by Susan Grant
“Tao,” the rider said, the even teeth of his grin capturing the moonlight as he came forward, his hand extended. “Too long.”
“Too long, Pax.”
The men gripped each other in a brief but fierce embrace, moving back to smile some more. “You’ve gone Kurel?” Pax queried, running a curious but admiring stare up and down Elsabeth, head to toe. “She has hair like fire. I assume she has the personality to match.”
Elsabeth clamped her mouth closed lest she say something to overturn this unheard-of encounter between the three tribes of humanity.
“Elsabeth, this is Pax, leader of the Blue Hills band. A brave warrior, and friend.”
Friends…with a Rider?
Reading her surprise, Pax said, “This is what happens when two parties, one of hunters and one of warriors, wait out an unexpected blizzard in the same cave.”
“A long three days,” Tao remembered.
“Made much warmer with the jugs of Blue Hills spirits.” As Tao laughed, Pax sniffed the air. “It smells like rabbit.”
“We had only one,” Tao apologized.
“We have six.” He turned and called to the other two riders. “Let us party by the light of the moon.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THEY FEASTED FOR THE second time that night high on the ridge overlooking the Tassagonian fortress, members of three tribes sitting together as one.
Tao relayed the story of his homecoming and arrest, his quest to separate power-hungry Uhr-Beck from King Xim, and his hope to restore some semblance of sanity to the realm. More information was exchanged about the Gorr—they were still in retreat—and the Sea Scourge—still raiding any traders who dared trespass the high seas, as well as those foolish enough to build settlements too close to the shore.
“The Scourge still taking human females?” Tao asked.
“Yes.” Cambria had spoken, the blonde woman. She was bronzed and strong, her garments snugly fitted to her curves as well as her muscles. A warrior in her own right, Elsabeth thought, openly respected by the two males.
“A cousin of a cousin was kidnapped,” the horse-woman continued. “Years ago. She found her way home last spring, a widow mourning her mate.”
“She was force-mated with a Sea Scourge pirate?” Elsabeth asked, appalled for the poor woman.
Cambria tore the last of the meat from a leg bone before throwing it into the blazing fire. “Not forced. She found love.”
“There have been stories of such matches with the Sea Scourge,” Tao said to Elsabeth. “Rare, but they do exist. We know little of the pirates.”
Pax’s mouth tipped into a conspiratorial smile. “You knew of Commander Yarr.”
“Furs,” Tao spat. “I sure as hell did. That scoundrel Yarr.” He turned toward Elsabeth to explain, to include her in the men’s exchange. “Yarr is the Scourge captain of their largest fleet. Part Gorr, part human, like all Scourge are, but he was too resilient, too arrogant, too clever a tactician to ignore. Any units I positioned close to the sea, he plundered. If not for my hands being tied fighting the Gorr, I’d have sent my entire legion after him to teach the no-good thief a lesson.”
“He’d have loved the attention, Tao, proof that he got your goat. And he still would have gotten away,” Pax said.
“Likely so.”
The Riders and Tao shared a hearty laugh. Elsabeth felt a little more like a Kurel amongst warriors then, not quite belonging, even though Tao’s fingers lightly touched her back or her arm from time to time, reminding her they were a team.
If not a couple.
The third rider, Kato, winced a bit as his laughter subsided. Young and almost as attractive as Pax, with tattooed swirls over each pectoral, he sat with a protective hand covering his right side. “May I see?” she asked.
The Rider frowned in surprise. “It’s fine.”
“That’s what you all say. You’re injured. That’s clear. Have you treated the wound?”
Kato exchanged an evasive glance with the other two.
“The Kurel are master healers,” Tao reminded them.
“I’m not,” Elsabeth assured them. “But my father was. He taught me a little. I can manage field medicine.” She coaxed Kato to lift his hand and then the hem of his sturdy leather vest.
A purple-and-red bruise marred the right side of his torso. The welt was oozing pus. “Mercy. It’s infected.” She crouched next to him and felt his forehead. “You have a slight fever. You’ll want to take care of this, or you’ll soon be too sick to ride.”
