Hot Zone

by Cindy Dees

  He scratched the horse’s ears affectionately and murmured, “Go back to sleep, boy.”

  Cygna poked her nose at him sleepily, and he gave it a brief rub, too.

  He waded quietly across the shallow stream and found a flat spot on the far side. He sat down cross-legged and assumed a comfortable meditation pose. He sank deeply into the nearly unconscious portion of his mind.

  It had been a long time since he had done this. Too long.

  First, he rendered his naked flesh impervious to the chill around him. Then he released the residual tension of his lovemaking with Tessa from his body. The remains of her pleasure clung to him, bits of violet energy that tingled tantalizingly, seducing him anew, begging him to come back and fly with her again.

  That woman could very easily become an addiction in his blood. To do that with her whenever the urge struck, to show her all the variations he’d learned in his extensive travels…

  Focus.

  Meticulously, he cleared the violet shards of energy from his aura. And strangely enough, lost something in the process. With each bit of her he pulled free and discarded, his mind felt less sharp, his perception muddier.

  When his aura was finally clear of her, restored to its usual cobalt-blue for the first time since he’d laid eyes on her, he reached deep inside himself to access that inner wellspring from whence came his power.

  It was dry.

  Empty.

  Dark.

  He’d done something wrong.

  He started over, even going so far as to stand up and walk around a bit before sitting back down and repeating the entire ritual, clearing his mind, releasing all tension and sinking deep into his unconscious.

  And it was exactly the same. Except a little more of the color had faded out of his aura.

  Not only had Tessa stolen some of his power, she’d stolen all of it!

  For the first time in his adult life, Rustam panicked. Not even when he’d woken from the wreck and realized he was stranded in this remote corner of the world had he completely lost his cool. He’d still had his power. It gave him a weapon of survival among these strangers, gave him hope that one day he would find his way home. As long as he had his power, he would be all right.

  But now…

  Now he was well and truly lost.

  Tessa woke up groggily a little after sunrise the next morning. She felt as if she’d been asleep for days. Her swim toward consciousness was slow and reluctant. She felt weighed down, as if something heavy lay over not only her body, but her entire psyche.

  Dang. Her first love hangover.

  Lest she entertain the thought that it had all been an incredible dream, her body protested fiercely as she tried to move. She was sore from head to foot this morning. It had been well worth it, however. She doubted she would ever again in her lifetime experience anything that came close to last night.

  Where was Rustam, anyway? The horses were grazing side by side not far away. Last night’s fire was dead, and the camp was undisturbed. She bolted to a sitting position in quick alarm. He hadn’t left, had he? While her body punished her for the abrupt movement, she looked around frantically.

  There. Beyond the trees. He was sitting on the far side of the sluggish trickle of water that ran through the clearing. She sagged in relief. It looked as if he was meditating. She frowned and glanced down at the bedroll beside her. It was unrumpled. Had he spent all night there?

  She levered herself cautiously to her feet, wincing every inch of the way. It felt as if she’d gone a few rounds with a heavyweight boxer. And lost. Badly.

  She made her way to the bathing basin and poked a toe in. The water was ice-cold this morning. She settled for dipping a corner of one of Rustam’s towels into it and giving herself a fast, uncomfortable sponge bath. At least that woke her up.

  She spent several minutes doing careful stretching exercises, gradually loosening her muscles to a semblance of functionality. And still Rustam sat on his rock, his eyes closed, his muscular body utterly still.

  Although there was no expression on his face, strong emotion rolled off of him, visible even over here. If she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, pale blue light seemed to emanate from him. Strange. The last time she’d seen energy coming off of him, it had been a vibrant violet-blue. Maybe he was just tired. After their rather athletic evening and an all-night vigil, it made sense.

  She got dressed, lit the fire and hung the pot of last night’s stew over the flames to warm. While it reheated, she packed up their camp. Since Rustam was naked over there—how he wasn’t frozen solid, she had no idea—she laid out his leggings and a light tunic.

  When there was nothing left to do but eat, tighten the saddles and go, she headed to the stream.

  “Rustam?” she called quietly.

  He didn’t give any indication of having heard her. Wow. Must be in a deep state of trance or hypnosis or whatever it was he did. They really did need to get going. The Persian army was not that far behind them.

  Sighing, she kicked off her boots, hiked up her pant legs and waded across the stream. She tried again. “Rustam?”

  Still nothing.

  She reached out and touched his shoulder.

  Several things happened all at once. First, a violent explosion of energy passed between them, so strong and bright that even she could see it. Violet beams of light raced all around them. His aura abruptly went from pale blue to brilliant cobalt and back to that indigo mix of violet and blue that she was used to.

  Second, a blast of mental awareness burst inside her skull. All of a sudden, she was vividly aware of the smallest sound around her, of the color and energy of the air and rocks and blades of grass. The bronze wedge’s signature burned bright and clear, still southeast of their position, a bright beacon of energy calling her to it.

  Third, and much more alarming than the previous two events, Rustam surged up off the rock, grabbing her wrist and twisting it with enough force to drop her to her knees before him.

