Khevan grabbed her hand, pulling her close. “Don’t worry; I’ve got you,” he said directly into her ear. “I won’t let you go until we’re safe.”
She laughed, clinging to him. “I’ve heard those words before.”
“And I made good on the promise,” he said, kissing her. Pulling back, he gazed into her eyes. “I’d been resigned to my fate, taking comfort in the fact of your safety.” He laid a finger on her lips as she parted them to speak. “I didn’t do you enough honor. You had more courage and resolve in your soul than I. When the Renegade told me you’d arrived on Temple Home determined to try to save me, and would participate in the ritual, I was angry. I didn’t want you at risk after all I’d done and sacrificed to make you safe.”
“Safety’s highly overrated. Life is empty without you, nothing but a succession of days to get through,” she said, running her hand through his hair. “I know that from the past five years I spent alone. This way we have a chance at a future together. Are you still angry?”
He nuzzled her neck, his voice a whisper. “Angry at him, not you. I thought he’d talked you into something foolish, perhaps failed to explain the heavy odds against us. Or burdened you with misplaced guilt.”
“I take full ownership of my decisions,” she said. “I didn’t give anyone a chance to say no. We were on our way to you as soon as I recovered enough from Harbin’s punch to think.” She rubbed her jaw. “What comes next?”
“Combat is the final part of the ritual. I hope I get the chance to punish that bastard for hurting you.” He glanced around the chamber. “But I can’t imagine the Lady wanting us to fight here. Tell me about the white tariqna—can you summon it at will?”
“Usually, although it never got big before. Definitely a new trick.”
“How did you acquire it?”
“That final day five years ago, when I was pining and waiting for you, and the head monk came to tell me to abandon hope and leave, I was in the White Lady’s garden. He requested me to choose a pebble to take away, so to be polite, I did—I picked this pretty gray and white stone with a hint of sparkle. Then he closed my hand over it and when I uncurled my fingers a moment later, the stone was gone and the tariqna floated in the air over my palm. A good omen and a gift, said the monk, before he ushered me out to a waiting groundcar. I was driven to the spaceport, got onto my father’s ship, and haven’t been back to Temple Home again until we came to rescue you.”
He touched her dress, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. “Pretty. Was this…”
“The one I made to show you? Yes. The Red Bitch brought me into this challenge in the dress from the Nebula Dream, can you imagine?” Twilka laughed. “Guess I showed her. What’s going on? Why haven’t we moved to the next phase?”
“She’s stalling. Or she’s trying to weaken me by allowing us time together, time to remember the stakes.” He framed her face with his hands. “If I die, you die.”
“We’re not losing by default,” Twilka said. Raising her voice, she yelled, “We’re ready to get this over with. Bring on your D’nvannae assassins, Red Lady, so we can kick their asses and go home.”
Khevan laughed. “You’re crazy, but I love it.”
“That’s new.” Twilka pointed. An elaborate red door, ornamented with golden tariqnas and other symbols, appeared in the blackness of space, obscuring some of the twinkling stars. The portal swung open, revealing a pastoral landscape beyond.
Khevan held out his hand. “The destination of the final battle. Shall we?”
Clasping his fingers, Twilka took a deep breath and made herself smile as she rose from the floor. “At least she isn’t going to try throwing any more twisted vignettes from the Dream at us.”
“Did she send you into your nightmare?” he asked as they walked arm in arm across the gleaming transparent floor to the door. “The one about the men outside the casino?”
Nodding, Twilka said, “I fought my way out of that moment. I bet I never have to dream it again.”
“I feared she’d hit you with the memory, but I had no way to warn you. I’m proud of you for defeating her ploy. One’s own fears are the worst demons.”
“Oh, she wasn’t done—she forced me to descend the gravlift on my own in order to find you. She tossed Harbin into the mix of problems as well, but he was mostly creepy and annoying.”
“He’ll probably be her champion, my opponent in the mortal combat, I warn you.”
