Dark Nadir

by Lisanne Norman

“You arranged the match with them. If you had your doubts, you should have chosen someone else.”

  “When I arranged this match, it was on the understanding the bonding would be in name only. Now they want an heir immediately! That’s not acceptable as far as I’m concerned.”

  “What do you intend to do?”

  “Resign,” he said grimly, heading for the door. “This has gone beyond what is reasonable.”

  * * *

  Rhyasha flung herself across the door to Kitra’s room. “Don’t you even think of touching her,” she said. “You’ve no one but yourself to blame, Konis. You said she needed to get more experience!”

  “Dammit, Rhyasha, stop being so melodramatic! I’m not going to touch her!” he said tersely. “What do you take me for?”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked, relaxing a little and letting her arms drop to her sides.

  “Talk to her. You can come with me if you don’t believe me.”

  “You be kind to her now,” she warned. “She’s been told by the Guild what the Chazouns expect of her and she’s taken it very badly. She’s still in shock. So am I.”

  Kitra sat hunched up in a chair near the bed. She looked up as they came in, but said nothing.

  Konis sat down on the bed as close to her as possible. “Kitra, I’ve canceled the Betrothal. It’s not going to happen,” he said. “I’m not agreeing to their demands. It’s over, kitling.”

  She looked up at him, the short pelt on her face streaked by dried tears. “You canceled it?”

  He nodded. “There’s to be no bonding. If you want Dzaka, you have him. I’ll even take you to the temple now and sign the life-bonding contract between you.”

  She stared at him, unable to take in what he said.

  “Did you hear me, kitling?” he asked gently, reaching out to take her hand. “I said I’d take you to the temple to . . .”

  “It’s too late,” she said. “It’s over between us. He wouldn’t have me anyway.”

  “Of course he’d have you,” said Rhyasha, almost as stunned by what her life-mate had said as Kitra was.

  She shook her head. “I asked him. He said I was too young, would still be even in a year. And I don’t want him any more,” she said with finality.

  Rhyasha shot a fulminating glance at Konis. See what you’ve done? It’s too late to undo it now!

  “Think it over, Kitra,” said Konis, squeezing her hand gently. “I’ll talk to him if you want. Take a chance, do it now. Today. Just in case the new Clan Lord decides to make another contract for you.”

  “What new Clan Lord?” demanded Rhyasha sharply.

  He looked up at her. “I resigned. You were right. They can’t be allowed to blackmail me like this. You and Kitra aren’t worth sacrificing for them.”

  Rhyasha sat down beside him. “You resigned?”

  “What was I supposed to do? Agree to the Chazouns’ outrageous demands? I had no other choice, Rhyasha.”

  “You resigned because of me?” said Kitra in a small voice.

  He turned back to his daughter. “I had to, kitling. I should never have agreed to the Council’s demands in the first place. Now, please think this over. I’ll talk to Dzaka . . .”

  “No! I told you, it’s too late,” she said, wrenching her hand away from his and running from the room.

  Konis started to get up but his wife held him back. “Let her go. She needs to cope with this her own way,” she said. “You really resigned?”

  “I sent letters to all the Council members. I’ve named Rhaid as my successor. She’s unlikely to support Kitra’s early bonding, but having made such a mess of it up till now, I wanted to be sure that Kitra got the chance to life-bond to Dzaka.”

  “It might well be too late, Konis. She’s distraught because he didn’t stand up for her. You should have put Dzaka forward as her husband and damned the Council.”

  “I couldn’t, Rhyasha. He’s gene-altered. There’s no way he’d have been an acceptable life-mate for her.”

  “Are you sure this is what you want? You could call their bluff and face them at the Council meeting, rather than go the whole way and resign. I’d be there to support you.”

  “Thank you,” he said, touched. “But I’ve done it now, and I don’t regret it. Have you ever heard anything like those demands? It was supposed to be a bonding in name only till she was eighteen!”

  “I know. It makes me just as angry,” she said, leaning against him. “I’m proud of you, Konis.”

