Hers To Choose (Verdantia Book 2)

by Patricia A. Knight

  As the captain marched them further and further into the desert wastelands, that message washed her mind-numbing emptiness away, to be replaced by fierce grief and a cold anger that grew with every step of her horse. I am a woman of the Oshtesh, a warrior and desert hunter. I am strong. I am resilient. She would watch and she would wait. She didn’t know how or when. But they would pay for Petrina and Sh’r Un Kree...and Eric.

  They traveled by night on the road to Sh’r Un Kree. Verdantia’s two moons, now full, lit their way. The captain led them at a merciless pace, uncaring as horse after horse dropped from beneath their riders. The now horseless soldiers doubled up or were left behind. By day, they rested, Contradina in her luxurious accommodations, the men and their captive in whatever shade they could find.

  She judged it had been five days since her capture. The soldier charged as her nursemaid chafed at his role.

  “Sir, must we keep the woman bound? If we free her hands, she can manage her own care, direct her horse, feed herself.” The soldier glanced at her and then back to his captain. “She ain’t said a word since we took her. She’s given up. Look at her. I don’t think she even hears us.” Sophi remained limp, swaying listlessly in her horse’s saddle though all had stopped.

  The captain’s cruel eyes examined her minutely. Sophi made herself appear witless, mute, lacking the will to live. Say yes, Captain, say yes.

  The captain leaned over and flashed a deadly knife. The cords binding her wrists fell away. Sophi’s arms hung, still nerveless, from her shoulders. She gave no outward sign she noticed the change.

  “Get back to your men, Sergeant. I’ll lead her horse.”

  The soldier turned his horse and rode back down the column to rejoin his platoon. With his eyes fixed forward, the captain growled, “I am not taken in by your act, woman. Give me any trouble and I will tie your hands and drag you behind my horse by the cord that binds you.”

  Sophi did not acknowledge she had heard him.

  They rode ever closer to the rendezvous point with Krakoll. That final morning as they made camp, she overheard the captain speaking with Allegra Contradina. The captain had chained Sophi to a stake in the ground just outside Allegra’s opulent tent. The captain and his mistress stood in the canopied shade at the tent’s entrance and their voices carried well. Sophi listened closely, though to look at her she was an emotionally devoid sack of flesh.

  “We will be at Amboy Crater tomorrow. Turn the woman over to Krakoll and then we ride for Ssh’r Un Kree. The Haarb occupy the village. Watch your backss. The Osshtessh are sstriking back with hit-and-run raidss. Take your men and sscour the dessssert for the Osshtesh Primuss and hiss wife. Sseize them. Losing their leaders will gut the Osshtesh ressisstance.”

  “As you wish.” The captain inclined his head, his face and voice an emotionless null. “What does Krakoll plan for the woman?”

  Allegra made a sound of pleasure. “Sshe is the ssurety he esscapess this planetary ssysstem with a fortune in csinnagin. Asss long ass he hass her, the Tetriarch dare not move againsst uss.”

  “Will Krakoll relinquish the lady to her family after he is safely away from this godforsaken rock?”

  A laughing hiss was Allegra’s response. “He leavess her with me. I will return her to the Tetriarch—body part by body part. I care nothing for wealth. It cannot resstore thiss.” Allegra flipped her hood back, fully revealing the horror of her face. Intermittent grey stubs of broken teeth lay scattered behind Allegra’s lipless smile. Two black holes served for her nose. The skin of her face hung in rotting swags from brittle cheekbones—and then there was the phosphorescent glow of her artificial eyes.

  Sophi saw revulsion flit across the impervious captain’s face, but he firmed his stance. Allegra hissed bitterly. “Yesss. Thiss iss what a Trill egg hosst lookss like after four yearss of sslavery. The Tetriarch will know my pain. I want them to get piecess of her and know they can do nothing about it. I sshall enssure sshe livess a long, long time.”

  She flipped her hood back up and walked away.

  His emotionless, stony face betrayed no emotion. The captain’s cold eyes lingered on Sophi for long moments. He pulled the stake from the ground. “Over there.” He pointed to a scraggly tree sitting off by itself near a cluster of rocks. “Sit at the base.”