She pulled him to a halt right before crossing the threshold into the next part of the challenge, eyeing him up and down. “I wish you weren’t going into this wearing her uniform and especially not carrying her brand. I think it’s a disadvantage and messes with your mind. Makes you feel you still belong to her and are acting disloyal, instead of fighting for freedom.” Twilka caressed his cheek with her hand. “I’d rather you went into battle free of her mark.”
“Only she can remove the tariqna tattoo.”
“Or maybe not.” Twilka stared at his skin, where the scarlet mark was now smeared and faded wherever she’d touched it. She dragged him to the side, to another table where a mirrorlike shield leaned precariously against some abstract crystal sculptures. “See what I was able to do?”
Tilting his head and moving it from side to side, eyes narrowed, he studied the now defaced symbol. “Interesting. I wouldn’t have expected this. You may be right about the symbolism.” Tentatively, he rubbed at the tattoo.
Twilka caught his hand. “Don’t! When you touch it the red becomes more prominent.” Pulling on his shoulder, she said, “Bend down a bit; let me try something.” She gathered her skirt and rubbed the fabric gently on his cheek. Wherever she touched, the tattoo disappeared. Laughing in delight, she said, “See, you do belong to me. Well, to us.” She wiped his neck, obliterating the collarlike tail portion of the marking, which had always bothered her.
“Impressive. Any other last minute ideas? Because now we’re the ones delaying and could be declared the losers.”
With fumbling fingers, she unclasped the golden chain and put the pendant around his neck. “Only this. Our personal contract, okay?”
“Okay.” He touched her lips with his for a fleeting kiss. “Time to go.” He took her hand and escorted her gallantly through the door.
Twilka found herself standing on a large dais with two round platforms next to each other and a rectangle outlined on the pavement in red. It was night, although the sky was lightening in the east. Barely showing above the western horizon, a large, pockmarked moon illuminated the scene. The dais was in a meadow, with a stream meandering close by, and oddly shaped trees growing in clusters here and there. “Are we on her home planet?”
“Perhaps, although the legend among the Brotherhood says the sisters’ original home is long gone, destroyed by a supernova, so this is most likely an illusion like all the rest. There’s the fighting ground,” Khevan said, pointing at the painted area. “I must stand there to await my opponent.”
“How do you know?”
“This resembles our primary training areas, where hand-to-hand killing skills are taught.”
“Where do I go?”
Before he could answer her question, there was a sizzling sound, as if the air was burning, followed by a roar of thunder and the glare of a lightning strike.
“Here, girl.” The Red Lady, draped in her flowing scarlet dress, now sat semi-reclined on a large couch, flames dancing and cavorting all around. She gestured at the couch in the center of the empty platform beside her. “You may use my sister’s dais, since she won’t be joining us tonight.”
Twilka stared at her for a moment, gauging the risk of accepting the assigned location. The longer she focused on the other woman, the more the figure of the Lady blurred and she thought she saw something larger, misshapen, alien, bathed in the fire. She shivered.
“The Lady isn’t human, remember.” Khevan’s whisper was nearly inaudible as he squeezed her hand. “She takes the human form most often because our
civilization is primarily made up of humanoids, but you must never think of her as being one of us.” He removed his jacket, shirt and boots, dropping them onto the ground, and prepared to step into the designated area barefoot, turning to Twilka at the last moment. “A kiss for luck?”
Choking on sudden tears of fright for him, refusing to let him see her terror, Twilka smiled and raised her face to his. “We’ll be free soon.”
He brushed a kiss across her lips before crossing the red line, taking a stance, and launching into stylized preliminary warm up moves, his body shifting smoothly from one position into the next, the speed of motion increasing. In any other circumstances, she’d enjoy watching him.
Twilka walked to the empty raised circle, but paused at the last moment. Taking a place where a goddess should sit didn’t feel right. “I’m not your sister. I think I’ll watch from over here, thanks all the same.”
“Suit yourself,” the Red Lady said, as Twilka strolled to a nearby broken pillar and sat on the edge.
