Divided: Brides of the Kindred 10 (43 page)

“Uncle!”
Truth’s eyes were blazing again as he stared at the man who held her. “Get your
hands off my bride,
now!”

“I
don’t think so, sister’s son,” the older man hissed. “She’s not going anywhere.
None of you are until the Ancient passes judgment.”

“What
right have you—?” Truth began but he was interrupted by a vast rush of wind
that nearly put the fire out. A creature like the ones that had attacked Truth
and Far, but bigger than either of them, landed to one side of the clearing,
obscuring Becca’s view of her men for a moment. Then it dwindled magically down
into a bent old man with bright eyes, leaning on a cane.

“Ancient.”
Truth’s uncle bowed low and then yanked Becca by the hair, forcing her to her
knees. “Bow before the Ancient,
wrex!”

Becca
tried but she was shivering miserably and besides, it was really hard to bow
with his fingers tangled in her hair, dragging her head back.

“Let
me go!” she gasped, struggling against his cruel grip. He wasn’t that much
bigger than her and she was tired of being called what amounted to a whore in
the Rai’ku dialect.

“Yes,
T’lar—let her go.” The little old man who Truth’s uncle had called the Ancient,
came hobbling forward, leaning on his cane. When he got closer, Becca saw that
he was wearing a pure white cloak that matched his bushy white hair and beard.
Bright blue eyes peered at her from an incredibly wrinkled face. “Let go now.
There is no need to brutalize this female child,” he said gently.

The
grip in Becca’s hair tightened.

“I
am only treating her like the
wrex
she is, Ancient. She deserves much
worse than this for what she has been doing.”

“I
will be the judge of that matter.” The old man put out a gnarled hand and Becca
heard Truth’s uncle give a sharp cry of pain. Abruptly the fingers were
withdrawn from her hair and she was able to lift her head again without someone
yanking it back.

She
breathed a sigh of relief and put a hand to her aching scalp. “Th-thank you,”
she said in a trembling voice.

“Do
not thank me yet, child. This matter is far from resolved. Now go to your
mate.” He gave her a gentle nudge towards Truth and she stumbled to her feet
and ran around the fire to get to him.

“Rebecca!”
The dark twin folded her in his arms at once and Becca pressed her face to his
chest and tried not to sob.

“It’s
all right,” he said in a low voice. “I swear it’s going to be all right.”

“How?”
Becca tried to draw comfort from his arms around her but she couldn’t shake the
feeling that something was dreadfully wrong—that something was missing.

It
was Far, she realized, when she looked up and saw his large form sagging
between Truth and Garron. He was still on his feet but she didn’t see how—he
was clearly out of it. She could barely feel him at all through their link and
without him, nothing was right or complete.
Our OneMind is broken,
she
realized and knew it was true. The close connection she and her men had just
started to share had been cut by a third.

“What’s
going on?” she asked Truth in a low voice. “Why are we here? What are they
going to do to us?”

“Depends
on what the Ancient says,” he muttered back. “It’s best to be quiet and listen.”

They
didn’t have long to wait. The old man was already pacing around the fire,
humming a soft, tuneless song to himself that almost sounded more like a
meditation chant to Becca than a deliberate tune. At last he came to a stop
before them and raised one bushy white eyebrow.

“Very
well—what has brought you all to me on this night?”

A
babble of voices broke out.

“These
interlopers were profaning our laws!”

“They
were
sharing
a single female between them!”

“They
have been seen defacing and molesting the elder trees!”

“Enough.
Enough!”
The Ancient spoke in a surprisingly strong voice and raised one
wrinkled hand to stop the noise. “Now,” he said when everyone was silent.
“These are serious charges. I will allow you, Truth, to answer for them each in
its turn.”

“Thank
you, Ancient.” Truth bowed his head respectfully.

“Very
well, then. Let us take the most serious charge first—were you in fact
molesting the elder trees?”

“Never,”
Truth said. “We were searching for something beneath one—something my Kindred
brethren on the Mother Ship desperately need. But we were very,
very
careful
to leave the tree itself unmarked in any way. I have great respect for the
elder trees—I would never harm one.”

The
Ancient regarded him for a moment with those bright blue eyes and then nodded.
“Very well. I see the truth of your statement. And how do you answer the other
charge? That you were,
a-hem,
sharing a female.”

