Davor

by Leslie Chase

  It turned out that they needn't have worried about the other guard. They found him at the base of the stairs, lying unconscious where his fall had left him. He'd recover from his injury soon enough, but for now he was no impediment as they stepped into the Gate chamber itself.

  The memories that dragged up in Davor were harsh, still raw. The last time he had been through a Gate had been the beginning of his stay as a guest of the Fire Wolves. His experience hadn't been nearly as bad as that of some other slaves, but they’d been bad enough. Dragged away from his friends, his family, his Clan — his whole life.

  Helen placed her arm around his waist, holding him tight, and he shivered as her touch drew him back to the present. Turning to her, he leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead.

  "You must go," he told her. "Quickly. They will be here soon."

  Her eyes were wet with tears, and he could feel the prickling in his own as he fought down the pain of separating from his mate. He would not make this harder for her by showing her his pain.

  "Davor," she said, and swallowed nervously before continuing. "Come on, we can both escape. Please don't leave me?"

  The pain in her voice was nearly enough to make him change his mind. Tears welled in his eyes, and it took all the strength he had to shake his head.

  "I cannot," he said, squeezing her to him. He kissed the tears from her cheeks, taking a deep breath. "My Clan would suffer for it, and they need the time to plan, to prepare, to fight back. I will not ruin that chance for my own happiness. Not even for yours. Please, beloved, do not ask it of me."

  He felt the pain in his heart like a dagger of ice as he spoke those words, and as Helen looked up into his eyes he felt her gaze looking deep into his heart. After a moment, she nodded.

  "I know," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I had to ask, but I knew that you had to stay."

  For a moment they were both silent. Davor's heart ached with things he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the words. Anything he said now would just hurt her and make this harder on both of them. Turning away, she walked to the center of the chamber quickly, as though she couldn't bear to be close to him anymore. He understood. Parting was already too painful, and the longer they drew it out the worse it would be.

  I can't stay and watch this, he thought. My heart wouldn't survive it.

  Taking one last look at Helen, he let the image of her burn into his memory. She stood on the raised area at the center of the room, spear in hand, looking back at him with a tear on her cheek. Neither of them spoke before he turned his back and fled, running from the pain of separation.

  There was no punishment that the Fire Wolves could visit on him that could be worse than this.

  Outside the Gate, Davor heard the calls of his pursuers approaching. He was glad they were close — the sooner he caught up with them, the less time he had to dwell on his choice or the absence that was already eating a hole in his heart. The deep booming sound of the Gate's activation behind him told him that he had succeeded in saving Helen, and now he only had to pay the price.

  It doesn't feel like much of a victory, he mused as he jogged towards the hills to meet his foes.

  Before he reached them, the hunters descended toward him, wolves out front followed by warriors carrying weapons. There were so many of them, far more than were needed to hunt him down. This wasn't just a hunt, it was a reprisal party — enough to cross the Worldwalker's Gate and attack his home if they didn't catch him.

  Davor hoped that he could convince them to stop now that he was in their grasp.

  At the very front of the pack ran a huge older wolf, gray in his fur marking his age but still fast on his feet with murder in his eyes. He carried himself with a deadly economy of motion, the kind of grace that came from long experience of fighting and killing.

  Tark. It couldn't be anyone else. Davor stopped in his path, arms spread wide and unthreatening. He wasn't here to fight, and against this many enemies he wouldn't have lasted long anyway.

  The great wolf came to a halt, the lesser wolves running on to circle around Davor. He knew that some of them were running to the Gate, and couldn't help smiling sadly. They were too late: his mate at least had escaped their clutches forever. The first and most important part of his plan had worked, no matter what happened to him now.

  In front of him, Tark shifted and stood up, a towering rage burning in his eyes. He strode forward, fingers flexing as though he were already tearing at Davor's flesh. There was no pretense now, no attempt to hide how dangerous he was. Davor could see that despite his age Tark was a formidable warrior, perhaps the most dangerous he'd ever met.

