The Men of Anderas I: Jardan, the King

by C. J. Johnson

  “Come on, Dak! There’s no time for me to change!”

  “But where are you going?” Insisted Dak.

  “Down there!” JarDan yelled, heading for the elevator, barefoot and wearing nothing but the loose, caftan-type robe, a crooked grin spreading across his face. This tingling awareness had to signify something. An end to his quest? By all the Ancient Prophets, could this woman be the reason? Attacking her vehicle? In the middle of a storm? Amazing!

  * * * *

  Melodie slid from the battered old truck, gasping as the thick, black mud sucked her feet into its depths. Rain soaked her clothes, chilling her skin to goose-flesh. She strained with the effort of lifting one foot then the other from the clinging mud. Using one arm to shield her face from the driving rain and the other for balance, she struggled against the pull of the mud and the buffeting wind. Every deafening explosion of thunder and blinding flash of lightning emphasized the deadly consequences of her mad dash across the state. Pride goes before a fall, Melodie Anne, and just look where it’s gotten you now. When all you have left is pride and a truck with more rust and dents than paint, it’s hard to give it up.

  If she could find the farmer who owned this field, she could beg the use of his tractor to pull her truck from the mud. Since she hadn’t passed any houses in several miles, the farmer had to live in the direction she’d been driving. The house should be fairly close, but with the way her luck was running these days, she didn’t count on it. It was going to be a cold, wet walk no matter how far. With a sigh of resignation, she took firm hold on her determination and began the arduous task of fighting her way through the mud to the road.

  As soon as she rounded the front of the truck the full force of the howling wind hit her hard. Turning her back against the storm’s fury, she never saw the tree limb hurtling toward her until it slammed into her back, knocking her face down into the mud. Her small measure of emotional control snapped like the limbs of the falling tree that caused her to swerve off the road, sailing across the fence into the mud. Struggling to her feet, she grabbed the limb and beat against the hood of her truck.

  “You miserable hunk of rusting junk! How could you do this to me? I’ve babied you for years and this is how you repay me? It’s not fair! It’s just not fair.” She beat on the defenseless truck until she had no energy left to fight. Exhausted, she lay across the warm hood, cursing the pride that drove her from the safety of Reverend Simmons’ home into this crazy dash across Missouri.

  Finally, her tears and anger spent, Melodie knew she had to find shelter from the cold rain. The truck was no longer an option since the entire passenger side of the front windshield was gone, shattered by an exploding tree limb -- the same limb currently embedded in the back of the passenger seat. She would have to abandon the truck until the storm passed. The only building in sight was an old barn, one wall completely gone, the other three listing to the side. It wasn’t much but she didn’t have time to be picky. The danger lay in crossing the open field. She would be a walking lightning rod.

  Before she had gone more than a few feet, she heard the unmistakable freight train roar of an approaching tornado. Wiping water from her eyes, she watched the gyrating cyclone perform a terrifying ballet across the pitifully few miles between it and the acres of open, muddy field around her, moving closer and destroying everything in its path. There was no refuge in the open field and no time to get to cover.

  So this was it. She never expected her life to end this way -- nor so soon. Grandpa used to say that everything happened for a reason. If the Good Lord felt you needed to know what it was, He’d tell you -- just have a little faith. Melodie had no fear of death. She believed strongly that her immortal soul would find a better world and this gave her strength. Words like -- alone -- bankrupt -- homeless -- wouldn’t exist in Heaven.

  She stood with calm acceptance as the tornado advanced with deadly precision, sucking the very air from around her, knowing that soon she would see her family again.

  Suddenly, a brilliant glow appeared in front of her. From this glowing orb of light stepped a giant of a man. A man too perfect to be real. Long, dark hair and robes of white and gold adorned his magnificent body – surely he was an angel sent to guide her passing. His strong, powerful arms closed around her, offering warmth and security, drawing her with him into the light.