  “I’m not,” he sighed. “I hope Kitra won’t do anything silly. I think I’ll alert Ni’Zulhu and ask him to keep an eye on her,” he said.

  * * *

  “Already done, Master Konis,” said Ni’Zulhu from the military base by the gatehouse into the estates. “We were alerted by Mnesu, her bodyguard, when he saw her leaving. She’s on her way to the Valsgarth estate.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “Let me know where she goes, please.”

  “My bet is she’ll head for Ruth’s,” said the security chief. “She’s been there a few times—most of the younglings visit Ruth in times of trouble. If she’s gone off in a state, she’ll be wanting to talk to someone right now,” he offered.

  “Let me know anyway.”

  “Will do, Master Konis.”

  * * *

  Day 23

  He crawled painfully into the heart of the bush, collapsing before he could turn round to conceal his entrance. Lying there panting, he could no longer keep his head up and let it drop to rest on his arms. He was tired, deathly tired of running and hiding, of being dragged by some strange compulsion to this mountainside.

  Gradually his panting subsided, leaving him just exhausted. His leg throbbed, a dull ache that he’d grown used to. Thoughts began to fade in and out as he drifted toward sleep or unconsciousness, he didn’t care which.

  The smell of blood was sharp in the air. He sniffed, lifting his head, looking for its source. Dawn was not far off, he was vulnerable now. A figure, no more than a silhouette, stood between him and the false light. He rolled over, pushing himself up till he was on his feet.

  A raised arm came down toward him. “Stupid female, no need for this.”

  There was only one blow, but it was enough. He fell to the ground again, head reeling, almost unconscious. Female? He was female? Confused, stunned by the blow, she lay there unable to move.

  At the Retreat, Brynne lay paralyzed, caught in her dream memory as she relived the incident.

  * * *

  Deep in the Prime ship, Kaid was similarly held, but for him the dream was laced with his own dark childhood memories—memories that had been dealt with long ago when he’d first been taken to Stronghold as an unwilling recruit.

  The ground shook as the male landed on his knees beside her. Razor sharp claws grasped hold of her, penetrating her hide and ripping her clothing from her. Holding her fast, already naked and erect, he loomed over her.

  Whimpering, she tried to push him aside, but he was larger, stronger, and determined. Pinned to the ground as she was, still she fought him, feet lashing out as she thrashed from side to side, consciousness fading in and out with sheer terror. In desperation, she pulled her legs up, readying herself for a final attempt at a stomach-gouging kick.

  He lunged forward, his weight pinning her in an all too convenient position. Her cry of anguish as she realized her mistake quickly turned to a howl of agony.

  Kaid woke with a gasp and a start. He lay there, heart pounding, listening to the quiet breathing of the other three people in the room, wondering what had triggered such a dark dream. It had been many years since he’d been haunted by them. Killing his foster-father, Nuddoh M’Zushi, had been what had driven him from Dzahai village to Ranz and the Claws, made on outlaw of him. It had been why the Brotherhood, urged on by Noni, had sought him out.

  He remembered those days, when Father Jyarti, then Head Priest, and Noni had helped him to come to terms with his early years. The death of Nuddoh ha
d brought to light all that had happened to him and the others in M’Zushi’s care, and none of those involved in his case had blamed him for finally turning on his tormentor. But this dream had been subtly different, enough so to make him wonder if it had, indeed, been a dream at all.

  He yawned, putting it from his mind for now, and turned over, reaching out for T’Chebbi. It had been dark enough that he needed to feel the presence of one he cared for beside him.

  * * *

  At Vartra’s Retreat, Brynne woke to find Jurrel leaning over him. Instinctively, he punched out at him, trying to leap from the bed. His fist was caught and held by the Sholan’s larger hand and he went sprawling on his face, held in a body lock till he realized the dream was over.

  “Take it easy,” said Jurrel, slowly letting him go. “I heard you cry out, that’s why I came in. I thought the last week had been too quiet. What was it this time?”

  Brynne moved his face out of the covers and lay there shuddering. “I was attacked. I thought it was you. With the light behind you . . .”

  “I get the picture,” said Jurrel, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Was it the same person again?”