“I
answer by saying that sharing is a natural part of what I truly am—a Twin
Kindred,” Truth answered, lifting his chin. “I was raised here on Pax and for
years I strove to become Rai’ku—as much as I could, anyway, when I have no
dr’gin
within. But recently I have come to know that I am not Rai’ku but Kindred.
And as such, I must follow the ways of my true people. That is what Far and
Rebecca and I were doing tonight—not that it was any of my uncle’s business.”
He glared at T’lar. “But I suppose as he is not one of those who came bursting
into Garron’s lodge to drag us out, he feels he has committed no crime.”

“What?”
The Ancient turned to Truth’s uncle with a frown. “Is this true, T’lar? Were
these Kindred and their female extracted from a
private
residence?”

“Well…yes.”
The uncle was shifting uneasily from foot to foot, his red robes rustling. “But
Ancient, they were profaning our laws and sharing a female. Listen to Truth—he
doesn’t even deny it! And you
know
the penalty for such an act.”

“Yes.”
The old man nodded slowly. “Yes, I am well aware of the penalty, T’lar. Do not
presume to school me in the laws of our people.”

“Forgive
me, Ancient.” T’lar bowed deeply but Becca thought she saw a smile curving the
corners of his thin lips. Her stomach clenched like a slick fist and she
pressed closer to Truth. What was going to happen now?

“The
penalty…” The Ancient was pacing around the fire again. “The penalty for
sharing a female is death—death for all involved.”

“No!”
Panic crawled up Becca’s throat, choking her. “Oh, no!”

“Oh
yes, my dear.” The Ancient nodded at her. “But I do not choose to impose that
penalty tonight—not on all of you, anyway.”

“Why
not?” Truth’s uncle demanded angrily. “What they did is unacceptable—punishable
by death! How can you not sentence them all to—”

“I
judge matters here,
not
you, T’lar.” The Ancient’s voice cracked
sharply. “Or would you rather take the Oath of Blood and judge them yourself?
If so, why did you disturb me?”

“Forgive
me, Ancient.” T’lar bowed again. “Indeed, I do not wish to take the oath.”

“Very
good. It is a heavy burden, deciding life and death. I do not think it would
agree with you.” The Ancient nodded and then looked at Truth and Becca and Far
again. “In the past, when two males both wanted the same female, they fought
for her—fought to the death. You were not
seen
sharing her.” He nodded
at Becca. “It has only been inferred. Therefore, it is my belief that you are
rivals for her affection—not sharers in it.”

“Ancient,”
Truth began, scowling but Garron interrupted him.

“Yes,
Ancient, that is so,” he said quickly.

“Then
a
Y’grin—a
fight for dominance and your female’s affection is what you
shall engage in,” the Ancient said. “The winner will take her away, off planet,
never to return to Pax.”

Becca
couldn’t be silent anymore. “And…and the loser?” she whispered.

“I
am sorry, child,” the Ancient said softly. “The loser will die.”

Chapter Thirty-eight

Becca
felt like she was either going to cry or throw up.

My
fault,
whispered a little voice in her head.
This is all my fault.

For
once, she didn’t try to push the guilty little voice away. It was
right—completely and utterly right—and she didn’t even try to refute it. Once
more she had given in to her desires instead of doing what was right. And once
more she was going to be punished—by losing one or both of the men she loved.

“A
Y’grin,
is it?” Truth asked, his voice completely steady. “I bow to your
judgment, Ancient, but who am I to fight?”

The
old man frowned. “In such cases, you must fight your rival—the male who is
challenging your right to your female’s affection.”

“If
you mean my brother, Far, he is in no shape to fight.” Truth gestured at his
twin who was still slumped between him and Garron. Far was no longer bleeding
but he was still unresponsive, moving like a zombie and only then when someone
pushed or guided him in some way.

“He
does appear to be…incapacitated,” the Ancient admitted.

“He
was clawed by S’reth in his
dr’gin
form,” Garron said. “There is poison
in his blood—the
stelsis
has begun.”

“I
will not fight him in such a state. I will not kill my brother—especially in
cold blood,” Truth said.

“Well,
but you must fight
someone,
Truth my boy,” the old man objected. He
raised his voice. “Does anyone else lay claim to this female? Will anyone else
fight to the death to retain her affection and gain the right to mate her?”

Becca
felt a sick shiver go through her. Mother of God, was this
really
happening?
Was she really about to become the spoils of war in some horrible contest to
the death? And what would happen to her if Truth lost? She knew the dark twin
would fight until his last breath to keep her but what if his opponent turned
into one of those weird floating, flying, steak-knives-for-teeth creatures and
ripped his head off? Would she be stuck here, eighty million light years from
home, forever? Would—

“I
challenge for the female,” Truth’s uncle spoke up, a cruel smile playing around
his thin mouth. “I will be happy to fight to keep her.”