  He itched to raise his hands, to protect himself or launch an attack at the danger bearing down on him. But he kept himself steady, offering no threat to Tark and hoping that the Ard would be willing to talk rather than just strike him down.

  Tark stopped out of arm's reach, baring his fangs and growling, and Davor met his gaze steadily. Behind the Ard, other wolves shifted and stepped forward, Gesha amongst them. Taking her father's arm, she whispered to him and the rage in his eyes lessened. Davor was impressed, both that she'd dared approach Tark and that she could calm him in this mood.

  "Why are you still here?" the Fire Wolf Ard growled. "You struck down my son in a cowardly ambush and fled — and now I find you within spitting distance of your escape, but you don't run. Explain."

  "I am here to surrender myself to you, Ard Tark," Davor said, crossing his wrists and holding them before him. "Your son was the coward, trying to force himself on... on the human woman, so I defended her from him. That is all."

  He had nearly slipped up there, nearly called Helen his mate in front of all these warriors. Keeping that hidden burned him, but if he was going to protect his Clan from reprisals he had to keep that secret. Tark's plan for him needed him unmated.

  Gesha pulled at Tark's arm and whispered again, but he shrugged her off. "My son lies injured, and you have stolen the woman he wanted. I should kill you now and go on to burn every member of your Clan."

  Tark took a step closer, his eyes narrowing and focusing on Davor's neck. He was close enough to strike now, so close that Davor wouldn't have a chance to defend himself before his throat was laid open.

  With an effort, he kept himself from moving, from defending himself. The slightest mistake now would ruin everything for his Clan.

  "Can you give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you and everyone you know, Davor?" Tark asked, his voice a dangerous controlled growl.

  "Because I came back," Davor said quietly. It was an effort to keep a hold on his anger at the threat and stop it spilling into action. Gritting his teeth, he made himself speak. "You gave me a choice, and I've made it — my answer is yes. I'll take my place as your son-in-law, if Gesha will have me. If you kill me, or hurt my people, you're the one who loses. Or you can ignore this and move on, and all you've lost is one alien slave. She wasn't even valuable to you."

  "Karak liked her," Tark replied, and then barked a laugh. "But then, Karak was an idiot and let you take her from him. You'll make a better son than he did, I'll wager."

  He clapped Davor on the shoulder, mood changing instantly. Around him, the rest of the Fire Wolves relaxed and laughed too, mirroring their Ard's attitude without a hint of hesitation. Too afraid of their ruler to show their true feelings, they copied his, and Davor wondered if they even noticed they were doing it. Tark turned, leading Davor back towards the body of his troops, and Gesha fell in behind them, a pleased smile on her lips.

  Such loyalty to their family, Davor thought as they set out back for the camp. It doesn't inspire me to trust them, not at all. Then he shrugged. If Gesha or Tark really cared about Karak, then he wouldn't have been able to pull this off. Maybe the fact that the Fire Wolves were a nest of snakes did have some advantages.

  It wasn't going to make his stay with them any more pleasant, though. At least Helen is safely away, back on her Earth, Davor reminded himself. T
hat was all that mattered.

  17

  Helen

  Watching Davor leave had been the most painful feeling in Helen’s life. She’d stood at the center of the Worldwalker’s Gate and stared after him as he went up the stairs and out of her life. It felt as though he were tearing a part of her heart away as he went. She stifled a sob, knowing that he'd want to comfort her — and that if he touched her again, she'd never be able to leave him.

  I have to go now, she told herself, leaning on the heavy spear and feeling foolish. If I wait too long, this is all for nothing. The Fire Wolves will be here any minute.

  But trying to think of Earth, of the life she'd left behind, just made her heart ache worse. She could feel the great, ancient machine all around her, its attention on her thoughts. A cold potential waiting to be awoken when she willed it to take her home — but she couldn't focus, couldn't think of her life before Davor.