  “No. Maybe. I don’t want to talk about it.” How could he explain he’d experienced someone’s memories of rape as intimately if he’d been the victim?

  He began to push himself up, realizing he felt bruised and sore everywhere. He shuddered again, realizing the dream had been far too real. Jurrel’s steadying hand was there to help him, but he had to fight the impulse to shrink from his touch. Sholans confused him, both sexes sending him the same signals, both equally attractive. It had gotten worse since Jurrel’s partner Banner had arrived.

  “I’m fine,” he said sharply.

  Jurrel released him. “Father Lijou will want to know about it.”

  He slid between the covers, glad of the nightclothes he wore. “It wasn’t important, only someone else’s memory. It wasn’t actually happening like the others,” he said, leaning back against the bed head. “Someone nearby dreaming, that’s all.” That he did believe, even though this one had been different. It had been the same person, of that he was positive, but there had also been a brief trace of something else—a masculine presence that had never been there before.

  “Do you want me to stay?” asked Jurrel.

  “No. Go back to Banner.” He could hear how sharp his tone sounded even to him. It wasn’t Jurrel’s fault he was finding it difficult to accept the arrival of the other’s sword-brother. “I’m sorry. I thought the dreams were over, that’s all,” he forced himself to say, aware of his friend’s hurt feelings but unable to say more.

  When Jurrel had left, he lay down and closed his eyes, wishing he knew what the nature of the attraction he sensed between them was. If he knew that, he might know how he wanted to respond. He’d had no such problem back on Earth, but here, among this sensuous, lithe-limbed, furred species, he was lost. He had no male Sholan benchmark to tell him what an appropriate response to these feelings was. This latest dream had made it worse, had turned the whole situation on its head and made a nightmare out of it.

  Afraid to sleep again, he got up and pulled on his robe, heading along the corridor to the common room, where he knew he’d be able to get a hot drink. He sat down at the table, warming his hands on the mug before rolling himself a cigarette and lighting it. It tasted good, going a long way to calm his jangled nerves. Then he sensed Jurrel approaching.

  What now? he thought, ignoring him and picking up his mug to take a drink. He almost leaped out of his seat in shock as he felt gentle fingers touching his neck.

  “You’re tense. I can’t leave you like this,” said Jurrel as he began to knead him. “You’ll never get back to sleep.”

  “I’m all right, I told you,” he said, trying to pull away. “You know not to touch me! Go back to Banner.”

  “Strengthen your shields, that’s what the other telepaths do.” The grip tightened, determined not to let him go this time. “It was Banner’s suggestion I come back. Put your mug down and lean against the chair. Let your arms go limp.”

  He did as he was asked, but kept hold of his cigarette as Jurrel’s thumbs probed the knotted muscles. It was helping, he had to admit, though Jurrel was being none too gentle.

  “Who taught you this?”

  “Human massage? I worked with some Terrans during my last tour of duty,” he said, beginning to work on the lower section of Brynne’s neck, where it joined his shoulders.

  He stiffened, but the touch was strictly professional as the Sholan eased the taut muscles and tendons.

  “Relax. You’re making it ten times more difficult for me. And lose the cigarette. You’re not smoking it anyway.”

  He did, and tried to relax, finding it possible if he shut his eyes and forgot who was behind him. The fingers moved, slipping inside his robe, beginning to work on his spine.

  “See? That’s better, isn’t it?” the voice purred gently in his ear. “Relax into it. Don’t think of anything.”

  The pressure was more gentle now, lulling him with the rhythmic movements. Waves of tiredness lapped through him.

  “You’re trying too hard, Brynne. Trying to fit in won’t work. All you need to do is be yourself,” said Jurrel, his voice quiet, his touch almost a caress as his hands slipped over Brynne’s shoulders. “You’ve been fighting your Sholan side for too long. Just be yourself.”

  “I don’t know who I am here,” he murmured, leaning back against Jurrel.

  Chapter 9

  Day 24

  COME morning, despite all Jurrel’s attempts to persuade him, Brynne refused to speak to Father Lijou about the dream. When Banner joined them for first meal, he added his voice to his Companion’s.

