Davor

by Leslie Chase

  "You mean that it's alright as long as you get to be the ones in charge," Davor said, a touch of anger showing, and Tark laughed. A moment later, so did the rest of the aliens gathered on the dais.

  "No, I mean that we are the ones in charge, so we get to say whether it's alright. The proof of it is that we're in charge." Tark grinned hugely, gesturing around. "I will see the universe put to rights, Davor. Or if not me, my sons will do it — and you with them."

  Helen shivered at the thought of these people ruling anything. Their casual use of slave workers, their sacrifice of one of their captives, all of it showed them to be the worst kinds of leaders. If I knew what to poison them with, I might try it, she thought, looking at the near-empty jug. But knowing my luck their magic healing would kick in and I'd just give them a headache, even if I had something. And it would get Davor too.

  Though right now, she wasn't so sure that was a bad idea. She looked at him, talking with her captors, the woman beside him clinging to his arms, pressing herself against him, and Helen’s fingers tightened on the handle of the wine jug. He certainly didn't look the fellow prisoner he'd passed himself off as just an hour ago. On the other hand, he was the only one willing to argue with Tark.

  Before she could follow that line of thought any further, a heavy hand smacked her on the ass, making her jump and squeal. Looking around in outrage, she saw Karak looking at her, an unpleasant expression on his face.

  "If that jug's empty, fetch another," he hissed, his voice low enough to be hidden in the noise of conversation around them and the laughter of his father. "You're my guest, and I'll not have you reflect badly on me in front of the Ard."

  Well that makes it tempting to run off and hide for the evening, Helen thought, keeping it from her face as best she could. She might be able to get him in trouble with his father, but he'd be able to do far worse to her.

  Not trusting herself to reply, she turned away to fetch more wine as other servers brought out platters of food. A glance behind her showed Davor saying something she couldn't hear, but the woman beside him laughed and held his arm tighter. The sight made Helen want to stab something.

  8

  Davor

  His jaw tightening, Davor resisted the urge to pull his arm away from Gesha's grip. She was all too friendly, and he couldn't think why. What he did know was that Samsar's recovery was hostage to his own good behavior tonight. Insulting the Ard's daughter was no way to earn Tark's favor, and his friend badly needed that.

  Gesha didn't make it easy, though. Oh, she was pretty enough and had a charming smile, practiced enough that he barely noticed she was faking it. But she was faking it, that much he'd been certain of from the moment he sat down.

  I know that I'm an attractive man, he thought without false modesty, but she's the daughter of an enemy Clan. If she actually liked me, she wouldn't be showing it here in front of her father. They're up to something

  He watched Helen leave, glad that she wasn't going to be subjected to more of this indignity for now. She'd have to be back soon enough, but every second she was away was a respite from Karak's attention.

  "Careful, Davor," Ard Tark said, voice cheerful though the warning had an edge to it. "Ignoring my daughter to stare at one of our guests isn't very polite."

  Gesha laughed. "Father, you know I don't mind. She's not even one of the People, she doesn't count — let Davor look if he pleases."

  She squeezed his arm, and Davor had an urge to pull away as though from a venomous snake.

  "I don't intend any disrespect," he said, skirting the edge of the truth. "Still, I wasn't aware that I owed Gesha my undivided attention. We've barely met."

  "And yet you get on so well already. Almost as though fate has chosen you for each other, yes?" Tark's smile broadened, taking a leg of meat from a passing slave's platter and gestured at the pair of them with it. "I must say I'm pleased."

  Davor frowned, and this time he did pull his arm free of Gesha's grip. She released him, sitting back and filling her own plate.

  "I don't take your meaning, Ard," Davor said, leaving the food untouched. That wasn't easy — it smelled delicious, especially compared to the half-spoiled meals the slaves were served. His hunger pulled at him, but his honor kept him still. "Fate certainly hasn't chosen us, and I wouldn't expect you to approve if it had."

