by Candy Nicks
"If you kill yourself we'll both die."
"It's called irony."
"You wouldn't..."
"Try me."
She wanted to slap him. And then kiss the mark made by her hand. Wipe that smirk off his face, then put it back there by touching him all over until he begged for mercy. Love and hate? At that moment he was the very embodiment of ultimate desire and infuriating frustration. Something which he proved when the cart lumbered under the huge stone archway that formed the North Gateway. Behind and in front of them the large metal-studded doors rumbled closed, plunging them into darkness. The scanning process took only a few heartbeats, enough time for a large calloused hand to steal briefly over her knee and linger lightly on the inside of her thigh. The scan-light illuminated them one by one, logging their profiles and Carine fought the urge to reciprocate. Scan complete, the inner doors creaked open and the cart jolted forwards. The imprint of the warrior's hand burned her skin and silently she begged him not to do anything stupid. Moon-Children were survivors, and the Eagle clan idealistic and reckless. For him, dying would be a matter of honour. For her it would be pointless and stupid. Their death would not change the order of things. All they could do was endure, until an escape opportunity presented itself.
An old woman began to rock and moan quietly to herself. The other captives fell silent. The cart and its pitiful cargo roused little interest as it joined others making their way to the slave market. A few folk hurrying about their business stopped to gawp at the latest mine-fodder. A small child threw something soft and pulpy which splattered against the bars of the cage. The ripe juicy fruit was immediately fallen upon by a small group of desert rats which had squeezed between the bars the moment the cage had stopped. Carine wrinkled her nose and moved away from a patch of urine-soaked straw. The unbearable stench of untended humanity turned her stomach which, nevertheless, cramped painfully with hunger. She slid closer to the warrior.
"When they open the door, you'll make a break?"
A large hand covered her mouth. “Let's tell everyone shall we? By all that's holy! Just keep this closed—do you hear me?"
Carine twisted away, pushing off his hand. “If there's a plan, I need to know it."
"Why?"
Carine closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them he was heaving at the bars. She latched onto his arm and tried to pull him away. “If they see you they'll..."
"What?” He let out a growl of frustration, shoved her away and pounded the bars with his fists. “Realise I'm going to try to escape, perhaps? Do you not think they've worked that one out already?” His yellow hair flopped forward into his eyes. Irritably, he pushed it back.
Carine struggled to concentrate, dismayed but enthralled by the strength of the magic she'd unleashed. Damn his iron will. One tiny move and she'd gladly lie with him right here, in front of everyone. Anything to slake this desperate need for him.
"I'm a fast runner. I won't be a liability. I'll keep up."
"You won't be a liability because you won't be there."
"You don't have a choice, you great lump. Remember this?"
Before he could react she grabbed at his left hand and pressed the palm flat against hers. Instantly her mind filled with images that flashed in and out so quickly she could hardly process them. The two of them, naked, heaving and writhing together. His hand gliding over her electrified skin. Her mouth kissing a wet trail across his stomach, moving downwards.
Her mind or his? She had no idea which of their fevered imaginations they were accessing. All she knew was that he was seeing them too. And he looked terrified.
"Now you see why you can't leave me behind? We have unfinished business."
"No.” He took a deep shuddering breath and carefully removed her hand. “Whatever possessed you? How did you ever think this would work?"
"I felt compassion—is that such a sin? You were dying, remember that? Something stirred in me and...” The painful images of his broken body constricted her throat, choking the words. “All right, it was rash. I lost control, but I saved your life and what is done is done. There is no undoing. You are a man of honour, are you not? At least repay your debt.” She gestured across the crowded market to the leather-hooded Overseers walking amongst the cages, inspecting the goods, marking them down prior to the auction. Occasionally they dragged a captive from a cage and pried open his mouth, squeezed his bicep. Women were stripped, prodded and caressed. “That will happen to me. Save me from that and I promise that we live the rest of our lives on your terms. If it is at all possible, we will resist the Bonding. Whatever you want. Just get me away from this."