  “He needs to know.”

  Brynne looked across the table at him. He’d only met Banner briefly the day before, but now that he saw them together, he could tell that though both were dark-pelted, it was Banner who was actually black. Blue eyes, brighter than any he’d seen yet on a Sholan, regarded him steadily from beneath short, curling hair.

  “I know it’s not easy,” continued the older male, “but Father Lijou must know this person is female. If you can’t speak to him, why not talk to Tutor Kha’Qwa?”

  His voice was deeper, too, thought Brynne, before catching the gentle amusement in his eyes. He looked down quickly at his food. “I can’t,” he said, feeling the blood rush to his face.

  “Then I’ll tell her,” Banner said unperturbed.

  “You wouldn’t!” He looked up, shocked at the betrayal of his confidence.

  “One of us must. I can’t see any problem. You were a conduit for the dream, nothing more. Why should you feel somehow responsible that you experienced it?”

  “It’s what you are,” said Jurrel. “Maybe in sharing her nightmare you helped her come to terms with it. Did you think of that?”

  Brynne looked helplessly from one to the other. He’d never been in a situation like this before. “You don’t understand. Somehow, I intruded on her memory. That in itself was like a rape.”

  “No,” said Jurrel, leaning forward impulsively to touch his hand. “Her dreams found you several weeks ago. This was just one of many. If anyone has intruded, it’s her.”

  Careful not to offend, Brynne moved his hand away. Touch, for him, was another way of receiving subliminal messages, and right now, he couldn’t cope with Jurrel’s.

  “Seems we need to learn more about telepaths, Jurrel.” Banner’s voice held a rumble of laughter beneath it. He got to his feet. “It’s decided, then. This takes precedence over your classes. I’ll tell the porter and meet you outside with an aircar in five minutes.”

  “I didn’t say I’d go,” said Brynne, watching the broad-shouldered Sholan head for the refectory door.

  “But you will,” said Jurrel, starting to gather their plates. “Won’t you?”

  He got up to help, needing to say something to him on a personal level but unsure how to put
it.

  “About last night,” prompted Jurrel as they walked over to put the plates away. When Brynne said nothing, he continued. “We’re friends, Brynne, think of it that way. You needed my company. We’re each free to be with whom we want. Think Sholan, not Human. If you’d like my company again, ask me.” He grinned, reaching out to flick a finger briefly across the side of Brynne’s neck, a gesture both intimate and affectionate. “Or I might ask you.”

  * * *

  “Noni, the ’car’s here,” said Teusi, standing at the doorway to the back bedroom. “They’ve taken them to the education hall in the village.”

  “Damned younglings out on a lark,” she muttered, giving a final twitch to the coverlet on the bed. “Reckon I’ll be sleeping in here tonight. You stay close to me, lad. We’ll find the one we want there, lay you odds on it,” she said, making her way over to join him.

  “I wouldn’t bet against you, Noni, you know that,” grinned Teusi. “I’d lose nearly every time.”

  “Nearly, eh? Only nearly? Cheek of you!” she said, waving her stick at him and pretending to scowl.

  He laughed and preceded her to the door, stopping to pick up the case in which she kept her first aid potions and balms.

  * * *

  “They got caught by the crosswinds up near Stronghold,” said Leohl, the village elder, as she escorted Noni to the room where the makeshift beds lay. Behind them, three younglings followed as helpers.

  Noni glanced at the table to her right where two bodies shrouded by white sheets lay. “Lost two,” she observed.

  “Tragic, it was,” murmured Leohl as she opened the door for Noni. “It was meant to carry four and they had six in it. These two weren’t strapped in. When the aircar hit the ground, they were thrown out of the broken canopy. Dead when we found them, I’m afraid.” She gave a gentle purr of sadness. “So young.”

  “So drunk, probably,” Noni sighed. “Ah, well. Summer’s here without a doubt. They won’t be the last this season. Anyone we know?”

  “Thankfully no. The craft was registered to a hire firm in Ranz. The Protectors are on their way over to question the survivors. They’ll be here shortly.”