Deadlands Hunt

by Gayla Drummond

  Deadlands Hunt

  Gayla Drummond

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Deadlands Hunt

  Copyright 2010, Gayla Drummond

  Edited by J.C. Montgomery

  Cover Art by Gayla Drummond

  All Rights Reserved.

  Published by Katarr Kanticles Press

  Amazon Edition 2010

  This book, or any parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without the permission of the author. The uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  For information: author@feralintensity.com

  Many thanks to:

  Carrie and her vampire bassist, Xan, for beta reading; to J.C. for her tireless editing and that handy skillet and to my other writing buddies and the readers who make this writing gig fun.

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  One

  It had been raining for hours. A cold, steady drizzle that was finding its way under the long, waterproof dusters the four men wore. The town of Adersol was a dreary sight in the grayness of the day, but the horsemen didn't exchange a single word as their coal black mounts splashed through the mud of the main street. Golden eyes noted every movement around them without a single turn of a head. Each noted the way women drew their children closer upon seeing them, and how the men hastily looked away.

  It was the same in each human town along the border, no matter how many times they'd ridden through. Humans feared them, though the two species had never warred upon each other in the three hundred or so years since humans had arrived on Meris Vos.

  Chase wondered if they'd be told there was no room at either of the two inns Adersol boasted. It would be nice to spend a night indoors warm and dry, to have a hot bath, and sleep in a real bed. Their mounts would appreciate good feed and dry stalls as well, the Weren thought. Drawing the others’ attention with a raised hand, he nodded towards the first inn and they turned into the yard. Sighing, Chase dismounted and tossed his reins to Kyle. "I'll go check."

  A flash of white teeth answered him from under the sodden black brim of Kyle's hat. "Want to wager?"

  "Hell no," Bran grumbled. "Damn humans are gettin' worse every year."

  "Quiet," Curtis ordered, cuffing his younger cousin on the shoulder none too gently. Bran flinched at the reprimand. Chase ran his eyes over both and they subsided immediately, gazes lowering to study the wet manes of their horses. Satisfied, he climbed the wooden steps leading up to the inn's wide front porch and carefully scraped the mud from his boots before entering.

  A quick scan showed the common room sparsely occupied. The innkeeper was a short, plump man who hurried out from behind the long wooden bar, wiping his hands on a towel. "Welcome, my lord."

  "Have you room for four travelers and their horses?" Chase watched the other's face, catching the tiny flash of indecision. Business was apparently slow enough that even Weren gold was welcome, because the innkeeper nodded, his jowls wobbling.

  "Yes. Two rooms, and first cuts will be served in about an hour, my lord."

  "Good news," Chase responded, aware of staring eyes. "We'll tend to our horses first, and would like hot baths if possible."

  "They'll be ready. The bathing chamber is at the end of the hall. Your rooms will be those on the left, closest to it."

  "Thank you." Chase swept his duster out of the way, reaching for his belt pouch. Head tilted down, he checked the periphery of his vision to find the owner of the staring eyes to be a young woman. She sat with another woman and two men; all four were dressed in fine clothing more suited to one of the larger cities than this frontier town. Digging out two golden coins, he passed them to the innkeeper. "Anything over that, we'll settle up before we ride out."

  Turning, he took a slightly longer look at the foursome and some urge made him acknowledge the woman's stare with a slight nod. Chase knew she continued to watch while he exited the place.

  "Well?" Kyle asked the instant the door shut behind him, wearing a resigned expression.

  "We have rooms, baths, and a hot meal coming. Let's get the horses to the stables," Chase ordered, grinning at his pack mates.

  "See?" Curtis said to Bran. The younger Weren rolled his eyes while nudging his horse into motion.

  *

  Amethyst continued staring at the door for several minutes after it had closed behind the Weren. Since arriving in Adersol, the young woman had grown increasingly aware her party wouldn't survive its first day in the Deadlands without more experienced help. She'd made a few enquiries over the past few days, but not a single hunter who regularly entered the wild land beyond the border was willing to play escort to four city people.

  She was determined to learn what had happened to her sister, Pearl. Her last known location was Adersol. A letter had been sent from here two months before and had announced they were about to enter the Deadlands. Pearl also had mentioned they'd decided not to go further than a few days’ ride from Adersol, so Amethyst had expected her letters to continue to arrive every three weeks. But none came after that one.

  The mail was reliable, so she was certain they hadn't been lost or delayed. Even so, Amethyst waited another week before deciding to act. It’d taken three weeks by stage to reach Adersol after hurried planning. Pearl was her only family. Their parents had died years earlier, leaving them in the care of an elderly aunt who had recently passed away. The family's solicitor continued to advise them both on investments in trading caravans and the like, so the wealth bequeathed to them continued growing.

