savage 04 - the savage vengeance

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  It was a near thing.

  Maddoc followed, his heart twisting in his chest. Bracus clapped him on the back and whispered for his ears only, “Females.”

  Aye, that, Maddoc thought, jealously clinging to him like a tick with the sharpest of teeth.

  *

  Charles' eyes followed Clara, he found he could not help it. The manner of her dress was... beyond convention.

  Her proper attire remained hidden in the rucksack of the woman of the Band who had rescued her. That was the singular compensatory factor for Charles. She was an absolute ruffian. She spoke with authority, pushed when she should defer, and wore next to no clothing. She seemed impervious to the elements, which were severe. Charles bemoaned the winter Outside, missing the steamy warmth of the sphere. He heaved an inward sigh. The fragment had caused damage they may not be able to arrest.

  Another joyous point could be made that Daniel seemed inordinately distracted by the female. They obviously hated each other but it kept his eyes off Clara. As if that was a possibility. As Charles saw it, if Rowenna had not been pressing the courtship of Edwin (for her own benefit) and Daniel had not been a touchstone of sympathy during Clara's time with the fragment, it would be Matthew that was the clear contender. Even he could no longer self-delude. Charles loved her. He was in love with her. He had thought that they would be the most marvelous couple of any of the spheres.

  All.

  But it was not to be. As each month passed, she cleaved closer to that one of the Band, Matthew. He had discussed the entire disaster at length with Clarence and they had agreed on the same thing: Clara would unite herself romantically with one of the Band to protect the people, to strengthen an alliance. Now, with the possible demise of the sphere, it would be all the more important.

  It would not be for love. After all, what could she see in the heathen Band? It was truly the ultimate sacrifice on her part. It made him love her more, not less. The only portion of any of it in which he could abide was their obvious desire to protect her. They were obsessive about it. That was most excellent.

  Clara saw Charles look at her as they trudged toward the sphere. He had that expression about him that told her his thoughts were on her. Something that she was doing that was wrong. No matter. Of late they had been getting along quite famously. With the exception of the flash of prejudice he had manifested on the eve of her departure for the Kingdom of Kentucky, it had been well and good.

  She tried to hide a smile as she watched Calia stalk ahead of them, with Daniel following behind and failed. She was the perfect foil for Daniel. Clara's smile turned to a frown when she thought of neither willing to discuss their initial acquaintance. It struck her as most odd. Clara had been able to ascertain it had been one of strife and confusion. Calia had been about rescuing women. What had Daniel's role been? He had not been defensive about it. However, he had not expounded on what had occurred. What was clear was the wicked chemistry that surrounded the pair. It was made more apparent by how much they fought it. It would be good for Daniel to become distracted by another.

  Clara resumed walking, Charles moving in beside and slightly behind her. Her warmth stolen by the breeze that ruffled the edges of her hair, the day's entrance clear and cold. Her heeled shoes had long gone, in favor of a moccasin-type boot that laced up her calf, shaping to her leg in an immodest flair of revelation. As a point-of-fact, her entire wardrobe was inappropriate. Olive would be having a seizure on the floor if she saw Clara appareled thus. She laughed out loud and Daniel turned to see what amused her and she could only smile. But her laugh had been infectious and he had a ready grin in response.

  They struggled through the Great Forest Outside, finally cresting the hill and entering a meadow she remembered so well. Clara stopped, taking in the half melted snow, her eyes traveling to the hill of bodies, now bones and rags, remembering that day in the meadow. The battle between the fragment, the royal guard of her kingdom... the death of Queen Ada. Her silence and pause brought Calia up short.

  Calia turned and saw the queen look about her in disquiet. Calia instantly was on her guard. Seeing no threat, she asked, “What say you, Clara?”

  “Queen Clara,” Charles corrected.

  Calia's eyes narrowed and Clara raised a palm in supplication. “Nay, it is Clara forevermore. She rescued me from the horrible Tucker and a possible recurrence of what I had endured by Frederic... by his relation, Caesar. I do not require formality from Calia.”