  Tark laughed. "Why shouldn't I? You're a brave, honorable warrior of your people, eldest living son of your Ard. And your Clan is strong, Davor. When you lead them, they'll be stronger still."

  Not strong enough to fight off the Fire Wolves. Both of them knew that — if the Silver Sea Clan had that strength, he wouldn't be here. Perhaps given time they could build up, but as long as he was a hostage here they couldn't fight back.

  "I hadn't thought that I would lead them," he said, crossing his arms. "I expected to be enjoying your hospitality instead."

  "That would be a waste of your potential," Tark said. "Instead, you and your mate should return home and rule. With a few of my men to guard you, of course — I wouldn't expect everyone to be entirely happy with my daughter being at your side."

  "Just think of what it will be like," Gesha said, almost purring as she pressed herself against him again. She lifted her bowl of wine, offering it to him. "We could rule together, and with father's help, our children would rule worlds."

  That wasn't attraction glittering in her eyes, he realized. It was greed, ambition, a hunger for the power he represented. There was a frightening intensity to her.

  "I wonder how long I'd live once we had an heir?" he asked out loud. It didn't seem to cause any offense. Gesha smiled wider as though appreciating his intelligence and Tark laughed aloud.

  "Don't mistake me, boy," the Ard said. "You'd be beholden to me, as much as any other leader I leave in charge. But I don't want to lose your skills and courage. I'm no fool, and the wide worlds we can reach through the Gates are too much for any one Clan to conquer quickly. Add your strength to mine and there will be enough power to go around. And your Silver Sea Clan will be second in power only to the Fire Wolves, while you rule it with my daughter at your side."

  It should have been a tempting offer. Safety for his Clan was all Davor had hoped for since the Fire Wolves had started their expansion, and this was an offer that didn't leave them slaves. It would make them kings, rulers of planets — as long as they accepted Tark as their overlord.

  Turning down an offer like this could only have one consequence, too. If he wasn't going to be Tark's minion, then he would be a threat, and Tark was not the sort of leader who tolerated threats. Davor had to admit that this was an elegantly constructed trap.

  Making himself consider it, Davor looked up at the moon looming above them. The signs of the Ancient’s city on its surface looked down at him, a reminder of the power they had held long ago. The power that Tark wanted to claim for himself and his heirs, and that he offered Davor a slice of.

  Buying time to think, he raised his wine bowl to his lips and took a slow sip. It was strong, and after so long without anything but water to drink the taste was unfamiliar. He savored it, taking his time, trying to come up with a safe response. Saying no was too dangerous, but he couldn't say yes. He had to play for time.

  "You've given me a lot to think about, Ard Tark," he said truthfully, turning back to his host. "I owe it to my ancestors to ask their advice on my decision, though. It would be disrespectful to do otherwise."

  Karak frowned. "My father is offering you the stars," he snarled. "How can you have anything to think about?"

  "If I jumped at the chance like a starving animal, how much could you trust my decision?" Davor said, fixing Karak with a hard glare. "I want nothing more than to do right by the people I was born to lead."

  Beside him, Gesha tensed and looked at her brother. "He's showing our father respect by taking the offer seriously, brother. If he didn't have to think about it, he wouldn't be the man we want to ally with, so don't be stupid and pressure him."

&n
bsp; Davor glanced aside, surprised by her support. Her smile bared fangs and she crouched, almost as though she was about to pounce at Karak. Is there bad blood between them?

  Before he could say anything else, Tark barked a laugh. "Children, don't bicker. Davor, of course you should consult your ancestors about this. But don't take too long, eh? I have worlds to conquer and little time to do it in."

  9

  Helen

  The rest of the evening was an unpleasant blur for Helen. She emptied one jug after another of the dark wine into the apparently bottomless thirsts of the aliens, and the work was constant. It wasn't just her; the other slaves were being forced to do the same grueling work or worse. At least the wine, while heavy, didn't look as cumbersome as the huge platters of food others had to carry.

