sex?” Mari said.

  “No. Or at least, you don’t. Let me do the sex worrying.”

  “Does that mean I have to do the changing of the world worrying?”

  “That’s the deal,” Nik said.

  “I’m not sure I’m getting the best part of that deal,” Mari said.

  “And that’s why I have some worrying to do.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Dead Eye
found he needed less and less sleep. After he made love to Dove and then feasted with the People, he and Dove retired to their part of the God’s chamber. Dove had immediately fallen asleep in his arms, her naked body pressed trustingly against his. He’d expected to sleep, too. But the solace of dreams eluded him, and within a short time he had gently disentangled himself from Dove and made his way to the Balcony of the God.

  “Champion, may I bring you something?” asked the young Attendant whose turn it was to be sure the firepots remained lit all night.

  “My only requirement is solitude,” Dead Eye said without looking at her.

  She backed soundlessly from the balcony.

  Dead Eye went to the edge of the balcony and studied the scene in the courtyard below. There the firepots were smoldering and going out. The scent of succulent boar meat still lingered. As did several of the People who had gorged themselves so much that they had fallen asleep in little groups around the spit that still held a haunch of meat.

  He shook his head in disgust. He shouldn’t have had to tell them that leaving meat out would draw insects—and worse.

  “Attendant!” He pitched his deep voice so that he wouldn’t awaken his sleeping Dove.

  “Yes, Champion. What is it you desire?”

  He did look at her then, carefully schooling his face so that she would not see the disgust her cracking skin made him feel. Yes, she was young and just barely infected, but if things did not change he could foresee that she would go the way of the old Watchers of the God. She would be a diseased hag, driven insane by the poisons within her body.

  Dead Eye was not going to let that happen.

  “What is your name?” he asked.

  “Lily, Champion.”

  “Lily, wake as many of the other Attendants as you require and go down to the courtyard. Rebuild the firepots and add always keeping them lit to the Attendant’s duties, just as you keep the God’s firepots lit here on the balcony and in the God’s chamber. Then bring the leftover meat into the Temple and begin drying and smoking it. And wake the People who are sleeping below as well. Tell them I command they assist you. They must learn that if they wish to rid their lives of poison and disease they must change their behavior.”

  “Yes, Champion.” She bowed low.

  “And do not wake Dove.”

  “Yes, Champion.”

  When she hesitated before leaving the balcony, Dead Eye made an irritated gesture. “Why do you not do as I bid you?”

  “I will, Champion. Should I have another Attendant remain here to keep the God’s firepots fed?”

  “No. I will not sleep. I’ll feed them until you return.”

  “It will be as you command, Champion.” Lily bowed again and hurried from the balcony.

  Dead Eye watched the young women pour from the Temple to wake the sated People and begin cleaning the mess below. Then he shifted his attention to the distant forest and his thoughts to the Tribe of the Trees.

  How best to go about conquering the Tribe and claiming their city as my own?

  He had already sown the forest with poison. The man of the Others the People had captured, along with his canine, had been infected, and Dead Eye was sure he had spread that infection to the City in the Trees. Why else would they have allowed a forest fire to consume them?

  That step seemed to be going well—very well.

  He was also pleased by how quickly his Reapers responded to the flesh from the boar. They were already healing and strengthening, and the nine left after he’d made an example of Stalker seemed to be accepting his authority unconditionally. But was that enough to take over the City in the Trees?

  Definitely not.

  Dead Eye needed an army of men like Iron Fist and the other eight—men who were loyal to him and whose skin had been healed by the flayed flesh of a living, untainted creature. Dove’s Attendants needed to be healed as well, or the Temple would deteriorate into the poisoned cesspool it had been before he had taken control.

  “So much to do before we attack the city, but is there time? If I wait until I have an army of Reapers, I take the chance that the Others will have recovered and rebuilt. Yet if I don’t wait, do my People have the strength to defeat a Tribe as mighty as the Others in their city in the sky?”

  Dead Eye paced, feeling the fire building within him. What should he do about the People? When should they take the City in the Trees? The forest fire—the blaze that had ravaged the city—mixed with the poison sown in the forest—might very well have weakened the Tribe enough to allow the People to defeat and enslave them now.

  He wouldn’t know for sure unless he went to the Tribe and saw for himself how weak—or how strong—they were.

  Perhaps he should wait. Perhaps he should take each Harvester and each Hunter who remained to the forest and, as he had done with Stalker, cull the weak. Then, like Iron Fist and his newly appointed Reapers, reward the faithful by flaying the flesh of a forest beast and joining its skin with theirs.

