Huntsman

Assigned to bring a plagued man out of the dreamscape intact, Harka finds him living in her very own fantasy.

Harka signed up for the monitor program to get money for a new business. She wants to open a small shop but will have to hire help. Her people skills are crappy.

Her assignment is to go into a man’s mind and keep him distracted until he is healed from a life-threatening plague. She never imagined what she was walking into.

Derin has been asleep for centuries, content to reread the books and reports he archived in his life before the Edinar plague. When the stranger drops in on him, he believes she is a fantasy female, but when she starts cracking jokes, he knows she is far much more than he dreamed.

He doesn’t want to wake.

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Huntsman

Copyright © 2014 Viola Grace

ISBN: 978-1-77111-809-5

Cover art by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by Devine Destinies

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Huntsman

A Sci-Fi Fairy Tale

By

Viola Grace

Harka waited in the office and fidgeted. She wasn’t used to being immobile, and it made her choice of assignment a little awkward.

One round as a monitor would give her the money she needed to open her own shop. Her savings could only go so far. The injection of cash from the use of her mind for half a year would enable her to buy her shop outright and only have her own meals to earn.

“Monitor Harka Tweel?” A uniformed officer came in to retrieve her.

She bounced to her feet. “That’s me.”

“Your station is ready.”

She nodded and was handed over to the team in the biohazard gear. She had been assured that she would be fine. The plague that infected the Edinar was not known to infect the people of Horalthia. That did not mean that those bringing the infected out of cold sleep were stupid.

Everyone entering the waking arena was wearing biohazard gear. Everyone with the exception of the monitors.

Monitors were volunteers and military personnel trained to insert their minds into that of a sleeping Edinar citizen. The purpose was to keep the Edinar calm during the thawing process and the plague treatment. If they woke too early, they could compromise their treatment or even stress themselves to death.

A Horalthian with the right training could monitor and calm the diseased alien. Harka had opted for the training, and now, she was being put to work.

Station nine was going to be her home. The cryo chamber was already set and her station was pushed into place. The medics settled her in place and attached all the long-term life support that she needed before they sent her into a light coma that freed her mind.

Six months to freedom. Just six months.

She landed in the mind of her patient with a thud. The grass was green, the trees were tall and she had landed ass first into a meadow of wildflowers. It was definitely not a scene from her own mind.

As Harka got to her feet, she brushed at her thighs, surprised to see skirts in the way. “This is different.”

Her arms were clad in golden leather over long white sleeves. The slight nip in the air made her thankful that her host’s mind had such a default, though walking through grass with a long skirt was more awkward than she had anticipated.

“Now, where are you?” She turned and listened to the sound of metal striking something very hard.

Harka hiked through the grasses and entered the woods, following the rhythmic strikes.

Wearing a loose white shirt with rolled-up sleeves and plain brown trousers tucked into boots, her Edinar was hacking large blocks of wood into smaller blocks.

She looked around and found a tree stump. Harka perched on it and watched for a while.

“If you are going to stare, you might make yourself useful instead. There is a storm coming, and we will need to get this load to the house.”

She jumped in surprise and got to her feet. “How can I help?”

He turned and looked at her with black eyes crinkled in amusement. “Pick up that axe and cut wood if you can.”

It was a challenge and she clearly identified it as such.

A second axe was leaning against a cutting block and she reached for it. It was heavy and off balance, but she guessed that was the point.

She put an uncut piece of wood down and swung the axe. It glanced off and the log tumbled to one side.

Harka huffed and righted the wood again. This time, she focussed her grip and tightened it for the strike. She made it three inches into the wood and lifted the two connected items, smacking them down hard.

To her shock, the wood split into two semi circles. “Woo hoo!”

She heard a laugh, and her host was in front of her leaning on his axe, watching her.

“Bravo. You just need to repeat that a few dozen more times and we will have enough wood to last six hours.”

“Then stop gawping at me and get to work yourself. I have some catching up to do.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, and his tanned face split in a grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

She focussed on the task and the pile of wood grew, though her hands felt it keenly.

When she had amassed a suitable stack, he called a halt.

“Enough. The weather is coming in. Let’s get this stacked up and into somewhere warm.”

She nodded and began to put the wood on the cart that appeared. Harka was nearly done when hands caught her wrists. “What is this?”

She froze with her hands around a log. “What?”

“You are bleeding.”

She nodded. “I am. My hands are unused to this kind of work. Give me a needle and thread any day.”

He looked into her eyes. “You aren’t my normal fantasy female.”

She laughed. “That is one way of saying it.”

“Who are you?”

She blinked and burst out laughing at a man who fantasized about women who would wander up and cut lumber. “I am a monitor. I am here to keep you company as you are eased back into the waking world. The Horalthians have cultivated a cure for your people and we already have twenty of your people free and involved in our government.”

