Who was this Shadow? Something about him felt wrong. Was he her savior? Or a threat?
Agonized screams reverberated throughout the chamber.
"Remain here,” Shadow ordered as he grabbed his sword and dashed out the door.
"Not likely,” Dale muttered at his back.
The screaming continued, growing harsher each moment. It sent chills up and down her back as she followed Shadow through the dim dank tunnel. Her toes curled against the cold wet rock beneath her bare feet. Not eager to know exactly what she walked on, she was glad the only light came from the greenish glow of the moss lining the walls.
Ahead, the tunnel widened. She skidded to a halt beside Shadow. The damp air smelled like rotting potatoes. To keep from gagging, she held a hand over her mouth and took shallow breaths.
He looked down at her and frowned. “I told you to remain in the chamber."
"Yeah, right. What's going on?"
"Look.” He moved slightly.
The first thing that caught her eye was the colorful glitter that covered the cave floor. Then movement redirected her attention. Two men stood off to one side watching something that twisted frantically about fifteen feet away. She gulped in horror. The thing was a man or what she thought was a man. Creatures that resembled spiders, hundreds of them, ranging in size from a half-inch to nearly a foot, blanketed him from head to toe.
Only these spiders had a dozen legs and were all colors of the rainbow. Tiny bead-like eyes waved on long stalks above their oval, fur-covered bodies. Gleaming white fangs completed their hideous appearance.
They swarmed over the screaming man, darting across his body as he twitched and tried desperately to pull them off. Again and again they sank their fangs into him. Blood and a grayish-green substance covered every exposed inch of him.
Her stomach threatened to give back her lunch. She wanted to turn away, but felt compelled to watch. She gripped Shadow's arm. “You've got to help him."
"It is too late.” He grabbed her arm and started to pull her away.
"No, we can't leave him like that."
The man staggered blindly toward them. Tiny spiders covered his eyes. The other two men darted away.
"Come. He is already dead. The poison is in his blood stream. There is no help for him."
Dale dug in her heels. “We have to try."
She crashed into his back as he stopped suddenly.
"There is but one thing I can do for him. You will not approve,” he said, turning to face her.
"Anything is better than leaving him like that."
Before she could ask his plan, Shadow pulled a knife from the sheath at his waist. With a deft twist of his wrist the blade sailed through the air. The screaming abruptly ceased.
Dale whirled around. The ornate hilt of the knife protruded from the man's throat. For a second he stood motionless. Then his body tumbled forward and crashed into the ground. Spiders shrieked, some were crushed beneath the man's weight, and others jumped free. Her knees started to buckle.
Shadow scooped her into his arms and ran. Once inside the chamber, she struggled until he set her down, then she turned on him.
"You killed him!"
"And lost a good knife in the process."
"How can you be so callous? The man is dead because of you."
"Greed and stupidity killed him. By entering the spinners’ domain he signed his own death warrant."
He moved around the chamber gathering clothing and supplies.
"What are you doing?"
"We have to leave here. The spinners will follow our scent. They do not make comfortable bedmates."
Dale shuddered at the thought of being covered by those hairy walking nightmares. “Where are we going?"
He didn't answer, so she grabbed his arm and swung him around to face her.
"I can't leave here until I find my necklace.” It was her only chance of getting back home. “I have to find it."
"You would risk your life for a piece of jewelry?"
"You don't understand. I need it to get home."
He shook his head in disgust and turned away.
Dale gasped. A fist-sized spider clung to his right shoulder, it's fangs sunk deep into him. How could he not feel it?
"Shadow,” she whispered. Beady spinner eyes swiveled toward her.
"We cannot hunt for your necklace. Spinners will soon spill out of this cave searching for food."
"There's one on your back."
He froze. His head turned slightly toward her. “Kill it."
"How?"
"Smash it with something."
"But its fangs are in you."
"It does not matter. Kill it."
