Arda: The Captain's Fancy

by Annie Windsor

  “Not now,” he whispered hoarsely. “The elixir will only help us for so long.”

  “What shall I wear?” she whispered back. “You took my jumpsuit. Do The People have some sexy garment for their women?”

  Darkyn pulled away from her, and Krysta saw the reluctance on his face. His clear desire made her smile.

  “I’d rather not see you dressed,” he admitted, “but your jumpsuit is your taste and preference, hallas. Akad had another smuggled from Arda, a new one. I’ll get it for you, and you can wear that. Let my people see you for you.” He rubbed a hand over his chin. “That garment will be sexy enough, I assure you.”

  And so it was that dressed in her shiny new leathers, complete with a new pair of flying boots, Krysta took the hand of her sha and strode out his cabin at his side.

  The day seemed unbearably bright, and her pa-lined body already ached for Darkyn’s touches.

  First things before second things, she told herself. She had been daughter and sister to leaders, Captain of the Home Guard, and now she was wife to a Ta. The demands of leadership she well understood.

  At first, Krysta saw only Arda and the twin suns above her, and flowers, grass, and dirt path around them as they walked. Presently, Darkyn began to point out subtle differences to her left. The trees grew more thickly there, and the spaces between them grew less.

  “The orchards,” he said. “I have spent many hours there, harvesting fruits of the limb for our people. Beyond the orchards, the greenwild waits. It’s naught but a tangle of vines, trees, and stones, with lakes and caves in abundance. I have worked there, too, but the greenwild yields best for our vinemasters.”

  Before he could speak again, harmonic singing rose to fill the air.

  “Chimera!” Krysta stopped. “And many of them. I had forgotten—you have stolen so many from Arda. Why?”

  Darkyn’s hand stiffened in hers. “We haven’t stolen them. We’ve liberated them. They are a race in their own right, the sacred innocents. By our figuring, they will raise the alarm when the Barung makes its move toward us, and they may have a role in driving it back.”

  Krysta kept pace beside Darkyn. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

  “You did not, hallas. I simply forgot your main-planet thinking for a moment. You have blended so well into our ways and beliefs thus far.”

  At this, Krysta stopped walking. They were still alone but for the yellow flowers, blue-green grass, and thickening trees. A number of Chimera emerged from nearby thickets, heading toward them. Red and gold and lavender, these, singing a bright, soothing morning song.

  “Main-planet thinking,” Krysta said slowly. “Why does that feel like an insult?”

  Darkyn let go her hand and lifted both palms in greeting to the Chimera. “And I meant no offense to you either, shanna. The People simply believe differently than main-planet dwellers, that’s all.”

  “But I am to be of The People now, am I not?” Krysta couldn’t hold back a smile as the first Chimera reached them. A golden stallion with brilliant purple eyes. It swung wide of Darkyn and came straight to her, nuzzling her neck with its petal-soft nose. She kissed the Chimera without thought, and stroked the silk of its fur and mane as it purred.

  It took a moment for her to realize Darkyn was gaping at her.

  “What? Have I again broken some law or custom in my ignorance?”

  “No.” His tone carried more respect, if she wasn’t mistaken. “It’s just that Chimera living in their natural state avoid most humans. They approach us, but touch is usually reserved to those especially attuned to their ways of being and thinking.”

  More Chimera crowded around Krysta, nuzzling and humming. She thought she recognized a few of them, perhaps from the villages around Camford. Quietly, she sang back to them, and stroked each offered nose.

  Let her new mate figure what to make of it. Perhaps she was attuned to more than he credited.

  In the distance, men and women dressed in the garb of farmers and workers of the land began to fill the path. Some went into the orchards. Some, dressed in netted hoods, took a different path, presumably headed into the greenwild. Still others with sun-wraps covering their heads headed away from the orchards.

  They rake the drylands, Krysta remembered from earlier talks with Darkyn. Hearty beings, those.