  The feast lasted late into the night, and as it went on the aliens danced and sang. Helen couldn't help admiring some of the dancers. Their athleticism was incredible, and in her brief moments of peace she watched them in awe as they leaped high or dove through the fire pit in the middle of the square. Part of her wanted to see Davor get up and take a turn, to see him leap and twist, muscles flexing and gleaming in the firelight.

  But he stayed fixed to his spot at the high table, and it was just as well. Another part of her would have been tempted to try and shove him into the fire if he'd danced near it. Him, or the blue-skinned woman who clung to his arm.

  Why the hell am I jealous? I've barely met him. But in the brief time she'd known him, he had seemed like a rock she could rely on. Watching him consort with her captors like that made her feel sick.

  Finally, the night wound down. Even Tark's prodigious appetite was sated, and he swayed as he stood. A couple of his guards rose with him, warriors who'd drunk less wine and were still in a fit state to help their Ard to his rooms. Helen watched him go with a sigh of relief, hoping that would mark the end of the feast. With him gone it began to wind down, the others at the high table rising and starting to leave even as the rest of the Fire Wolves still partied. Of course, they left the mess behind for their slaves to clear up.

  Karak wasn't so fast to go, though. Almost as drunk as his father, he stood with an evil glint in his eye and grabbed Helen by the arm as she started to collect the dishes from the table.

  "Leave that, my pretty one," he said. "Let the other guests do the work, I have something better for you."

  Helen tried to pull away and found herself trapped. Karak's grip on her arm was tight enough to bruise, and he held her in place without effort. With his other hand, he grabbed the plate she held, throwing it aside casually. Like a man who knows that he won't have to tidy up his own mess, Helen thought with a surge of anger. It helped her drown out the fear as he pulled her towards the half-finished building.

  "Let her go."

  Davor's voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the noise of the feast like a knife. Helen froze at the sound of it, even though the anger wasn't directed at her. Karak reacted as though he'd been slapped. Wheeling around to face Davor, he bared his fangs and growled.

  "She is mine, Davor. My captive, my guest, and I'll do what I please with her. Be glad my father has plans for you, otherwise I'd split your skull for your interference. And you're insulting my sister, too, chasing after this alien girl."

  Around them, a few of the other Fire Wolves took notice and a circle of quiet expanded around the three of them. Some of the slaves noticed, too, and though they didn't dare stop to watch they kept well out of the way.

  Davor stalked forward a pace, his face darkening, hands flexing as though he was already tearing at his rival's flesh. Helen tried to step back but Karak still had her arm and wasn't letting her go anywhere.

  "Let her go," he repeated, voice icy-calm and dangerous, eyes flashing red. "I won't warn you again."

  Their eyes were locked on each other, and Helen's heart leaped into her throat. She wanted to say something, do something, but what? Davor was saving her again, protecting her, and she didn't understand why but she could see what would happen. This wasn't some bullying fellow prisoner in the slave pen — if Davor beat Karak, there was no way that would end well. She didn't doubt that Davor would win the fight: if Karak had been sober, he might have stood a chance, but he wasn't and it showed in his unsteady stance. Surrounded by so many Fire Wolf warriors, though, it wouldn't make much difference to the outcome.

  She didn't want to see Davor killed, but a fight here and now couldn't end any other way. Maybe if I go with Karak, I can stop this going any further? The thought made her want to vomit, even his touch on her arm made her want a shower. But the alternative might be even worse.

  Before she could make her decision, Gesha took it out of her hands. Stepping forward with a deliberate grace, she put herself between the two glaring males. Her laugh was gentle, musical.

  "Brother, you're drunk and you know better than this," she said, putting a hand on Karak's chest to hold him back. "Father has his plans, and I know you don't want to get in his way."

  Bristling, Karak let go of Helen to knock Gesha's arm away. Helen jumped back, getting out of his reach before he tried to grab her again.

  "Get out of my way, sister," Karak said, trying to brush Gesha aside. She shook her head, staying in place between him and Davor.