She met the Rider’s gaze. A slight smile had curved his lips as he looked up at her, a flirting sparkle in his dark eyes. He inhaled through his nose, as if savoring her scent. “I’ll need some tender care.”
Behind her, she heard Tao standing up, the crunch of his boots as he walked closer and dropped the kit Chun had given them next to her right side. She could only imagine his expression, for the Rider was suddenly not meeting her eyes, his face as neutral as a Kurel’s. She ignored all of them as she began to work, cleaning the wound, then handing Kato a small vial of pills. “Take one now, then each morning with breakfast.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Pax nodded with approval. “Your woman is a fine healer, Tao.”
Tao didn’t correct his friend’s assumption that they were a couple, saying only, “She is a woman of many talents.”
Pax rose to his feet, and the others followed suit. “We have to press onward tonight, my friend. We have many clicks to cover before our journey ends.”
“Why did you come here, Pax?”
“Why do you think? To see how many horses you Tassagons have.”
“You didn’t take any with you this time,” Tao said dryly.
“Not this time.” Pax smiled but his eyes were somehow harder. “But with winter coming, it’s good to know the state of the herds of our neighbors.”
Elsabeth had learned long ago that the original sire of all the horse-breeding stock on the planet had come from the Riders. They were the ancestors of the Old Colony’s ranchers and farmers who refused to align with either Tassagon or Kurel. They followed the ways of the warrior, like the Tassagons, and didn’t fear science, like the Kurel. Their own unique, fierce independence set them apart from both of the other tribes.
Tao placed his hand on the Rider leader’s shoulder. “I will leave you with a warning, my friend, and not about the horses. Xim, the Tassagon king, has dreams of sending in the army, my army, to take over your lands.”
“What is this?” Pax was suddenly livid, his face turning hard. The moonlight caught the swirl of his tattoos and made them glow.
“When he’s taken the Riders, he’ll go after the Kurel of the Barrier Peaks after that. His goal is to rule over all humans.”
“He will never…”
“Do not underestimate the man,” Tao warned. “I did, and look where I am—on the run, hiding out in the wilds while he hunts for me.” He pressed his fist to his chest in a gesture of solidarity. “Pax, I’m telling you this for one reason only. If the Tassagonian army marches against you, know that it’s not commanded by me, nor even marching with the will of all Tassagons, but by the order of one man with misplaced ambition.”
“I am grateful for the warning, my friend. I’ll bring the knowledge back to my people. We’ll be ready, come spring.”
“By then I hope we no longer have to worry about Xim,” Elsabeth seethed. The open exchange of information this evening required no less than complete honesty from her. “He’ll be off the throne for good.”
Pax’s brows lifted at her ferocity.
“Preferably, neutralized,” Tao qualified, stroking his hand down her arm in a move meant to be either soothing or restraining. “After we’ve removed Uhr-Beck as an influence.”
Xim deserved worse than that. He deserved what he’d handed out to her parents—an untimely death in the streets like a dog. She pressed her fists against her sides to keep from further debate, understanding the mess
age in Tao’s touch. Now wasn’t the time.
“Fiery, yes,” Pax murmured, observing her banked hostility. “Kurel have changed since I last encountered any. Requiring a Tassagon to pull them back from the brink of war.”
“Elsabeth isn’t a typical Kurel,” Tao muttered.
“I don’t want a war. My fight is against only one man,” she argued. “Xim. My people have suffered enough.”
“Elsabeth is quietly leading a secret rebellion—ghetto-dwelling Kurel against Xim’s reign,” Tao explained. “But the more the king acts out against them, the more Kurel will turn to ways of open violence to solve the problem. If it’s the last thing I do on this world, I’ll keep war from starting.”
If humans turn on each other, darkness will consume us and we will be lost to Uhrth forever. Tao was the light. Impulsively, she found his hand, squeezing it. He slipped warm callused fingers between hers.