She grabbed a heavy wooden platter from the table and swung it. The spider died with a high-pitched shriek. Dale dropped the platter and stared at the squashed mass dripping down Shadow's back. He quickly ripped off his shirt and tossed it in a corner.
White ridges of scar tissue crisscrossed his broad back. What type of injury could have caused such damage?"
She started to reach for him.
"Do not touch it. A spinner's blood is acid. It will burn you."
Dale cringed when she caught sight of the creature's fangs still embedded in his flesh. “What do I do now?"
"Nothing."
He dug into his pack and pulled out a knife. Made of a crystal-like material rather than metal, the well-honed blade gleamed in the yellow lamplight. Holding a highly polished square of black stone, he twisted trying to see his back. The tip of the blade touched the swollen flesh around the fangs, but he couldn't contort himself enough to dig them out. Sweat beaded his forehead as he sagged in defeat.
Stubborn, macho man.
"Need some help?"
His eyes searched her face. Seemingly satisfied by what he saw there, he handed her the knife. The hilt felt warm and smooth in her palm. This one was simple and unadorned with carvings.
"You must cut out the fangs and the flesh surrounding them.” He turned his back to her.
The thought of slicing into the bronzed skin covering his muscled back made her stomach churn.
He turned his face toward her. “If you hesitate I will die a most unpleasant death. Spinner poison will make the strongest of men beg to die as their flesh and bone dissolves. Cut now before the poison enters my blood."
"Can't one of your men do this?"
His short laugh lacked humor. “They would as soon see me die by inches. And if I die, you will become their property."
Dale wasn't quite sure what he meant, but his lack of trust in his men was obvious. The fact that they had run damned them in her eyes. She bit her lip, braced one hand on his left shoulder, placed the knife against his skin and pressed. A line of blood welled, and its metallic smell stung her nose. Her hands trembled, but he never flinched.
"Does it hurt?"
"Yes. But that is good. You must cut where I still have sensation to be sure you have removed all the infected flesh. The poison has rendered me numb around the fangs. Do it now. Quickly, before the poison spreads."
He braced his hands against the wall and lowered his head. Muscles taut and shoulders flexed forward, he presented his back to her. The raised scars were white on his tanned skin.
"Here goes.” She worried her lower lip with her teeth as first she dug out the quarter inch fangs. He never flinched. Then with short quick slices she cut away layer after layer of skin and flesh, an area about the size of a silver dollar and around three quarters of an inch deep. Crimson rivulets rolled down his bare back. A shudder coursed over her. Through the blade digging into his flesh, Dale felt each labored breath he took.
What kind of strength did it take to stand motionless while someone cut you? The knife became wet and slippery in her trembling hand. Blood, warm and salty, filled her mouth from where she bit her lip to keep from screaming for his pain.
Finally, he pulled away and turned. “That is enough.” His face looked pale and drawn, his lips a tight colorless gash.
He reached into his pack and pulled out a leather wine skin and a clean white shirt. “Pour this over the wound and bind it."
Dale uncorked the wine skin. The strong smell of alcohol burned her nose.
Though he hadn't moved while she cut him, he jerked when the spirits touched his raw flesh. Dale pressed a pad of cloth against the gaping wound to staunch the flow of blood, then bound it with strips torn from the clean shirt. He sagged, his head hanging low between his shoulders, as she gently wiped away the blood from the rest of his back. She let her fingers trace over the scars. This man was no stranger to pain.
When she was done, he took the pouch, lifted it to his lips and drained the remaining liquid. The coarse wine restored a hint of color to his face, but it didn't ease the strain from his dark eyes.
Like her father and Steven, Shadow was a warrior. He would never admit to pain. Never swerve from his goal. Never surrender. Never consider those who loved him over his duty.
He was a man a woman should avoid like the plague.
Long ago she promised herself that she wouldn't allow herself to care for any man. What this Shadow was or wasn't didn't matter to her—couldn't matter to her.
"I'm really grateful for your help, but it's time for us to go our separate ways. I have to find my necklace."
