Was he deranged for choosing a battle destined to fail? For going against a fearsome foe with nothing more than a clumsy, primitive weapon, a twisted walking stick, and an unreasonably optimistic sense of destiny?
Almost certainly.
~0~
The next morning, Nimri’s shoulder scraped against the rough wood back of the heavy catapult as she threw her weight against it. She ignored the stabbing pain and kept pushing the unwieldy thing, but the rear wheel was firmly stuck in the rut filled path and all she got for her efforts was more blood on the timber.
She would never have believed that pushing the contraption over the ridge behind Thunder’s home could be so tiring. Especially since the Yetis and GEA-4 were pulling the forward ropes. But the clumsy wooden wheels seemed to catch on every pebble and get sucked down into every soft spot.
Larwin's face was masked in determination. He groaned as he heaved the right rear wheel out of the furrow.
Suddenly it didn’t matter if getting the wretched machine up to the higher cliff mattered. What mattered was that for the first time since he’d returned, Larwin wasn’t glaring at her with a mixture of indifference and hatred. Her throat tightened. Nimri closed her eyes against the threatening tears of relief. No way would she let the guardian see her mortal frailty or how his coldness hurt her.
The three of them hoisted the heavy cart over another rock. Again, Larwin groaned. The pain-laced sound mirrored her feelings.
She must focus on saving her people and their world. Personal loss was minor. Nimri wondered if she would have been so quick to agree with Thunder’s terms if he hadn’t reminded her of Larwin or if she’d known Larwin would return so quickly. She glanced to her left. Thunder’s mouth was set in a thin white line, which made it easy to remember Thunder Cartwright was the enemy.
An enemy who held her future in his hand.
An enemy who could confuse her with a smile.
An enemy who seemed to know more about her than she knew about herself.
The cart came to a jarring halt. Nimri gasped as pain ripped through her shoulder.
Thunder grunted. “Rock on my side. Let it roll back a bit.” Nimri slacked the force she was exerting. The catapult lunged back. She nearly lost her balance. “Stop,” Thunder said. “Got it.” With a solid thunk, a melon-sized rock rolled downhill.
“One, two, three, heave,” Larwin said through gritted teeth.
The catapult’s thick wooden wheels inched forward and upward, then a rope broke with a resounding crack and whipped back across the apparatus. The cart rolled backwards.
The frayed flax cord lashed toward her. Nimri ducked.
Larwin rammed the staff of protection beneath the wheel.
“Can you hold it?” Thunder asked.
Larwin grunted.
Thunder darted forward with the rope. Just as quickly, Thunder was back, shoulder to the beam. “We’re almost there.” She hoped he was telling the truth.
“One, two, three, heave,” Larwin said.
The ungainly contraption lurched forward, jounced, then it surged forward faster than she’d thought possible.
Caught off guard, Nimri lost her hold and fell to her knees. She looked under the belly of the ungainly weapon. The front wheels had reached the level plateau.
They’d made it.
Tears of relief brimmed in her eyes. She blinked them away. If GEA-4’s prediction was true, they barely had enough time to set up their defenses before the dragon broke through. Now they had to deal with the real hard part; fighting the planet-destroying dragon.
Nimri scrambled to her feet, ignored her strained muscles and bleeding flesh and threw her weight against the rear of the catapult. It shot forward.
A Yeti squealed.
Again, Nimri fell to her knees. The catapult’s heavy wooden wheels rolled majestically to a stop atop the flat precipice.
Thunder looked triumphant as he straightened, put his hands to the small of his back and swayed from side to side. Nimri studied his handsome features. Who was he? Her enemy? Her mentor? Despite her dreams of Larwin, would Thunder become her cherished partner?
Feeling a blush creep up her neck, Nimri lowered her gaze. There was fresh blood on Thunder’s palms. Her heart lurched. If someone was injured, no matter how they confused her, it was her responsibility to heal the injury.
Or at least try to.
Ignoring her own aches, Nimri moved toward Thunder and placed her hands on top of his. He jerked, but she held his hands tight. She closed her eyes and thought of his aches receding, his flesh mending.
