Tomes turned a sharpened gaze on her and smiled wryly. “Clever, clever girl. I see you’ve been to Plane 23. No wonder our truth box doesn’t work on you. You do realize you are dangerously close to scrambling your brains each time you implant someone else’s stolen memories into your head.” He grabbed her face, squeezing it in his palms. “How often do you use it? Do you even remember who you are?”
Karre fought the answer to that question as it tried to crawl out of the darkened corner of her brain. Yes, she used the memory implantation device, but only to help her stay in character when she went undercover. When she changed herself like that, the truth of her goals stayed, but it became buried in the thoughts and speech and look of another’s life.
Mistress, mistress, let me come in. I have the pence if you have a quim.
Brigitte’s bawdy, childhood song echoed through her mind and she knew the box played it for her captors. The memory of being a child, hidden in the closet while yet another man sang that song shot through her. The technician looked shocked. Tomes chuckled. Karre knew that it wasn’t really her childhood, but she felt the deadness of Brigitte inside her.
“Where you’re going, you won’t need a name or a past,” Tomes said. “You’ll just be some man’s property. Where you are going, we’ll always be able to come and get you, but you will never be able to leave. Have fun in Staria, sweetheart. They’re going to love a feisty little thing like you and I guarantee they will put you up for a role you’ve never played.”
Chapter One
Undesignated Plane Number, Outside Battlewar Castle, Staria
Because right now, in this moment, she was a little cramped for space.
Play dead or fight her way out? As feeling slowly came back to her limbs, Karre tried to discreetly stretch her legs. Her thoughts ran rampant, some her own, some implanted. This part of the process, the coming down from the virtual drug of another person’s life, always made her feel a little crazy. She found it best to concentrate on the present during these times. It looked like playing dead was her best option. Running away might be a bit hard, because right now, in this moment, she was a little cramped for space.
Two of Divinity’s henchmen dragged her behind them on the ground, carting her in a canvas sack on what felt like a flat board with two small, crooked wheels near her feet. Her body jolted painfully as she bumped over the rutted earth.
Before they left, Karre had watched as Talbert and a couple of others dressed in primitive clothing—long, loose, threadbare tunic shirts over tighter brown pants and boots. Tomes’ team of scientists had time to study the prototype she had stolen from them, figuring out how to make it work, while she was busy playing maid.
Sure, I do all the calibrations and they’ll claim it as their achievement. Too bad they don’t know the little secret about it yet.
Their first unofficial, unsanctioned Divinity Corporation trip had been to take her to this strange, primitive plane—Staria. Out of the four-hundred-thirty-six dimensions on Divinity’s corporate-approved chart, she didn’t recognize this one as one of them. And Karre had pretty much seen them all and more. Unfortunately, she didn’t remember the jump since they’d knocked her unconscious.
She wondered how human this reality was. Karre had seen a lot of things in her travels—crazed worshippers bent on human sacrifice, a tribe of women who only ate bugs, people who danced in circles at every sunrise. She’d even seen men who alternated wives daily, moving from home to home until no one knew who fathered a child. Each generation, the offspring would move to different villages to prevent gene contamination.
Logically, she could assume most of the people in her current plane of reality had never even heard of dimensional travel or portals. Divinity wouldn’t want her dead in case they decided later that they needed her—whether it was to get her help with the portal device or to try her for crimes not yet known. And what they didn’t know about her activities was quite a lot.
Karre bit her lip. Just to see if it would work, she rocked her body as she hit a hard bump, trying to fall off the makeshift cart. She barely made it a quarter turn before a rope jerked her back into position.
So much for escape.
Watching yet another large horse pass by the small hole she had managed to work into the canvas sack, she frowned. Servants carted water along unpaved roads. The sound of voices mixed with the clomping of hooves and the squeaking of carts. Natural light and even more natural smells surrounded her. No motors ran, no flying machines squealed, no electrical hums resounded constantly in the background. Staria was as primitive as could be imagined.