Pax addressed Elsabeth. “If I were to choose any ally in all the lands, it would be Tao. He’s legendary amongst the Riders. And amongst the Gorr. They more than fear him, they respect him. He drove them into hiding—and then some, until they were running with only the fur on their backs as protection. In all of history, he’s been the only one to do it. You are fortunate to have this man as your friend.”
“I know I am,” Elsabeth said firmly. The Riders’ deep respect for Tao touched her. They proved that she and Markam had been right about the general. As long as he lived, so did the hope of peace. He might be too humble to seek credit, but he was in fact a great man. A legend in the flesh.
“But, before I leave, you need a real bow, my friend.” Pax handed Tao his weapon and some arrows, explaining the gift with a pitying look at Tao’s homemade version.
“And spirits, too.” Cambria placed a small, sweating jug in Elsabeth’s hands. “It will chase away the cold.”
The Riders mounted their horses with as much ease and grace as she’d ever witnessed, setting out across the moonlight-soaked plains. Even the buttermilk mare lifted her head to watch them until they were no more.
Elsabeth became aware of the jug in her hands. “These spirits of theirs chase away the cold? It’s a mild night, but not too mild for a taste, I think.”
“It will indeed keep a man warm.”
“And a woman, too,” she insisted, thinking of Cambria and how she rode with the men of her tribe as an equal.
“Right, you are. Blue Hills spirits—the great equalizer. No one walks away from a night spent drinking this wicked stuff, man or woman.” Tao took the jug and uncorked it, holding it close for her to take a sniff. The fumes made her cough and immediately set her eyes to watering.
Tao’s grin glowed in the moonlight. Clearly, her reaction amused him. “It doesn’t seem so bad,” she lied.
“We will see.” He sat on the log by the fire, patting the spot next to him for her to join him. “Until I tasted your Kurel cooking, these spirits were the only thing capable of reducing me to tears.” He poured a very small amount in each of their water cups. He tapped his cup against hers then threw the contents of his into his mouth, exhaling in a wheeze. “Just right,” he said, a teasing reminder of the time he’d first sampled her spiced stew. “Go on. See if you don’t agree.”
“We Kurel are immune to fiery food and drink.”
“But not Blue Hills spirits.”
“Pash.” She took another sniff of the clear liquid swirling on the bottom of the cup, and blinked away the sting. “Our babies could sip this.”
“It seems to me from the amount of time you’ve spent talking and not drinking, that you’re afraid to. Typical Kurel reaction.” Folding his arms, he lifted his brows, his amused expression a study in condescension.
She’d show this smug Tassagon—and those Riders. She wouldn’t let the Kurel people down. She braced herself, then poured the liquid down her throat. It burned her tongue and then her nose, from the inside out. Blinking away tears, she composed herself, careful not to show any emotion. “Not bad,” she said, taking their cups and placing them on the ground. “But sumsala burns more—”
Vertigo hit as she sat up, her head whirling before it righted itself. She swung her arm out to grab hold of Tao. He looped an arm around her, laughing at her dismay, his eyes shining.
“Mercy,” she rasped. “That’s strong.”
“Now, imagine my men and I trapped in a cave with Pax and his band of hunters, waiting out that snowstorm, sipping spirits to stay warm. Those Riders, they can make a party out of the most severe conditions.” He chuckled, steadying her with his hand pressed firmly to her back, his thumb rotating a scant inch above the swell of her bottom. It felt quite nice, that. She also liked the way the spirits had left her feeling so light. Lighter than air.
“Riders.” She sighed. “I never imagined I’d see them in the flesh. I never imagined any of this. I dreamed of it, though.”
“This is what happens when you pull your nose out from books. You live.”
“For an Uhr, maybe. For a Kurel woman, living means a life spent inside the ghetto walls.” Tao’s fingers continued to move at the base of her spine. Every time they did, she shivered. “Sometimes I wish I never aspired for more.”
One of the logs broke apart, spilling red-hot coals. Embers soared into the air. She tipped back her head, following them until they winked out high above her head, and then she threw her gaze even farther, to the stars and beyond, past heaven where all the souls lived to Uhrth itself and the mysterious origins of the founders of this world. Who were they really, and why had they chosen to colonize this world? Did they forsake us, or did we simply become lost? “I’d board an ark,” she confessed. “I would. I’d sail away across that sea.”