Thunder shook free, then turned and clasped her shoulders. “You need to save your power.” His gentle tone bespoke deep tenderness. He held up his hands, which indeed looked better. Her shoulder felt better, too.
Lightness fluttered within her like a thousand butterflies. She’d done it just like he’d shown her.
She could do anything, except figure out how to love two men. Lucky for her that Larwin wasn’t a real man with real needs. Lucky for her that Thunder had made her choice for her. Lucky for her that she’d probably die saving their world and would never need to resolve the dilemma.
Something warm and loving sparkled in Thunder’s gaze. How could someone feel so familiar, yet the thought of being with him seem so wrong? Even if he’d been a Chosen, she didn’t think she’d have chosen him for her cherished partner. Nimri winced. She’d given away her right to choose.
Nimri wet her lips. “You need your hands,” she said. “Besides, you taught me to use my gift, you deserve thanks.” She bent and kissed a fading bruise on his knuckle. “There, you should feel better, now.”
Thunder kissed her forehead then flexed his hands. “Your control is getting better. Faster, as well.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am.” Thunder tickled her under the chin, then stepped away. Suddenly, she was face to face with Larwin. She had a brief glimpse of his stormy expression, then he, too, turned away.
Confused by the undercurrent of emotions, Nimri watched them join GEA-4 and the Yetis, who were unloading the sacks of lime near the precipice that overlooked Thunder’s home and the sprawling valley.
Despite her suspicion that Guardians didn’t strain their muscles or tear their flesh, Larwin had groaned mightily the last few times he’d dislodged his side. Nimri went to him and touched his back. He jerked away from her.
“Be still. Please.
“I don’t need your help,” Larwin said.
“Yes, you do,” Nimri said. “You won’t be able to function if your body knots up any more. Either you stand still, or I’ll ask Thunder to hold you.”
“It’d take more than him to hold me.”
“I’ve seen you fight, but I’ll wager he could manage if Gunda and Carn helped.”
Larwin’s gaze flickered to the Yetis. “Fine. Do what you think you have to.”
Nimri closed her eyes and gently touched his joints. Some held the heat of injury, but none seemed to have the intense burning of damage serious enough to warrant tension in his joints.
The moment she broke contact, Larwin stomped away. Nimri stared at him long after he began examining the catapult’s wheels.
Thunder tossed the last bag of lime on top of the heap. Nimri turned to him. “You always seem to know—things. Can you read minds?”
“It doesn’t take a Diviner to know we’re all worried about the Dragon.” Thunder looked toward Sacred Mountain’s summit. “I hope we succeed. If we don’t, I hope I die before I have to witness the destruction of our world.”
Nimri nodded in agreement.
GEA-4 moved to the edge of the bluff and stared at Sacred Mountain with the same concentration she gave the sun. Gooseflesh rippled over Nimri’s arms.
“And if we win, you’ll hold me to my promise.” Nimri whispered the words and felt a different type of tingle. Which would be worse—death or whatever Thunder wanted? He was acting friendly—too friendly—now --- but she’d se
en Rolf go from serene to seething in the blink of an eye, so there was no telling how quickly he could change.
And Rolf’s worst rages happened when someone mentioned Thunder’s name.
Nimri gazed across the valley. The river looked like a wide silvery ribbon. By now, she would have been missed and banished. She could never go home, again. Maybe it was good that Thunder meant for her to stay with him.
“We might all be a team now, but we may still have to fight each other.” Thunder ’s soft statement sent a shock wave from heel to head. Nimri gave him a sharp look. Though he was speaking to her, his attention was centered on Larwin. Why would he even consider fighting with a Guardian? “At least you and I will be in accord.”
GEA-4 abruptly turned to Larwin and said something indecipherable. He blanched. Nimri gulped, afraid that she understood the message, even if she didn’t speak the immortal language.
Larwin grabbed the strange horse-shoe-shaped device he kept hooked to his belt and clipped it over his eyes. His stiff posture bespoke the worst. Nimri looked at Sacred Mountain’s summit and saw a small flash.
“Hurry! It’s breaking through!” Larwin shouted.
Nimri jumped.
