Dark Warriors: A Dark Lands Anthology (Darklands) (23 page)

He immediately slowed the bike, and stopped. “I’m sorry.” With a frown at the welt on her arm, he stripped off his jacket and tried to hand it to her. “Here. It’s warm enough already, and you need this more than I do.”

Wear something that still bore his warmth, his scent? Eyes carefully averted from his athletic, naked torso, she tried to refuse. “I don’t need it.”

“Take it.” He extended it impatiently.

She shoved it back. “I don’t want it!”

“Lover’s quarrel?” Razzi drawled. He had pulled up and was watching them with amusement. He’d tied a blue bandana over his hair and was eyeing them with a knowing expression. “Or maybe she’s just wishing you would take a bath. I wouldn’t want to snuggle with a sweaty biker like you, either.”

Dey blushed and snatched the jacket out of Keg’s hand. This discussion could only go downhill from here. Just as she’d feared, the silky lining of the jacket caressed the bare skin of her arms, cocooned her intimately. It was horrible, almost as bad as sleeping in his bed. Not that she ever had, but she imagined that it…oh, never mind. Best not to go there.

She ground her teeth in frustration. “Can we go now?”

“Whatever you want, sweet thing.” Content to have his way, Keg swung back around and roared off.

Certain this ride would be the death of her, Dey gripped his waist and held on.

The minute he stopped the cycle near his home, Dey got off and stalked away, still wearing his jacket. He could have dropped her at her door, but he could see Armetris talking with Luna over at the base of her tree house and didn’t want to interrupt.

“Hey, sweet thing,” he called, causing several heads to turn. Theirs was a small settlement and the neighbors were always curious as to what he was up to. New arrival and all that. “Forget something?” He grinned at Dey’s chagrined expression as she looked down and saw she was still wearing his jacket. “Not that you don’t look good in my clothes, but people might get the wrong idea about us if I let you keep it.” She looked good in an angry blush. He’d have to tease her more often.

“God forbid.” She pulled it off and was forced to retrace her steps to hand it to him. “It’s not my style, anyway.”

Instead of taking the jacket, Keg gripped her wrist just above it. As fun as this bantering was, duty called. Quietly, for her ears only, he told her, “Stay away from the ruins, Dey. They’re not for you.”

The little kit actually curled her lip. “I’m not your woman, jelly-brain, nor any of your business. I’ll go where I want, do what I want, and wish you to the bottom of the river if you interfere.” Her voice was equally low, but he could tell by her tone it was fury, not caution, that kept it there.

It would take more than wishing to get the job done, but he saw no reason to belabor it. She knew. “All the same,” he slid his palm up her inner arm to her elbow, relishing the way her eyes widened in confusion, “You’ll stay away.”

She twisted her arm away, dropped his jacket in the stone-paved street, and pushed him with the fingertips of one hand, as if he were beneath her touch. “Bite me,” she told him sweetly, and stalked away.

“I wish,” Razzi said wistfully as he watched her feminine walk.

Keg shot him a look.

“Whaaat?” Razzi raised his hands in a helpless gesture. “Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking the same thing. Face it, the girl is luscious.”

Okay, so he had been thinking it, but he didn’t like anyone else pointing it out. “Forget it.” He tossed the jacket on the seat of his cycle and retrieved his jumbled gear. They could all do with a bath; in his case, a cold one. “I’ve got things to do.”

Like the majority of the residents of their settlement, Keg lived with Armetris in a tree house as a precaution against the flooding that happened every few years. Unlike the typical set up, though, their house sprawled through the giant branches of a least three trees, connected by a series of clever, enclosed passages constructed to deal with the stresses of wind and battering rain.

Armetris’s grandfather had been quite the architect, and had hoped to sire a large family when he’d relocated here years ago. The Beasts knew it would take generations to fully fit into the tight knit human culture. They’d brokered at deal with Jackson’s predecessor to trade secret ambassadors, desiring to keep lines of communication open. Armetris’s counterpart and his wife lived quietly with the Beasts and reported back to Jackson. Like the Beast ambassador, his family intermarried with the alien culture, ensuring a vested interest in both races.