  Cradled in the embrace of the angel, Melodie watched in serene fascination as the churning destructive force of the tornado ripped through the field around them. The truck, her clothes, everything she had left in the world was at the mercy of the demonic wind. Twisted metal and flying bits of rags were all that remained of the woman called Melodie Smith.

  “Close your eyes,” whispered the deep, masculine voice of her angel. “I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

  * * * *

  “Dak!” Bellowed JarDan as he stepped from the teleport platform with the unconscious woman in his arms. “Notify the MediCenter. I think she’s in shock.”

  Without slowing his pace, the Prince of Tor carried the woman to the waiting elevator. A team of medical personnel with a mobile stretcher waited just outside the door when the elevator stopped. JarDan forced himself to place her on the stretcher but followed closely while the team wheeled her into an examination tube. His reluctance to leave the woman’s side strengthened his belief that she was the reason for his delay in returning home.

  By the Ancients, he hated the smell of a MediCenter. Shutting his mind to the antiseptic odors, he watched the six-member team scurry around attaching monitors and sensors to the bed where the woman lay.

  “Leave her to us, Commander.” Doctor Sladal stated, trying to usher the hovering prince from the room. “She’s in no danger; merely wet and cold and suffering from her first trip through a teleport unit. Surely you remember how debilitating such excursions are until your body acclimates itself. You will do her more good by letting us do our job.”

  “Stop treating me like a five-year old, Sladal. I have no intention of leaving this room until I know everything there is to know about her condition.”

  “As you wish. It will take a few minutes to get her cleaned up and into dry clothing. At that point I will be able to examine her and give you a report.”

  JarDan nodded in absent agreement as he reached for the wet shirt.

  “Your Highness!” You cannot undress this woman!”

  JarDan grinned at the shocked expression on the doctor’s face. “I’ve seen naked women before, Sladal.”

  “I have no doubt. However, you paid those women for that service, did you not? Have you paid this woman for the privilege of undressing her?”

  “Sladal, you walk a very narrow line with your comments.” JarDan warned in a cold, steely voice. “I tire of repeating myself. I. Am. Not. Leaving.” Without waiting for further comments JarDan returned his attention to the unconscious woman, quickly stripping the rest of her clothes from her body. He cleaned the mud from her skin before covering her with warmed sheets while the medical team cleaned the mud and debris from her hair.

  Her face, neck and lower arms were much darker than the rest of her body, evidence of spending long hours working in the sun. The untanned skin was a pale ivory color. Her breasts weren’t large but JarDan knew they would fill his palm to perfection. He gently dried her skin with the warm towel, feeling a strong surge of desire when her nipple, drawn tight from the cold rain, tightened even more with his touch. He wished he could take full credit for the pebbled condition.

  With a quiet groan, he relinquished her care to the medical team. He hadn’t visited a pleasure station since before he left for Earth more than a year ago and his reaction to this woman was strong. The thick blanket shifted with each soft breath and accented the way her hips flared from her narrow waist. Taking a deep breath, he forced his attention to her face, grateful that his robe was loose enough to hide the physical evidence of his interest.

  Thick, dark lashes rested against her pale cheeks. Her nose was short and
tipped on the end. High cheekbones balanced a wide, full mouth and a stubborn chin. Taken one piece at a time, she was merely pretty, but the total woman was striking.

  Minutes turned to hours and still she remained unconscious. JarDan paced the small cubicle until his concern for her drew him back to the woman. Now free of mud, her hair hung over the side of the bed. The heavy, black mass created a living cascade that brushed the tops of his bare feet. His fingertips softly stroked the midnight wisps from her face, willing her to open her eyes.

  An unseen hand brought a chair and JarDan moved it so he could watch her sleep. When his helplessness threatened to overwhelm him, he began to pace again, watching the clock as the cycle repeated itself.

  “What’s wrong with her, Sladal?” He asked for the hundredth time since the doctor activated the examination tube.

  “Physically, nothing. The monitors indicate that she is a perfectly normal, human female. The memory scan should be completed within the hour.