“You’d die willingly and without reason?” The concept seemed to stagger him. “Sorry, but that will never happen. If I have to stay by you every minute of every day and night to keep you from taking your life, I will.”
A familiar inner shiver warmed her at the thought of him being with her around the clock. A few ways he could keep her heart beating came to mind. “No. Not that. Of course not. I mean an ark—a real ark. They really existed.”
His sniff was one of faint exasperation. “And you think we Tassagons are silly, believing in the reading of bones.”
She lowered her voice although there was no one else there to hear. “Gwendolyn says there are arks stored in the caves deep below the Barrier Peaks. She’s never seen any, but her grandmother did. There are arks in the caves, and more. Things from the Old Colony. Hidden ever since.”
With his amulet glittering in the moonlight, Tao took in the information with part disbelief, part calculating interest, as if she were describing the number of weapons in an unexpected cache. A pang of doubt reminded her that he was indeed still a Tassagon and she a Kurel, that their tribes were enemies at worst, wary neighbors at best. It wasn’t her place to divulge such sensitive secrets.
No. She trusted him, or she wouldn’t be with him now, alone on a ridge in the wilds, watching the moon climb higher in a star-filled sky.
He could have asked her about the items stored in those caves, and about what use avowed pacifists would have for them. Instead he asked, “You said you wish you never aspired for more than the life you were born to. Why?”
“Sometimes it’s better not to know there’s more. You can’t hunger for what you never knew you wanted.” She waved a hand at the valley, stopping short of doing the same to him. Tao had been as much of an unexpected adventure as leaving the city. “But it’s too late for that. Now I’ll never be able to forget the things I want.”
Tao threw one leg over the log to face her. “Like this Tassagon?”
“My, you do have an ego larger than the kingdom.”
His quick, surprised laugh rang out in the hushed night. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” She emphasized the remark with a sassy swing of her hair. “Just because I suggested kissing lessons doesn’t mean I hunger for you.”
“B
ut you do.” He lowered his head to brush his lips over hers. A slow and tender exploration.
Her tingles became a roaring blaze. “Earlier, you said it would be dangerous to think of me overly much tonight. This isn’t helping.”
With a shudder, he moved back, his gaze regretful. “Stopping isn’t easy to do, my sweet Elsabeth. Take advantage of my self-control and go to bed, if you know what’s good for you.”
He left her sitting on the log, burning for him, cursing the fact that she’d reminded him of their unspoken, mutual decision to not end up in the same bedroll. “I know what’s good for me.” She followed him to where he was spreading out his blanket to sleep, setting his blade and the bow and arrows within hand’s reach. “You are. Tao, I want you. I want to be with you tonight.”
“You’ve never been with a man before—” he turned to look at her “—have you?”
She shook her head. “I’d like to, though. You can teach me.” She held her breath for a heartbeat, afraid her Kurel frankness was not the right language for seduction.
But Tao let out another quiet, almost defeated laugh that gave her hope she was chipping away at his defenses. He stood, his arms hanging at his sides. “Elsabeth, you have your Kurel values. I don’t want to compromise them. I’ve…worked very, very hard not to these past weeks.” His blunt admission and the heat in his gaze hinted at the cost of his struggle. “You heard what Marina said. I saw your shame at your Tassagon blood. Don’t do something you’ll regret later.”
She stepped closer. “I’m beginning to think my Tassagon blood is one of the best things about me.” Her fingers went to the top button on her blouse, releasing it with her thumbnail.
“Great Uhrth,” he muttered as she undid the next one.
He snatched her hand. His palm was roughened and hotter than Kato’s fevered brow. “I fear I’m beginning to believe your Tassagon blood is the best thing about you, too.”
The pause was deep, breathless, as if everything in the universe had stopped, waiting to see if he’d accept the honest, yearning invitation in her eyes. I want this, Tao. I want you.