  Come on, Helen, she thought, trying to be stern. You've got to go home. You've got a job to do... well, sort of. Dr. Hughes would be waiting for her report, of course he would. And she had a life to get back to. If you could call a shitty apartment with no working heating, a desperate struggle to stay ahead on the rent, and a painful lack of a blue-skinned sexy alien a life.

  It was no use, she couldn't focus on that. Not when Davor was so close. He filled her thoughts, his wonderful body and his brave, loyal heart. She found herself wondering what would have happened if they'd met on his world before the Fire Wolves had struck. What life would have been like amongst his Clan.

  Above her, in the roof of the Worldwalker's Gate, something moved. Stone ground against stone, mechanisms shifted, and Helen felt that same sparking potential around her that she had in the laboratory. The hanging sensation that she could be anywhere, that the Universe was waiting for her to choose a destination. And choose she did.

  She let her mind drift through Davor's stories of his home, trying to picture it. The shining silver sea stretching to the horizon, the cries the birds, the green grasses underfoot. The ring around the planet that formed an arch across the sky. He'd painted a picture so real that Helen could almost touch it.

  Closing her eyes, she gave herself over to that image and the hope that it was close enough to the truth. The world snapped back together in a blinding light and a deafening crack, but this time she was ready and steadied herself on the spear.

  The room she arrived in looked the same as the one she'd left, but the air tasted different somehow and that was enough to tell her that she was elsewhere. Warily making her way to the exit, she saw that there was no body lying at the foot of the stairs, no sign of a struggle. She made her way up to the surface, and instead of a tumbled wall, here the Gate was intact enough for the corridor to lead to a vast doorway. The doors themselves were made of some heavy metal and lay bent and broken on the ground outside, letting in the fresh sea air and the sound of birds singing on the cliffs above.

  The Worldwalker's Gate stood on a hill and looked down over the most beautiful beach that Helen had ever seen. The sunlight fell warmly on the golden sands, and boats bobbed up and down on the silvery waves, men standing in them with spears poised to pluck fish from the waters.

  Men with blue skin, standing under an alien sky. There might only be one sun here, but no one could have mistaken it for Earth. A shimmering line cut across the sky from horizon to horizon, the arch of the sky that Davor had described. It was breathtakingly strange and beautiful.

  "I really made it," she said aloud, not quite sure if she'd expected that to work. But here she was, on Davor's homeworld.

  There was movement on the beach below her, and she lowered her gaze from the horizon to see two blue-furred wolves rushing up the hill toward her. Fear woke in her heart at the sight, but she held her ground. She had to hope that she was right, that these were Davor's Clanmates and not actual giant wolves. She resisted the temptation to point the spear at them, not wanting to look hostile.

  That'd look great on your gravestone, Helen, she thought as the wolves came closer, sharp teeth bared, but she knew she wasn't likely to be able to defend herself anyway.

  At the last moment, the wolves separated and skidded to a stop, each shifting into a tall alien warrior with markings that matched Davor's. She might not be able to tell much of their meaning, but she'd spent enough time looking at his that she found she could recognize his Clan marks on these two.

  "Who are you?" one of them demanded.

  "A spy, she must be," the other answered for her before Helen could speak. She glared at him, knuckles tightening on her stolen spear, and shook her head.

  "Do I look like I'd make a good spy?" she said. "I'm not exactly inconspicuous, I'm not hiding, and I'm here to speak. Davor son of Joron sent me, so take me to your — your Ard."

  She tried to sound confident and in control, even as she stumbled over the unfamiliar language. The two aliens looked at her, then at each other, frowning.

  "Davor sent you?" the first asked, sounding as though he was afraid to hope. "What are you to him, why would he send you here?"

  The second, more suspicious, simply folded his arms and glared at her. Helen swallowed nervously, feeling her cheeks heat.

  "I'm his mate," she said. "He sent me for my safety, and to get help."

  Well, he should have done that, she told herself, burying her guilt at the lie. It would take too long to explain everything here, especially since she'd only have to tell the story again once she was speaking to the Ard. Better a quick lie to get her in the door and the details could be sorted out once she was in.

