by L. E. Horn
As she waited for Andrea and other Healers to arrive from the rebel camp, she would have time to herself. Her heart galloped as she increased her pace, heading for Michael’s hut. If he’s still here . . .
She caught his unique scent on the breeze a fraction of a second before a long arm reached out from the shadow of a tree to snag her.
“Lianndra.” Lifting and bracing her against the tree trunk, Michael buried his face in her hair.
With her back to the mossy bark, Lianndra wrapped her legs around his slim hips. She heard his breath catch.
“I don’t have long. Karn is waiting for me.” His voice cracked. “The others have already gone.”
She nodded, unable to speak. They had just found each other, and now they would separate once again. Possibly for good this time. “Let’s promise we will do what we can to survive.” Lianndra’s voice trembled, and she searched his eyes, silver circles around huge pupils. I could lose myself in those eyes. I wish I could. To become one with him and never be separated again.
His expression reflected the impossibility of what she asked. He would be fighting Fang on a wave of Berserker rage. She would be in a spaceship, taking on vessels a hundred times their size. On the face of it, the chances of either surviving seemed remote.
“We’ve beat long odds before,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting in an attempted smile that quickly faded. “Lianndra . . .”
She stopped him with a touch to his lips. “I know.” Lianndra drifted her finger along his cheek to the line of his jaw. “We will live through this, and we will live happily ever after.” She smiled, but a single tear trickled down her cheek.
He choked out a laugh and opened his mouth to reply, but she didn’t let him speak. She smothered his words by kissing him, pushing her tongue past his lips to merge with his. As Lianndra clung to him, she retracted her hair until she was smooth, warm and naked in his arms. She flexed her fingers, digging her claws into the muscles of his back before dancing them along his shoulder blades.
Michael groaned under her lips. His body reacted as she tightened the embrace of her legs and wound her tail around his thigh. She peeled off his shirt and fumbled her clawed fingers lower, nipping him lightly on the shoulder with her teeth. He growled as she released him. His enticing, musky aroma enveloped her. Skin as soft as silk but burning hot to the touch sheathed his hard muscles. She purred low and sank her claws in deeper.
His response was electric. His growl rasped into a snarl, and she traced his canines with her tongue as they slid into place. Lianndra molded her body to Michael’s, and he shuddered in response. He lost any semblance of control, pinning her against the tree and plunging into her with a desperation that drove the breath from her body. Her moans matched his, rising in pitch until, with a last penetration of claw and flesh, they cried out together.
Lianndra slid to a crouch on the ground, cradling Michael’s bowed head in her arms. She rested her forehead against his hair. They sat together as they recovered their breath and composure.
“You’re a little hard on the body.” He lifted his head, and she caught a flash of white teeth as he grinned. Then he flexed his shoulder and winced at the bloody marks already healing on his back.
She punched him in the chest.
“Oof. More abuse?” He cracked another smile but had trouble maintaining it. “At least my clothes are intact this time.”
Lianndra smiled but didn’t trust herself to speak. She just stared at him as if trying to memorize every angle and contour.
He lost his smile. “You take my breath away,” he whispered.
Lianndra’s heart lurched as she took his face in her hands and kissed him. He traced the line of her lips. Then, with a sigh, he slid a hand under her elbow and helped her to stand.
“I’ve gotta go.” His clothing rustled as he pulled his shirt back on.
“I know.” She leaned back against the tree. Her hands itched to hold him, to sink her claws in and not let go.
He pulled her into his arms and bent to kiss her. She kissed him back, hard, arms around his neck. Placing his hands on her shoulders, Michael eased her away from him lest they get started all over again.
He cupped her cheek in his hand. “Be safe.”
“You too,” she whispered.
Then he strode toward the valley entrance where Karn waited for him.
Lianndra sank back to the ground under the tree as the earth trembled, and the plasma cannon rained fire in a rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart.
LIANNDRA REMAINED SEATED ON THE ground beneath the tree when Wilf found her.
“Are the Healers here?” She wiped the back of her hand across her face.
“Are who here?” The awakening dawn painted the miniGryph’s disheveled mane bright gold and brilliant blue. Only now did she notice the tray he held. “I have brought you some food.” He settled on the ground beside her. “Michael left?”
“Yes.” Lianndra looked away from him, biting her lip to keep back the tears. Get a hold of yourself, girl. We are all in the same boat.
“I am happy to see the two of you have sorted things out.” Wilf did sound satisfied. “I am tired of having to scuffle my feet, so I did not sneak up on him and get my head bitten off.” He offered her roasted meat rolled in fresh bread. “You need to eat while you can.”
To her horror, the small act of kindness completely undid her composure. She dissolved into tears.
“Now, there.” Wilf took it all in stride as if females often wept in his presence. He leaned over to touch her on the arm. “It will be all right, you’ll see.” When Lianndra’s tears turned into gasping sobs, he put down the tray and folded his legs into a lying position, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
She buried her face in his feathery mane, inhaling a spicy scent that took her straight back to her grandmother’s kitchen after a baking spree. Perhaps the memory broke something within her, opening the floodgates of long-suppressed emotion.