  All eyes were upon Clara and she nodded. “He is of a similar ilk, but more clever. Methinks more clever by far.” Clara looked at them significantly. It was Frederic's abject dullness, perversity and in the end, insanity that had freed her. Daniel had been the vehicle for his end, but it had been Frederic and his actions that had put him there.

  Calia nodded. The sphere-dwellers sounded more primitive moment by moment. But as fragment and clan alike, one must take each person as an individual, not as one of the whole.

  Unfortunately, Calia never had that luxury. If they were fragment, they must die. Her eyes went to Daniel, raised by the fragment but with the blood of the Band pumping in his veins. She hated that he pulled her. She shrugged it off. She knew it for the chemistry it was. Calia imagined it would be the same with any of the Band, the inexplicable pull of her kind.

  Like sought like.

  It was at that moment that she heard the noise of an approach.

  The approach of many.

  Her eyes found Daniel's.

  “How many?” Calia asked him, her dirk escaping its sheathing.

  Daniel listened, counting what he knew to be a number without end.

  He ran to her and she lowered her blade, his eyes searching hers. “Do you trust me?” Clara and Charles ran to them, looking between the two of them.

  No. “Yes,” she whispered, every fiber of her being meshing with his, despite her will, the circumstances of their parting, the ones that now forced them together.

  He gripped her shoulders and shook her gently. “Do you feel it?”

  There were no words but she knew what he referenced.

  “Aye,” she responded, her gold eyes meeting his hazel ones.

  “There are too many. They will kill us. But,” his eyes went to Clara's and Charles', “they don't know that I am Band. They'll think I'm fragment. I can pretend I captured you, give us time. Time to formulate some kind of plan.”

  Clara felt fear grip her heart. “What kind of plan, Daniel?”

  “I don't know.” His eyes went to the tree line as the first of the fragment came into the field.

  Daniel saw Tucker, and his heart fell. He made an instant decision and waved a hand in his direction.

  Calia whipped her head in his direction. “You call him to us? Why!” she yelled. But instead of answering, he grabbed her to him, dragging her tight against his body.

  The bond between them tightened unmercifully and every instinct of the Band he'd managed to snuff out roared for release, a pure blood of the select in the circle of his embrace.

  His protection.

  Daniel shuddered with the reality of it; Calia trembling in response.

  “Quiet. You must act the role of prisoner. Do not give away anything, whatever happens.”

  Calia had never lost that natural cadence of her speech, speaking as one of the clan, yet understanding the divergent speech of the fragment. She nodded against him once, saying nothing. Burying who she was would be the challenge of her lifetime.

  Clara came to stand beside Daniel and he grabbed her hands with one of his own. “I'm sorry, there's too many. The only help we have is the others finding us. Soon,” Daniel said and Clara noticed his hand clutch Calia tighter. Her expression stoic in the face of the fragment that approached. Numbering over seventy.

  Clara felt lightheaded at the idea of being their captive again. Those feelings became reinforced when she saw the one that walked beside Tucker.

  Caesar, his apparel and countenance that of the sphere.


  Charles clasped her hand, the other swallowed in the grip of Daniel.

  Tucker watched the group of four with sweet satisfaction. There stood Daniel, having picked up the very females they'd been after. It was too good to be true. And Daniel lived! Perfect. His gaze slid to the loathsome Caesar. He would bear watching. Where Prince Frederic had been ruled by his emotions and soft logic, this relative was cautious and clever.

  Caesar saw Clara and immediately noticed she had changed into male's clothes, every line of her body available for perusal by the male of the fragment. He did not like their ability to see her essential nakedness. It was bold for a queen of the sphere. He imagined the female savage had something to do with that. She must be the one responsible for the deaths of the fragment sentries and the taking of Clara. His lips curled in a smile of cruelness. She would be his perverted dalliance. He would bind and tie her so that she was helpless before him. Others would do the things that he could not.

  He would watch, taking pleasure in the violence and degradation she suffered.

