This story copyright 2000 by Lisa Ramaglia. Published by Hard Shell Word Factory.
8946 Loberg Rd.
Amherst Junction, WI 54407
http://www.hardshell.com
Electronic book created by Seattle Book Company.
eBook ISBN: 0-7599-2284-5
Cover art © 2000, Dirk A. Wolf
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatever to anyone bearing the same name or names. These characters are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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To Karen, without whom this wouldn’t make a lick of sense. And to everyone with the courage to go for his/her dreams. Never give up.
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Prelude
THE GODS had many children in many galaxies and They loved each dearly. Two millennia ago, They became exasperated by the self-destructive nature of their youngest children, humans, and scattered them across the Sullust Galaxy with the hope that they would evolve into the race they promised to be, and would one day find each other again in peace.
But They did not abandon them. They chose one special race of humans, the Nar’galira, and gifted them with the power of magic. Though all Nar’galira were special to Them, They relied most on the Three Factions and chose them carefully. The Sentinels acted as Their eyes and ears, keeping watch over their children. The Executioners delivered divine justice. The Guardians protected the path of destiny.
The gods were pleased Their children progressed so well. One race in particular, the Bellarissians, rose to a level so high above the rest, needing little interference, that the Nar’galira became scant more than memories.
Then the Jotnar Alliance rampaged through Sullust making war and slavery commonplace. Knowing the path of destiny would be righted in a century or two, the gods interfered little. Their children cried for assistance, questioned why They had abandoned them, but the gods remained firm in Their decision to let them learn from their mistakes.
One special man took control of the criminal element the Jotnar employed and became a force to be reckoned with, one even the Jotnar feared. Employing assassins, thieves and smugglers, the Guild, as they were known, began a covert fight for freedom that few realized.
Then another stepped forward, a noble prince with an important destiny, and began a full-scale rebellion that ended the Jotnar occupation, leaving them incarcerated on their home world.
The gods were pleased, but all was not well. A vital path of destiny was in danger of being altered. A Guardian would have to be sent immediately to prevent it from happening—a Guardian with vested interest in the outcome of this path.
Chapter One
ZORAN, THE worst cesspool of all the rim planets edging the Sullust Federation, it would have to be here that Jelena found her new nevash, her ward. He sat at a table, with his back to the wall. She squinted, trying to better see him in the dimly lit tavern. The smoky air burned her eyes, making it difficult to focus on his face, but she clearly saw the darkness surrounding him like a cloud.
Everything about him was black—his long hair, cut short on the top and sides, the long flowing cape tossed over his shoulders, his shirt, the leather pants hugging his long legs. Even his calf-length boots were black.
She should move closer, where she could better observe him, but she couldn’t bear to be near him. She didn’t want to be here at all, but the gods willed that she protect this dark creature. She would do as they wished, no matter what she thought of him.
Blessed be! How could this—this killer be worthy of a Nar’gadesh? The Nar’gadeshwere supposed to protect the good from the evil, not the evil from the good!
“What did I do to deserve this?” She sighed, and leaned back against her chair. “I just wish I knew why. Why him?”
Even seated, and halfway across the room from her, her nevash looked like a hulking giant—a dangerous hulking giant. He was one of the golden ones, a Bellarissian; a race of humans known throughout the quadrant for their impressive height, muscular frames, and rich golden skin.
This Bellarissian was known for his ruthlessness.
Jelena clenched her fists. Why him? Why the Magician? He bore the name not because he had the gift of magic, like her people, but because he made people disappear.
The man was an assassin! Of course, now that the federation was restored, he worked under the pretense of being a bounty hunter. Call it what you will, the man hunted others for pay.
The back of her neck prickled, alerting her to danger. There was an unknown magic present, but that wasn’t the only danger. Several pairs of eyes stared with undisguised interest in her direction.
A hairy wolvern, named after the dog-like creature it evolved from, rose from his stool at the bar and approached her, his red-pupiled gaze locked on hers.
Time to renew her camouflage spell. Glaring at the wolvern, Jelena drew an invisible circle in front of her and whispered the ancient words.
The wolvern paused mid-stride, his hackles rising. His snout lifted, sniffing the air. He’d lost sight of his prey. A low growl sounded from deep in his throat. He sniffed one last time then returned to the bar.
The others who’d watched her either looked around in confusion or shrugged and turned back to their drinks.
Jelena snickered, returning her gaze to her nevash and found him staring at her. Her smile froze as he glanced from her to the wolvern and back.
He saw through her spell? That’s impossible.
A woman dressed in tight red leather, her straight white hair brushing her well-rounded buttocks, stepped in front of him, blocking Jelena’s view.
“I don’t like this.” She snapped her fingers, exchanging tables with a human couple closer to her nevash, but she still could not see clearly. Releasing an annoyed sigh, she waved her hand. The smoke dissipated just in time for her to see the woman bend and press her lips to his.
Jelena’s first instinct was to blast her away from him. “Viper!” Her furious whisper was lost in the din of the crowded tavern. “Can’t she see he’s not interested?”