Before she knew it, Lianndra heard herself telling Wilf about meeting Michael on Earth, being attacked by a shark, her life as a slave, finding Michael again—the whole ugly and beautiful saga.
No one else knew the entire story. Hannah and Andrea knew some of it. Michael had lived part of it with her. Lianndra was not the type to talk about her private life. In fact, she preferred not to. Now she told Wilf her story in its entirety.
Lianndra tried to stem the flow of words, but despite her efforts, she didn’t succeed. After she finally fell silent, Wilf managed to get her to eat. She took a bite and swallowed without chewing.
“Wilf, I’m so sorry. I have no idea what came over me.” She desperately attempted to re-establish her good standing with the miniGryph. “I’m sure you have enough worries. You don’t need to hear about mine.”
“On the contrary”—Wilf’s ears stood straight up—“I am most pleased you unburdened yourself to me. You cannot keep expecting to resolve problems all on your own. If you continue to do so, it could drive you mad.”
Lianndra grimaced. Have I been that obvious? “I always mope around.” She considered Wilf’s description of Michael’s bad moods. “My troubles are no worse than anyone else’s. Many have it far worse than I.”
“It is all relative,” he said, “but, in truth, Michael and yourself have been instrumental to the success of this rebellion.”
“You call this success?” Lianndra stared at him. “Michael left to fight a bigger and better-armed enemy. I’m challenging a Fang Mothership with a flea-sized craft.” It dawned on her it was a Gryphon flea-sized craft, and she’d likely insulted Wilf.
Wilf seemed to take no offense, perhaps because of its accuracy.
Or maybe he doesn’t know what a flea is, she thought.
“Your efforts have given us a chance where none existed before.” He moved his arm off her shoulders, selecting another roll for her. “Fate works in mysterious ways.”
“I don’t think I believe in Fate.” Liannd
ra took the roll from him and indulged in a big bite.
“Believing in Fate is like believing in a god,” he said. “You must have faith.”
Lianndra swallowed. “Do Gryphon believe in a god?” She’d not heard any mention of such.
“For Gryphon, belief is an individual journey,” Wilf replied. “We are raised with a strict set of moral guidelines and with maturity comes the wisdom to apply them. Since Gryphon have the shared advantages of long life spans and low birthrates, it guarantees us the time needed to find our internal balance.”
“On Earth, humans often use religion as an excuse to go to war,” Lianndra said. “As to whether I believe in God, I don’t know. After everything that’s happened, it’s sort of like believing in miracles.”
Wilf’s mane stood up on end and his long ears flattened. “Your lack of belief surprises me, considering what you just told me.”
Lianndra raised an eyebrow.
Wilf numbered things off with his fingers. “First, you win a holiday in a warmer clime where you get attacked by a snark.” Lianndra almost choked on her roll at his error but didn’t correct him. “Then you are rescued by a charming young man who takes you diving, where you are kidnapped and enslaved, then sold to the Tlok’mk, genetically altered, and sent to the front lines of an alien war. After all this, you are reunited with the charming young man, who becomes a little less charming but much more useful, and the two of you free other slaves to start a rebellion.”
Lianndra stopped chewing. More succinct than my tirade. I can’t believe he listened to the entire thing. When he puts it like that, it seems like coincidence is a little hard to believe.
“Now, do you believe you have accomplished all this just to die?” Wilf tilted his head to one side.
The roll stuck in her throat. She swallowed hard. The odds of success were too low to warrant calculating, yet somehow Wilf’s words pushed the grim facts to the background.
“Not if Fate has anything to say about it,” she smiled. I have to believe we will survive this. Anything else leads to madness and long, tearful confessions to a disheveled miniGryph.
Wilf selected a roll for himself. Still a little awkward about unburdening herself to him, Lianndra shifted uncomfortably. Then she remembered to ask him something. “Wilf, what does tereck ray mean?”
“Tirrek raih,” he said, giving the words a beautiful rolling trill. He swallowed the rest of his food and straightened. “Tirrek raih translates to English as ‘tread lightly.’” He tilted his head at her and flicked his long ears. “It is the chorus of a children’s song we use when teaching them English.”
To Lianndra’s surprise, Wilf started to sing. The words were English, but the miniGryph’s voice had a beautiful, melodic sound reminiscent of a pan flute.
“The Cerax are creatures of the sky,
On wings of blue and green they fly.
Slashing teeth make others dread,
But if they die—then so must I.
So tread lightly upon the land.
The Barl are creatures of the bog,
Beware the tendrils in the fog.
One false step leads you astray,
But if they die—then so must I.
So tread lightly upon the land.
The Vertraax are creatures of the dunes,
They search for prey beneath twin moons.
Scales and teeth and spikes of armor,
But if they die—then so must I.
So tread lightly upon the land.
The Darkon are creatures of the stones,
Deep in the mountains they make their home.
Protect their secret from all who come,
For if they die—then so must I.
So tread lightly upon the land.
We are connected to all that live,
We are guardians of the gift that gives.
Protect the balance and all will thrive,
So long as you tread lightly upon the land.”