  JarDan paused his restless pacing to stroke the pale face, fascinated when a strand of hair curled itself around his hand, binding him to her. Another sign. He now had his answer. Without a doubt in his mind, he knew that this woman was the reason for his extended delay in returning to Anderas. A deep feeling of protectiveness washed over him when he held her chilled hand in his own, tracing the calluses on her palm with a gentle caress of his fingertips. It surprised him to realize that she had known hardship, years of it if her hands were any indication.

  He glanced up as Dak walked through the door. He could see the questions in his friend’s eyes but he had no answers.

  “It’s been hours, Dak. Sladal doesn’t know what else to try.”

  “Give it time, JarDan. We’ve loaded the course coordinates for Anderas. When Sladal completes the mind scan and we know her status, we can be on our way home. Why not change into a clean uniform and get some rest? You’re covered with dried mud. I’ll stay with her until you return and call immediately if there’s any change.”

  Reluctantly, JarDan acknowledged the wisdom of Dak’s suggestion. He turned to leave, but found himself returning to stare at the sleeping woman.

  “As I trust you with my life, so guard hers.”

  Dak responded with a slow nod of his head.

  JarDan moved toward the elevator, allowing the guard inside to speed him toward his quarters. He refused to consider the possibility that she may have someone special in her life. She belonged to him. Every second he spent with her calmed the driving urgency that had plagued him for months. Now he felt -- complete. Dak was right, he needed a bath. The Prince of Tor wanted to be at his best when she met him for the first time.

  The Prince of Tor wasn’t the only one who showed in interest in the Earth female. Across the room, unobserved by the busy medical team, a grey-haired MedTech watched and waited. He recalled his death pledge, given years ago. This was his chance to show the master he was still a worthy Minion of the Dark. The end of the House of Tor was approaching, and if Tor JarDan was interested in this woman then she must die, too. Smiling with evil pleasure, the MedTech slid his hand into his pocket, assuring himself the vial of liquid was still there.

  The drug could bring intense pleasure or horrible death. Pleasure stations throughout the galaxy once used it to stimulate sex drive. Scientists discovered that when used just before space sleep, the disruptive physiological side-effects would cause the heart to explode. Now, only the few stations still offering the more perverted pleasures used the outlawed drug. He would find a time before the female went into space sleep to administer the drug.

  “Sladal! Sladal! I think she’s waking up!” The MedTech watched as Captain Beldon hurried from the room in search of the doctor.

  Using the pretext of straightening the blanket on the bed, Torak uncapped the vial and dribbled the lethal fluid into her mouth. Hearing the approach of the other men, he resealed the vial and turned from the bed. Did he use enough? She needed to swallow the entire bottle, but there just wasn’t enough time. It would have to be enough. She had to die. It would please his master. With a crisp salute to Captain Beldon, he left the MediCenter. It really was too bad he had to put her to sleep.

  He remembered his one experience with the drug. It took hours before the whore began to suspect something was wrong. Torak smiled at the memory. Confusion and mindless rambling were the early signs, but the woman was too stupid or too drunk to realize what was happening. When her skin got too sensitive to stand her clothes, she knew then. She knew, but it was too late. By that time, it wouldn’t have made any difference who she was with. All she could do was ride out the increasing waves of desire.

  Trying to satisfy that female had damn near killed him. Yes, it was just too bad Tor’s bitch couldn’t stay awake and enjoy what was coming. His hollow laugh echoed through the deserted corridors.

  Chapter Three

  She heard voices. Strange muted voices. Where was she? Melodie kept her eyes closed and tried to remember what happened.

  She was trying to outrun the storm when lightening hit a tree near the road sending burning branches in all directions. A large limb came through her windshield. Jerking the steering wheel in reaction sent her truck sailing off the road, over a fence, landing in the middle of a field. The torrential rains had turned the freshly plowed dirt into a sea of mud.

  The tornado coming straight for her!

  The angel!

  Forcing her eyes open she stared at the room around her. Beds lined both long walls of the room, each separated by curtains suspended from the ceiling. Everything was white and stainless steel. Strange, she never imagined Heaven would look like a hospital.