  He locked a length of the chain used to fetter her around the tree trunk. He wrapped her ankle with chain and ran a lock through the links. He did not close the hasp. He held her eyes in a heartless, unfeeling stare. “This chain has a defective lock.”

  His hands went to a scabbard on his belt. As he stood, his knife fell onto the dirt at his feet. “If I find you, woman, I will cut out your tongue.”

  She forced a hoarse rasp out of her mouth. “Wait!”

  He stopped, then slowly turned and held her in a cold stare.

  “Your name. What is your name?” She needed to know who he was. His expression became so forbidding she didn’t think he would answer.

  “I used to be Ramsey DeKieran. Now I am no one.” He walked away without a backward glance.

  A nobleman! Dumbfounded, Sophi watched his long strides take him toward the military camp. Her heart pounded as it climbed into her throat. Dry rasps of breath marked the rapid rise and fall of her ribcage. No one looked her way. Men fed and watered picketed horses. Sentries positioned around the perimeter of the camp, stood, eyes turned outward. Men found whatever shade they could, ate their field rations and settled down to sleep.

  An incredulous, fierce determination swept her. She must not waste Ramsey DeKieran’s gift to her—a knife, a blind eye to her escape, a chance at freedom.

  Time became an instrument of torture. Wait. You have only one chance. Don’t waste it. She crept her hand down her leg to the open lock then froze in horror. Her “nursemaid” for the last few days was walking toward her. She edged forward, slowly covering the incriminating lock and the knife itself with her skirts.

  “I brought you water and bread.” The soldier tossed a water skin and some dry rolls in her lap. She schooled her face to remain expressionless, her eyes dull and unseeing. Shaking his head at her, he muttered, “A waste of water and food, if you ask me.” He turned and walked back to camp.

  She soaked the stale pumice stone masquerading as rolls in enough water to make them palatable and choked the gooey mass down. Who knows when I’ll eat again? An eternity stretched in front of her as she waited for all activity to quiet. Finally, hanging her head to allow dirty, lank clumps of hair to obscure her face, she peered intently toward the military camp while her trembling fingers worked fervidly to slip the lock from the chain. Grit scraped against bare skin as Sophi slipped her foot from the links tethering her to the tree base. Free! Motion in the camp arrested her actions. A figure approached her. A slight whimper escaped her throat. Oh, great Goddess, please! She could have been made of stone. Every muscle froze in place. She forgot to breathe.

  It was him, the captain. Still peering through hanks of hair, she caught his direct stare and held it for an interminable split-second. Please. He gave an imperceptible nod and turned his back on her, effectively screening her from the camp. Snatching the knife and the water skin, Sophi scrambled into the rocks. Once hidden from sight, she ran as if the banshees from the seventh hell chased her soul. She struck out toward the low foothills, turning purple in the late afternoon.

  She ran until grey spots clouded her vision. She ran until tortured lungs could no longer suck sufficient air. And still she ran. Numb fingers hung from hands unnaturally heavy. Unfeeling feet on leaden legs stumbled and she sprawled headlong into the sharp scrabble of the desert floor. Desperate to put distance between her and her captors, she rose and ran until her body no longer obeyed her mind and she lay gasping air, face down in the jagged rocks and dirt. Grit coated her mouth. The metallic smell of earth filled her nostrils. Abrasions on her cheeks, hands and knees throbbed dully. She pressed her palms painfully in the dust and attempted to rise, merely to fall limply bac
k into the grime. A strong hand grasped her upper arm.

  “No!” Sophi screamed in outrage, flinging herself to her back. She jerked the knife from her belt and slashed blindly at the shadowed figure looming above her. “No! No!”

  “Flight Leader! It’s me! Adonia! You are safe. You are safe!”

  “Adonia? Adonia?” Too much. It has been too much. Sh’r Un Kree, Petrina, the Fell wolves, the Haarb, Eric. Eric. Adonia’s wiry arms pulled her into a sitting position and hugged her. Dead. He’s dead. All the terror and anguish Sophi had been suppressing during her flight now burst out in choking, ragged sobs of inconsolable sorrow. As her flight sister rocked her and murmured comfort, Sophi clutched Adonia’s robe in her bloodied palms while heartache ravaged her soul. Even in the midst of her agony, Sophi was mindful of their exposure. Smears of dirt smudged her cheek as she swiped at her tears and straightened.

