Clan and Crown (15 page)

Egilka settled down to sit across from
Clajak. “As long as we don’t get caught before we make it to
Joshada, this should work out. But I’m not congratulating you until
I’m on that planet and can’t be shoved out an airlock.”

Clajak grinned. “That’s the spirit,
Imdiko.”

Another worry asserted itself. Egilka
asked, “What about food and drink? We’re a week away from Joshada,
and that’s assuming the ship doesn’t make any stops along the
way.”

Clajak leaned forward and tapped the
container Egilka leaned his back against. “You like leshella and
Plasian produce, don’t you? Nellus berries, shalla stalks, fesess
bulbs?”

Egilka’s mouth dropped open. He stared
at the etchings on the shipping plaque, trying to will his brain to
read Adraf. “Is that what’s in here?”

“A feast fit for the future rulers of
the Kalquorian Empire,” Clajak laughed.

Egilka began to feel better about the
situation. He still didn’t like that they were hitching a ride that
could end with them floating in space, but the tide felt as if it
was turning to their benefit.

He let the first mote of hope enter his
being. “Well, the accommodations may not be great, but I like the
dining options.”

“Do you still hate me?”

Egilka refused to answer the question
truthfully. Clajak did not need that kind of ammunition to use
against him later. “I loathe you. You are hopeless,” he insisted
instead.

“That’s what they all say in the
beginning. Then they adore me.” Clajak’s charming grin came at
Egilka in full force.

Pretending it didn’t affect him, the
Imdiko shook his head. Clajak was too much trouble to be
borne.

* * * *

Hours passed. The two men dozed in the
bay once Egilka got used to the sounds of the crew loading the
remaining freight in the hold. Though Clajak felt sure their
presence had not been noted, his companion jumped at every little
noise for the first hour. At last the Imdiko calmed and exhaustion
took over. He fell asleep sitting against the container of Plasian
produce, his long legs splayed wide, jaw slack, head
lolling.

Clajak was tired himself, but he
couldn’t manage more than drowsing for a few minutes at a time. In
between those moments of respite, he contemplated his
companion.

Would Egilka refuse to clan with
Clajak? The prince was sure that Egilka didn’t truly despise him,
except during moments of extreme stress. Sometimes he even thought
the Imdiko adored him, almost as much as Clajak adored Egilka. Yet
there was no doubt he had to be re-thinking their betrothal. After
being beaten, running for his life, driven into hiding, and now
made to skulk in a cargo hold like an outlaw, Egilka was probably
ready to jettison Clajak like so much flotsam.

The prince hoped it wasn’t too late to
salvage their relationship. The more Clajak was around Egilka, the
more he found himself hopelessly in love with the man. Despite the
stoic, duty-driven demeanor, the Imdiko showed himself to have
heroic reserves needed in tight spots. Hadn’t he gotten Clajak out
of the brothel and away from Ru’imbu when the prince would have
stayed to fight? If Clajak had gotten his way, it would have
resulted in a diplomatic snafu between Kalquor and Bi’is at best
and enslavement at the worst. Egilka’s cool head had been the
perfect foil for Clajak’s temper in that situation. Not to mention
the man had stopped the Tragoom slaves from catching the prince in
the city’s square.

Clajak thought that despite all the
trouble he’d gotten them into, he was good for Egilka too. Maybe
the Imdiko was figuring that out. He’d looked to Clajak to get them
out of several tight spots. He’d also bowed to Clajak’s demands
when the Dramok had made them, letting Clajak show his capacity to
lead.

Clajak wanted Egilka to have more
opportunities see the good they could do together once they got out
of this mess.

The prince stared at his companion,
drowning in sentiment. Even with his face drawn from exhaustion and
worry, stubble darkening his jaw, and spit forming at the corner of
his lax mouth, Egilka was beautiful to Clajak. The prince had to
fight off the urge to crawl close, to draw the Imdiko into his
arms, to hold him and pet him and reassure him that everything
would be all right in the end. If Egilka hadn’t needed to rest so
badly, Clajak would have done just that.