She refused to consider the danger she would face alone, unarmed and barefoot in this unknown world. She knew she was strong and resourceful. She'd survive and find her way home.
To Thea.
Chapter Three
Raf watched the woman prepare to leave. Didn't she realize she was his captive? If he didn't hurt so badly he might find humor in the situation. Had he imagined her fingers gently touching the scars he bore? To keep from reaching for her, he shoved his hand into his pocket, and his fingers closed around the stone there.
The stone seemed to vibrate. Or did he tremble?
Raf knew he needed sleep and food to restore his strength and clarity of mind, but he could afford neither. Even if the spinners would not soon attack, he had to follow Treman and Faxan. Without them he stood little chance of locating Devros.
They would tell Devros of the woman. The slaver trusted no one, but he used people effectively and laid claim to all captives. If Raf were to arrive at Devros’ stronghold without her, his life would be forfeit. Those who tried to cheat Devros died as slowly and painfully as the slaver could manage.
Whether the woman was connected to Devros or not, there was no time to coddle or cajole her. Raf would have to force her into coming with him.
Grimacing in pain, Raf pulled on his last shirt and stuffed the rest of the supplies in his pack. He handed his cloak to Dale and swung the pack over his left shoulder.
He opened the door to the chamber cautiously. The way appeared clear of spinners, but their pungent smell made him choke.
Dale coughed and covered her mouth and nose with the tail of her shirt. She didn't argue as he led her through the tunnels to the opening.
A quick glance around the plateau confirmed Raf's worst fears. Treman had not only bolted, he had taken all three quinar. Ava, curse her feathery hide, had done nothing. Where was the moon-rattled bird? He and the woman would have to walk. Did she have the strength? Pain blurred Raf's senses and muddled his thoughts. Did he?
Once outside, Dale stopped and stared. All around them the Azul Mountains soared upward, their sheer crystal peaks shimmering in the sun.
Raf watched her eyes widen as she drank in the view the mountains presented. From the pale blue-white of mother's milk to the near black indigo of midnight, the crystalline mountains were a rainbow of blues.
"Beautiful,” she whispered. “But this sure as hell isn't home."
As beautiful as he found the mountains, they paled in comparison to her. Head tilted to survey the panorama, she stood poised against the blue backdrop, a gold and cream vision dressed in black.
"I need shoes."
Through a growing haze Raf looked at Dale's bare feet, pink toes curled against the melting snow. Cool and inviting, the snow beckoned him. The warm midday sun dimmed. He staggered.
"Shadow, what's wrong?"
Her question came from far away, though if he reached out he could touch her. His arms felt too heavy to lift. The pack slipped off his shoulder.
"Shadow? Shadow?"
Her voice and form receded down a long narrow funnel until she vanished and he was alone. Panic beat in his veins. If he lost her in these mountains, she would die. He had to find her. Keep her safe.
Shadow crumpled at Dale's feet, his large body limp and lifeless. She crouched next to him and touched his flushed skin. Heat scorched her hand. He burned with fever. A result of the spinner bite?
What should she do? A large hawklike bird circled overhead. Its shrill cries made Dale shiver. She glanced nervously at the entrance to the cave. Would those spinner things follow them out into the snow? She couldn't take the chance. They had to move.
From the plateau, she could see scattered farms and a small town in the valley below. Surely they had some kind of doctor who could help him. But how could she get him there? Shadow had to outweigh her by nearly a hundred pounds. She was strong, but she couldn't carry him. But she couldn't leave him alone and helpless.
Shadow's cloak, pooled around her ankles, gave her an idea. She looked around. Though no trees grew on this small plateau, a hundred yards away the ground sloped downward into an area filled with stunted trees and bushes, their branches still winter bare.