  A genuine smile broadened his face, causing it to be handsome. The evil lurked unseen but very much alive within a heart of blackness.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  sphere tunnel

  the youngest Travelers

  The teenagers fell out into the dirt, rolling on top of one another in a messy tangle of limbs.

  The one with dark skin extracted himself, turning to his friends and said, “We're definitely not in Kansas anymore! Damn!” he fist-pumped in the air as he bounded to his feet smoothly, reaching behind him for a girl with hair the color of fluffy honey.

  The two boys, almost men, looked around them and saw the walls of a dome-like structure, the air like a sauna. “It's hot-as-hell in here Terran,” Jonesy said.

  Caleb rolled his eyes, the most laid back of the three and said, “Alex talked his girl into giving us the teleport shot to...”

  “Wherever the hell we are,” Bry said, looking around cautiously, the oldest and bravest of the group, or Most Willing to take a Beating.

  Tiff looked at her feet which stood on a dirt floor, then spied a bench that stood beside a huge door made of some kind of metal, a golden butter color. It shone softly in the ambient light entering through walls that were milky and slightly opaque.

  “Kinda reminds me of realm,” Sophie said, thinking the whole thing was too weird for words. She slapped the dirt off her thighs noticing with a wince that her arm hurt from falling out of that weird time warp thing.

  All eyes turned to Randi, who was all girl-of-the-hour. “'Kay, so you're the Dimensional. Can you tell us, where in the blue hell are we?” Jonesy asked in his usual delicate style.

  Randi looked around for a long moment, her exotic almond-shaped eyes missing nothing. “Nope.”

  Totally helpful.

  John had wandered over to the door and was running an exploratory hand over the metal plank that barred the exit. He straightened, turning to the J's. “This is a hand-wrought forging.”

  Jonesy threw his hands up in the air. “English, ya putz!”

  “Yeah John, if ya got some details, barf it out,” Tiff said, snapping her gum, the noise of it oddly swallowed by the soft walls. John ignored them. Instead, he walked to where the door stopped and pressed his hand into the spongy material of the sphere wall, the depressions held for a few seconds when he took his hand away then filled in once again.

  Caleb looked up, noticing small holes covering the surface randomly. Like the dome had a case of the measles. Were those supposed to be there? He looked at Jade and motioned for her to come over to him. She did, her eyes everywhere.

  John sighed. “I think, judging by these items,” he put his hand on the back of a bench made of some kind of metal, a weathered green, a spigot for water with a hand pump at its top. He motioned toward the door with his palm. “It is a turn-of-the-century location.”

  Everyone looked at him blankly. He sighed. “Turn-of-the-last-century,” he clarified.

  “Dude, we've traveled back in time?” Alex quizzed and Randi rolled her eyes, giving him A Look. He shrugged, his massive shoulders moving like a separate entity, their own zip code.

  “No! I told you guys, I can't move through time, only around it.” They stared at her silently. She tapped her foot. Caleb guessed it made sense to her.

  “Okay, here's the thing. I'm a Dimensional, I can visit alternate realities. Worlds that are parallel to ours.”

  Alex jerked a thumb at the gizmo they'd traveled through. “What's that then, baby?”

  She shrugged. “I don't know, exactly. It's like a doorway was already there. Someone has been through here before.”

  John walked toward her. “You mean a Dimensional? Someone like you?”

  “No... someone needed that hardware to get here. They didn't have the juice.”

  Tiff snorted in the background.

  Stunk of Graysheets to Caleb. It was something they'd do. Poking around in other people's stuff... their worlds. Their Business. Up everyone's asses.

  Uh-huh.

  “So how'd we get here on the Dimensional superhighway?” Jonesy asked.

  “I don't know how it works. I just got designated this year. They're guessing as usual.”

  The Adults. Guessing. Go figure. Caleb did an internal smirk.

  “I bet mommy dearest loves your new skills,” Jonesy snickered and Randi scowled.

  Alex came to her defense, “She can't help who her mom is Jones.”

  “Yeah, I know, but it's pretty damn funny anyway.”