Well, that’s not exactly true. There was that one plane that had nothing but furry monkey men throwing dung at me. What a mistake in dialing that one was.
Karre snorted at the memory before she could think to stop herself.
“She’s awake.” She recognized the whine of Talbert’s voice.
“She’s not going anywhere, not strapped down like that,” the other captor answered. She couldn’t be sure who he was, but her best guess it was Talbert’s leering buddy, Winston. “We’re almost there.”
“What if she screams?” Talbert inquired.
“Let her. Look around. No one here will care. Why do you think they chose this place?” A boot nudged her hard in the back and low words hissed through the sack. “You hear that, thief? Scream all you want. We have papers here that will land you in Starian prisons for the rest of your life. Behave and you just may be allowed to roam free.”
These men didn’t know her very well. Karre was not a scream-for-help kind of girl. She had gotten caught and she would get herself out of it. She didn’t need a do-gooder trying to save her. Besides, asking for help only meant you ended up owing someone. She would be beholden to none. Though being allowed to roam free sounded much better than being in a prison.
Karre angled her head, inhaling deeply through the hole. The air was fresher than what she had in the bag and she took several breaths before again looking at her surroundings. The motion of her body stopped as her carriers halted in their progress.
Two legs passed close by her peephole. She heard part of a conversation, said in a man’s laughing voice, “…your bride. You should be happy.”
When she could again see, it was a full view of a masculine hip. Sunlight hit his crotch, outlining the gentle bulge in his tight black breeches. Instantly, she took in the details. Thick hand-stitching ran along the side of his thigh, ending at his narrow waist in tightly knotted laces. The muscles of his thigh flexed as his weight shifted. A strong hand fell down, revealing a scar over the back of his wrist, only to lift back up.
“Duty demands I be here,” a deep, resonate voice answered the first. The sound sent a tiny quiver of chills over her body and she wondered if she was remembering someone else’s feelings. “I would much rather the king chose a wife of even temperament for me. Then she could be delivered to Spearhead and I would not have to leave my post. These ceremonies are a waste of valuable time.”
“Why would you not seek to choose your own bride?” the laughing voice asked.
“If the—” the deep, sexy voice answered. Karre’s body was jolted as the two henchmen began to walk once more.
“Ah,” she whispered, curiously trying to listen to and watch the conversation. It was of no use. Her captors quickened their pace. She managed to get a fleeting glimpse of the man’s chest, but he turned his back to her and his face remained just out of view.
* * * * *
“I do not know why you look as if someone is forcing you by knifepoint to claim your bride. You should be happy.” Sir Oskar laughed, lifting his hand to wave at a merchant selling racks of dried meat near the edge of the marketplace. The merchant pointed at a slab of dark meat. Oskar waved again, holding up five fingers to indicate the quantity of his purchase without actually talking to the seller.
Sir Vidar of Spearhead sighed, absently watching his friend order supplies for Spearhead Fortress. He placed his hands
on his hips and glanced at a couple of men carting a pile of canvas on a slab of wood. They had ridden all the way to Battlewar Castle from the southern borderlands and Vidar determined that they might as well make full use of the trip. He gave a rueful smile, not repeating his thoughts out loud. Many of his people might disagree with him that fetching a bride didn’t make full use of a trip.
Bright sunlight mixed with a warm breeze. It was a fine day to walk through the market. Permanent booths of the local tradesmen butted against the inner bailey wall, packed tight with merchandise. Off the main road through town, traveling merchants had set up horse-drawn carts side by side, and sold wares out of the back. They decorated them with brightly colored strips of material to draw the eye. The booths were clustered together to form narrow walkways impossible to pass through on horse, which was why Oskar and Vidar had abandoned their mounts within the inner gates to be stabled near Battlewar Castle.
“If I appear cross it is only because I do not like the wasted time. Alas, duty demands I be here,” Vidar answered after a long pause.