  “We must get to cover. They will trail me.” She didn’t recognize the croak as her voice.

  “Yes.” Adonia helped her rise. “Can you ride behind me?”

  Sophi nodded. “You will need to help me mount.”

  Adonia vaulted onto her horse, then pulled Sophi up behind her. Sophi clung to Adonia as the woman sent her horse toward the sanctuary of the purple foothills. They could easily lose themselves in its crags and canyons. The hills further separated them from Amboy Crater, an additional benefit.

  Full dark had settled upon them before Adonia pulled to a halt in a sheltered overhang. Swinging her leg over her horse’s neck, Adonia slid down, but had to help Sophi rise; she had collapsed upon her own dismount.

  “Sit here, Flight Leader. I’ll see about water and food.”

  Sophi nodded, numbed into mindless obedience. The journey bread and citrus water Adonia shared with her revived Sophi but she remained still as Adonia set about cleaning her scrapes and abrasions.

  “We heard the Haarb attacked Sh’r Un Kree. How do you come to be here?” Sophi asked. Adonia’s face hardened.

  “The sons of belly-crawling snakes hit us six days after we parted from you at L’ago Mistero. We repulsed the first attack but the Haarb’s numbers were overwhelming. They came like carrion eaters to a dead carcass, seeming to multiply out of the air.” She pulled her head covering off and ran her fingers through her hair, scratching at her scalp.

  “Their soldiers…” Adonia shuddered. “Unnatural creatures—constructs. Nothing I have seen before. We cannot fight them conventionally. Primus G’hed scattered our fighters into the desert. They attack the Haarb positions with night raids. Layna, Rhea and I roam as scouts during the day. Mother Lyre gathered all our young women and children and they hide in the wastelands. Even I don’t know where they are.”

  A small sob of relief escaped Sophi’s lips. “Primus G’hed, Mother Lyre, they are safe? Unharmed?”

  Adonia nodded. “Yes. Captain Biron and his men, also.”

  “Petrina?”

  Adonia shook her head silently. “She didn’t make it.”

  Sophi closed her eyes and slumped. Another beloved soul dead. “This is because of me,” Sophi whispered. “I have brought this horror on the Oshtesh.”

  “No!” Adonia raged. “No! The lowlander aristos with their unholy trade in cinnagin brought this upon us. They sell it to fund their dissolution and corruption and in so doing, they defile our Mother Verdantia.” Adonia rose in a swirl of robes. “They hide behind their shield walls, protected, and abandon us to the Haarb. Primus G’hed sent Eudora to Sylvan Mintoth as soon as she arrived at Sh’r Un Kree with our warning of attack. She did not even wait a night to rest. But where are the armies of the Tetriarch? Where is our help?”

  Startled, Sophi clasped the other woman’s robes. “Adonia, it is not like that. Queen Constante, High Lord DeTano—they serve all Verdantia. Something must have happened. I know at least my brother would come. I know he would.”

  Adonia turned on Sophi angrily. “Why do you defend the indefensible? You, who were born into a noble house, even you cannot live with them. Your time with that aristo DeStroia has corrupted you.”

  “You don’t understand.” Sophi searched the other woman’s face. How do I explain to her? It was not debauchery the aristocrats practiced. “The noble houses served. They worked for the commoners. I left the Verdantian court because I could not deal with the crowds who demanded things of me so soon after my imprisonment —people who wanted my notice, besieged me with petitions because Doral is my brother, men who wanted me to speak and to flirt with them. I was overwhelmed—not revolted.”

  Adonia held her eyes, unwilling to relinquish her anger, unwilling to listen and to understand. Sophi fought back her own impatience. “Listen to me! Listen! The villagers of Silver Grove came to us and we helped them. Eric and I—we helped them. Yes, sex is involved, but only to channel the forces required to perform the Rites, only to empower the diamantorre. We channeled the power of our planet-mother and gave them light and heat. We gave them the means to grow flourishing crops and grind their grain. We gave their medica the power to heal life-threatening wounds. Us! Eric and I. I heard Her voice. Eric heard Her voice.”

  Adonia tossed her head back and challenged, “So where is Commander DeStroia? How did you come to be alone, three-quarters dead, in the middle of the wastelands?”