  “Why do you give it back to me now, witch?” he snarled.

  She snapped, “Would you please stop talking in riddles and throwing tantrums when I have no bloody idea what you’re talking about?”

  He flung her hand away from him. Still on her knees, she glared up at him. “I asked you a question, and I’d appreciate an answer. What the hell are you talking about?”

  He glared down at her, magnificent in his unclothed fury. “You took all of my power last night, but you just gave it back to me. Why? What did you do with it all night?”

  She climbed to her feet, fists clenched at her sides, and glared back up at him. Their height difference probably diminished the effectiveness of her aggressive stance, but he was a bright boy. He would get the point. She’d had it with his displays of childish temper.

  “Rustam. I slept all night. Like the dead. I didn’t take your power. I didn’t do anything with it. And if you think I just gave it back to you, bully for you. But frankly, I don’t give a damn one way or the other. I’ve got places to go and things to do, and the day’s a’wasting. If you want to sit here on your rock and pout some more, be my guest. But I’m leaving. Now.”

  She pivoted smartly on her heel and marched across the stream with as much military precision as she could muster. She put her boots back on and stalked over to Cygna. The mare was skittish, and Tessa had to stop and take a deep, calming breath.

  “I’m sorry, girl. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that the man drives me completely crazy.” She tugged on the girth strap and started to knot it.

  Big hands came out of nowhere from behind her and pushed hers away gently. “Go eat some soup. You need your strength. I’ll take care of the horses.”

  His voice was neutral, betraying nothing—not anger, not calm, not even a note of apology. She nodded stiffly and ducked out from under his arm. She split the soup between their two bowls giving him more since he was nearly twice her size, ate hers quickly, and then took the cooking pot
to the stream to scrub with a handful of sand and rinse clean.

  When she turned around, Rustam was holding a set of reins in each hand, his expression stony. She walked over and took Cygna from him in silence. They mounted up, and he turned Polaris’s nose to the south. She fell in behind him.

  They rode hard through the day, taking only two rest stops. Each time, Rustam worked on the horses, passing his hands over them and noticeably refreshing the beasts. She half wished he would offer to do the same for her.

  But after what had happened to her when he’d passed his hands over her like that last night, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. She didn’t need to be any more sensitive and tender than she already was.

  Sometime in the early afternoon, she became aware of a faint salt smell in the air. The day grew muggy and uncomfortable as the sun rose higher overhead, beating down upon them mercilessly. They must be getting close to the coast. Which meant they were also getting close to Thermopylae.

  The name sent a thrill shivering through her—it was arguably one of the most famous battlefields in all of recorded history. And she was about to walk upon its hallowed sands. Before it was sanctified with the blood of heroes.

  Rustam murmured over his shoulder—the first time he’d spoken to her all day. “Bring Cygna up here beside me.”

  They picked their way along the floor of a winding valley. With the exception of plentiful scree, the going was fairly easy. She urged her mare forward, and Cygna obediently moved up next to Polaris.

  Tessa arched an eyebrow at Rustam but said nothing. If he wanted to get over his sulk and be civil with her, he could make the first move.

  He surprised her by holding out a hand to her, palm up. Without looking at her, he said, “Give me your hand.”

  He seemed to be concentrating fiercely on something—something that worried him more than a little. There was a time and a place for picking fights, and one for just following orders. She sensed that this was the latter.

  Rather than distract him, she reached out to him without arguing.

  The moment their hands touched, that wild swirl of energy leaped and jumped around them both. The horses threw their heads up sharply, but settled quickly. Steady beasts, both of them.

  Rustam continued to study the mountains intently. Finally, he muttered, “Greek patrol off to the west. They haven’t spotted us. If we can get out of this valley in the next few minutes, we’ll be clear of them.”

  His hand dropped away from hers and the indigo energy between them dissipated. He urged Polaris into a careful trot. Cygna followed suit, and Tessa focused all her attention on helping the mare navigate the uneven ground. They slowed only when Rustam spotted an overhang high up the side of the valley and headed for it.

  They had to dismount and lead the horses up the last part of the climb out of the valley. But they made it to the deep shade of a broad rock before anyone came along to spot them. Tessa was breathing as hard as her horse and grateful for the rest as they waited in their makeshift hiding spot.

  Rustam held out his hand again. Wordlessly, she laid her palm in his.

  This time, standing shoulder to shoulder with him in the confined space, she felt his mind ranging outward, probing the terrain around them. Her own awareness expanded to encompass the local area. She felt the living creatures nearby, tiny pinpricks of energy crawling, crouching and slithering.

  There. Off to the west. Three—no, four—large energy sources clumped together, moving toward the north. That must be the patrol he’d sensed earlier.

  The scouts were much closer than she’d realized. Rustam didn’t need to tell her to be still while they passed by. The two of them and the horses huddled together quietly, waiting. This time Rustam did not release her hand.

  A wave of protectiveness passed through his fingers and flowed over her. As angry as he might be with her, he couldn’t help being who he was and taking care of her. She supposed it came with the territory of being an alpha male. Still, it must be hard to feel responsible for other people.