  “Ah, so you’re awake. Good. Good.”

  Melodie blinked as she focused on a very unusual man. This was definitely not her angel. If the wrinkles on his face were any indication, he must be at least one hundred years old. Bright blue eyes, much too alert to be so ancient, twinkled beneath the thickest, bushiest eyebrows imaginable.

  “Your hair’s blue,” Melodie mumbled in stunned surprise as she stared at the stranger bending over her.

  “What? Why so it is. A very pale shade of blue to be sure, but blue nonetheless. Do you dislike blue hair?”

  She chuckled as the blue eyebrows twitched like giant caterpillars.

  “My fourth grade teacher, Miss Clairmont, had blue hair but I think it came from a bottle.”

  The strange man smiled as he pushed buttons and flipped switches on the equipment panel beside her bed.

  “Who are you? Where am I? How long have I been here?” She stared at the smiling face of the blue-haired man. This is definitely not Heaven. Not unless angels had blue hair. Why would a man have blue hair, anyway?

  “My name is Sladal and you’ve been here for about twenty-four hours.” He responded, patting her hand. “I’m a physician.”

  “Physician?” She echoed in panic. “Am I all right?”

  “Yes. Yes. You’re fine. You were suffering from a mild case of hypothermia. Once we got you dry and warm, it was just a matter of letting your body’s natural healing process work. Are you hungry? Would you like to freshen up? Clean clothes are in the drawer beneath the bed. Anything else you might need is in the bath through that door.” He indicated a closed door across the room.

  Melodie smiled her appreciation, but before Sladal could leave she reached for his arm.

  “Doctor …” she felt foolish for even considering the possibility, but she had to know for sure. “Was there a … a man with me when I arrived?” A fiery blush crept up her neck to cover her face as she pretended a great interest in the seam along the top of the sheet.

  “Uh … yes,” the doctor mumbled. “A man did bring you here.”

  Trying to cover her interest in nonchalance, Melodie shrugged as she slid her legs off the bed.

  “I’m grateful he was passing by when the tornado hit. I wonder if it was his field I destroyed with my truck.” Gathering the clothes from the drawer beneath the
bed she turned what she hoped was an innocent face to Doctor Sladal. Not for a minute did she believe that man was a farmer.

  “Is he still here?”

  “Um … mm … I suppose. I’ll see if I can locate him for you.”

  She watched in confusion as the doctor practically ran from the room. Shaking her head, she headed for the bath. As she washed her face and brushed her hair, she tried to remember exactly how she got here. Wherever here was.

  Slipping the shapeless grey garment from her body, she reached for the gown that came from the drawer. This was like no hospital gown she’d ever seen. No pale green cotton, that’s for sure.

  Melodie gasped in pleasant shock as the soft, silky material slid down her body. The deep blue gown rippled and flowed around her with a life of its own. Every movement sent tingling sensations dancing across her skin from the caress of the fabric. Her hands smoothed the material across her abdomen and down her hips, intensifying the sensations. Soft moans echoed in the small room. Startled, she realized she was the one moaning. She stared in wonder at the face in the mirror. The flushed cheeks and too bright eyes looked familiar, but something was definitely different.

  Pushing the disturbing sensations from her mind, Melodie returned to her bed and tried to bring some order to her chaotic thoughts. Questions tumbled around in her head. How did she escape the storm? Where was she? Although she rarely left the small community where she grew up, she was certain there was no medical center in the area. And the man? Who was he? Smiling to herself, Melodie tried to picture a Missouri farmer wearing long white robes anywhere. Nope, she decided with a grin. Definitely not a farmer.

  It should be a sin and a crime for any man to be that attractive. Remembering the feel of his arms, the solid mass of his chest, the warn scent of his skin sent a shaft of heat from her throat to her knees. Sensations and needs she never knew existed sprang to life, growing stronger with each minute. His image in her mind sharpened until he consumed her thoughts, pushing all questions into limbo.