“It was originally entitled Tarin’s Song.” Wilf’s mane flattened. “It represents an ancient life philosophy the Gryphon follow to this day. The words ‘tread lightly’ are used by my people as an expression of fare-thee-well.” He blinked slowly, as if lost in painful memories.
“It’s beautiful,” Lianndra said. It’s a philosophy that speaks to all things Gryphon. The earth shook beneath her in response to the cannon, and chills chased down her spine. We must save them. If there is a higher power overseeing us all, we must prevail. In this conflict of good versus evil, surely we are in the right.
Before she could say anything more, the drum of Gryphon feet at the valley entrance interrupted them. The Healers had arrived.
Lianndra met Wilf’s eyes, which seemed more liquid than usual. She nodded and stood.
“If we’re going to save the world,” she told him, “then it is time I went to work.”
LIANNDRA STOOD IN THE UNDERGROUND forest as she guided Andrea and two other Healers through the process of establishing contact with the Darkon.
Try as she might, Andrea would start to connect and something deep within her would interfere.
I should have known she might have mental barricades that could interfere with the connection, Lianndra thought. She long suspected her friend possessed memories from her past on Earth that she subconsciously blocked. Communication is a two-way street, particularly telepathic communication. Even a slight hesitation from one partner can form an effective wall neither will get past.
The fact Andrea possessed unresolved issues seemed ironic, considering she’d made most of her living as a life coach back on Earth. Most people interested in exploring life’s curveballs likely have personal experiences guiding them toward that path. After all, you can’t teach what you don’t know. Given an opportunity, Lianndra might be able to help her work past the blocks, but they didn’t have the time.
Finally, the tall woman gave up. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she said, “I just can’t seem to get past a certain point.”
“It’s okay, Andrea. It’s difficult to do.” Lianndra touched her friend’s arm. I shouldn’t have asked this of her. It’s too much. She didn’t know the details of Andrea’s past but knew it left some pretty deep scars.
Ever perceptive, Hannah seemed to heed the undercurrents between the two Healers. She gave Andrea a quick hug, before saying with a smile, “I’ve practiced a lot and I still can’t do what Lianndra can. I connect with the critters, but I lose it with the slightest distraction. I think it’s a focus issue.” She shrugged. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Focus isn’t my forte.”
It doesn’t help they all know success means a suicide mission, Lianndra thought. At least I didn’t have all that pressure on me when I first made contact with the Darkon.
Another Healer, Tara, had her eyes closed and a grin on her face. The Darkon on her shoulder tilted its head toward her. Lianndra worked with Tara at the main rebel camp. A cheerful woman, she had thick brown hair woven into elaborate braids wound around her head. Although she could grow her hair like the other Healers, Tara preferred to clothe herself traditionally. She had cobbled together a dress from old slave rags, complete with full, swirling skirts that hid her tail.
It looks kind of nice, Lianndra thought. Tara had the thick, muscular build of a natural athlete and the dresses made her look more feminine. Maybe that’s why she likes them.
As Lianndra approached, Tara’s mouth opened in a wide smile. “They do talk in pictures!” She seemed elated.
And we have victim number two. “Good, Tara. Just spend a little more time talking to them. Then we’ll go on to the next step.”
She looked at the last Healer—Olive—a small woman with glossy dark hair and Asian features. Her eyes were open but glazed over because she focused all her concentration on the attempted communication with her Darkon. The little creature extended its neck and made a high-pitched trill, its spikes standing erect. Olive smiled, and Lianndra knew they had three Healers to work with the
Darkon.
She turned to Andrea.
“Wish I was going with you on this one.” Andrea’s eyes flooded with tears. “Seems like we just got back together and off you go again.”
“Well, at least I’ll have company,” Hannah said to the tall Healer. “We can take on the Fang army as a team.”
Lianndra hugged Andrea and Hannah. “We’ll be together again. I promise.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
MICHAEL ARRIVED AT THE REBEL camp early the next morning. Lianndra occupied his thoughts as he waited for the last of the movers and shakers to arrive within the crowded mess tent. He nodded to Sean and Tomas when they spotted him and hovered nearby.
Michael’s preoccupation continued despite their presence. With every breath, he could smell Lianndra; it was as if her scent permeated his skin. When he closed his eyes, it seemed as though she stood beside him, and it eased the chaos brewing in his soul.
He withdrew from his inner contemplation when Drake spoke. An enormous holomap hovered in the center. The captain held a holopointer that reminded Michael of Virra and her little pointing device. Must be a leader thing.
Drake rolled the holopointer between his fingers as he talked. “The plasma cannon knocked out the planet’s satellite surveillance systems with its first blast. We’ve based this new intel on the latest extrapolations from surface surveillance.” Drake inclined his head toward Kesar. “The Tlok’mk units have combined to form one army, and our latest scouting reports have them headed for this canyon.” He used the pointer to show a dark groove on the map, a large canyon carved by an ancient river.
As everyone stared at it, Michael found himself flooded with memories of a river canyon he and Trent once rafted back on Earth. Trent . . . Michael wrenched himself away from those memories. They always lead me down dark paths.