“I usually do.” She had the sensation she’d avoided some kind of trap, although in this deadly game they were playing, nothing was cut and dried.
Harbin emerged from the closest grove of trees and bounded onto the platform, wearing a red robe, which he discarded to reveal he was bare to the waist, displaying sculpted muscles as defined and impressive as Khevan’s, clad only in the order’s trademark black leather pants. He bowed to the Red Lady and then gave Twilka a sarcastic salute. “I’ll enjoy killing you, once I’ve disposed of our traitor.”
“She’s not your problem—I am,” Khevan said in a harsh voice. “Are you here to talk and give offense, or to fight and prove your worth?”
Kicking off the sandals he’d worn, Harbin stepped into the rectangle. “First man to set foot outside the line, even by a toe, loses. Otherwise, the fight is to the death, no mercy asked or given.” He turned his head to stare at Twilka. “And no interference or the match is forfeit.”
Raising her eyebrows, she met and held his challenging stare. Pointing her index finger at the Red Lady, she said, “As long as the rule applies to both of us.”
The goddess didn’t deign to respond. She waved a lazy hand. “Let the match begin.”
Somewhere a gong sounded, the booming note echoing in the quiet morning air.
Twilka gasped as the two men begin circling each other in a deadly ceremonial dance with precise steps, sizing each other up, jabbing and moving away with amazing speed. The sheer fluidity of the moves inspired awe. Constantly in motion, constantly testing each other. Both were protecting their ribs as much as possible and using the strength of their entire bodies as power behind the blows, especially those made with the legs. Khevan drew first blood, launching a kick whose impact rocked Harbin, although he fell away from the ferocity of the blow, somersaulted, and rose to retaliate with his own.
Khevan parried, slipping aside as Harbin’s flurry of strikes came at him, then grabbing his opponent and throwing him to the surface. Quick as a snake, Harbin whipped his legs and, even though Khevan danced aside, he fell as Harbin managed to trip him. Springing to his feet before his opponent could capitalize on the momentary weakness, Khevan settled into his fighting stance again. The two men danced around each other before Harbin struck. The next set of blows came, each man striking, bobbing and weaving so fast Twilka’s head spun. Harbin feinted and landed a solid blow on Khevan’s left ribcage. Although the impact looked and sounded terrifying to Twilka, Khevan danced away. The men engaged again in another sequence of blows. Khevan managed to catch the final strike and land his own blow at Harbin’s neck, although partially blocked, and followed with a three punch combination. Clearly, the Red Lady’s champion was shaken, dropping to one knee.
A gong sounded.
“Knives,” the Red Lady said.
Twilka recognized Khevan’s red handled, golden-bladed knives as the weapons materialized on the platform. Another set, which Harbin grabbed, cockily tossing one in the air and snatching it as it fell, were equally menacing. Khevan advanced on Harbin immediately, driving the other man toward the red line. He drew first blood, scoring a long slash across Harbin’s ribcage before his enemy mounted a belated defense and deflected the follow-up blow.
Twilka swallowed hard as the combat continued, the flurry of blows too fast to follow. After one encounter, blood flowed freely in a scarlet ribbon down Khevan’s side, and she realized Harbin must have penetrated his defenses at least once. Harbin appeared to her to be on the defensive, mostly using his weapons to keep Khevan from scoring hits, while getting in very few stabs or slashes of his own. Harbin’s features were set in a look of intense concentration, eyes narrowed, teeth clenched. Sweat glistened on his face and torso. Khevan’s face was serene and confident, his gaze locked onto Harbin as if assessing the other man and finding him sadly lacking. There was no denying the amount of energy this death match was consuming, but Khevan moved as fluidly as ever, showing no sign of weariness. Twilka herself was tense, body taut as a bowstring, hands fisted as she watched her lover fight for both of their lives.
Khevan danced in close and used the butt of one knife as an impact weapon, landing a blow to Harbin’s chin and stabbing him with the blade in the other hand. Harbin retreated to the far end of the rectangle, Khevan following, constantly jabbing and attacking, aiming at different parts of his opponent’s body. As the match went on, Twilka admired the way Khevan stayed in control, moving in sync with Harbin, who was clearly beginning to panic as he realized how overmatched he was.