The prince judged about three hours had
passed when the sounds of loading cargo stopped. He dozed fitfully
for another hour before the squalling metallic sound of the hatch
sliding shut startled Egilka into wakefulness. The dim light showed
Clajak the Imdiko’s wide frightened eyes. He slid over to Egilka
and finally got to wrap his companion in his arms. By the
ancestors, it felt right to hold the man close.

“They finished loading,” he murmured in
Egilka’s ear. “It won’t be long now. We should be taking off
soon.”

Just before the hatch finished closing,
shutting them in perfect darkness, Clajak saw Egilka lick his lips.
There was a catch in the Imdiko’s voice as he replied. “I don’t
know if I can handle a weeklong trip to Joshada in a dark cargo
hold.”

“We’ll do a lot of fucking,” Clajak
said with forced brightness. “That will pass the time.”

Egilka was not amused. “By the
ancestors, Clajak. What is wrong with you?”

The prince
sighed
. I’m in love with you and I don’t
have a clue as to how to make you love me back.

Instead of pouring out stupid youngling
notions of love, Clajak said, “It’s called surviving, my friend. I
can’t believe that idiot Bi’isil prince went to such lengths to try
to catch us. Well, me anyway.” He tried for levity once more.
“Ru’imbu needs to discover a taste for the finer things. I’m no
prize. I’d make a shitty slave. You, on the other hand, have a nice
ass. If the little gray bastard had any sense, he’d want you for
his harem.”

Egilka snorted derision, but Clajak
thought he detected a small note of amusement. “You are such a
shit,” the Imdiko told him in a mild tone.

“Yes, my sweet, I know.”

The floor beneath them vibrated. Then
the very air around them seemed to shake, and Egilka grabbed hold
of Clajak. A rumble like thunder filled Clajak’s ears, growing
louder until he winced at the roar.

“The engines,” he yelled. “We’re
finally getting off Dantovon.”

“Thank the ancestors!” Egilka shouted
back. “Tell me it’s not going to be this loud the entire trip
though.”

“Hopefully, only for the liftoff.”
Clajak grinned into the darkness, feeling better as he thought of
Ru’imbu searching for them in vain. “If not, we could always sneak
out. Maybe there is an unoccupied cabin up top.”

“Fuck that. We’ll get caught the way
our luck’s been running.”

Clajak laughed heartily, knowing their
getaway was as good as made. “Yeah, well there’s a reason I chose
an Adraf craft to make our escape.”

“What reason would that be?”

Before Clajak could answer him, the
engines’ blast rose to deafening. The shaking around them became a
continuous shudder, like a mighty creature heaving its bulk from
the earth. It was a valid supposition; the freighter was taking
off. With brute force it left the demanding pull of Dantovon’s
gravity, fighting itself free. The rockets beneath it pushed the
ship inch by torturous inch into the sky, gaining slowly on the
outer reaches of the atmosphere and the quiet disinterested apathy
of space.

As their conveyance moved ever closer
to freedom, Clajak tightened his grip on Egilka, drawing him as
close as he could. Egilka let himself be held. His body molded
against Clajak’s as if it had been made to join with his. Feeling
the Imdiko so soft, so yielding, gave the prince the assurance that
even if he did entertain reservations about their clanship, Egilka
would eventually come around.

Chapter 7

Damn Clajak. Egilka scowled into the
black nothingness surrounding them. Why couldn’t he stay pissed off
at the man?

Here they were, hiding in a cargo hold
of an Adraf ship, stowing away to escape a vengeful Bi’isil prince.
Egilka was bruised and battered, weary to his very soul. It was all
Clajak’s fault. Yet the arms holding him were as strong as the
steel that the prince’s hair resembled. The body against his was
firm, young, desirable. The man’s temperament, pure fire and
passion, inflamed Egilka’s placid soul. Clajak made the Imdiko feel
alive.