  She noted how the workers saw their Ta and seemed to relax. Many waved. Most stared at her, first with shock, then with growing approval, noting her harmony with the Chimera. No doubt they would speak of it amongst themselves, and the story would spread. The Chimeras approved of the Ta’s new mate.

  The sacred innocents, she said to herself, trying to memorize the ways of her sha’s world.

  “Thank you,” she whispered to the Chimera herd.

  They seemed to understand, offering her a few more affectionate nuzzles before moving away to feed off the nearby sweetgrass and tender morning blossoms.

  From overhead came the shriek of a falcon, and Krysta startled. Darkyn glanced up into the bright light of big sun and little sister.

  “Guardian,” he muttered. “She remains unsettled. Come. We’ll eat near the orchards this morn.”

  Krysta sighed.

  The falcon wasn’t going to give her a smooth path. That much was certain.

  Darkyn watched his hallas absorb the nuances of her new home, from the curve of the grains to the applefruit of the orchard trees. They feasted on fruits and berries that morning. In the afternoon, he led her to the edge of the drylands, where they lunched with some of the weathered women who raked plantroot from the grit and dust. Soothsayers, most of those old ones, and they took to Krysta like the Chimera had. Touched her. Even touched the unusual leathers of her new jumpsuit. He saw Krysta grit her teeth when a few brushed fingertips across her pa—felt the shock of the contact in his own pa—but his shanna, his made-of-fire bride never flinched nor stepped away. This was good. The women would tell The People of her acceptance, her strength.

  She was born to be a leader’s mate, or a leader herself. The thought gave him both pleasure and pause.

  Could Krysta lead the People, perhaps with Akad, after the Barung came and Darkyn did what he was fated to do? He frowned as they crossed the orchards, headed for a closer look at the greenwild. Perhaps that was why fate had brought him a mate at this final hour.

  His frown deepened. He knew he should tell her everything, about the Barung, about his plans. As his mate, it was her right to know. On the other hand, it was their new-mating time, a splash of joy in a rain of despair. He didn’t want to ruin it for her. In truth, he didn’t want to ruin it for himself either.

  Following an early dinner of vine stew and tubers at the edge of the greenwild, Krysta walked a few steps before Darkyn, brushing long fingers against colored tree barks and leaves strange to her senses.

  “Hallas,” he began, then found his words failing as she turned to face him. So fluid and graceful, and how she sparkled beneath the blaze of big sun and little sister! The white-golden light played off the vines of her pa, and Darkyn realized the firemylk controlling his desires was waning. His cock strained against his breeches.

  “Come,” he said hoarsely. “I would show you something.”

  Krysta remained silent but took his hand, going with him willingly where he led. It might have been madness, but he intended to show her some keys to his plan. Not even his pao allies had laid eyes on these secrets, and this woman he had claimed only days ago—he would show her willingly.

  “She’s a pilot,” he murmured to no one, where only he could hear. “It makes sense.”

  Following the wending trails, they went deeper into the greenwild barrier, where none but the vinemasters usually traveled. Darkyn remained alert for the slither of dragyn lizards or the hunting howl of vinecats. It was early in the day for such creatures to be about, but it was wise to be cautious.

  Above him, Guardian circled, an extra pair of wary eyes on Uhr’s most dangerous ground.

  Krysta never ask
ed him their destination, nor protested the walk. She appeared content at his side, trusting and open—which increased his guilt over what he had and hadn’t revealed about the Barung.

  At last, they reached the massive wooden battlements marking his hidden compound. Krysta might have walked directly into the gate-wall, so well was it hidden amongst the trees and hanging greenery.

  “Hold,” he said, pulling her back.

  Guardian wheeled and gave her lengthy alert call, part of the entry code for the guards on the gate-wall’s inner recess. Darkyn supplied the rest, pounding a quick rhythm on the nearest hollowed tree trunk.

  The sound of ropes on pulleys creaked through the afternoon breezes, and a door opened near Krysta’s elbow—just wide enough to admit them. Darkyn stepped within the secret enclosure and motioned for his new mate.

  Krysta didn’t hesitate. She entered, eyes wide with the thrill of discovery.