He blinked. “You are an
actual
new person?” His grip on her wrists eased.

She laughed. “Yes, I am an
actual
new person. My name is Harka Tweel. I am a volunteer and a monitor. In the waking world, I am a baker in a small tea shop.”

A chill wind ruffled her skirts.

He blinked. “You are coming with me?”

She nodded. “You lead and I will follow.”

He quickly loaded the cart, and it trundled off on its own.

It was strange to see something like that happen, but when you were in someone else’s mind, you had to keep an eye on yourself and let the rest flow around you.

He led her through the woods and she kept her hands curled loosely in front of her.

A lodge suddenly loomed in the forest. The cart trundled up next to the door and settled.

“Come in. I will treat those hands.”

She blinked. “Very well.” She gingerly lifted the skirts as she stepped up onto the wide plank porch.

Blood ran down her skirts from the tears in her skin.

He opened the door and within was a giant library.

“Wow. Are all these books in Edinar?”

“They are. I was a librarian, historian, archivist…if it was in print, I was interested.”

She turned around and around as she tried to take in the sheer enormity of all the books. Her host pulled her by her arm to stand in front of the fire, and in a blink, he had a medical kit in front of him. He urged her into a seat and bathed her hands.

She blinked. “Why can’t you just imagine them whole?”

“I tried to. Your mind knows your body should have been injured and it isn’t going to cooperate with me. You will have to heal yourself.”

He wrapped her hands in snug and warm bandages, tying them off. She was now completely useless; her hands were in mittens.

“What is your name?” she asked and she should have known, but they had been in such a hurry to lock her in that they had skipped the briefing.

He blinked. “You don’t know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I did. I have already introduced myself, so you giving over your name is only fair.”

He sat back on his heels. “Derin Conic, Master Librarian of Edinar.”

“I am pleased to meet you, Derin.” She extended one of her hands, saw the white wrapping and chuckled. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. What is your purpose here?”

She got to her feet, stepped over him and examined the shelves. “I am here to make sure that you stay under while the plague in your system is being cured. It is a long process as you have to re-grow a lot of damaged tissue, but the procedure has been well received. The two hundred Edinar on our world are slowly coming back to life.”

He crossed the room and a table appeared with a tea set. “I am happy to hear it. How many of our people survived?”

“The plague? Just your transport and a few others. It was the Coalition attack on Edinar that managed to wipe out most of your kind. There are a few pockets and singles here and there.”

He nodded. “We felt them die. Each and every one of us in cold sleep felt them die.”

“How long does it feel like to you?”

He shrugged. “A few months is what it feels like, but your mind is telling me that centuries have passed.”

Harka blushed. “Sorry about that. I have been told that my mind is a bit of a blabbermouth.”

Derin laughed. “I have never heard it put that way.”

“I have also been told that I don’t have the most orderly of speech patterns.”

“I do not mind. It is amusing to wonder what will come out of your mind next.”

He poured a cup of tea for her and gesture for her to sit.

She regretfully left the array of books and took the chair he held out for her. She settled and tried to pick the cup up with her mittens. It wasn’t going to work. “Do you have a straw?”

He was stifling snickers as he produced a straw long enough for her to use.

She held the straw with her fluffy white hands and sought the straw with her lips for a moment before making contact. She whimpered when the heat from the tea was too much and swallowed with a wince.

He laughed out loud and cooled the psychic tea with the wave of his hand.

She sucked in cool air and stuck her tongue out for a moment. He was nearly apoplectic with giggles.

“Thorry. I hath neber been goob with digmity.” She frowned and let her tongue resume its place.

“You could simply heal yourself.”

She concentrated and the burn inside her mouth faded. “I apologise. I am not used to this whole mental thingy. It isn’t really within the Horalthian purview.”

“Then, how are you here with me?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Chemical intervention. It has rendered me bald, but my hair will grow back.”

He looked at her with amusement. “You are not bald now.”

She pulled a lock of hair over her shoulder. It was her normal ash brown, but it had blue streaks in it. “The blue is your touch, I am guessing?”

Derin grinned. “It is. Sorry. I thought you were one of my constructs when you appeared. I summon a female form from my imagination now and then.”

She looked down. “That explains why my breasts are smaller. I was wondering.”

He blinked at her candor. “I will have to make adjustments for you.”

“Naw, I will get used to it. I am usually top-heavy, so this is a little holiday for my shoulders.” She smiled brightly.

“You are the oddest creature.”

“I am going to file that as a compliment.”

“Please do. You are certainly keeping my attention.”

Outside, there was thunder and the pounding of rain. Derin got up and put a log on the fire. She unwrapped one hand, and it was healed, if a little pink. The other was in better condition.

She flexed her fingers and picked up her tea. “Oh, that is much better.”