His eyes remained open, his lips still, his body so unresponsive he could have been chiseled from stone. His rejection of the kiss made her question what she knew of him.
Among other things, she’d heard he was never at a loss for lovers. She’d taken that to mean he took whatever came his way. Apparently, her assumption was wrong. It seemed he had good instincts. Something about the woman made her uneasy.
The viper’s expression was composed as she straightened. A tinge of color darkened her cheeks as she spoke to him.
The Magician’s face was an expressionless mask, unchanged by her kiss. His lips formed a single word. Even from where Jelena sat, its meaning was clear. No.
Anger flashed across the woman’s reddening face, turning her ugly. Jelena tensed, ready to intercede should she try to raise a hand against him. Viper glared at him for a long moment then strode away. Jelena watched her leather-clad back until she disappeared out the door then eased back into her seat feeling oddly triumphant as she turned to her nevash.
Her gaze slammed into his.
Her muscles locked, her heart diving into her feet. How could he see her? The fact that he did, despite her camouflage spell, unnerved her more than she cared to admit. She tore her gaze away.
Basha! She’d wanted to complete this job without having actual contact with him. That was going to be impossible if he saw her despite her spell. When she dared chance a look at him, she found his chair empty. “Where is he?”
She leapt to her feet, her gaze quickly scanning the tavern’s occupants. She didn’t see him anywhere. The door leading outside came to a rest against it
s frame.
Jelena dropped her head into her hands. “I’m being punished, not tested. That’s the only explanation.”
Zoran’s moon was full and high in the night sky as she strode outside, casting everything in a wicked red glow that made even the most innocent of night shadows threatening. The perfect place for a paid killer’s vicious business.
“Not while he’s my nevash, he won’t!” Jelena whispered, searching for some sign of the black-hearted monster. For the moment, the street was fairly deserted. Noisy, but deserted.
A furry white trill, hardly tall enough to reach her waist, scurried by, it’s distressed chattering the only clear sound in the midst of the loud music, squeals, screams, and bawdy laughter from the taverns, brothels and whatnot else surrounding her.
But no tall, dark Bellarissian anywhere in sight.
“Oh, no, my friend. It won’t be that easy.” With a wave of her hand, his invisible footprints glowed ever so slightly, giving her a trail to follow in the moonlight.
Jelena rounded the corner and cautiously entered a dark alley, her gaze fixed on the soft glow. Very large footprints, she noted as her boot fell within one of his steps.
Halfway down the alley, the trail ended. No doors or windows to disappear through. No crates or barrels to hide behind. Where did he go?
A large hand clamped over her mouth as an arm wrapped around her waist and jerked her back against a rock-hard chest.
“You didn’t try to scream.” The soft rumble of his voice next to her ear sent a tremor through her body.
Jelena shook her head. Screaming was the last thing on her mind.
After another moment, he lowered his hand from her mouth. One palm, hot against her abdomen, kept her immobile as the other roamed her body.
“No!” She squirmed against his hold, struggling to break free. “Ma deme von ca mi. Take your hands from me, Magician or you will lose them.”
“Be still!” he hissed in her ear.
Jelena went rigid in his grasp. He would not do this to her! Unclenching her fists, she spread her fingers wide, a spell poised on her tongue.
Then she realized that his touch was impersonal, almost businesslike. He wasn’t intent on molesting her; he searched her for weapons! Even so, she couldn’t stop the flood of heat rushing into her cheeks when his hand slid between her legs.
“I don’t have a weapon,” she ground out between clenched teeth. How much longer would she have to withstand this humiliation? Three seconds. If he didn’t release her in three seconds, she would blast him herself.
He ignored her, continuing his thorough search two seconds more then released her.
Drawing herself up to her full height, Jelena spun around and glared at him. “If you ever touch me like that again, you will regret it.” Even in the dim light, she saw the amusement in his gaze, saw that horrible black tattoo on his cheekbone, marking him a killer.
“You weren’t planning to stab me in the back or blast me—”
“I don’t need a weapon to kill you.”
His white teeth flashed in the briefest of smiles as his gaze traveled the length of her body.
Her claim must sound ridiculous to him. The top of her head barely reached his chin. But, only a fool underestimated her because of her size or gender.
“So, you’re not out to kill me. What do you want from me?” The suggestive way his eyebrow rose as he folded his arms over his chest sent Jelena’s simmering anger to the boiling point.
“I don’t want anything from you!”
“Then why are you following me?”
“I’m your Nar’gadesh, Magician. Your Guardian. I’ve been sent by the gods to protect you.”
Drake Durand threw back his head and laughed. “Lady, you’ve been breathing too much charka smoke.” He strode away chuckling. He knew the potent plant sometimes affected people in strange ways, but this was the first time he’d seen it cause delusions. Too bad. She was woman enough to spark his interest, and that hadn’t happened in a very long time.
Not since Zanera.