  A leader. A warrior. Darkyn felt a surge of pride. Hallas. My mate.

  At that moment, his mate saw one of The People’s greatest secrets.

  “By the gods.” Her voice held a note of rapture Darkyn preferred to be his and his alone, but he supposed he understood. “Those are the most beautiful ships I’ve ever seen!”

  And then she was off, running toward the sleek two-seater crafts The People had constructed using the combined technologies of all the worlds concerned about the Barung. The ships took up most of the room in the circular enclosure, with just enough space left over to allow technologists to work. Along the wall were quarters for guards and observation outposts. The guards had already withdrawn, giving their Ta and his mate their privacy. Darkyn knew he could call them with a whistle, or that Guardian could summon them with a warning. He also knew such an alert would be unnecessary.

  Showing her good tastes, Krysta went straight to the lead vessel. Arcus, The Bow. The others beside it, triangular in shape, slightly smaller but no less impressive and deadly, were Calamus and Telum, The Arrows. Arcus was honed to a fine triangular point, boasting an arc-shaped shield generator in the front, designed to throw a field wide enough to protect all three ships.

  “They’re… They’re made of pa,” Krysta breathed. She shielded her eyes against the glittering silver. The hulls of the ships pulsed and shimmered in response to her voice.

  “Yes.” Darkyn nodded. “Stable, held in check by a net of ions.”

  “Long have we spoken of such technology, but I never thought I would live to see it.” Krysta reached out and brushed her knuckles against the hull of Arcus. “Gods and goddess. My entire body hums when I touch it!”

  Darkyn joined her, his excitement mounting in the face of Krysta’s thrill. “Would you like to go inside?”

  She gave him no answer, only the visible tensing of muscles and widening of eyes, waiting for him to show her how to board.

  In the old language, Darkyn asked the ship to open.

  Immediately, a portal appeared beside Krysta, and a set of pa steps for them to climb.

  “Is it—?” she began, whispering as if fearful of speaking the thought aloud.

  “Sentient?” Weil nodded. “We believe so, yes. In her own limited way, at least. Arcus will admit none but those who have business aboard, and Telum follow her lead. I didn’t know if she would allow you or not, but it seems everything on Uhr favors you, hallas.”

  Krysta grinned, and in one fluid motion, climbed into the ship’s cabin. Darkyn followed, and the breach in the hull sealed itself as if they had never boarded. Darkyn noted a soft hum almost immediately, a sound he had never before heard the ship produce. It sounded…almost like a purr.

  “It has more room than I imagined,” she said, running her fingertips over the seats and walls. “And I can still see outside as if the ship were made of glass! Can we be seen?”

  “No.” Weil could not hold back a grin at her look of astonishment. “The hull is like a special mirror, allowing us to look out, but none to look in. There is always room enough for those on board, but for flight, she takes only two. Her speed is ten times that of any known vessel.”

  “You’ve flown her?” Krysta sounded awed. “But there are no instruments!”

  Darkyn drew a slow breath, then tapped the side of his head. “The controls are here, shanna.”

  Krysta sat down heavily in one of the two fluid seats. Her expression was one of mingled rapture and shock. “The People could have taken Arda at any time with such a weapon as this ship. Do our enemies have them?”

  Stiffening without intention, Darkyn said, “These ships are not for petty wars, hallas. They have a single purpose—to stop the Barung, the Eater of Worlds. Or try to stop it.”

  “Are you telling me that OrTa, that Bandu, Nosta, Kaerad—all the Council worlds and other worlds, too—have cooperated in the making of these vessels with no intent to use them for their own gain?”

  Darkyn sat in the chair opposite his mate and gazed into her narrowed eyes. “You may believe me or not, but good sense will supply the answer. None but the most skilled in telepathy could wield such a weapon. Who but one of The People could fly these creations? The Kaeradi, perhaps, but they have no interest in ship-traveling unless they’re dealing with outworld passengers.”

  “But why?” Krysta leaned forward. Their knees touched. “What do you think you can do against this—this whatever it is?”