There had been no hint of war then, but the Beast race was ancient, and it was wise to prepare for the future, as recent events had shown.

Armetris’s grandfather had found a wife, but sired a single son, who’d also sired a son. Though disappointed, the grandfather had never given up hope the family would one day be blessed with many children, many precious daughters. The house was a work of art, a gift to future family, but as interesting as the carved sills and bubbled windows were, they paled beside the treasures within.

Keg kicked the door shut. He draped his jacket over the head of an armored, beast-headed statue in the entryway. He dumped his gear on the floor, to be dealt with later.

The custom-woven rug was beginning to show its age, but he couldn’t summon the indignation over it that his great-aunt would have liked, had she lived. She’d always been over-proud of her heritage, anyway.

That sin seemed to run in the family. Everywhere he looked the spacious living quarters were dotted with reminders of what he was, what the men in his family stood for. There were tall pottery urns with pictures of beast-headed men and woman working in the fields, inlaid screens with ziggurats and ancient buildings, even broken stone murals saved from crumbling ruins, though most of the artwork was new, either commissioned locally or...gifted.

Armetris was a warrior ambassador, trained by his father and the culture they represented. His distant cousin Keg had received the same training, but didn’t have the temperament to hammer out trade agreements and settle disputes. He liked it that way. It gave him more time to enjoy life. Not that he’d ever heard Armetris complain.

Most of the settlement was unaware of their role, and only Jackson and Razzi fully understood who they were. To the casual visitor, they were young men who liked to collect relics on their wanderings. Long absences on “hunting trips” weren’t the that uncommon among the Symbionts, and thanks to Beast technology, their bodies aged as slowly as any human, making Keg appear young enough to be comfortably unattached.

The day was muggy, and he opened a screened window to let in the breeze. The pretty neighbor girl in the next tree waved, and he blew her a kiss just for fun. She’d taken to watching for him, and far be it from him to disappoint her. Not that he’d take her up on her invitation; her father was far too protective and watchful. He’d made it clear that his daughter was off limits, and Keg chose to honor that.

After all, to the father he was just a visitor of unknown reputation, likely to take any bride off to an unknown village. The man was a good father and wouldn’t risk losing his daughter. Keg respected that.

Besides, he had his eye on a particular girl.

While the majority of the settlements in the swamp, nearly the whole of the Symbiont People, were engaged in war with the Beasts who had dared to reclaim their cities beyond the swamps, this settlement had chosen another way.

Not that Armetris and Keg’s position was officially acknowledged. He snorted as he stripped off his boots, tossed them in the entryway and padded down the hardwood floor towards the bathroom. Oh, their leaders knew well enough what they did and commended the sacrifices his family had made on their behalf, but the common people were only now, in this third generation, beginning to understand.

Some felt fear, even disloyalty. After all, war was the accepted way to deal with Beast encroachment, and any trafficking with them smacked of disloyalty to humans in general. Others had quietly left to join the ranks of those hopelessly dying in a battle that was all but over. The Beasts were entrenched; there would be no moving them from their reclaimed cities.

For the last forty years Keg and Armetris’s family had traded with the Beasts and prevented their village from breaking the peace treaty. Police of a sort, they patrolled the abandoned ruins, making certain that people like Luna didn’t dig up old war machines and weapons that might tempt those in the settlement to attack the Beasts, provoking their wrath.

Luna. He stripped out of his pants and tossed them in a corner as he turned on the water. Wavering light from the rippled glass in the windows illuminated a circular tub big enough for two, but the warm water did little to soothe his sensibilities. He scooped up a handful and let it trickle through his fingers, enjoying the lap of the waves against his stomach.

He contemplated Luna, and by association Dey. He sighed and leaned back against the rim, closing his eyes. So many difficulties wrapped in such a deceptively alluring package. The Beasts would not be pleased with the devices she’d discovered, but they’d controlled the damage thus far. Besides, they were inclined to be lenient with Luna.