“No!”
Truth glared at him. “You care nothing for Becca—you have never even seen her
before a day or two ago when we first arrived.”

T’lar
folded his arms over his chest. “Nonetheless, it is within my right to
challenge you in the
Y’grin.
Just as it will be my very great pleasure
to kill you and see to it that your
wrex
lives the rest of her short
life in misery. Come, sister’s son, do you really fear to fight me?”

“No,
if you will consent not to change forms. You have a
dr’gin
within you
and I am
O’ahn,”
Truth said tersely. “The contest is not a fair one—we
are not evenly matched. In your first form I could beat you easily, in your
second form, you could kill twenty males such as myself.”

“I
cannot help my strength, nor can I promise to retain my first form,” T’lar said
silkily. “As all here gathered know, when one is fighting in a
Y’grin,
there
is no limitation on what form one can use. Emotions run high and spontaneous
transformations are inevitable.”

“Indeed
they are,” the Ancient murmured. “I am sorry, Truth, but unless someone else
challenges for your female, I am afraid you must fight T’lar in the
Y’grin.”

“But—”
Truth began.

“I
will challenge.” Garron stepped forward.

“What?”
Truth and Becca both turned to look at him at the same time. In the firelight,
his turquoise eyes looked almost black.

“I
said I will challenge. I will fight my older brother, Truth in the
Y’grin
for
the right to this female,” he repeated.

“Garron,”
Truth said in a low voice. “Why are you doing this?”

“I
swore to protect your female with my life and to see to her safety while she is
here on Pax,” Garron muttered. “This may be the only way to do that.”

“I
see. And what do you have in mind?”

“Think,
Brother.” Garron looked at him intently. “Do you remember how we used to play
when we were children? The time we were using those sharpened sticks Apa told
us to leave alone?”

After
a moment, the dark twin nodded.

“Yes,
they were sharpened into stakes for the
pancha
cage he was building. I
do
recall how that fight ended.”

“Good.
Then you know how this one must end as well.”

Truth
frowned. “Are you certain?”

“Even
if you win the
Y’grin,
they will never let you go,” Garron murmured.
“The moment you leave the Ancient’s clearing, the three of you will be set upon
by every
dr’gin
in the settlement. You know it is true.”

Reluctantly,
Truth nodded. “Yes. You speak the truth.”

“Then
I am the only one who can challenge you in the
Y’grin.
The only one who
can win freedom for your female.”

Truth
nodded again. “Agreed.” He reached out an arm to Garron and they clasped
briefly. “I trust you, Brother. Take care of her.”

“Wait,”
Becca couldn’t be silent any longer. “What’s going on? What are you saying?”

“I
am saying…” Garron raised his voice. “I am saying I will challenge for this
female!”

“And
I accept your challenge,” Truth roared. “Come and best me if you can!”

“I
will best you and your female will be mine,” Garron replied.

To
Becca, the exchange seemed somehow scripted—like words from a ritual which must
always be said the same way every time.

“Very
well.” The Ancient clapped his wrinkled hands together. “Then since both our
contestants are O’ahn, bring forth the
ghats.”

“The
what?” Becca looked around fearfully but Truth and Garron were already stepping
into the circle of firelight, getting ready to fight.

One
of the Rai’ku handed something to the Ancient—no, two somethings, she saw. They
looked like long, metal swords but instead of handles, they had a kind of metal
and leather cuff on one end and a leather grip halfway up the blade.

Mother
of God,
she thought as both Garron and Truth strapped the long, deadly
looking things to their forearms so that a good two feet of sharp metal stuck
out past their fists.
What the hell are those things? They look like arm
bayonets or something.

“Are
the
ghats
acceptable, warriors?” the Ancient asked.

Truth
flexed his fist and then gripped the leather handle halfway up the deadly blade
which was strapped to his forearm.

“Yes,
Ancient.”

Garron
nodded too. “Mine is also acceptable.”

“Good.
Very good. I trust that you both know the rules—you must fight until one of you
is dead. The winner may take the female and whatever spoils he wishes from the
loser’s possessions. The loser forfeits everything, including his life. This is
not a contest to enter lightly. Do you both still say that you must fight?”

“Yes,
Ancient.” Both of them bowed low to the old man.