  Darkyn found himself devoid of words again. The time had come to tell her, but how to make her understand?

  He cleared his throat, reminding himself that this woman was a leader in her own right. Perhaps she would understand.

  And perhaps I am mad.

  “We know the Barung is some type of energy source,” he said quietly. “We know the ancients encountered it and turned it back once before—apparently through energy then, as well. They could not destroy it.”

  Krysta leaned back and toyed with the zipper of her jumpsuit. Even with the weight of the moment, Darkyn found this simple gesture highly distracting. Outside, big sun and little sister moved toward rest, filling the cabin with remarkable shades of pink, purple, and red.

  “From what we have been able to interpret from artifacts and old writings, the ancients left us a course of action we must follow, with the key points wrapped in the simplest of rhymes.”

  “When Barung returns, six shall lead him home,” Krysta intoned. “Blended from the triangle, joined by the stone. Yes. I know the rhyme from Akad. I think I’ve heard it in my dreams.”

  Darkyn reined his surprise and managed a nod. “The triangle, we believe, is three planets—Earth, Kaerad, and Arda. In the center was Perth, a world the Barung destroyed the first time it came.”

  He paused, letting this information sink into Krysta’s mind. He saw the weight of her thoughts etched into her frown, but left her with her emotion.

  “The survivors of Perth settled on Earth, and deliberately bred with the wild telepaths of that planet. Since then, bloodlines have been carefully mingled and cultivated amongst our three telepathic cultures—the Ardani, the Kaeradi, and the descendents of old Perth. We hope that now we have a strength of mind, of psi, that the ancients had not developed. We hope we can attack and contain the dark energy the Barung possesses.”

  Krysta kept her silence for a moment before whispering, “And then?”

  “And then we hope that six of us will be able to fly these ships, lead the Barung to the site of Perth’s destruction. We have reason to believe we can destroy it there.”

  “That explains the first part of the rhyme, if we assume the stone is the stones borne by many of The People.” Krysta nodded toward the tawny gem in Darkyn’s chest. “‘When Barung returns, six shall lead him home, blended from the triangle, joined by the stone.’ And I’ve gathered that the Chimera and their song play some role, which explains the next few lines. ‘Let loose the gentle innocents, for music soothes the shield.’”

  Darkyn felt the dryness in his throat as she approached the point of the matter.

&n
bsp; “‘Feed him on The People’s blood and drive him to the field.’ So the field is the place where Perth once turned in space. What of the feeding, then? ‘Feed him on The People’s blood?’ What does that mean, Darkyn?”

  He found he couldn’t answer her, and then he realized his silence was answer enough.

  “You believe death will be necessary. Some sort of blood sacrifice from The People.” She stood slowly, hovering above him like a silvery vision against a silvery background. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You plan for the blood to be yours.”

  “I am Ta,” he said with what little conviction he could muster. It seemed the only answer, inadequate though it was.

  Krysta sat back down and put her face in her hands. Darkyn reached toward her, but felt her wish to be left in her solitude for a moment. He had the strangest sense that Arcus would have changed her hull’s fundamental shape to block his hand had he persisted.

  Big sun and little sister faded completely, and the ship immediately supplied a soft amber hue, like candlelight. It even flickered. Did Arcus think of that, or was the ship drawing from Krysta’s mind?

  Darkyn felt more unease. He sensed he had lost control of the ship somehow, that he was outnumbered. Two powerful females were set against him now—and not to forget Guardian, either, who no doubt perched on a branch nearby.

  At long last, Krysta raised her eyes to meet his. “I’ve realized we both have our secrets, my new sha. Very well. I’ll tell you mine in my own time, and soon—but hear me. You will not sacrifice yourself to kill this Barung. I’ll find an alternative.”

  “No one can speak the future with confidence.” He reached to brush her cheek, but she eluded his touch.

  When she clenched her fists, eyes blazing, Darkyn heard a low growl from the ship’s hull. He decided not to press the issue. Best to let his made-of-fire shanna adjust to facts in her own time. She would see reason when the time came. Of that, he had no doubt.