Davor

by Leslie Chase

  Standing above it all, the brutal scarred Ard of the Fire Wolves looked on, watching his son praise the Clan's warriors. Once they were all anointed with the blood of the fallen wolf, he spoke.

  "You have done well," Ard Tark said, his voice rough and low. "More guests for our halls, more spoils for our gods, and best of all you have spread the fame of our Clan to another world. And as well as these treasures, you have brought another guest, a stranger."

  He pointed at the woman, and Davor's blood ran cold. "Who is this, and what world does she come from? I do not know her kind."

  "We do not know, Father," Karak said, pitching his voice loud enough that the whole gathering would hear him. "She came through the Worldwalker's Gate just before we did, and I saw that she would make a fine prize. But she does not speak our language so we know nothing of her or her people."

  "Then you must learn," Tark said with a nod. "If there are others using the Gates, we will learn of it — and we will make their worlds ours, too."

  There was a cheer from the crowd at that, and Karak smiled nastily. Davor felt his blood chill at the thought of the Fire Wolves extending their grasp to yet more worlds, especially as the woman looked small, frail. What warriors could her world have to hold back the Fire Wolves?

  Though they may never know it, they have me, he told himself. His own people were already vulnerable, there was nothing he could do about that. But he could protect hers, and that would make up for his failures.

  With the ritual complete, the meeting of the Fire Wolves started to break up, the victorious warriors seeking out women to boast of their success to. The new prisoners were left before the half-built great hall, fear and uncertainty on all their faces as they faced the Ard of the Clan that had torn them from their homes. The Elders stood around him, ready at his command.

  Davor made his way forward, towards the Elders. He still had to fetch a healer for Samsar, after all, and that gave him a reason to be here where he could try to help the woman his soul called to.

  "What do you want, guest?" Emara asked as he approached. She was one of the most approachable of the Fire Wolf Elders, but even she made 'guest' sound like an insult as she spat it. Small, wizened, frail looking, the only things about her that carried any energy were her voice and her eyes. Those, though, had an intensity that made up for it.

  "Samsar needs a healer," Davor said. "The tree we were felling landed on his leg, crushing it."

  "And why should I care about Samsar's leg?" Emara asked, a nasty grin on her face. "If he can't keep out of the way of a falling tree, that's his business."

  She wants me to beg. Perhaps we'll both be disappointed. "Your Clan holds him here. The least you can do is heal him when he's hurt working for you."

  "The least I can do is nothing at all, Davor," she said, her smile unwavering. "If you want more from me, then you will have to give me a reason."

  Grinding his teeth, Davor, looked away to try to keep his calm. Emara was goading him and he was determined to resist — giving in to his instinctive desire to strike her would be both dishonorable and pointless. Closing his eyes and counting silently to four, he felt someone approaching from behind. A powerful, dangerous presence looming closer.

  "Ah, my favorite guest," Ard Tark said, clapping Davor on the back. Davor tensed, resisting the nearly overwhelming urge to rip his arm off. "Is there a problem here, Emara?"

  The Elder looked up at her Ard with a smile. "No problem at all, Ard Tark. Davor here was just telling me his friend is injured."

  "Ah! And you want one of our Elders to look in on him, is that it?" Tark's gruff friendly tone was almost mocking, and Davor knew that he was up to something. "I'm sure that Emara will be glad to help — while you join me and my household at the victory feast."

  "Of course, my Ard," Emara said, her smile widening. Davor growled, seeing the shape of the trap. But Samsar did need the help, and going to a feast wasn't an insult to his honor. Not directly, at any rate. Fuming, wishing he had some other leverage, he nodded reluctantly.

  "Fine. I'll come to your feast, Tark," he said. The Ard clapped him on the back again, chuckling.

  "I'm sure my daughter will be delighted to see you."

  5

  Helen

  Waiting with the rest of the prisoners, Helen didn't know what to make of her situation. Everything was changing so fast, and she couldn't keep up. All she knew was that she was in a lot of trouble — the bloody ritual her captors performed was more than enough to clue her in to that.

  But now most of them had left, leaving only a few guards around the prisoners, and she had no idea what to expect. From the look of the others, they didn't either — around her, the bound prisoners shuffled uncertainly, exchanging glances or staring at the ground.

  None of them looked at the body of their fallen comrade. They gave the corpse as much space as possible, shying away from it, and Helen didn't blame them. It was an all too real reminder of the danger they were in.

  One by one, the prisoners were taken forward by the guards and forced to their knees in front of the leader. Her mind whirling, Helen almost didn't notice when one of the alien warriors approached. It was only when he grabbed her chin that she understood that his shouting was meant for her.

  "I don't even know what you're saying," she complained, grabbing his wrist. It was futile — his corded muscle felt like steel under her fingers, and there was no way that she could move his grip.

  He snarled, repeating himself in his alien tongue, and Helen did her best to shake her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other captives filing away to a gate in a high fence, under guard.

  "What the hell is this?" she complained, but her captor didn't seem to understand her any better than she did him. She shook her head in exasperation as he called out to one of the older aliens, who came over and looked at her with a quizzical eye.