  "No, Karak," she said firmly. "You said that Davor insulted me, and I can defend my honor myself. I don't need you to do it for me, you know better than that. Come on, you don't need a fight now, and father wouldn't like it if you picked one. Let's get you home."

  Karak looked confused as she took him by the arm, and Helen slipped back into the crowd to stay out of his sight. Whatever Gesha's reasons for stopping the fight, she didn't want to spoil the result by reminding Karak that she was there. As it was, he let his sister lead him away.

  As they entered the building, Gesha looked back over her shoulder and caught Helen's eye. Helen didn't know what to make of the little smile the alien woman gave her, but she returned it anyway. It didn't matter why she'd done it, Gesha had saved her and Davor, and Helen couldn't ignore that.

  "Come on, we should get you out of here before Karak remembers what the fight was about," Davor said close behind her. Helen only just restrained herself from jumping and shrieking in shock. He was light enough on his feet that she hadn't noticed him approach.

  "I thought you'd be waiting for your girlfriend to come back," she hissed, regretting the childish retort as soon as it was out of her mouth. Davor ignored it, putting a hand firmly on her shoulder and steering her out of the square back towards the slave pen.

  His touch was enough to make her melt, and feeling him close by made Helen feel safe. She cursed herself for falling back into the illusion of his protection so easily, but she couldn't help herself.

  The touch of his skin on hers just felt too right for her to ignore.

  The pen was quiet, but not empty. At some point during the feast, the work gangs must have returned, and the area was filled with exhausted aliens resting in the moonlight. Helen shivered at the sight — all the aliens were big, strong, powerful figures and all had been worked to the limit. How long could a human last doing that kind of labor? And even amongst humans, she was hardly a paragon of fitness.

  I can't make it here, she thought as they made their way back to the hut in silence. If I don't take Karak up on his offer, they'll work me to death inside a week.

  The question of whether she'd rather die than offer her body to Karak wasn't a comfortable one to answer. She shivered at the thought, and Davor's hand tightened on her shoulder.

  "Don't worry," he whispered. "I won't let anything happen to you."

  "Do you really care?" she asked, just as quietly. She couldn't bear to turn and face him afraid of what she might see. "You've got yourself set with the leaders here, why are you wasting your effort protecting me?"

  Even without looking at him she could feel the anger in his body, the flare of heat.

  "Do you really think I'm that easily bought? I
know that we haven't known each other long, Helen of Earth, but I am no more going to lie with Gesha for my own safety than you would with Karak."

  At that she did turn, looking up into his strange, alien eyes. In the moonlight they gleamed red as he looked down at her.

  "You didn't look that reluctant earlier," she said after a moment, not sure what the feelings at war in her heart were. Hope, maybe? Fear that she would be disappointed again?

  Davor shook his head, a faint and sad smile on his face. "I need to pick my battles," he said. "Samsar is going to need the healer for a few more days, and I won't leave him in the lurch. If he can't walk, he can't work, and the Fire Wolves have no use for a slave who can't work. I'm not going to let my distaste for Gesha and her family end his life if I can avoid it."

  "But what about when you can't put her off any longer?"

  "Then I'll have to say no. I'm not going to let them define my life." He sighed and lost the smile completely. "Not more than I already have, anyway. I won't be Tark's puppet ruler, and I have no interest in being his son-in-law."

  Helen raised her hand to his, feeling the heat of his touch and wanting to offer him some kind of support. She could see the warring emotions on his face, and her anger faded as she saw how conflicted he was. It had been easy to condemn him for sharing the feast with Tark and his family, but when it was the only way to keep his friend alive... would I do anything different, if Karak had a friend of mine at his mercy? Could I?

  It wasn't a comfortable question to ask herself, and she was glad that he didn't have that kind of leverage over her.

  "In that case, why did you risk getting into a fight with Karak?" she asked. "That couldn't have gone well for you, or Samsar."

  A ghost of a smile flashed across his face. "He was going to hurt you, and I couldn't let you come to harm. I won't let that happen, Helen. Never."