  Stricken, Sophi could only look at Adonia. Stabs of agony thickened her throat and strangled her speech. Eric. She sagged back down onto the rock she had risen from. I can’t speak of him now. “Am I still your Flight Leader? Will you still follow me?” Her voice came out a thready whisper ripe with anguish.

  Adonia crossed her arms and nodded. Her voice softened and her anger disappeared. “Yes. I will always follow you.”

  “Thank you,” Sophi whispered. “Let me rest a little, then take me to Primus G’hed. I know where Krakoll is.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Ramsey DeKieran rode beside Allegra Contradina as they entered Krakoll’s encampment at Amboy Crater. He counted himself lucky to be alive. Contradina’s rage at the discovery Lady Sophillia DeLorion had escaped would forever inhabit his memory as the benchmark for unbridled, destructive ferocity. They left three dead behind—all men who had contact with the DeLorion woman before she “escaped.” He would have become a fourth, had Contradina been physically a match for his swordsmanship. Ramsey knew she just bided her time. She had some unpleasant end in store for him.

  His eyes scanned the high cliff walls, noting the guards stationed along the ridgeline, then the stench hit him—filthy bodies, excrement poorly covered, old cooking fires, rotting food. It hung in the still, hot air, a miasma of corruption, tainting each breath he took.

  Disorganized clumps of dung-colored, temporary shelters fanned out over the basin of the crater. He felt stripped of his clothing, his horse, any possession of value by the covetous acquisitive gaze of these barbaric men barely clinging to the term “human” and others clearly not. Without the men at my back and this abomination of a creature at my side, my chances of surviving among this lot would be zero.

  As they approached the hub of the chaotic swarm, order started to appear in the placement of living quarters and the discipline of the soldiers. Almost exclusively, they appeared of the “non-human” variety. During the Haarb war, he had killed lizard-men with cold-hearted dispatch and strung their claws from his horse’s breast plate. He heard the ‘clitter’ and ‘clack’ of his trophies as his mount strode along. Make of that what you will, you mutant spawns from the seven hells. Nausea pervaded him at the thought of an alliance with these unnatural monstrosities. Revulsion skittered across his skin like roaches exposed to light.

  Contradina pulled up in front of a large campaign tent. “Come with me,” she snapped over her shoulder as she dismounted.

  Ramsey turned to his second-in-command and in an undertone murmured, “Geoff, don’t dismount. Loose your sword, but do not draw. Yet. Pass the word.”

  One hand on the pommel of his sword, DeKieran shouldered between the re
ptilian sentries stationed on either side of the entrance. He followed Allegra into the dim interior. As his eyes slowly adjusted, he identified the figure sitting behind a large table—the creature known only as Krakoll. Ramsey calmly returned the cold scrutiny of Krakoll’s yellow snake eyes. They bulged from a face of swarthy, pock-marked skin partially hidden by hanks of long, greasy hair. The reek of fetid meat rolled off him. Krakoll rose slowly from behind the table as Ramsey watched. Gods-be-damned, the unnatural perversity is huge. His thick lips gradually pulled back from brown-stained, pointed teeth. Is that supposed to be a smile? Ramsey wondered again at what sort of an unholy alliance he had committed to.

  “You have brought me the DeLorion woman,” Krakoll purred.

  Allegra straightened and looked at him defiantly. “No. She escaped.”

  One moment Krakoll stood behind the table, the next he held Contradina in the air by her scrawny neck, her legs kicking uselessly, her hands clawing the air inches from his face. He threw her violently to the ground. “I didn’t buy you from the Trill for you to fail, you pestilent, worm-ridden slut. I have worked years to see this day. Without the DeLorion woman, all is for nothing!” The Haarb leader loomed over the crumpled form of Allegra, stark menace on his face. “Your incompetence dooms us. She is the key to everything!”

  Finally, it all fell into place for Ramsey. The Haarb played for immense stakes. They had raped and despoiled their planet millennia ago. Now, they prowled the galaxy as slavers and drug-runners—opportunistic parasites preying on the vulnerable. At the end of the first Verdantian/Haarb conflict, the League of Federated Planets had confiscated the Haarb ships and turned them over to the Verdantians. Without ships, the Haarb faced extinction as a race. As the leader of their race, Krakoll desperately needed immense amounts of money to replace his fleet.