  “Yeah, effing hilarious,” Randi said, swinging her long black hair behind her shoulder and giving Jonesy the long-suffering look.

  “Let's get out of here, it's creepy,” Jade said, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, her puffy still on. Caleb couldn't believe she was wearing the hot-ass thing. He was about to strip his off when Bry and Tiff said, practically at the same moment, “No!”

  They looked at each other, laughing. Tiff said, “We came all this way to check shit out and I wanna.”

  Caleb Hart didn't say anything. He'd felt a familiar pull. Looking through the murky wall of the dome he saw them.

  Hundreds.

  Grave markers. The pull of the dead a siren's wail. Just outside the old-fashioned door.

  The teens saw his expression and followed his gaze.

  John's brows jerked up to his hairline, his hair a deep bronze in the low light of the sphere tunnel. “Ah... no, Caleb. No corpses. We don't have enough info. We don't know what we're getting into here. Or where we're even at!”

  “That's the glory of it, Terran,” Jonesy said, “it's the surprise factor.”

  Tiff and Bry nodded.

  Sophie piped in, “That's just it, what if something bad happens?” she stated, chewing her bottom lip softly, eyes anxious.

  Lewis spoke for the first time, “What could happen? There's no Graysheets here. And,” he held up an elegant finger, not a wrinkle or speck of dirt on his clothes, “if this is an old-fashioned world, they don't have the technology to be dangerous. They'll be primitive right?”

  Caleb guessed he had a point.

  Jade tweaked his sleeve, the sweat from the heat of this place beading on his forehead. He looked at her.

  “I've got a bad feeling about this.”

  “It'll be okay. I mean... look at them all,” Caleb said, indicating the grave markers, the white crosses standing at attention just outside the dome, their forms slightly obscure because of the material of the dome's wall.

  “Dead are dead, right?” Caleb said to her, squeezing her against him, the vanilla smell of her mixing with the humid air.

  Jade nodded reluctantly. She supposed that was accurate.

  Caleb had an arsenal of the dead at his disposal. What could happen?

  The boys tried the door, itching to escape the hot tunnel.

  “I'm gettin' ass-sweat here guys! Let's get the hell out of Dodge!” Jonesy wailed.

  Sophie rolle
d her eyes. “Nice visual Jonesy, so wanted to know that detail.”

  “Okay Princess, you never sweat?”

  “No butt hair, doofus,” Tiff said by way of explanation, spitting her gum out on the dirt floor of the tunnel.

  “Oh. My. God. Seriously? Did you just say that?” Randi asked in disbelief.

  Tiff shrugged. Sticking her head forward she replied, “So? I got five brothers. Ass. Hair. Figure it out. It's like a damn greenhouse effect or some crap like that.”

  All the guys were silent. Silently dying.

  Mia saved it by saying, “I think that is the least of our concerns.” She indicated the Door That Would Not Budge.

  Yeah.

  Alex laughed, breaking the awkwardness of anatomical differences. “I can get it, no problem.” He walked over to it and lifted the solid brass bar off the hooks that held it and carefully laid it on the dirt floor of the sphere tunnel. His eyes took in the locks at all four corners and his eyes fell on Archer.

  “Get over here and do your Lock-Manipulator mojo.”

  Archer walked over, and made a running leap, slapped the top locks with the flat of his palm. The tumblers moved, cooperating smoothly with the magic that allowed him to manipulate any lock ever made. In whatever world, apparently.

  He nailed the ones that restrained the bottom. Alex took hold of the portion of the door that slid along runners of a contrasting metal. He grunted, saying, “Hell, these have to weigh a ton!”

  Literally.

  Finally, he opened the door and stepped out.

  Caleb was hit with the freshest air he'd ever tasted, the coolness of it like drinking a tall glass of ice water, at once refreshing and perfect.

  Jade gave a small smile and Bry said, “Tiff, pick that crap up.” He stabbed a finger at the wad of gum languishing in the middle of the tunnel.

  “Nah, posterity bro. Gives them something to think about.”