by Unknown
How many years had it taken to decorate these hallways? And when had it been done? As far as she knew, none of the artists still lived in the compound. Had Vandar worked them to death, or drained their blood when they no longer pleased him? Behind Wendon’s back, she clenched her teeth.
He led her around several turns, until they came to a wide wooden door where he knocked and waited.
When Vandar called, “Come in,” Kenna felt goose bumps rise on her arms.
The adept opened the door and said in a voice dripping with ceremony, “I have brought you the woman you requested.”
There was a low answer of acknowledgment. Wendon faded back, put his hands on her shoulders, and pushed her forward. When she stumbled inside, the door closed behind her, leaving her alone with the master.
She was vaguely aware of an ancient, patterned rug under her feet, rich draperies hanging on the walls, and several low-slung easy chairs, grouped in a circle.
Her gaze zeroed in on Vandar. He was sitting in a leather chair with a high back. One metal spoke of a leg came down to several horizontal pieces like the shafts of a wheel.
His feet moved, swinging the chair body back and forth as his glittering eyes focused on her. She had been twenty yards away when he’d killed Bendel. Now she was closer, much too close.
She longed to look away yet she kept her gaze focused on him. If he were a man, she would have called him handsome. He looked like a noble who was entirely comfortable in his surroundings, and he appeared to be young—no more than a man in his thirties. But it was said that he had lived much longer. Maybe hundreds of years.
She had no way to verify that, or anything else besides the cruelty and the power tactics she had seen for herself. But she knew he was so much more than he appeared to be.
Pressing her hands against her sides, she struggled to keep from trembling as her gaze darted to his mouth.
She hated Vandar. And she hated her fear of him. Probably, he knew that.
When he climbed out of the chair and walked forward, her heart stopped, then started again in double time.
As she stood in the center of the room, he circled her, giving her a close inspection. “Move your arms away from your body.”
Somehow she made her muscles work, standing with her arms sticking out stiffly as he traced the indentation of her waist, then raised his hand to cup her breast.
When her breath caught, he laughed. “Is my touch repulsive to you?”
“No, sir,” she managed to say, although it was a lie. Would he kill her for having the wrong thoughts?
It was no idle question. She knew he had done it before.
“Sit down,” he said abruptly, pointing to a chair a few feet from the door.
Quickly, she sat down and folded her hands into her lap, casting her eyes down.
“You are very attractive, by the standards of human-kind,” he said when she was seated. “Your curly brown hair is appealing. Your features are delicate. Your hips curve out below your waist, and your breasts are nicely shaped.”
“Thank you,” she managed, hating the catalogue of her physical attributes. She knew that he sometimes took female slaves to his bed. Great Mother, was he going to do that with her?
“You lived in a noble’s household,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” she answered, struggling to keep her voice from shaking and wondering if he remembered the history of every slave.
He returned to his own chair, putting more blessed distance between them.
“And you are educated in the ways of the adepts and also in the ordinary subjects. You can read and do simple mathematical problems.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered, unsure where this conversation was going. At least it didn’t sound like he was planning to bed her or kill her. Not right away.
He tipped his head to the side, studying her. “Did you learn in your school for psychics that there is more than one world, which runs along a similar but separate track?”
“Yes. I learned that theory.”
“It’s more than a theory. This is not the only universe, but going from this world to another is not so easy.”
She waited for him to continue.
“It takes a lot of energy to open a portal between the worlds. One person cannot do it by himself, but several of my adepts have pooled their resources and accomplished it. I’ve sent a few men through the portal, for brief periods. To a world that had developed much differently from this one.”
Despite the circumstances, she listened, fascinated.
“In the other universe, because the people lack psychic abilities, they have developed technology we don’t have here. We run equipment by mental energy. They have electricity and gasoline.”
She nodded, wondering if he often called slaves into his private rooms to share his theories of the universe.
“In many ways, our psychic talents limit us. This world did not develop the creature comforts that are available on the other side of the portal. Just to give you a few examples, they have music you can carry around in a small case. They have carriages that do not need horses to pull them. They have foods that come in rectangular packages. And clothing that any woman here would envy. You’ll like living there.”
The last words made her head jerk up. “What?” she gasped.
“I plan to expand my influence into that universe, and you will be my advance scout. You will go there to find out what it is like, then come back and report to me.”