"You dare question my honour?"
The warrior dipped low, his face almost touching hers. She tasted his breath and bit her lip to keep from crossing the microcosm between them and covering his mouth with her own.
"If a debt is owed, then I shall pay. Be ready. I will make no allowance for you."
"You will not need to. Thank you. I will be ready."
"You won't get far without shoes."
"I will keep up.” Carine levelled her gaze with his, noticing the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. A hint of reluctant admiration glimmered in his eyes. “You will want your tunic back, here.” She slipped it over her head without hesitation and handed it to him. “Lie down.” His brow creased in question. “You were badly wounded,” she said in response. “Let your miraculous recovery be a surprise for them."
"Damnation,” the warrior said from the folds of the tunic. “I am doomed to be saddled with intelligent females. Mark me well, Moon-Child. I will not be governed by any woman."
"Carine, my name is Carine."
"I have no interest in your name. All I want is to be free, with or without you. Follow my lead, without question. And for the Gods’ sake, cover yourself up."
"Here.” A hand, soft with age, touched her shoulder. Carine turned to see an old crone, who'd spent most of the time huddled in a corner of the cage, talking to no one. The woman arranged her threadbare excuse for a cloak over Carine's shoulders. “Take it, child. We may be enemies, but I can admire bravery when I see it. To take on Ancel, son of Faylar, grandson of Faylar the Bloody, shows courage indeed. Your act of charity towards our people will not go unrewarded."
"I fear you credit me with too much, but I thank you.” Carine pulled the cloak around her shoulders. A Moon-Child giving her greatest gift to an Eagle and now an Eagle showing a Moon-Child kindness? This was indeed the world turned upside-down. “My motive was entirely selfish,” she said. “His anger does not surprise me. I would feel the same, were I him."
"They come. Sit child and put on your best face. The Magic to be wiser than you know. May fortune walk with you and bless you always."
"And you.” Carine returned the traditional greeting and shuffled back against the bars. Ancel, son of Faylar, grandson of Faylar the Bloody, lay still as the grave, his chest barely rising and falling. A few of the captives remained focused on his silent form, probably intent on running with him when the time came. The majority were gazing fearfully at the slave-runners now jumping one by one from the roof of the cage to greet the approaching Overseers. Carine counted seven of them. How could they possibly outwit them all? Ugly as sin and built like an armour-clad mountain, one of them struck the side of the cage three times with his swagger-stick and gave them a toothy grin.
"Welcome to The City of Gold, your new home, you pathetic pile of scum. Look lively now. Weaklings are worthless and expendable. You don't fetch me a good price by looking like something a Krillian dragon threw up. And we don't get a good price, then we sell you to the Danvars. And we all know what the Danvars do with their slaves.” He snapped his teeth together twice. One of the captives fell to her knees and started to pray.
"How many've we got?” A second slave-runner approached. Pulling out his tally-board he counted them, indicating with a wave of his arm that they should move to the far end of the cage when accounted for. Carine made
to move with the rest.
"Not you,” he barked. “You stay there. Got plans for you, we have."
She'd suspected as much, never really having believed that anyone would pay the price required for a Moon-Child only to waste their investment in manual labour. Her only chance of escape lay with the Bonding. She kneeled beside Ancel and prayed it would be enough to save them both.
One of the slave-runners pushed the metal rod between the bars of the cage and hooked it beneath her chin, lifting it and forcing her to face them. “You sure she's powerless without the Crystal? Don't fancy spending the rest of my life as a horny toad."
His colleague sniggered and slapped him heartily on the back. “Would be an improvement, that. Don't worry, she's tame enough. Aren't you, baby? Going to make us a pretty penny."
Don't react. The muscles in Ancel's thigh tightened as the slave runners scrutinised her. She pressed back trying to tell him she was coping. I'm calm, I'm calm.
"Thought they had Magic-in-Hand? What's the deal with that then?"
