by Autumn Dawn
Disgusted, she flipped her raveling braid out of her way and pulled on her vest and boots. She appropriated the canteen but left the bedroll. It was only a few hours walk back to the settlement from here.
She bent to nudge Luna. “Hey, wake up."
Luna moaned something unintelligible and rolled over.
Exasperated, Dey shook her harder. “Come, on, girl. Get up!"
One green eye cracked open. “Oh, it's you.” Her eyes started to drift shut.
Dey whispered, “Unless you want me to leave you here with Armetris and the goon squad, I suggest you wake up."
That did the trick. She wasn't coherent, but Luna was on her feet and moving within seconds.
"Don't you want something to eat?” Keg asked as they turned to walk away. He was kneeling by the fire, checking a skillet that had been left on the coals. Delicious smells wafted from it. Armetris had sat up and was watching them, but made no move to detain anyone. And why should he? He'd already accomplished his goal.
As far as Dey was concerned, they could all wander into a nest-full of water snakes, but the mention of food brought her up short. Her stomach rumbled, encouraging peace. Still, she couldn't let him get away with what he'd done without a single word.
Luna took care of that. Turning slowly, she drawled, “Why not? It's the least you owe me for cracking me over the head and stealing my treasure."
"First finder is keeper,” Armetris countered without remorse. “And I'm sorry about your head. Have something to eat and forgive me.” Even his apology was a command.
Since it served their purpose, Luna and Dey parked themselves at the fire and gorged on roasted fish stuffed with grain and wild fungi. The food was good, but Dey was starved enough not to care if it had been half-raw and under-seasoned. It was always hard for her to eat in the excitement before a raid, and she'd barely nibbled on her dinner last night. Besides, she had a lot of walking to do today and needed the energy. Slogging through bug-infested bog was hard work.
Finished, the women wiped their hands on their pants and stood up. Already the sun streaked the horizon with crimson and gold. It was time to go.
"Great food,” Luna said. “Enjoy your spoils. See you.” She was half a dozen steps from camp before anyone could stop her.
Intent upon her goal, she ducked under a tree root, using it for balance as she stepped onto a rotting log that crossed a small stream about two feet down. She managed three steps before the loose bark shot out from under her feet, sending her crashing down in a spread-eagled sprawl, her legs barely straddling the spongy wood underneath. “Ouch!” Her feet splashed in the water, wetting her waterproof boots.
Dey winced and paused with one foot on the log. This didn't seem to be the way to go.
The sympathetic chuckles behind her didn't help Luna's now rotten humor. It took a moment, but she managed to sit upright, then made her way to the end, wincing as she slid off the huge log in a shower of decaying bark.
Dey sighed and prepared to follow. This could be a long day.
They hadn't traveled far when the crashing of large objects through brush alerted Dey that they were being followed.
Determined to ignore their escort, Luna kept her face forward as Armetris pulled up beside her on his symbiont hover cycle. The heated argument that soon ensued had Dey dropping back to give them space. She wanted no part of their private quarrel.
Unfortunately her action put her abreast of Keg's cycle. The creature, a huge version of the symbiont that all their people wore around their forearms, made no noise as it flowed beside her. Only the slapping of brush betrayed its presence.
Well, that and its obnoxious rider.
Keg hadn't bothered with his shirt, had simply tossed his jacket on over his bare chest. “It's a long walk. I could be persuaded to give you a ride back.” His voice held no rancor, only a polite desire to help.
At first Dey didn't reply. In spite of herself she'd overheard the argument ahead of her and was busy feeling sympathy for Luna. Luna hated to be reminded that because of her mixed blood the symbionts refused to respond to her. Everyone had a silver cycle, took for granted the ease of transportation the shape-shifting creatures provided. Nor did they require maintenance, for at night the huge creatures hunted and sucked the toxins and impurities that were their sustenance from their prey. Anyone who wanted one could have one on their sixteenth birthday.