She pulled the sword from the sheath at Shadow's waist. From tip to hilt the sword was nearly four feet long. Lit by the blue light reflecting off the mountain, the red blade glowed with a purplish hue. Using both hands to hold the heavy sword, she studied the opaque blade. She'd never seen material like this. It had the look of polished glass, but the feel of metal. Her fingers only reached halfway around the intricately carved hilt. The odd material felt warm and smooth in her hand, as if it absorbed her heat and gave it back to her doubled.
Unless she was in the midst of a very vivid hallucination, Dale knew for certain she wasn't on Earth. Nothing like this sword, these mountains, or those ugly spider-like monstrosities existed on Earth.
Inside Shadow's pack she found his last pair of pants, which she cut apart and used to wrap around her feet as makeshift shoes.
Ignoring her chattering teeth, she went in search of sturdy branches she could use to fashion a travois on which she could drag him down the mountain.
The bird landed on a boulder a few yards away. It seemed to watch her. Every time she got close to Shadow, the bird shrieked. But since it didn't attack, Dale ignored its complaints.
It took her the better part of an hour to find and chop loose the correct size poles for the crude sled she was building. She cut holes along the edges of the cloak. Then using strips of cloth torn from the shirt she wore, she attached the cloak to the poles in a wedge shape. Though hardly elegant, the structure was as sound and solid as she could make it. She only prayed it would hold together under Shadow's weight.
The whole time she worked she kept one eye on Shadow. He never moved. Only the sound of his ragged breathing reassured her he was still alive. She also watched the mouth of the cave. In the dim opening she caught glimpses of beady eyes watching her. She guessed the spinners didn't like the light and hoped they wouldn't venture out until the sun went down. Which, judging by the growing shadows, would be soon.
She placed the travois next to Shadow. The bird spread its wings. Dale glared at it. “What's your problem, bird?"
At the sound of her voice, the bird folded its wings and cocked its head toward her.
"That's better. Now go away. I've got work to do. Shadow and I need to get out of here before those spinner things get hungry and come looking for dinner."
The bird looked at her and then toward the mouth of the cave. Dale almost believed the bird understood her. After that it just watched her, which was better than its constant screeching.
; By pushing, tugging and pulling she managed to roll Shadow onto the cloak. Sweat rolled down her back before she succeeded. With the sun setting, the air turned cool. She shivered as the sweat dried.
His feet hung off the bottom edge. She tore more strips from her shirt and tied him down.
He moaned and started to thrash.
She knelt next to him and placed her hand on his forehead. “You have to lie still. I'm going to get you down the mountain to the village. They must have a doctor there who can help you."
Instantly, he stilled. His eyes opened and he gripped her arm. “Sundown ... spinners will ... follow. You cannot ... outdistance them ... burdened with a dead man.” The words rasped through his chapped lips. “Leave me."
"You're not dead yet. I won't leave you.” When he had collapsed at her feet the thought of abandoning him had never occurred to her. “Just lie quiet. This sled is rather crude, but if you don't wiggle around, it might hold together.” She went to the front of the travois and lifted the poles. Her back and shoulders protested the weight and awkward position, but when she started walking, the travois moved easily over the uneven ground.
"You are a foolish ... stubborn woman."
She barely heard his words before he fell silent. When she glanced back, his eyes were once again closed, and the bird landed on the side of the travois.
The extra weight threw off her balance. She tried to shoo the bird away, but it pecked at her with its wicked looking beak. Since it seemed to be attached in some way to Shadow and didn't try to hurt him, she gave up and let it ride.
During the trip down the mountain, the strain of pulling the heavy travois made her arms, legs, and back ache until they went numb. Sweat soaked her shirt, and then cooled in the chill air. She longed to lie down next to Shadow's heated body. Instead, she shivered and trudged onward.
The end of the mountain path opened onto a broad fertile valley. She paused. From there a frozen dirt road led toward the village. Overhead the sun sank toward the horizon, painting the wispy clouds in glorious shades of pink and violet. She looked back at the mountain, a blue-black silhouette against the sky. How far would the spinners pursue them?
Shadow Moon Page 3