"Ahh, the gift of the Goddess? That's the thing, you see.” The metal rod slid downwards making a cold trail between her breasts. With a flick, the slave-runner used it to push the cloak and her hair aside. “Very nice. I'd keep her for myself, if she wasn't worth so much. The Magic-in-Hand can only be used to benefit someone else. Like as not, she'll be snapped up by a decadent who's in need of a bit of regeneration. It'll make up for the three we lost bringing this one in.” He turned his attention to Ancel, poking him hard with his stick. “Check his signs and see if he's still alive. If he's gone, get the carcass over to the organ bank, pronto."
"He's dead.” Again Carine shifted her weight, moving slightly in front of Ancel, partly obscuring him. “Can't you see he's stopped breathing?” Ancel's chest stopped moving.
"She lies!” One of the captives lurched forward and flung himself at the bars of the cage. “I want to co-operate, I'll tell you everything. Only don't sell me to them..."
"He's dead,” Carine moved away from Ancel's body. “See, he no longer breathes."
"Vital signs, now!” The slave-runner snarled and pushed his colleague so hard the man stumbled. Recovering, he pulled a palm-sized device from his pocket and held it in front of the door.
"Everyone back.” The door buzzed and slid open. “You scumbags move, you're fried. Got that?"
The huddle nodded as one. Outside the cage two more slave-runners took up point, blast-guns in hand. Carine moved aside and mentally measured the distance to the open door. Seven against one. Not the best of odds, but the best odds they were going to get.
* * * *
Carine? He had no wish to know her name. It made her too real. Too hard to resist. Draining his reserves when he needed all of his strength to get them out of this nightmare. But resist he must. Flexing his thigh-muscle he felt the reassuring warmth of her bare skin through his leggings and remembered the flicker of anguish that had clouded her eyes when the slave-runner touched her so insolently. He also remembered the way she'd stiffened her spine and endured it, instead of fainting away like a maiden in distress.
The bastard whore-son would be the first to die Ancel decided and pressed his eyes firmly closed as the slave-runner holding the scanner heaved himself into the cage. In his mind, Ancel rehearsed the moves which might at least give them a fighting chance to escape the confines of the slave market. Getting out of the city would be another matter. Already their profiles would have been logged and stored. Tagged as hostiles, they had no chance of breaching the perimeter without causing a major security alert.
Carine's hair whispered against his cheek. She moved away and her scent was replaced by a combination of rancid sweat and leather, her soft breathing by the buzz of the scanner. Ancel stilled his own breath, mentally cursing the captive who was still babbling on about Bonding and Magic to anyone who would listen. Loath as he was to kill one of his own people, he could easily make an exception. The man was endangering them all.
"He li—” The slave-runner grunted then cursed. Ancel snapped open his eyes to see both the man and Carine sprawled sideways, her hands grasping his hair, face set in grim determination. With a roar, Ancel rolled and launched his full weight at the man who was twisting and clawing at Carine with the look of someone who wanted to tear her limb from limb. A single punch rendered him limp. Carine rolled away and Ancel grabbed him by the neck, hauling the body in front of them both. A blaster charge flashed and discharged against the bars of the cage, scattering the captives in panic. Ancel spared Carine one fleeting glance, saw that she was already scrabbling for the slave-runner's discarded weapon and then turned to the chief slave-runner who was frantically motioning the others to hold their fire.
With one elbow crooked around the captive slave-runner's neck, Ancel took the blast-gun from Carine and pressed it to the unconscious man's temple. “Stand back,” he growled. “Or I kill him now."
Carine crept closer, her fingers skimming his back. A light nervous touch, asking questions he didn't have answers to. Their situation was grim by any account. The remaining slave-runners stood impassive and rock-like around the cage. Behind them a small crowd of Overseers watched the drama unfold with the bored indifference of those who had seen it all before. On the side of the square, the books were already being opened, odds on their successful escape announced and tickets raised in the air. Punters scrambled to place their bets.
"It's hopeless."
"Don't say that.” Ancel shifted the slave-runner's weight, uncaring that the man's breath was now rattling in his throat. “It's not hopeless until we're both dead. Stay close,” he said and moved to cover her with his shadow.