  At last, someone who isn't shouting or leering at me, Helen thought, trying not to let herself feel too relieved at the sight. This new alien didn't look any friendlier than the rest of them, and she didn't want to get her hopes up.

  He stepped closer, looking at her, and muttered something under his breath. Then he said something to the man holding her and reached up with thin and bony fingers to touch her temples. The contact was like icy fingers pushing through her skull and into her brain, and Helen yelped, pulling away helplessly. The two aliens grinned down at her, their razor-sharp teeth anything but reassuring as she tried to struggle.

  "Get off me," she snarled, slapping at the old man's wrists and trying to knock his arms away. But for all his apparent frailty, the old man was unmoved and the chill feeling in her mind spread further through her.

  "Stop that," he said, and Helen blinked.

  "I can understand you," she whispered. It was an unnatural feeling — he wasn't speaking English, but the meaning of his words was clear.

  "Of course. You would not be of much use to my Clan if we cannot speak with you, yes? I am Urzad, Elder of the Fire Wolves, and you will find that things will be easier if you accept your place and cooperate."

  Helen looked at him, eyes wide, trying to work out how she felt about this development. On the one hand, being able to talk to people was much better than the alternative. But on the other, being told to accept her place didn't sound at all good. Is it really an improvement if they're only going to talk to me so they can tell me what to do?

  Both aliens let go of her and she stumbled backward, the strange chill still settling in her mind. "What did you do? How can I possibly understand you?"

  The Elder's smile tightened into something considerably less friendly. "You don't ask the questions. You answer them, and you do as you're told. This is your one warning, do you understand?"

  His gaze was as cold as his touch had been, and Helen couldn't match it. Looking down, she nodded miserably. There wasn't any point in borrowing trouble, not right now. The memory of the sacrifice was still fresh in her mind, and she didn't want to f
ind out what they would do if she disobeyed.

  "Good girl," the Elder said in a patronizing tone. She almost expected him to pat her on the head, but he spared her that indignity. "Go with the others, then, and see your new home. There is a short while before you'll be called on to serve at the victory feast."

  Her 'new home' wasn't very appealing when she reached it. A fenced in space, practically bare even compared to the primitive buildings of the village around it. There were some blankets, a few small shelters built out of scraps of wood and fabric, but nothing that looked at all comfortable. Helen's companions milled around inside, looking back at the guards at the gate. A few of the young men looked as though they were considering trying to escape, and Helen hoped they'd think better of it. The guards were outnumbered but they had spears and the other warriors weren't far away. If anyone started trouble, it wouldn't go well for them and she didn't want to be caught up in that.

  Moving away from the group just in case, she wished she still had her bag and supplies. Not that she'd brought much with her, but even the small reminders of home would be something. But her captors had taken it from her, and now who knew where it was? A small stream flowed through the area, and she hoped that it would be safe to drink from. She'd have to risk it soon enough in this heat. On the march here, their captors had shared some water from their flasks, but now she had nothing.

  "What's this little one doing in here with us?" a voice spoke close behind Helen, and she whipped around to see one of her fellow prisoners looking down at her with a leer. A couple of others were behind him, chuckling. She backed away a step and they followed.

  "Maybe the Fire Wolves gave us a present to soften the blow, hey?" one of them said and they all laughed. "Looks like a nice little morsel."

  The leader stepped closer again, and she realized she recognized the look on his face. It was the look she remembered from the bullies at school, the look of a man who needed to prove he had control over his life and had no qualms about picking on the weakest person he could find to do it. Trying to keep her fear from showing, she stopped backing away. It wasn't as though she had anywhere to run.

  He towered over her, taller than most of the other aliens, and he clearly didn't mind using his size to intimidate. Helen tried to glare up at him, and he chuckled. "Whatever you are, you're going to be fun, little creature."

  Okay, that's it. Helen wasn't sure that standing up to him was a good idea. She was the only human here, and the rest of the prisoners seemed to know each other — she didn't expect them to back her against him. But today she'd been whisked off to another planet, captured by slavers, had her stuff stolen, her mind invaded, and now she'd been locked up with these thugs. There was a limit to what she could take, and she was well past it.

  He reached out to grab her, and she did the only thing she could think of to stop him. Snapping a fist forward, all her weight behind it, she took him completely by surprise. Her knuckles struck his groin and he doubled over, his eyes bulging as the breath was driven out of his body.

  It wasn't enough to stop him retaliating, though. His backhanded slap caught her cheek and sent her tumbling back onto the hard ground, her head spinning. Trying to focus, she scrambled back, but she couldn't move fast enough to avoid his grabbing hands.

  "Bitch," he hissed, pinning her to the ground and raising his fist overhead. "I'm going to make you regret that."

  Helen raised her hand to try and block his punch, but she knew it would do no good. He was too strong, and his fist looked the size of a boulder as he swung in down towards her.

  It didn't connect. With a meaty smack, another blue hand closed around her attacker's wrist, holding his fist back and stopping his punch dead. The alien leaning over her pulled, but he couldn't get his arm free of the newcomer's grasp.