He dropped his hands, twisting to watch a woman with flowers dance and sing her way around them. She winked at first Vidar and then Oskar in invitation. Vidar smiled back automatically. Women were scarce in his world. Males became a necessity for battle and their natural evolution seemed to answer the call with more sons than daughters—when they did have children. Their low birthrate wasn’t from lack of trying when the warriors were home, but war took them away all too often. Sometimes forever.
By the look of the woman’s escorts trailing behind her, she already had at least a couple husbands. If necessity demanded it, he would allow his wife to take another husband, but he would definitely be the first. Sighing, Vidar continued, “I would much rather the king chose a wife of even temperament for me. Then she could be delivered to Spearhead and I would not have to leave my post. These ceremonies are a waste of valuable time.”
“Why would you not seek to choose your own bride?” Oskar asked, the humor still thick in his voice. His friend found much amusement in Vidar’s orders to find a wife and bring her back to Spearhead Fortress. Vidar had been one of the six chosen for the ceremony because of his position of power at Spearhead. To see their commander married would give hope to the people of his keep. To see a Starian leader married to the first batch of traded Divinity brides would give all Starians hope in the future.
“If the Caniba attack while we are away, I might miss my chance to discover what Sorceress Magda is up to. We are so close. I can feel it in my bones.” He absently watched the cart being pulled away. The canvas moved and he frowned, wondering what it was they carted. He wasn’t really worried, just curious. All of Battlewar Castle had been designed for war, just like everything else in their land. If these men didn’t belong past Battlewar Town’s outer bailey wall, they would never have made it past the heavily guarded front gate.
“I will have the supplies loaded and on the way back to the borderlands before you are done with the breeding ceremony,” Oskar assured him. “We can ride out as soon as you claim your woman.”
“Good.” Vidar nodded. “Send some of the men a half-day’s ride from here to put up a tent for my bride. With such a quick departure, I will give her whatever comfort I can while we travel—at least the first night.”
“Do you think these otherworld women will understand our ways?” Oskar asked.
“A woman is a woman,” Vidar answered indifferently. “The gods will give me what they give me. The king showed me the trade agreement. The women must be able to bear children, be in good health, able to do their duty and will know their place. What do I care if they are born in Staria, or are brought through the fairy rings from distant lands, or are traded for with Divinity aliens from another plane of existence? So long as she is not our enemy…” He shrugged, waving his hand in dismissal of the subject.
Okay, so a part of him wanted a bride, but for purely sexual reasons—someone soft and sweet, someone strong and silent, not too pretty, not too bold, not too needy and not too demanding of his time. He had maids to clean his home, cook his food, sew his clothes, but they were all married and off-limits. What he didn’t have was a woman to warm his bed.
Vidar had much to give a wife. He was a strong warrior, a capable provider. He had the skills and means to protect his woman, and he lived close to the battlefront with many opportunities to bring honor to his name. “You order the supplies and pay the coin. I’m going to the castle to ready myself for the ceremony.”
“It is not until tomorrow,” Oskar teased. “How much readiness does a man need?”
“Off with you,” Vidar grumbled good-naturedly. With that, he left the market and made his way toward the center of the city to a shorter inner wall that encircled the castle, including the exercise yard where the knights trained, a small chapel, and the stables. Several of the soldiers lifted their hands in greeting but didn’t stop him. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. Seeing the two strange men with the cart hauling their sack toward the servants’ entrance, he turned in the other direction.
* * * * *
The moment Karre sensed the busy streets were well behind them, she began to squirm inside the sack. She reached for the peephole, tearing it open with a loud rip. She had heard their plan to take her into the servants’ entrance of a castle and knew that if she wanted to escape, now would be her chance. Who knew what kinds of horrors awaited her inside this Battlewar Castle? It wasn’t like Divinity had to operate under any kind of humanity laws. Her first thought was she was being sold as a sex slave. She never really made it to a second thought.