The chief slave-runner spat and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “Okay. What now?"
"Me and the Moon-child. We're walking. Move aside and no one need be hurt."
The Slave-Runner raised his eyes to the sky, hand on his chin, almost as if considering the proposal. He nodded to himself and returned Ancel a mocking smile. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he motioned the guard behind him. The blaster charge seared the bars, catching the captured slave-runner squarely in the chest, knocking both him and Ancel backwards. For a moment, Ancel lay stunned and winded under the dying man, aware that he was half-lying on Carine and that their options had just dwindled to nothing more than one last glorious stand before they were both killed outright as renegades and their carcasses hauled away to the organ bank. Beside him, the blast-gun lay useless, its barrel twisted out of shape with the heat of the charge.
The chief slave-runner inspected his nails and shrugged, a hint of the smile still lingering. “As I said—what now? Give it up, warrior. Nothing short of magic can save you. Give up, and we'll extend mercy to the girl. Find her a job as a pleasure slave somewhere. When we've milked the Magic-in-Hand, of course."
His life for hers? The woman who yesterday, he would have watched die without a second glance. Lifting his chin Ancel squared his gaze with that of the slave-runner. How dare the bastard even look at her? A surge of pure rage coursed through Ancel's veins. He welcomed the anger and let it fill and harden him. This ridiculous need for one he should call his enemy was nothing more than a spell, but it was all they had. Without it he would be lying cold and dead and for that alone he owed her a debt that could take a lifetime to repay.
Beneath him he felt her spirits weakening, the fight draining from her. With it came such a feeling of despair that he grabbed her hand and pressed his palm to hers.
"No,” he said twisting to face her. “Remember this? You die, I die. Trust me.” Carine pulled her hand away as if burned. The cloak slipped back, exposing the golden skin of her shoulders. Ancel made a fist and fought for control of feelings that threatened to overwhelm him.
"How? I don't see...” she said, eyes clouded with confusion, and something more.
"The Gods only know. Just trust me and follow my lead.” Slowly, he pushed himself upright, kneeling, palms pressed down onto the straw. “I yi
eld,” he called to the waiting slave-runners. “Do with me as you will."
"No!” Carine's fingers closed around his arm. “What are you doing?"
"I said I yield,” he yelled again. “What? Are you going to just stand there and gawp? Which of you is man enough to take my surrender?” This he addressed directly to the chief slave-runner who shot a glance at his colleagues.
"Why is he uninjured? Why was he not shackled? He was near death and now he dares kneel there and mock me. What is this?"
The nearest guard shrugged. “Damned if I know. Didn't seem worth shackling a dead man. Kill them both. Overseers won't touch a renegade, you know that. Kill them both and have done with it."
"Are you mad?” The slave-runner shoved his blaster at the guard. “Do you have any idea how much she's worth? I should kill you for your incompetence,” he ground out through bared teeth. “I give you a simple task and this is the result. Four dead and me having to stand here and be insulted by a savage. You,” he poked the gun into the man's gut. “Get in there and take his surrender."
The guard scrambled for the cage-door, aided by his master's boot. At the same time, the babbling captive threw himself at the bars. “You're right,” he screamed. “It was magic. She used her magic to save him. I saw. I—"
Ancel's fist was a blur, catching the side of the captive's head, cutting him off in mid-speech. The man fell against the bars to slither silently to the straw. Deliberately Ancel pressed his palm to the floor of the cage as if nothing had happened, his body a still point to the chaos surrounding him. Stunned into the silence the other captives fell back. Outside the cage the slave-runners shifted uneasily. Carine moved away, giving Ancel the space he needed while in front of him the dying guard finally gave up the struggle and rattled out his last breath.
Ancel bit back a smile. This was more to his liking—a chance to prove himself after his humiliating defeat outside the township walls. The approaching guard looked anything but confident as he offered his hand and would pose no problem. Avoiding the other five and their blast-guns? That would take a little more ingenuity.