  Dead Eye rubbed his hand through his hair in frustration, feeling a jolt of surprise when he touched the antlers above his ears. They’ve grown bigger, just in the space of this one auspicious day.

  He stretched his arm, flexing his powerful biceps, delighting in skin that was free of cracks and pustules—free of disease. He was strong. Stronger than any of the People. As strong as a God.

  You are a God.

  The thought lifted from his veins, filling his heart, his mind, his soul.

  That thought was not mine.

  Trepidation skittered through Dead Eye’s body. Unbidden, he turned to face the metal statue of the immense God that lurked behind him.

  Had he really felt Her move when he’d returned from the Hunt and taken Dove into his arms? They hadn’t spoken of it afterward. They had made love and feasted, and only now did Dead Eye have the solitude to truly consider what had happened.

  “Did you move? Are you there?” He spoke directly to Her.

  She did not answer.

  He scratched the back of his neck, feeling the soft coat of fine stag fur that now stretched the length of his spine.

  “Or am I going mad?”

  Climb and learn the truth.

  The command filled his mind. Not like a thought, and not his own. It was as if a great force had awakened inside Dead Eye and was stretching and flexing after a long sleep.

  He stared up into the God’s face. “If I am mad, then this madness makes me strong, heals me, and tells me to lead the People from the doomed City to salvation.”

  Dead Eye began to climb.

  With the agility of a forest creature, he leaped up onto the statue’s massive thigh, then, finding a handhold in the God’s long hair that had been formed from the strange, perfect metal and seemed to be billowing in wind only She could feel, Dead Eye pulled himself up and up, so that he was standing on Her mighty shoulders. There, many feet above the balcony floor, Dead Eye gazed out at the forest. The moon was huge and luminous—the People called it a Hunter’s Moon as it was so bright that even in the City it cast shadows, deep and dark. Far, far in the distance, he thought he glimpsed small yellow tongues of fire. Not the angry red blaze of the forest fire, but tamer cooking and hearth fires.

  “How many of them survived?” Dead Eye muttered. “When should I attack?”

  Ready the People.

  The thought filled his mind with such force that Dead Eye lost his footing. Unbalanced, he began to tumble from the God’s shoulder. Dead Eye reached for something—anything that would save him—and his wrist found the tip of the Reaper’s triple-pointed spear, slashing through his flesh with a white-hot pain that had him gasping, even as his other hand closed around the shaft of the spear, saving him from tumbling down, down to certain death.

  Breathing in gulps, Dead Eye regained his footing, meaning to climb down immediately and then wake Dove to help him bandage the gash in his wrist, but his gaze was trapped by the drops of scarlet that pumped from his wrist. His wounded hand rested on t
he God’s head, and Dead Eye watched, mesmerized, as blood turned to tears, raining down the God’s slick, metal cheeks. Her face was close to his and as big as a man’s body.

  “Are you there? Are you alive?” he asked the God.

  For the space of a breath in and then out the eyes of the God shifted, turning their sightless metal orbs toward Dead Eye. He held his breath as the answering voice filled his being.

  I am Death, but I am alive. Look within. Accept Me and ever after we shall be one.

  As Dead Eye’s blood drained down the face of the God, he looked within and accepted the God, and without the world changed.

  * * *

  The screams of her Attendant awakened Dove.

  “What is it? What has happened?” She sat, reaching automatically beside her for Dead Eye. When her hands touched only empty space and the thick pelts of their pallet, her stomach clenched and she stood, shouting, “Attendants! Come to me!”

  “Oh, Mistress, it is horrible! I don’t know what to do!”

  Dove recognized Lily’s voice. She outstretched her hands, and Lily grasped them. Dove could feel that the girl’s body was trembling.

  “Be calm. Where is our Champion? If something has happened, you must get him immediately,” Dove said.

  “But it is our Champion! Oh, Mistress, I think he’s dead!” Lily sobbed.

  “Stop this! Of course he isn’t dead. The God would not allow it.” Dove made quite sure her voice remained steady, even though her heart was beating wildly and fear coursed through her veins. If my love is dead, my life is over. Dove pushed the terrible thought from her mind and ordered Lily, “Take me to him immediately!”

  “I found him at the feet of the God,” Lily said as she led her Mistress through the chamber to the God’s balcony. “I did as he commanded last night. Ordered the Attendants to help clean and repair the courtyard and made the sleeping People wake and help us. The Champion said he needed solitude—that he would attend to the firepots of the God. That’s why it took so long to find him.” Lily paused to sob again. “There’s so much blood, Mistress. What shall we do without our Champion?”