“Stop her,” Talbert yelled to his companion. His red face looked more like a natural condition than the result of the excursion to the castle. Karre bucked up from the cart, ignoring her pained muscles. Like a feral cat, she leapt, striking out with her fingernails. The crashing weight of her body had more effect on him than her hands as he fell back in surprise. Her limbs ached and she didn’t get up as fast as she would have liked. Spinning, she found the thick-jowled Winston fumbling with a vial and injector. They’d planned on drugging her again to keep her compliant.
With the cart between them, he could not stop her as she darted into the narrow castle door. Not stopping to consider her route, she ran, turning corner after corner. The long white, shapeless gown covering her body hampered her legs and she jerked the skirt up. At first, she heard the henchmen behind her. It only made her run faster.
It was dumb luck that she managed to run unseen through the maze-like halls. As the sound of pursuit faded, she slowed, trying to get her bearings. Her bare foot stepped on a stone and she gasped, half hopping, half jogging as pain radiated up from her arch. The blue-gray stone walls and minimal decorations made it hard to track where she was going. Wooden doors were spaced evenly on each side with lit torches burning brightly in between.
When the pain didn’t lessen, she was finally forced to stop and lean against the wall to check on the injury. The stone had punctured the delicate flesh. Frowning, she realized she had left a blood trail on the cold stone behind her.
Careless. Very Careless. Shit.
Unexpected movement caught her eye and she gasped, dropping her foot. It was too late. A man walked around the corner, crashing into her. Initially, she thought it was one of the guards and made a move to strike. The man grabbed her wrist with lightning fast reflexes, stopping her blow before it even began.
“Hold,” he ordered.
Karre blinked in surprise. That voice, a stranger’s yet oddly familiar. It was the man she had watched through the peephole. Her breathing deepened and her heart quickened. She wasn’t prepared for the reaction and she found herself staring at his broad chest. The smell of him captured her senses. He was earthy, fresh, like the wind through a forest. Heat radiated up her arm from the firm grasp. Her eyes trailed down to that hand, seeing the scar along his wrist. It confirmed what she already knew.
His simple linen over
-tunic fell loose to his hips, not covering the pants she had admired earlier. His arms were left bare—thick, muscular arms. A black tattoo wrapped around his upper bicep, the lines bold and confident just like she imagined the man to be.
She bit her lip and pressed her legs tightly together. Firelight danced over his flesh, illuminating every dip, curve and puckered scar. She found her gaze going to the bulge between his thighs—strong thighs surrounded a thickening cock. A woven belt wrapped loosely around his waist, holding a sheathed knife. Her hand flexed and she forcibly stopped herself from taking the belt in hand. Opposite the short blade, his sword hung from a shoulder scabbard that crossed his chest.
“You are dressed as a bride.” The statement was simple and matter-of-fact.
Karre blinked, looking up at his face, almost afraid to see the man who went with the voice. Hazel brown eyes met hers. Yellow flecks ringed the iris and spread out like little starbursts in his eyes. Lids lowered in an almost animalistic way.
“I’m dressed as a…” Karre frowned, comprehending the word. “Bride?”
Did he say bride?
“I thought you were to stay in the…”
Blend in, Karre. Do not draw attention to yourself. Be what you need to be.
Karre cut off his words, placing her hand over his scarred wrist as the sound of running feet came from behind. “Please, hide me.” The words were purposefully breathy and meek. Big strong men usually liked their women mild-mannered and controllable, so she went with it. She lowered her eyes, letting her lashes fall and her lips tremble. “Please, don’t let them hurt me.”
The hand on her tightened. The man glanced back and forth down the hall. “Come with me.” He ushered her into a nearby room, quietly closing the door behind them.
Karre leaned her ear to the door, unable to help smiling at the sound of two henchmen running past. Pushing away from the wood, she turned. “Thank you.”
Taking Karre (Divinity Warriors 4) Page 2