A mixture of fear and hope leaped inside her. Fear of the unknown. And hope that if he was sending her to that other world, perhaps she would be beyond his reach. Probably, the hope showed on her face, because his eyes narrowed. As they did, she felt a stab of pain inside her head.
“No!” she cried out.
“You are foolish if you think I cannot reach you there.”
She tried to fend him off, and for a moment the pain stopped.
“How dare you!”
Long seconds passed before pain jolted her again.
She screamed, slipping to the side, then off the chair so that she lay sprawled on the rug.
Run, the part of her mind that was still free ordered. But she couldn’t push herself up. She could only lie on her side, rocking back and forth, clutching her head with her hands, trying to tear her way through her own flesh so that she could rip away the pain blasting at her.
“Please, no,” she managed to croak.
Ignoring her plea, he spoke again. “You will be my eyes and ears on the other side of the portal. You will do as you are ordered. You will observe that new world. You will find out what those people are like. Their strengths and their weaknesses. But you will tell no one about me, and when I summon you back, you will return here.”
His voice droned on, giving her more orders. She hardly heard them, but she knew they were etching themselves into the fibers of her mind.
To reinforce his words, the pain flared, dimming all of her senses, and the only escape was into a world of blackness.
She wasn’t unconscious. She wasn’t asleep. But she wasn’t exactly awake either, and she could hear Vandar’s voice still whispering in her mind, reinforcing what he had already said.
“You will obey my orders. You will have an advantage over the people who live on the other side of the portal. Because they lack psychic powers, they won’t expect you to have them. You can use your telekinetic abilities. Try not to let anyone catch you.” He laughed. “But even if they do, they won’t believe what they’ve seen. They’ll dismiss it because they’ll think that what they’re seeing is impossible. Do you understand?”
Yes, she managed to answer inside her mind.
“Say it out loud!”
“Yes,” she whispered, because that was her only option.
She could feel him looking down at her with satisfaction. Finally, he began to speak again.
“When you get there, you must find a place of refuge from which you can gather information. Make friends with one o
f the natives. You are an attractive woman. A man will fall under your sway. Use him for your own purposes. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she answered again, hating herself. She didn’t want to use anyone. She only wanted . . .
Before she could form the word “freedom,” another blast of pain seared her.
This time, when blackness took her, she tumbled into a bottomless well.
VANDAR stood looking down at the unconscious woman lying on the Oriental rug. He had felt her trying to resist his orders. She had fought him as best she could, and her spirit had surprised him. She was strong, stronger than she knew. And resourceful. It might have been safer to kill her. Instead, he had chosen her for this vital assignment.
In the beginning, he had thought a man would serve him better than a woman. But the three men he had sent to the other side of the portal had ended up failing him. They had collected useful information, but each of them had come running back to this world in a panic when they’d encountered a situation they weren’t prepared to handle.
One had gotten drunk in an establishment called a bar and killed a citizen of the other universe. Another had almost been caught stealing artifacts from a house. And a third had thought he could drive one of their horseless vehicles and had crashed it into a tree, barely escaping serious injury.
He hoped Kenna would do better, but he must test her ability to cram in the facts she needed to function effectively in the other world. If she wasn’t up to the job, he would kill her and choose another slave for the mission.
CHAPTER FOUR
FIGHTING THE IMPULSE to fold her arms across her chest, Kenna stood very still with her hands at her sides. She was wearing clothing that she had never seen until today. Clothing that revealed her form in a way that made her want to run back to her sleeping chamber and put on her familiar tunic.
In public, she had always dressed in modest garments with a skirt. Now she was clad in tight blue pants and a thin shirt. Under her clothing, she had on filmy panties and a kind of halter that lifted her breasts and thrust them forward.
Only her sandals were familiar.
She stopped worrying about her clothing when Vandar asked a sharp question.
“Who rules the United States of America?”
Kenna moistened her lips. “The president.”
“What is a toaster?”
“A machine that puts a burnt crust on the outside of bread slices.”
“Not burnt!”
She dragged in a breath and let it out. “A brown crust.”
Vandar kept his gaze on her as he threw question after question at her.
“Where do Americans keep milk?”
“In a refrigerator.”
“What is the underwear that confines your breasts?”
“A bra.”
“What pants do you have on?”
She looked down at her legs. “Jeans. Or blue jeans, they’re sometimes called.”
“What does ‘okay’ mean?”
“Yes. Or all right.”