  The Greek patrol passed perilously close to them, but then began to grow distant once more, moving off to the north, no doubt in search of the Persian army.

  “No, it isn’t hard most of the time.”

  She started. Stared up questioningly at Rustam.

  He repeated, “It has its rewards, being a—how do you call it? An alpha male? Better that than some herd gelding who trudges along through life, docilely doing whatever he’s told.”

  Okay, then. So now he could pick her thoughts out of her head.

  He snorted. “Like you can’t do the same thing to me?”

  She jerked her hand away from his.

  Yeah, but he didn’t have a massive secret like she did. If he picked up on the fact that she was a time traveler, she didn’t even want to think about how he would react.

  An even more alarming realization slammed into her. Sometimes he was able to pick up her thoughts when they weren’t touching. She had to find a way not to think about…that…at all!

  Caution dictated that she get far, far away from this dangerous man, as quickly as possible. Small problem, however. She needed him. No way could she navigate this rugged terrain and work her way past not one, but two, armies without his psychic powers of detecting people nearby.

  No doubt about it. As soon as they made it through the pass, she had to get rid of him.

  He flashed her a sharp look all of a sudden.

  Great. Had he heard what she’d just thought?

  Twelve

  Rustam muttered to her, “We’ve got a problem.”

  She didn’t wait for the command this time but went ahead and stuck out her hand. What now?

  Over there.

  Okay, she’d definitely heard his answering thought. They officially had some sort of telepathic link whenever they held hands, now.

  She reached out hesitantly with her mind to seek life signs nearby like he did, unsure of the skill and how to use it. But it didn’t take any great expert to sense the Greek patrol that had passed earlier, running frantically back this way, scrambling over the rocks heedlessly, panicked.

  She cast her awareness out beyond the men.

  Oh, no.

  A great, teeming mass of energy surged southward, not more than a mile away. Xerxes’s army.

  They aren’t supposed to get here until tomorrow!

  Rustam looked disgusted as he thought back, This is probably an advance guard. He no doubt sent them ahead at high speed to seize the pass. He can only bring a few hundred men into the narrow gap at a time, so there’s no need to have a hundred thousand troops at Thermopylae before he engages the Greeks.

  Doing her best to keep panic under control, she transmitted, Any thoughts on what we do now?

  Let those Greeks pass back to the south of us and then follow them.

  To Thermopylae?

  We’ll have to find another way around the pass. We can’t go through it now.

  Her stomach plunged. There was always the fabled goat path that a Greek traitor had supposedly shown to the Persians and which had spelled the demise of the three hundred Spartans holding the pass. How could she suggest they search for it when nobody was supposed to know about it yet?

  Rustam muttered aloud, “Those Greeks aren’t heading for the pass proper. Perhaps they came around it another way. Let’s follow them.”

  The patrol was ahead of them now, racing south to warn their generals of the arrival of the Persians. Problem was, they were on foot, and Rustam and Tessa had two big, impossible-to-hide horses with them.

  They couldn’t abandon the beasts—they needed Polaris and Cygna for the rest of their journey. The horses could make twice the speed and three times the distance of a man in a day, and they could do so day after day.

  The Greeks stayed inland, fleeing through the mountains, following a chain of gullies and narrow washes that led generally southward. Behind Tessa and Rustam, a small party broke off from the main Persian force, fol
lowing the same route. It became increasingly hard to move stealthily between the two forces and conceal the presence of the horses.

  Finally Rustam stopped. “This isn’t working,” he murmured. “Take off Cygna’s bridle and stow it in your saddlebag.”

  “Take off—” she started to ask. What did he have in mind?

  He flashed her one of those military-commander looks that she used on her own troops when there was no time to explain, but she knew what she was doing.

  She shut her mouth and reached up to unbuckle the mare’s bridle.

  Rustam muttered, “Take your water skins but leave everything else on the animal. Tie it down securely.”

  She did as he instructed. He made a quick visual inspection of her work, nodded his approval and gave her girth a tug to tighten it. Then he did the oddest thing. He laid his forehead against Polaris’s. The mighty stallion closed his eyes, and for all the world it looked as if the two were communicating with one another.

  Rustam did the same with Cygna, who jittered nervously at first, then closed her eyes and tolerated his forehead against hers.

  Rustam straightened, then breathed, “Go.”

  Tessa opened her mouth to protest as the two horses turned around, to head back down the slope they’d just climbed. He was letting the horses go? Was he insane?

  Lightning-fast, Rustam reached out to clap a hard hand over her mouth, and an image of a half-dozen new human signatures close behind them flooded her mind. She looked up fearfully at Rustam and nodded to indicate she’d seen the new threat.

  The Persians. He sent the message silently.

  We’re trapped! she sent back.

  Not yet. Follow me. He moved off, easing up the slope before them, making his way mostly below the broken profiles of the plentiful boulders littering the slope.

  The barren, rocky terrain and incredible heat reminded her of summer in Afghanistan. She’d pulled a tour there a while back and had done her share of patrols in the hills around their base camp. It was hard enough scrambling up and down mountainsides like this but to do it quietly and without being seen was ten times as hard.