Suddenly, Larwin was next to her, his hands on her upper arms. “Please reconsider and let GEA-4 be the bait.”
“She can’t. Like it or not, ready or not, I’m the Keeper of the Peace.”
His fingers kneaded her taunt muscles. For a moment, she thought he’d turn and leave. Instead, he asked, “What did you mean about a promise?” He glanced at Thunder.
So he knew about her pledge. Nimri sighed and wet her lips. “I needed help to save our people. To save our world. It was the only way to gain Thunder’s cooperation.”
Nimri saw the hurt in his eyes as he bent and kissed her forehead. “That was for luck.” He went back to the catapult and redoubled his efforts at breaking the wheel free.
Eyes hazy with unshed tears, Nimri watched him.
Kazza butted her thigh and purred when she took a step toward Larwin. She stroked his back. “So you turned up.” Again, he nudged her toward Larwin. Silly cat didn’t know how confusing relationships could be.
“The dragon comes,” GEA-4 said.
Thunder, GEA-4, the Yetis and Larwin increased their efforts at removing the wheels and stabilizing the catapult. Nimri patted Kazza’s head. “I must become the bait.” Not wanting Kazza to get in the way, she herded him toward a scraggly clump of mountain laurel at the edge of the plateau.
Nimri didn’t look back until she sat down beneath the dark glossy leaves. GEA-4 was holding up the corner of the cart while Larwin and Thunder strained to remove the last wheel. The Yetis moved around making random, nervous gestures.
“Eighteen point five minutes,” GEA-4 said.
Heart thumping, Nimri settled into the hatha position, closed her eyes and began humming the proper note. Kazza sprawled next to her. His whiskers tickled her arm. The seclusion of the shrubbery seemed to envelop her in a warm, protective embrace. Kazza’s purr rumbled. Nimri imagined that the note was taking her upward. Soon, she actually hovered over the laurel patch. It seemed odd to look down and see herself and Kazza.
She wished she felt as peaceful as her body looked.
Raising her arms, Nimri plunged upward into the sky. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kazza match her pace.
A glance at Sacred Mountain revealed an undulating golden speck, which seemed to get larger and longer with every breath.
The dragon had broken through.
A glance at the bluff told her that the catapult still wasn’t ready to fire. She glared around the cloudless sky, then back at Thunder, who was still trying to help GEA-4 and Larwin with the wheel. Start your trance! Instead, he continued to force the wheel to break free, so they could level the weapon.
Nimri looked back at the mountain. The dragon was closer, but moved as if it might be injured. That had to be a good thing. She stared at the beast and yearned for something more constructive than baiting it into an unprepared trap. Yearned to go back in time, so she would never follow Larwin to his dismal home or lure the dragon to her own. Yearned for this battle to be over, so that she didn’t have to face a future confrontation with the horrid beast. Better that it was over and the outcome was assured, even if it meant her death.
The dragon’s haphazard movements solidified into an undulating pattern that would take it to the village. “No, oh, no, don’t go there!” Nimri had to do something. Unlike the Lost, who lived in isolated homes, all across their side of the river, almost all the Chosen lived in the village. Even those who farmed didn’t have a house where they raised their crops and livestock.
Kazza growled, swished his tail and snarled at the distant speck.
Kazza at her side, and with no weapon, except sheer guts, Nimri moved to cut off the dragon.
Chapter Eighteen
Larwin’s fingers were slippery with blood as he fought to dislodge the last wheel. When brute force wouldn’t budge it, he rammed the twisted black stick between cart and wheel, hoping the flimsy-looking thing would act as a lever and at least shift the jam before it broke. He heaved against the makeshift lever. The wheel shot off as if it was greased. Unprepared for the response, Larwin lost his balance and fell forward. The wheel’s weight hit him square in the solar plexus. It bounced, then tipped over and landed on his lungs with a numbing thud.
Thunder pulled it off of him. “Are you hurt?” Larwin grunted.
Larwin wondered if any primitive civilizations he’d previously attacked had gone to similar futile lengths to protect themselves from his squadron. Still, he couldn’t simply sit still and do nothing.
Thunder looked at him, concern in his expression. “Are you hurt?” he repeated.