As punishment for a semi-serious infraction—some priggling little rule of her protective older brother/guardian—Luna hadn't been allowed to have one until she turned seventeen.
Dey's jaw tightened. That was the day when Luna had first known for sure what she was. The day the great symbionts, like their smaller cousins, had refused to respond to her.
At the moment Dey was equally dependent on inferior transportation, and resorted to walking or riding with someone going the same direction. Her symbiont cycle had disappeared for the season and wouldn't be back until it had divided, the symbiont way of reproduction. At times like this it proved an inconvenience, but it was one she could live with.
Besides, walking was good for a body.
Her train of thought was interrupted as she saw Armetris stop and Luna mount behind him. Surprised, she stopped and stared as the pair took off. Luna must have decided that accepting a ride would get her out of his presence the soonest.
Disconcerted, she propped her hands on her hips and shook her head. Now this was unexpected, and unfortunately it left her with no choice but to do the same. She sighed and eyed her nemesis, who had parked beside her and was watching her expectantly. Considering her perpetually dark mood since the moment she'd met him in the tomb, it was surprising that he bothered being polite. Perhaps it was time to grow up and extend him the same courtesy. “All right. Thank you,” she added grudgingly. He smiled at her, and her stomach did a little flip.
Maybe, she thought shakily, maybe there was good reason to remain prickly toward him. The man could be dangerous given half a chance. She placed a hand on his shoulder to steady herself and mounted with one fluid motion. Instead of putting her arms around him, however, she rested them on her thighs.
It was much, much safer that way.
Immediately the symbiont cycle extended tendrils and wrapped them around her feet and calves, webbing her to the bike.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Hang on."
No way. This close contact with him was bad enough. Just the thought of putting her arms around him, no matter how innocently, was enough to skip her heart into double time.
Keg was one fire she had no intention of being roasted by.
"I'm not a novice—you know how often I ride. It's not like you're going to go that fast through the brush, anyway. Just g—oh!"
The bike lurched into abrupt motion, so suddenly she knew he'd done it on purpose. It was either grab him or be tossed around by the motion. Nor did he take a safe, sedate pace through the trees. No, Keg sent his request for speed through his symbiont interface and the bike leaped forward. The pace was thrilling, if dangerous, and it was moments before she realized that she was now plastered against his back. Her hands had skipped entirely over his jacket and were now flat against the solid strength of his hard stomach. Horrors!
The speed was wonderful, but the branch that suddenly whipped her bare arm was not. She flinched.
He immediately slowed the bike and stopped. “I'm sorry.” With a frown for the welt on her arm, he stripped off his jacket and tried to hand it to her. “Here. It's warm enough already, and you need this more than I do."
Wear something that still bore his warmth, his scent? Eyes carefully averted from his athletic, naked torso, she tried to refuse. “I don't need it."
"Take it.” He extended it impatiently.
She shoved it back. “I don't want it!"
"Lover's quarrel?” Razzi drawled. He had pulled up and was watching them with amusement. He'd tied a blue bandanna over his hair and was eyeing them with a knowing expression. “Or maybe
she's just wishing you would take a bath. I wouldn't want to snuggle with a sweaty biker like you, either."
Dey blushed and snatched the jacket out of Keg's hand. This discussion could only go downhill from here. Just as she'd feared, the silky lining of the jacket caressed the bare skin of her arms, cocooned her intimately. It was horrible, almost as bad as sleeping in his bed. Not that she ever had, but she imagined that it—Never mind. Best not to go there.
Frustration made her grind her teeth. “Can we go now?"
"Whatever you want, sweet thing.” Content to have his way, Keg swung back around and got them moving—at a roar.
Certain this ride would be the death of her, Dey gripped his waist and held on.
The minute he stopped the cycle near his home, Dey got off and stalked away, still wearing his jacket. He could have dropped her at her door, but he could see Armetris talking with Luna over at the base of her tree house and didn't want to interrupt.