The memory of that disaster was all too fresh in his mind because of that damn kiss. What the hell was Zanera doing here anyway? He’d made it clear two years ago that if she ever touched him again, he’d throttle her.
Well, she dared all right—in a crowded bar. That showed a sense of self-preservation, but that’s it. The bitch actually expected him to jump at her proposition, and thank her for it.
Not in this lifetime. Not even for Threaden.
“Magician, wait!”
Drake whirled, grabbing the little blonde by the arms so quickly she gasped, her eyes widening. “Unless you want to get us both killed, I suggest you don’t do that again.”
She gave a disgusted snort and jerked out of his grasp. “You’re just worried that I’ll alert your prey to your presence.”
“What do you know about it?” He kept his tone low and neutral, despite the fact that she succeeded in riling him.
“More than I care to.”
“Then we’ll say goodbye right here. You’re not interested in sex, and I have no other use for you. Go back to wherever you came from and leave me be.”
She caught his arm. “Believe me, I’d like nothing more, but the gods have decreed that your worthless hide be spared. I’m duty-bound to protect you.”
Every muscle in Drake’s body went deadly still. In the nine years since he’d been banished from his home planet, only one man had dared to call him worthless. He still remembered the look on his old man’s face after he’d knocked him on his ass.
Clenching his fists, Drake stepped back. “Woman, if you value that pretty neck of yours, you won’t say another word.”
She must have heard the warning in his low tone, because she made no comment as he turned and strode away. He figured she’d follow, and that was fine with him. Just as soon as he led her to someplace very public, he was out of here.
Jelena knew she’d said something seriously wrong. It didn’t show in his expression, but the chill bumps on her skin validated the feeling that for a brief second her life had been in danger.
Why had her insult affected him so strongly? With a reputation as well-earned as his, surely he’d been called worse.
As she followed him, practically running to keep up with his long-legged stride, she kept her eyes open for any sign of someone intending to do him harm.
She also watched for any indication that he’d found his prey. She abhorred paid killers and swore no one would die by his hand while she was his Nar’gadesh.
Even from behind, he made a terrifying sight as he strode into the town square, his black cape billowing behind him. Life forms of all types scrambled out of his way, and there were many despite the late hour.
When he turned abruptly to face her, she received several pitying looks before they glanced at his dark face and hurried away. She cursed her shaking knees, a constant reminder of just how many times he’d managed to surprise her. Not scare, surprise.
“This is where we part company. Go home. I can protect my own worthless hide.”
Before she let loose the cutting response hovering on her lips, he touched his wristband, blinding her momentarily with a white flash.
Astonished gasps sounded from those around her, but she ignored them, her gaze fixed on the empty ground in front of her.
The Magician had disappeared.
DRAKE STEPPED off the transporter pad on his ship the Dryad just as Mayori, his second in command, and his foster brother Galen entered the room.
“What happened?” Mayori asked, her elfin face worried.
“Nothing.” Drake forced the last of his anger to the back of his mind even as she reached out to touch him. He stepped back. “I said it was nothing. Leave off.”
Mayori winced at his tone, making him feel guilty which, of course, pissed him off all over again. She meant well, but damn it, she didn’t need to know that a sprite of a woman made him lose his cool, apathetic state. He couldn�
�t afford to let his emotions get in the way of his mission—ever. If he lost it at the wrong moment, something like that could cost him his life and the lives of his team. This mission was way too personal as it was.
“How did it go?” Galen asked. “Did the informant show up at the meeting place?”
Drake shook his head. “Zanera showed up.” He slid the cape from his shoulders and draped it across Mayori’s waiting arms.
“Zanera? What did she want?”
“She heard I was tracking Threaden.”
“How the hell did she know that?”
Drake shook his head. “I don’t know. She claimed she knew where he’s hiding and wanted to barter for his location.”
“I knew I should have gone with you.” Mayori’s expression twisted. She clutched the thick black fabric so tightly, the pale green skin over her knuckles yellowed.
“I don’t need you watching my back every second, and you know damned well it’s too dangerous for you.” Despite the fact that the Federation outlawed slavery, Theledonians, with their special psi abilities fetched a high price on the black market. Letting Mayori set foot on a planet like Zoran would have been asking for trouble.
“But that thieving whore is—”
“Not a threat to me. Not any more.”
If the exchange confused Galen, he kept it to himself, or ignored it as he stepped between them. “You going to give her what she wants?”
Drake glanced at Mayori, noting her worried gaze, and shook his head. “Her price is too high.”
Because of her clairvoyance, Mayori was the only one who had a clue about what went on between Zanera and him, but she had no reason to worry. He had no intention of ever putting himself in a situation like that again, not even to get his hands on Threaden.
“But—”
Drake cut Galen off with another shake of his head. “Set course for Regula. We’ll pick up his trail there.” Drake led them into the corridor.
Sighing, Galen nodded and strode into the bridge to give the ship’s navigator their new course.
“I need a shower.” Drake plucked at his shirt and grimaced. “The charka smoke was thick enough to cut with a saber.”
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