  "Devon says it's been quiet for years between Newgate and Hondo." Pearl smiled softly when saying the man's name. He was the charismatic, self-declared reverend of the Holy Order Church. Amethyst had discovered it was a religion of his own making after noting how much attention he was paying to Pearl. She'd been of the opinion that he was after her sister's fortune to finance his insane idea of establishing a town. But it wasn't possible to tell Pearl without injuring her feelings.

  "Just because that's the case, it doesn't mean the orcs and trolls have packed up and moved elsewhere," Amethyst pointed out. "Or the dire wolves, or those draco lizards, or..."

  "We'll be well armed. Devon's gathered over two hundred people who want to strike out for new land," Pearl replied, waving a hand to shush her. "If I'm going to be his wife, my place is at his side, helping build that town."

  "His wife?" Amethyst stared at her sister in shock. If the man had proposed, why hadn't she said anything before? Why would Pearl keep such a thing from her?

  "Don't look so surprised, Amy. Not all men think a pretty face is important." Pearl's voice was spiteful enough to sting. Hurt, Amethyst left off trying to dissuade her.

  No one in Adersol had denied that the train of settlers came through town, but what wasn't said was easy enough to read from their expressions. They’d obviously considered the group no more than fools. None had returned. And the hunters who regularly ventured into the Deadlands never saw the slightest sign of them.

  Glancing at her friends,
Amethyst mentally sighed. Sally, a petite blond with bright blue eyes, had absolutely refused to let her travel alone. Brian and Peter, hearing of her plan, had offered themselves as escorts. Since both were good shots, she’d agreed.

  Now, after seeing the type of people who lived on the border, Amethyst knew she'd be leading them to their deaths if she allowed them to accompany her any further. She also knew that not one of them would agree to stay behind. Her only choice was to find someone who could keep them alive and help her find out whether or not Pearl lived.

  She was an accomplished rider and a fair shot with pistols, but better with the small crossbow her father had taught her to shoot. In Taryton, the only people who went about armed constantly were the city watch. Here in Adersol, all the adults were armed. Pistols were harder to come by on the frontier, so swords, long knives, axes, maces, and bows were the more common weapons.

  But then, her home was far from the border and surrounded by thick walls a hundred feet tall. And the last orcish invasion attempt had been over two centuries before.

  Weren were perfect for the job, she decided. Looking up when the door opened, Amethyst surveyed the four men as they trooped inside with packs slung casually over broad shoulders. She was certain none of them were much older than her friends or herself, yet they looked far more capable of crossing the border and returning safely.

  Two problems faced her: her friends wouldn't be keen on the idea of relying on Werens due to prejudice, and there was the matter of convincing the Werens to help. Biting her lip, she was surprised when the one who'd entered earlier again gave a slight nod, briefly meeting her gaze.

  Common courtesy? Perhaps Weren males found better luck among human women on the frontier. There were rumors of Weren/human pairings and how the humans were never seen again. Speculations on why were gruesome enough to give her nightmares.

  Watching the Werens thump their way up the stairs to the second floor, Amethyst wondered if she could manage to scrape up the courage to approach them with her request for aid.

  *

  "Ah!" Bran loudly sighed while sinking into the steaming water. "This is so much better than a river bath."

  "That's the truth," Kyle agreed, already chin deep, his knees poking above the surface. "Just wish these tubs were longer."

  Curtis merely grunted while he dropped his pants to the floor before stepping into his own. Undressing more slowly than his pack mates, Chase mused over the foursome downstairs. The steady regard of the red haired female would've been impossible to ignore even without the addition of their city clothing. They didn't belong on the frontier, and things that didn't belong were one of the items he was duty bound to keep an eye on.

  "Looked to me like that pretty little human downstairs had her eye on you," Bran remarked as Chase finished undressing.

  "Probably the first time she's ever seen a Weren," Kyle responded, lathering up a washcloth. "Think she's moonstruck?"

  'Moonstruck' was the term used for a human attracted to a different species. Werens weren't the only ones who used it; both the light-skinned Shalinar and their dark-skinned cousins, the Charnim did as well. Kyle grinned. "If she is, I'll pounce on her."

  Chase shot him a warning look, but the other Weren merely shrugged. "Well, she's pretty. I'm not above a tumble or two with any pretty female."

  Rolling his eyes at the futility of curbing Kyle's mouth, Chase settled into hot water with a happy sigh.

  "You'd tumble anything that didn't outrun you or try to eat you first," Curtis growled, eyes closed and head resting against the tub's high back. "You spend more time hunting tail than doing your job."