His lungs burned with each breath and despite years of mind control, panic welled. Larwin didn’t know which was worse, the physical pain of cracked ribs or the knowledge of how his actions and superior power had affected his past victims. “I’m fine. Go. Do whatever it is that you must do for your part of the plan.” Thunder looked as if he would have preferred to stay or touch his aching ribs, but despite it feeling as if his insides were tearing apart, Larwin sat up and shooed him away.
But the stubborn man wouldn’t move.
Larwin struggled to stand, but found he needed to use the stick as a crutch. Thunder gave him a penetrating look, as if seeing his inferiority.
“Go. I’m fine.” Each word tasted like blood.
This time, Thunder whistled for his two hairy creatures and moved toward a large boulder. As soon as Thunder wasn’t looking, Larwin carefully inhaled than exhaled a hard-won breath. As always, broken ribs hurt like Vilecom. In the Academy, cracked ribs, contusions and cuts had been a way of life. So, why didn’t he feel like a kid, again?
“Seventeen point one minutes,” GEA-4 said.
Larwin turned his attention to his part of the plan and ignored Thunder. After a moment’s hesitation, Thunder sat down in a patch of purple wildflowers next to a gold-toned boulder—presumably to brew up a storm. Though Larwin doubted any mortal could control the weather, these aliens had such unusual biochemistry it could be true.
“Seventeen point two. Seventeen point three.”
“Great time to malfunction.” Larwin clenched his teeth and ignored the pain.
“Nimri is luring the beast away,” Thunder called across the clearing.
Larwin twisted so fast that it felt like he’d pierced his lung. “Mind meld with her,” he shouted to Thunder, “or whatever it is you share. Tell her to bring it on.” Ignoring the intense pain, Larwin hoisted a bag of lime into the catapult’s seat. Teeth clenched, he adjusted the spring’s tension.
“By the time I—never mind,” Thunder said from close behind him. Larwin slowly turned to face Thunder. “It’s too complicated to explain.”
What was so complex? Presumably, instead of napping in the clearing with Kazza, Nimri was facing the beast alone and she needed help.
“Get back to your flowers.”
“You’re hurt. I must help you, then I can-“
Larwin gave Thunder a look, guaranteed to shrivel green recruits. “Now listen to me and listen well. If that madrox kills Nimri because she’s following your damned plan, I’ll make sure you have the slowest, most painful death possible. Understand?” Thunder raised a brow. “Now get back there and do your part.”
Thunder’s smile lit his eyes and the feathers fluttered as if they were dancing with delight. “You aren’t the only one who cares for her.”
He didn’t need that reminder or the friendly smile. “Go brew your damned storm.”
Thunder nodded and motioned to the Yetis. They gamboled across the plateau, and settled in the patch of purple flowers.
Larwin finished setting up the machine, then detached the viewer from his belt, and watched the madrox’s strange flashing oscillations. This was the stupidest strategy anyone in the history of warfare had ever planned.
Paired wings beating in dissonance, the beast looked more like a bizarre crippled bird than burning death.
The mouth opened wide enough to swallow a sequoia and the monster bellowed.
Larwin dropped the viewer and held his ears as throbbing pain constricted around his eardrums. Sweat bathed his brow and though he saw GEA-4’s mouth moving as she counted off the seconds to battle, for once, he couldn’t hear her.
“Come back here.” Larwin knew he’d shouted, but he couldn’t hear himself. “You don’t need a thousand auras, come get mine!”
Larwin keyed off the audio, then put his viewer back on. The damned beast was heading toward the village. What good was building the machine and nearly killing himself to haul it up here or worrying about Nimri being the bait, if she and Thunder couldn’t fulfill their part of the cockamamie plan? How was he expected to protect an entire planet, when he had to wait for the beast to come to him, instead of go after it? Larwin clutched the twisted black wood while he watched the madrox continue toward the village.
He closed his eyes and petitioned the War God. “Kues, these are good, decent people. Take me and allow Nimri to survive. Thunder, too, since she obviously loves him.”
Star Bridge (Chaterre Trilogy Book 1) Page 27