After all, she was one of them.

Well, not quite. He sat up and reached for the soap. Luna was only half-Beast; her mother having borne her to an alien lover years after her husband had died. He wasn’t privy to all the details, simply knew that Luna’s mother had disappeared for a time and returned with a child. She’d died shortly after, and the rumors had died with her. Even now there were weren’t many who understood what Luna was, and those few were inclined to keep it to themselves.

He grimaced and tossed the soap back. Beasts. How much simpler their job would be if the Symbionts knew the truth. The reality was that the Beasts looked very much like anyone else, save for the cultural and physical differences that developed in isolated groups of people. It was their insistence on wearing body armor and depicting themselves in art and history as animal-headed which mislead others. It was true that they were very different in many ways, but not the ones that mattered.

Not that Luna knew any of this. The official position among the parties involved was that her conception was a mistake. The Beasts didn’t want her, and it was felt the less she knew of a culture that wouldn’t welcome her, the better. Keg and Armetris didn’t agree, but so far they’d had no reason to seek her out and challenge the ruling. That could change at any moment.

The water closed over his face as he shut his eyes and slid under the surface.

Heaven help him if it did.

“What is this?”

Dey looked up from her own plate, a frown of dismay on her face. Dinner had turned out less than edible, but she’d had other things on her mind. “What?”

“This.” Luna stabbed her tined spoon at the brown tuber on her plate. Instead of splitting open to reveal a tender golden center, the spork barely sank into the crunchy exterior. She held it up like an exhibit. “These things are not supposed to crunch, Dey.”

She hunched her shoulders defensively. “So throw it back in the pot. It just needs to cook a little longer, that’s all.”

“And what about this?” Luna stabbed her knife into the gelatinous mass next to the tuber. Clear juices spurted out. River slugs, a local delicacy, were supposed to turn opaque and dense when cooked, not spit back at you when you tried to cut them. “What did you do, dip it in to rinse it off and stick it on our plates?”

Dey snatched up their plates and slid the contents back into the cooking pot, turning up the flame under the tripod as she did so. “Hey, just because you had a bad day doesn’t mean you can take it out on me, you know. Save it for Armetris.”

Luna sighed and got up from the bar to search the tiny kitchen for something to snack on. “You’re right. Sorry. I am in a foul mood.”

Amiable now that Luna had apologized, Dey planted one hip on the counter and nodded. The motion sent her pigtails bobbing. “Who can blame you? I’d say he pulled a very dirty trick on you.” She grinned wickedly. “Maybe you should get him back. Slugs in his bed should work.”

“Too juvenile.” Luna located a bread stick, only a little stale, and munched on it. “And far too nice. I need something that says, ‘mess with me and you’ll die regretting it’. Slugs won’t do it.”

Dey took the dessert from the cooler and cut them both a quivering slice, carefully transferring the spur-of-the-moment concoction to plates. She licked a bit off one finger and handed Luna the other plate. Mm. Very edible. “You could drench his bike with stink fungus juice. He wouldn’t be able to get near it for a least a month.”

Luna perked up. “Go on.”

“We could hide rotten meat under his doormat. Or sneak into his house and plant moldy mushrooms in his boots.” She smirked as Luna snickered, picturing his expression. Now that would be worth seeing. It was funnier still when she pictured Keg as the victim. She’d have to make certain to doctor his boots, too. She might have only known Armetris’s cousin a few weeks, but she clashed with him more each time they met. There was just something unsettling about him, something that turned her into a snapping turtle. “Or we could tell Libya he’s back in town.”

That wiped the smile off Luna’s face. Libya was like the annual race; every man had taken a go at her. As far she knew Armetris, and possibly his friends, were the exception to the rule, and it was a situation that Libya was eager to change. Much as Luna disliked Armetris, the idea of him and Libya was vaguely revolting. “I’m not sure even he deserves that.”