  Grinning smugly, Kyle lobbed the bar of soap into Curtis' bathwater. "Hey, I can't help it if the ladies like me better'n they like you."

  "Yeah, but the lady in question had her eyes on Chase," Bran said, industriously scrubbing the back of his neck. "And she's a real lady, not some farmer's daughter."

  "Or a Charnim whore," Curtis snorted, fishing the soap out to use.

  "So? Want to wager on whether or not I can charm her out of that silk dress she's wearing?" Kyle challenged. "I damn sure wouldn't mind..."

  "No wager," Chase barked, tired of the talk. He wanted to soak the cold out of his bones in peace. "The saloon here has a couple of Kestran courtesans if you've got the itch that bad. Leave the human lady and her friend alone."

  "Sorry." Kyle blinked in surprise. "Wasn't meanin' to piss on your territory, Chase. Didn't think you were interested."

  "I'm not." Chase caught the bar of soap Curtis tossed. "I am interested in not causing any problems that might make the innkeeper decide to say 'no rooms available' the next time we come through here."

  "Moonstruck or not, the lady might cry foul come morning," Curtis agreed, scrubbing one arm. "Her two male companions damn sure will, and I'll lay wager on that one."

  "Well, guess I'm for the saloon after dinner then." Looking over at Bran, Kyle asked, "What about you?"

  "I'll go if Chase says we can." One eye squinted half closed as Bran cleaned an ear.

  "As long as you behave yourselves and don't stay out all night," Chase responded. "I plan to soak up as much of the firelight as possible before climbing into bed. I’m hoping the rain stops before morning."

  "I'll keep you company," Curtis offered, switching his attention and cloth to his other arm. "If there's decent beer to be had here. And you two better come back quiet, 'cause you wake me up and I'll thrash both your asses."

  *

  The common room was half-full of waiting diners when the Werens returned. Amethyst watched them cross the room to settle at the table closest to the fire, which happened to be the one right next to her own. Peter and Brian exchanged an uneasy glance after realizing who'd become their neighbors. She inspected her two companions. Neither was as tall or muscular as the Werens. How long would they manage to last in the Deadlands?

  From what Amethyst understood, Weren were safe. Human children learned early how to recognize the other species of Meris Vos on sight so they would know whether to run screaming for safety or not. Werens, the Shalinar, Charnim, and the Kestrans were all trading partners of the humans, thus the safe classification.

  Amethyst decided 'safe' was a matter of personal opinion when near people capable of ripping someone to small bits without expending much effort. She'd never been near anyone who actually exuded the fact they were dangerous from their very pores.

  This close, realizing how uneasy all the other diners had become, she had second, third and fourth thoughts about attempting to speak with them. I have no choice. Not if I want to find Pearl, she finally decided, staring at her dinner of roasted meat and vegetables.

  *

  All four Weren noticed the intense regard of the red haired human, despite her attempts to hide it. A glance at Chase told them the wise course would be to pretend they hadn't. Kyle, seated next to Bran, seldom managed to follow this course with complete success.

  Under the guise of reaching for the peppermill, he muttered in his younger pack mate's pinkly clean ear, "Yeah, she's moonstruck."

  Bran grinned, bowing his head over his plate. Sitting back, Kyle proceeded to grind a thick crust of pepper over the potatoes waiting on his plate. He loathed potatoes, but the rule was when at a human's table as a guest, 'clean your plate, or clean everyone's saddles'.

  Having broken that particular rule more times than he had fingers and toes, the lesson had finally stuck. He ate the damned potatoes now, using plenty of pepper to hide their pasty blandness.

  Releasing the much-depleted peppermill to roam from hand to hand, Kyle glanced at Chase. His pack leader’s steady gaze had been on him since his whispered assessment in Bran's ear. Assuming a look of false innocence, Kyle mouthed "What?"

  The narrowing of eyes and minute shake of head warned Kyle that he was treading a thin line. Pushing might end with his anticipated after dinner jaunt unceremoniously cancelled. Chastened, the Weren applied himself immediately to the hated pot
atoes, gulping them down with much grimacing, getting them out of the way before enjoying the rest of his meal.

  Curtis snickered, not having missed the byplay. He sobered when Chase shifted on their shared bench enough to bump him. It had taken the burly shape shifter exactly half a thrashing to realize Chase was the dominant of the two. Curtis never forgot a lesson learned. Especially one that had resulted in so many bruises.

  For his part, Chase was certain the human wasn't moonstruck. There was a strain in her bearing that meant trouble. Many types of trouble were within his domain to handle, but all of those came from over the border. The four humans obviously hadn't come from the Deadlands, even if they had crossed a border of sorts. Weren impartiality was sometimes requested in order to settle disputes between humans, although usually as a last resort.