The questions went on and on as Kenna stood in front of Vandar, doing her best to respond, because she was sure from the intensity of her master’s expression that her life depended on her answers.
She had studied for two weeks, in a luxurious apartment, far back in the cave, drilled for hours by a squad of adepts and scholars. Now she must prove that she had learned the facts.
She tensed the muscles in her legs, struggling not to waver on her feet through the rapid-fire assault.
When Vandar finally said, “You have proved yourself ready. The adepts will take you to the portal now,” she wondered if she had heard him correctly.
She didn’t feel ready, but she wasn’t going to argue. Instead, she breathed a sigh of relief as she followed Wendon out of the master’s chamber and then down the hallway to the cave’s entrance. She hadn’t been outside since the morning of Bendel’s death, and the late afternoon light made her blink.
She’d been relieved to leave Vandar. Her heart started to pound as Wendon gestured toward an outcropping of rock about a quarter mile away. “The portal is there. Hurry.”
He took up a position behind her, as if to prevent her escape. Two other white-clad adepts walked in front of her.
And the long shadow of the rock formation reached out like a barbed hook, dragging her forward.
In this land that had been forsaken by the gods, no birds sang. No animal or insect scurried across the ruined earth. And no wind blew.
The still air felt cold against her clammy skin, and she shivered, wondering if Vandar was watching the troupe of slaves heading for the portal. He was nowhere in sight, but she felt the unseen touch of his strong powers. Probably, he was using his powers to view her progress toward the rock.
So why, exactly, did Vandar need her?
She hadn’t dared ask the question. All she knew was that she was going to an unknown place where people put a toasted coating on bread. Did it crunch like the blackened land under her feet?
She had no idea what came next. Except that she must carry out Vandar’s assignment—or die. But maybe the rules were not what they seemed. Maybe when she got to the other side of the portal, she could break his hold on her.
And what?
She struggled to push the word “escape” out of her mind, lest he dip into her thoughts and discover that she was contemplating something forbidden.
A shrieking sound from the heavens broke the silence, making her cringe. Involuntarily, she glanced up and saw a silver-scaled dragon in the sky above her.
He was here.
Not as she had last seen him inside the cave, but as a great winged creature circling in the sky, ready to swoop down at any moment on the mortals below him.
While he circled above them, they all speeded up, bunching closer together as they headed for the portal. Wendon walked in back of her. The men in front were Barthime and Swee, two of the most powerful adepts among Vandar’s slaves. Men he trusted—at least as far as he trusted anyone.
When they reached the pile of rocks, the shadow was deeper, making her shiver. Clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering, she raised her head and saw that the rock sheltered the entrance to a small cave. Without a word, Wendon lit a lamp and disappeared into the darkness, the flame receding down a narrow passage.
Barthime turned to look her up and down, giving her a final inspection. Again, she fought the impulse to fold her arms protectively in front of her breasts.
Swee smirked at her. “You look lovely, my dear.”
She didn’t bother to answer.
Before the adept could make another comment, Wendon reappeared at the cave entrance.
“Everything is in order.”
Kenna shifted her carry bag from one hand to the other. It had a change of clothing and a few other things she would need. She was glad Vandar hadn’t asked her the name of the thing. It was a knapsack, but she kept forgetting the right word.
With a rush of wings Vandar landed fifty feet away, his hot breath warming the cool air, his glittering eyes fixed on them.
Kenna and the others froze in place. She almost expected the enormous creature to roar out words at them, although she had never heard him speak when he was in the form of a beast.
“Get inside the cave,” Barthime whispered, as if disappearing from sight would save them from Vandar’s wrath if he meant to kill them.
Without another word they all hurried inside the dark passage, and Kenna rejoiced that she wouldn’t be coming back this way. At least not immediately.
Would Vandar drink from one of the men when they reappeared from the shelter of the rocks? Or was he just amusing himself by frightening them?
She didn’t like his adepts, but she wouldn’t wish death on them at Vandar’s hands.
Pushing the thought out of her mind, she followed Swee to the back of the cave.
He gestured toward the solid rock wall. “The portal is there.”
Kenna peered at the rough
surface. “I can’t see anything.”
He made a scoffing sound. “Of course not. It’s hidden, so nobody can escape through it, or come here by accident from the other world.”
Kenna nodded, imagining a horde of slaves who would escape if they could, but she would be sorry for anyone who came here from the other world by mistake.