Khevan was going to drive Harbin out of the rectangle and win without the necessity for killing the man in front of her. Twilka began to relax as the outcome of his strategy became obvious to her. He was within seconds of securing the victory when the Lady’s command and the sound of the gong startled her.
“Stand down!”
As the sound of the gong reverberated, Khevan took a final slash, aiming at Harbin’s neck. His opponent fell in a heap, one hand falling outside the red rectangle.
“I claim the victory,” Khevan said, wheeling to face the Lady. “I’ve won my freedom.”
“Oh, no.” Her voice was a purr, low and menacing. “You’ve managed to defeat the first Brother I sent against you, true. Clearly not the man worthy of ascending and claiming your previous place at my side, unable to back up his promises to me with adequate skill. But the challenge isn’t over.”
Khevan straightened and Twilka gasped as four more hulking D’nvannae marched out of the grove onto the platform, forming a line beside the Lady’s throne.
“How is this fair?” Twilka said, fury rising inside her. “He’s already fought.”
“But you have not. Time for you to cease playing the spectator and take your place by his side. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“Not in the ring of combat!” Khevan strode as close as he could get without leaving the contest area. “She’s not a trained warrior. You make a mockery of this challenge, forcing a non-initiate to stand against four highly lethal Brothers. I protest.”
“The essence of this schism between you and me as your Lady involves her. Deny it if you can. Had you never met her, or become involved with her, you would have served me honorably all your days. She is the problem.” The Lady’s voice was angry, yet persuasive. “For the final time, I make you an offer—renounce this human woman and reclaim your place at my side. Rank, privileges—all will be restored. She’ll be released from my temple unharmed. The pleasures of tazlin in my flames can be yours again within the hour and I’ll ensure you forget her. There’ll be no hidden memories this time.”
Twilka held her breath. She trusted Khevan with all her heart, but he’d succumbed to the Red Lady’s pressure once before in an attempt to save her life.
Khevan stared at her for a heart stopping moment, his gaze intense. Then he swung to address the Lady. “Twilka and I agree there is no life without each other. Better we leave this world now, together, than endure another separation
.” He wheeled, holding out his hand to Twilka. “I’m sorry our fate has come to this, but will you join me?”
“Of course.” Twilka could barely force herself to walk toward the combat ring. The four D’nvannae executioners were stripping to the waist, each more heavily muscled than the next. She couldn’t stand against these bruisers in any sort of a physical contest, much less one involving knives. Khevan wouldn’t be able to go on the offensive or protect himself because he’d be frantic to save her. Clever trap, Red Lady.
Cool silk whispered across her body, replacing the smooth feel of the knit dress she’d been wearing. Glancing down, Twilka saw the goddess had seen fit to clothe her in the cursed midnight blue dress again. Oh, hell no. Stopping in mid-step, thoughts racing, she addressed the Lady. “I have no experience with knives.”
“Are you rethinking your part in this tragedy? Do you wish to withdraw?” Eyes wide, the goddess appeared intrigued. “I might be persuaded, if you grovel sufficiently.”
Twilka shook her head. “No, I’ve agreed to the combat at my lover’s side. I merely request to be allowed to use my own skills and weapons, since I can’t wield a knife.” Forcing a small laugh, she added, “Except to carve my steak.”
The Red Lady assessed her. “You may employ whatever is within you, whatever tactics and skills you do possess, which I’m sure are minimal. If you have a weapon, you may deploy it.”
“And no more tricks? No more of this last second ‘oh, wait a minute, there’s another twist to this challenge’ stuff? Once we’ve defeated your four men, these four men standing here, we’re free to go?”
“Bargaining with me is not generally a good idea,” the Lady said, her voice deep and clipped. There was an odd echo, as if thunder murmured in the distance.
Star Survivor (The Sectors SF Romance Series Book 6) Page 13