"Hey, sweet thing,” he called, causing several heads to turn. Theirs was a small settlement and the neighbors were always curious as to what he was up to. New arrival and all that. “Forget something?” He grinned at Dey's chagrined expression as she looked down and saw she was still wearing his jacket. “Not that you don't look good in my clothes, but people might get the wrong idea about us if I let you keep it.” She looked good in an angry blush. He'd have to tease her more often.
"God forbid.” She pulled it off and was forced to retrace her steps to hand it to him. “It's not my style, anyway."
Instead of taking the jacket, Keg gripped her wrist just above it. As fun as this bantering was, duty called. Quietly, for her ears only, he told her, “Stay away from the ruins, Dey. They're not for you."
The little kit actually curled her lip at him. “I'm not your woman, jelly-brain, nor any of your business. I'll go where I want, do what I want, and wish you to the bottom of the river if you interfere.” Her voice was equally low, but he could tell by her tone it was fury, not caution, that kept it there.
It would take more than wishing to get the job done, but he saw no reason to belabor it. She knew. “All the same,” he slid his palm up her inner arm to her elbow, relishing the way her eyes widened in confusion, “You'll stay away."
She twisted her arm away, dropped his jacket in the stone-paved street, and pushed him with the fingertips of one hand, as if he were beneath her touch. “Bite me,” she told him sweetly and stalked away.
"I wish,” Razzi said wistfully as he eyed her feminine walk.
Keg shot him a look.
"Whaaat?” Razzi raised his hands in a helpless gesture. “Don't tell me you weren't thinking the same thing. Face it, the girl is luscious."
Okay, so he had been thinking it, but he didn't like anyone else pointing it out. “Forget it.” He tossed the jacket on the seat of his cycle and retrieved his jumbled gear. They could all do with a bath. In his case, a cold one. “I've got things to do."
Like the majority of the residents of their settlement, Keg lived with Armetris in a tree house as a precaution against the flooding that happened every few years. Unlike the typical set up, though, their house sprawled through the giant branches of a least three trees, connected by a series of clever, enclosed passages constructed to deal with the stresses of wind and battering rain. As interesting as the carved sills and bubbled windows were—Armetris’ grandfather had been quite the architect, and had hoped to sire a large family—they paled beside the treasures within.
Keg kicked the door shut. He draped his jacket over the head of an armored, beast-headed statue in the entryway. His gear he dumped on the floor, to be dealt with later. The custom-woven rug was beginning to show its age, but he couldn't summon the indignation over it that his great-aunt would have liked, had she lived. She'd always been over-proud of her heritage, anyway.
A sin that ran in the family. Everywhere he looked the spacious living quarters were dotted with reminders of what he was, what the men in his family stood for. There were tall pottery urns with pictures of beast-headed men and woman working in the fields, inlaid screens with ziggurats and ancient buildings, even broken stone reliefs saved from crumbling ruins, though most of the artwork was new, either commissioned locally or ... gifted.
Armetris was a warrior ambassador, trained both by his father and the culture they represented. As his distant cousin Keg had received the same training, but didn't have the temperament to hammer out trade agreements and settle disputes. He liked it that way. It gave him more time to enjoy life. Not that he'd ever heard Armetris complain.
The day was muggy, and he opened a screened window to let in the breeze. The pretty neighbor girl in the next tree waved, and he blew her a kiss just for fun. She'd taken to watching for him, and far be it from him to disappoint her. Not that he'd take her up on her invitation; her father was far too protective and watchful. He'd made it clear that his daughter was off limits, and Keg chose to respect that.
Besides, he had his eye on a particular girl.
While the majority of the settlements were in the swamp, nearly the whole of the Symbiont People were engaged in war with the Beasts who had dared to reclaim their cities beyond the swamps. This settlement had chosen another way.
Not that their position was officially acknowledged. He snorted as he stripped off his boots, tossed them in the entryway and padded down the hardwood floor towards the bathroom. Oh, their leaders knew well enough what they did and commended the sacrifices his family had made on their behalf, but the common people were only now, in this third generation, beginning to understand.