  The aliens looked at each other again, more confused than hopeful. But that was enough, it seemed — after a moment, they nodded to each other.

  "Come on, you'd better see the Elders," one said. "They'll be the judge of your story."

  "That's exactly what I want," she said. "But hurry, there isn't much time!"

  When they reached it, the village of the Silver Sea Clan was nothing like the Fire Wolves'. Helen looked around in wonder at the buildings that seemed to blend into the woods near the beach. They looked almost as though they were grown from the trees themselves. The only way she could spot the village from a distance was from the fishing boats drawn up on the shore and the racks on which caught fish hung drying.

  It was a beautiful scene, just like Davor had described it, but there was a sadness and an emptiness to it as well. As she could make out more of the buildings she saw that several looked abandoned, and the people who emerged to look at her had a wary melancholy about them. This was not a happy place.

  A crowd had assembled by the time she reached the center of the village, all watching her silently. Helen couldn't help noticing that it was a lot smaller than the Fire Wolf crowd had been when she'd been brought into their village, and there were fewer males than there were females amongst the aliens here. Perhaps most of the men were fishing? But there hadn't been that many boats out on the sea. Davor had said that they had lost battles to the Fire Wolves, but she hadn't realized what that would mean for the Clan.

  In front of the largest building, an older man waited, leaning on a staff that looked like a repurposed fishing spear, his red eyes dull. The warriors who had brought her left Helen's side to go to him and quickly whisper, and he brightened slightly at their words. Looking at Helen with fresh interest, he spoke.

  "I am Ard Joron of the Silver Sea Clan, young lady. You have seen my son? I had thought him lost to us, little woman, and you say he yet lives and can send a message?" His voice was tired and cracked, and though he sounded pleased to hear the message there wasn't any hope in his eyes.

  "Yes, he's alive," Helen said, blinking in shock. She'd expected a bold leader, but this was a broken man. "I am Helen, his mate, and I've come to get help. He's in terrible danger."

  "Help?" The old man laughed bitterly, his good humor vanishing. The laugh ended in a spluttering cough, and he leaned heavily on his spear. "He thought we could help him? Look at us, gi
rl — what help can we be? No, we must honor his sacrifice and rebuild slowly, carefully. Perhaps one day we will have the strength to fight the Fire Wolves, but today? No, nonsense, nonsense."

  Sighing, the Ard shook his head and when he spoke again there was a sad kindness in his voice. "I am glad to hear that my son is alive, and I thank you for bringing me that news, Helen. But we can spare no strength to help anyone."

  Helen looked around helplessly, shocked at how hollowed out Davor's father was. Had he ever been the dynamic figure of her mate's stories, or did he just remember his father with more love than honesty? The crowd of aliens around her were looking on with a resigned air — some angry, some sad, but none with any energy.

  "You can't just give up on your son," she tried. "Look, I came here to get help. Whatever you've been preparing to resist the Fire Wolves, now is the time to try it."

  They have to be preparing something, don't they? Davor was sure they would be. Helen started to doubt herself — things here looked so much like Davor's description, but they didn't feel anything like what he'd led her to expect.

  The Fire Wolves are worried enough about them to hold Davor as a hostage, and they want an alliance badly enough to force him into a marriage, she reminded herself. If she couldn't trust her mate's rose-tinted memories of his home, she could surely trust her enemies' assessment of a threat.

  "If we fight, we can do nothing. Even a victory would only be followed by defeat," Ard Joron said, as though explaining to a child. "The Fire Wolves have already robbed us of too many warriors: when they come again, we might hurt them badly but they would win the battle. If you are my son's mate, then you are a welcome guest here as long as you wish to stay, but we cannot help him beyond caring for you."

  There was a muttering in the crowd, and it didn't sound happy. Helen took a deep breath, terrified at the feel of so many eyes on her. Had Davor's Clan really given in so thoroughly? Or was it just his father who had lost too much?