“Very
well. Then you may—”

“Wait!”
Becca ran forward and gripped Truth’s arm—the one without a
ghat
strapped
to it. “What are you going to do? Are you seriously going to fight each other
to the death?” She still couldn’t believe it—couldn’t make her mind process
that this was actually happening.

“Rebecca…”
Truth cupped her cheek gently and looked into her eyes. “We must fight the
Y’grin.
There is no other way.”

“But…but
what if…”

“If
I fall, Garron will take good care of you. Do as he says no matter what.
Promise me that.”

“But
I—”

“Promise.”
His
pale gray eyes flashed in the firelight.

“All
right.” Becca nodded hesitantly. “I…I promise.”

“Good.
Now go stand beside Far. With the
dr’gin
poison in his system, he’s in no
shape to think or act for himself right now. You must guide him and stay with
him. All right?”

“Yes.
Yes, okay.” Becca nodded again, feeling numb. “But Truth…”

“I
love you. Never forget that.” He leaned down suddenly and took her mouth in a
fierce kiss that took her breath away. Then he released her and gave her a
gentle push. “Go stand by Far.”

Becca
stumbled back to her place in the perimeter of the crowd and grabbed for the
light twin’s uninjured arm. Far made no sign that he felt her touch at all—he simply
stared straight ahead, his black eyes open but unseeing.

Like
a zombie,
Becca couldn’t help thinking.
What kind of poison is in
those things’ claws anyway? Is there an antidote? Will Far come back to us?

Of
course, a better question might be, would there be an “us” for the light twin
to come back to after all this was over. Already Truth and Garron were squaring
off against each other, the blades of their
ghats
glittering in the blue
and green firelight.

Becca
watched, her heart in her mouth, as Truth made the first jab. Garron stepped
neatly out of the way, circled around the fire, and made a return jab of his
own. Truth raised his arm and their blades clashed, shooting yellow sparks that
hissed and fizzled on the freezing ground around them.

Mother
of God!
She put a hand to her throat, feeling sick as the two brothers
feigned and jabbed, dancing around each other in a deadly contest as their
blades clanged against each other again and again. She saw Truth make a swipe
that drew blood from his brother’s cheek but then Garron returned the favor and
it was Truth who had crimson rivulets running down the side of his face. And
still they fought.

Becca
wanted to stop watching but she couldn’t help herself—she had to see. She stood
as close to Far as she could, trying to draw warmth from his big body but
nothing seemed to help—she was chilled to the bone, frozen to the spot, even as
her heart drummed wildly in her chest.

Could
Truth actually do this? Could he really kill his own little brother to save her
and Far? And would they even be able to get out of here if he did? Garron had
seemed to think that the Rai’ku would attack them again, even after the
Y’grin
was over. What—?

Suddenly
her attention was pulled away from the action when Far slumped silently to his
knees beside her.

“Oh!
Far!” Becca tried to hold him up but he was almost twice her size—much too big
and heavy to support. He fell forward on his face like a tree falling in slow
motion and she was helpless to stop him. The best she could do was try to ease
him slowly to the ground.

“Far?
Brother?” Truth shouted.

Becca
looked up to see the fear and concern stamped on the dark twin’s face. But she
saw something else as well—Garron was coming forward, the blade of his
ghat
aimed
directly at Truth’s broad, bare chest.

“Truth!”
she shrieked, motioning wildly. “Truth, watch out! He’s—”

But
just at that moment, the deadly point of Garron’s
ghat
pierced the dark
twin’s chest. It slid in with horrible ease—as smooth as a knife gliding
through butter—and came out his back like a long, bloody exclamation point of
pain. A pain that Becca felt through their bond—a ripping, slicing agony that
hurt like hell and scared her to death.

“Truth!”
she
screamed again, feeling like the force of her shriek might rip her throat out.
“Truth,
no!”

The
dark twin looked at her and then down at the blade piercing his chest in
apparent confusion. Then he looked up at his younger brother, one eyebrow
raised as if in question.

“Sorry,
Brother,” Garron said grimly. With a swift jerk, he withdrew the blade and
stepped back.

Truth
looked at the gaping wound in his chest and opened his mouth, as though he
wanted to say something. But instead of sound, a trickle of blood came from
between his parted lips and rolled down his chin. He looked at Becca and shook
his head.

“Truth!”
Becca was wailing now, disbelief warring with horror in her shell-shocked
brain. “Oh, please…please, no!”

“Re…becca…”
It was little more than a whisper. Then his pale gray eyes rolled up in his
head and he crumpled slowly, face down to the ground.

Dead.