As much as Egilka wanted to continue to
be angry at Clajak, he couldn’t manage it. Not with that warm,
exciting body clutched close to his, sheltering him. Arousing him.
Had Clajak pressed him to the floor, pushed down his pants, and
delivered caresses and kisses to his still aching body, Egilka
would have spread his thighs for the man. He would have welcomed
Clajak’s desire with his own, giving himself over to whatever the
prince wanted of him.

Beyond the sheer delight of the
Dramok’s masterful lovemaking skills, having sex right now would
warm Egilka in the ever-increasing cold. He shivered as the frigid
air bit the exposed parts of his skin.

Glad to have something worthwhile to
complain about, Egilka asked, “Isn’t there any heat in this
place?”

Clajak went still. After a moment, the
prince unleashed a snarl that set Egilka’s hair on end. “Fuck.”
Clajak cursed. “Damn it all. We have to go.”

He shifted. Egilka felt him stand. The
band of the prince’s hand circled his bicep. At Clajak’s tug, the
Imdiko got to his feet. The floor beneath continued to shudder,
making him think of an approaching sheclir. But they were out of
danger ... right?

“Go? Go where? We took off, didn’t we?”
Egilka asked.

Clajak’s tone colored with disgust.
“Yeah, we’re off the ground and still heading up ... or achieving
an orbit that will help the ship build momentum and fling us out
into space. The trouble is, we’re hiding in an cargo hold that’s
not insulated. We have to go before we either freeze or run out of
air. I’m betting on the freeze option first.”

He started moving, slowly navigating
the cramped compartment and yet again pulling Egilka
along.

Egilka griped, but he didn’t have
energy to put any real angst into it. “Great. You just had to
choose a ship that’s a meat locker. Thanks, my prince.”

“I didn’t know the damned thing wasn’t
rated for live cargo.”

Egilka squinted, as if narrowing his
field of sight would allow for such in the pitch black. “Where the
hell are we going? How can you see?”

“I can’t, but I did notice the location
of the hatch for the main part of the ship when we
boarded.”

His comment was followed by a low thud.
Clajak jerked back against Egilka. The Imdiko realized he had
walked into something ... probably a container. Clajak’s curses
rang over the continued roar of the engines.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Son of a bitch, that
hurt!”

Egilka couldn’t help but snicker. It
was too easy to enjoy Clajak getting some of the comeuppance due
him.

Somehow Clajak heard or sensed his
amusement. “I’m so glad I could entertain you. Watch where you’re
going.”

“Sure, I’ve got my eyes wide open for
that.”

The hilarity passed. Egilka shook with
cold, a chill so deep and bitter that it made his joints hurt. His
toes and fingers were going numb. The Imdiko realized that they
were in real trouble.

He heard Clajak’s teeth chatter as the
Dramok paused. “Okay, here’s the wall. That hatch has to be around
here somewhere. Help me feel around for it.”

“Where?” Egilka waved his hands in
front of himself and smacked Clajak right in the face. “Oh shit,
sorry my prince.”

“Sure you are,” came the impatient
growl. Clajak guided his hands to an icy surface. “Somewhere here.
Around waist height, there should be a hatch release.”

Egilka felt around, his nearly
senseless hands searching the smooth panel before him. He swept
back and forth, trying to feel a handle or a button or anything
that might be the way out.

Clajak moved away, searching on his
side. Desperation tinged his voice. “Damn, where is the fucking
thing?”

Egilka felt panic setting in. His hands
moved in wider and wider arcs. He suspected Clajak had gotten lost
in the dark, that he’d taken them to the wrong area and the door
was actually somewhere else. Maybe even at the other end of the
hold. It would be easy to get turned around in the space with its
endless rows of crates.

Egilka had a mental image of the two of
them frozen like statues, discovered when the ship’s crew reached
Joshada and opened the hold. Grotesque ice sculptures, the
once-future rulers of Kalquor petrified columns of
ice...

Egilka’s deadened fingers stuttered
against the wall in front of him. Hope flared. His elbow still had
sensation, and he used that to feel around the area. His elbow
traced over a square indentation in the surface.

“I might have it,” he called to
Clajak.