Some felt fear, even disloyalty. After all, war was the accepted way to deal with Beast encroachment, and any trafficking with them smacked of disloyalty to humans in general. Others had quietly left to join the ranks of those hopelessly wasting themselves on a battle that was all but over. The Beasts were entrenched; there would be no moving them from their reclaimed cities.
For the last forty years, Keg and Armetris’ family had traded with the Beasts and prevented their people from breaking the peace truce. Police of a sort, they patrolled the abandoned ruins, making certain that people like Luna didn't dig up old war machines and weapons that might tempt those in the settlement to attack the Beasts, provoking their wrath.
Luna. He stripped out of his pants and tossed them in a corner as he turned on the water. Wavering light from the rippled glass in the windows illuminated a circular tub big enough for two, but the warm water did little to soothe his sensibilities. He scooped up a handful and let it trickle through his fingers, enjoying the lap of the waves against his stomach.
Luna, and by association Dey. He sighed and leaned back against the rim, closing his eyes. So many difficulties wrapped in such a deceptively alluring package. The Beasts would not be pleased with the devices she'd discovered, but they'd controlled the damage thus far. Besides, they were inclined to be lenient with Luna.
After all, she was one of them.
Well, not quite. He sat up and reached for the soap. Luna was only half-Beast; her mother having borne her to an alien lover years after her husband had died. He wasn't privy to all the details, simply knew that Luna's mother had disappeared for a time and returned with a child. She'd died shortly after, and the rumors had died with her. Even now there were very few who understood what Luna was, and those few were inclined to keep it to themselves.
He grimaced and tossed the soap back. Beasts. How much simpler their job would be if the Symbionts knew the truth. The reality was that the Beasts looked very much like anyone else, save for the cultural and physical differences that developed in isolated groups of people. It was their insistence on wearing body armor and depicting themselves in art and history as animal-headed which mislead others. It was true that they were very different in many ways, but not the ones that mattered.
Not that Luna knew any of this. The official position among the parties involved was that her conception was a mistake. The Beasts didn't want her, and it was fel
t the less she knew of a culture that wouldn't welcome her, the better. Keg and Armetris didn't agree, but so far they'd had no reason to seek her out and challenge the ruling. That could change at any moment.
The water closed over his face as he shut his eyes and slid under the surface.
Heaven help him if it did.
* * * *
"What is this?"
Dey looked up from her own plate, a frown of dismay on her face. Dinner had turned out less than edible, but she'd had other things on her mind. “What?"
"This.” Luna stabbed her tined spoon at the brown tuber on her plate. Instead of splitting open to reveal a tender golden center, the spork barely sank into the crunchy exterior. She held it up like an exhibit. “These things are not supposed to crunch, Dey."
She hunched her shoulders defensively. “So throw it back in the pot. It just needs to cook a little longer, that's all."
"And what about this?” Luna stabbed her knife into the gelatinous mass next to the tuber. Clear juices spurted out. River slugs, a local delicacy, were supposed to turn opaque and dense when cooked, not spit back at you when you tried to cut them. “What did you do—have it stare at the pot until it died of fright, dip it in to rinse it off and stick it on our plates?"
Dey snatched up their plates and slid the contents back into the cooking pot, turning up the flame under the tripod as she did so. “Hey, just because you had a bad day doesn't mean you can take it out on me, you know. Save it for Armetris."
Luna sighed and got up from the bar to search the tiny kitchen for something to snack on. “You're right. Sorry. I am in a foul mood."
Amiable now that Luna had apologized, Dey planted one hip on the counter and nodded. The motion sent her pigtails bobbing. “Who can blame you? I'd say he pulled a pretty foul trick on you.” She grinned wickedly. “Maybe you should get him back. Slugs in his bed should work."
"Too juvenile.” Luna located a bread stick, only a little stale, and munched on it. “And far too nice. I need something that says, ‘mess with me and you'll die regretting it'. Slugs won't do it."