  "Let her go," her savior said, his tone low and dangerous. Helen shivered at the danger in it — that was the voice of a man suppressing a lot of anger.

  Her attacker twisted free, stepping away from her and looking up at the man who'd interfered. That gave Helen a clear view of him, and she gasped, recognizing the man she'd seen watching her when she'd arrived at the village. Up close, he was even more striking, like the statue of a god carved from blue stone. He was built perfectly, his muscles and the silvery patterns across his body drawing her eyes over him. Helen found herself blushing as she looked up at her savior, trying to focus and recover from the shock of what was happening. His eyes were like deep pools with crimson stars gleaming in their depths, and Helen thought she could look into them forever.

  "This is none of your business," the alien who'd attacked her hissed, rubbing his wrist. His two friends had gathered around him, and he seemed to draw courage from that. Or perhaps he couldn't let himself look weak in front of them. Whatever his reason was, he bared his teeth and growled a challenge. "Get out of my way."

  The newcomer tore his gaze away from Helen's to fix the challenger with a glare. "I am Davor son of Joron, and you're new here so I will give you one chance to back down. Being a prisoner isn't pleasant, I know, but don't let that turn you into an animal. If you can't control yourself, I will!"

  The last two words came out as a roar, and the challenger took a step back in the face of Davor's rage. Unwillingly, he nodded, raising his hands in surrender. Davor stared at him for a moment longer before nodding, turning back to Helen, and offering her his hand to help her to her feet.

  She hesitated, unsure whether she could trust one alien over another. What choice do I have? And he had come to her rescue, it didn't seem fair to question that just because he wasn't human. Reaching up, she took his hand.

  The contact was electric, a jolt to her nervous system which made her gasp and flush. His eyes widened as he felt it too, and for a moment they were frozen, the connection between them overwhelming everything else. It drove all Helen's fears out of her mind, everything buried under this strange but pleasant new sensation.

  Something moved behind him, and Helen managed to tear her eyes away.

  "Look out," she shouted, seeing her attacker over Davor's shoulder, the rock in his hand already swinging towards Davor's head. Her savior twisted aside at the last moment, whether because of her warning or some instinct, she couldn't tell. But he moved with a blinding speed the attacker couldn't match, and the rock glanced off rather than splitting his skull.

  Helen could barely follow what happened next, it was so fast. Davor spun, knocking the man's hand aside with a blow that sent the rock flying. The alien tried to punch him with his free hand, but Davor stepped into the blow, blocking it and slamming his own fist forward in a blurring punch that sent the attacker tumbling down onto his back, unconscious.

  The fight was over in seconds, the attacker's friends backing away with terror in their eyes. Davor watched them coldly, and the rest of the prisoners who had watched the fight cheered. For all that they'd arrived with the bully, they didn't seem to object to seeing him laid out on the floor.

  Davor looked around at them, nodded, and turned back to her.

  "Whenever a new group arrives, there's always someone who wants to set themselves up as the new boss," he said with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry that he picked on you to make himself look big."

  She snorted, picking herself up and dusting herself off as best she could. "Beating me up wouldn't exactly prove anything here, would it? I'm hardly, you know...?"

  Trailing off, she gestured at him, trying to indicate his toned muscular perfection, the easy confidence with which he carried himself. Davor laughed. "Of course. That's because he is a coward — picking a fight with someone who might win isn't how he's going to try and make himself look impressive. For the most part, the Fire Wolves don't take actual warriors as their prisoners."

  So what are you doing here, she wanted to ask. But something in his eyes, a heavy sadness, made her reluctant to raise the issue. Trying to think of something to say she looked away, not wanting to confront that grief.

  The silence str
etched awkwardly before he broke it. "What is your name, little one?"

  Helen blushed, both from embarrassment at not introducing herself and annoyance at the pet name. She bit down on her instinctive, irritated response.

  "I'm Helen Maxwell. From Earth." She looked up into his eyes, wondering. "Do you... do you know where that is, how I can get back home?"

  Davor sighed, and the sadness she'd seen grew stronger. "This may not be easy to explain. You had better come with me while I talk, Helen."

  There was something about hearing her name on his lips that sent a tingle down Helen's spine. He pronounced it as though it was something exotic, a strange name he'd never heard before — it sounded special in a way no human had ever made it sound. Together with the way he looked at her, it made her breath catch.

  He didn't just seem to be looking at her body, though he was doing that with a frank and unashamed interest. He seemed to be looking deeper, as though he was looking into her soul. That's silly, Helen told herself. But was it? She was on an alien world, and not long ago had seen someone turn into a wolf. Who could say what was possible here? Whether it was true or not, it was distracting, leaving Helen breathlessly trying not to think about just how sexy he was.

  She followed him back towards one of the makeshift shelters at the back of the enclosure, trying to focus on his words rather than his body.

  "I do not know your 'Earth' but if that is the name of your homeworld, then it could be anywhere in the Sea of Stars," he told her as they walked. "Where it is means little, though. The Worldwalker's Gates can take you from one world to another at a thought, so if you can get back to a Gate then you are as good as home. Unfortunately, the Fire Wolves will not make it easy to escape and make that journey."