WOLF DAWN: Science Fiction Thriller/ Romance (Forsaken Worlds) (32 page)

“Turn out the light,” he instructed with the aggressive voice of command. Ash felt safer in the dark, where he could think and not look at her, not be distracted by her. With a mental flick of Icom, she did as she was told.

It didn’t work. In the darkness, Ash’s other senses came alive. He became acutely aware of the feel of her skin against him, her curving back and buttocks against his chest, hips and thighs. His flesh heated in each place where their bodies touched. Her scent filled his nostrils. He shut his eyes, bit a lower lip, and breathed in deeply. Ash held her firmly against him and she struggled slightly for a moment in response.

“Don’t move,” he admonished in a rough whisper. His grip tightened further. “Listen to me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

The woman whispered with a trembling voice, “Please, will you take the knife from my neck?”

“No.”

He felt her swallow. “Why are you here? Just take what you want and go.”

“I’ll leave … soon.”
What to do with this woman? He could tear strips from the burlap bags and use them as rope. Would anyone miss her if he tied her up? Could he trust her and let her go? No,
he decided,
he couldn’t.

“Who knows you’re here?” Ash growled, his desperate fear of discovery making him sound exceedingly dangerous. The woman said nothing.

Ash’s arm tightened around her like a vise. It was a grip caused more by a culmination of the terrors of the day than by a desire to hurt. “There are people who want to kill me,” he said with brutal force, “and I don’t want to die.” These harsh honest words were torn out from somewhere inside him. He had come so far. He had survived so much.

The woman remained silent and still.

Ash felt warm trickling drops of water, the feel of tears falling on to his hand — the hand that held a knife against her innocent throat. Like ice cold water splashed on his face, her tears stunned him into sensibility. The young woman was so frightened that she was crying. He felt like a monster.

“By the Goddess, what am I doing?” Ash spoke out loud, but he was talking to himself. His voice lowered, becoming a mumbled whisper. “I was trying to get to the Temple of Jana — I seek sanctuary. Instead here I am, threatening an innocent woman with a knife. You probably already sent an Icom alarm, anyway. I’m sorry. Forgive me.” He dropped the knife. It fell silently in the dark, probably onto the burlap. Defeated by the woman’s tears, Ash relaxed his grip and let the woman go.

She sprang away from him.

A warm tickle of blood trailed down his back. His exertions had reopened his wound. His mouth was as dry as desert sand.

The door opened.

The lights flicked on once more. Ash stood motionless, as if switched to holovid pause. He blinked, blinded. It took a moment to make out the form. It was another woman, a slightly older one with a fierce, murderous expression on her face. She expertly held a deadly weapon — and it was pointed straight at him.

Ash’s mind whirled. Last night he slept imprisoned in a cave. This morning he woke with water thrown over him by his captors because he had lost consciousness, probably from starvation. He had been on display as a slave, mauled and examined by ignorant Ferals, sold to the highest bidder, then thrown into a pit to fight an enormous maddened boar. He had been gored but survived, and then somehow he had managed to kill the boar and escape. After that he ran for hours, playing hide and seek while being chased by pretty well everyone on Opan, as far as he could tell. He had spent the last fifteen hours completely wired, adrenaline burning through his veins, terrified for his life. Now here he was, staring at death … again.

It really had been a very big day and this final shock was one too much.

His vision shrank to a tunnel, the walls closed in.

Ash had no strength to resist. A welcome blanket of oblivion embraced him. He fell into the upsurging darkness, and dropped to the floor like a stone.

Temples of Jana (the Goddess of Truth): Large, influential spiritual organization with teaching traditions concerning the cause, nature and purpose of life. Temple graduates are sought after throughout the Freeworlds. A broadminded education is pursued with all philosophies respected as academic differences in pursuit of the same truth. Fundamental beliefs include: 1. Humans are inherently good. 2. Within each human body is a spiritual being (soul) that cannot die. 3. The soul of each person inhabits the body they are within in order to make choices and learn from such choices. 4. People are tempted by the Deceiver and encouraged by the Goddess. 5. The Parables of both Taro and Jana should be studied in order to assist an individual to make choices concerning their own conduct. The Temple embraces individual beliefs, with few devotional and ritual observances. They have a liberal moral code governing the conduct of human affairs. There are Temples of Jana on every Freeworld.

—
Icompedia

F
or a late evening in the Temple of Jana on Opan, there was an abnormal amount of confusion and noise.

“Prefect,” the Lady Jeeha said, rushing to Lindha’s aid. Her dark brown hair fell down her back, past her waist, in two thick plaits that she had braided in preparation for bed. She had thrown a blue robe over white silken pajamas, adorned with small red roses. “I came as soon as I received your Icom alarm. Are you all right?”

“Yes, thank you,” Lady Lindha replied breathlessly. She looked up at Jeeha, who was a few centimeters taller. The older woman had been her mentor, and she often deferred to her opinions. Lindha shook her head. “I don’t know how I was caught off guard. Suddenly this man had a knife at my throat or I would have laid him out, I can tell you. But he seemed to change his mind because he let me go before you arrived.”

“That disciple of Taro! Attempting to defile you. You of all people. I shall have him disintegrated.” Her face gleamed with revenge, her dark almond eyes flashing. “No. I’ll have him bound and buried.”

Lady Lindha listened to this tirade with composure. She knew Jeeha would threaten and rant, but she didn’t really mean what she was saying.

Lindha had been on her way to bed and had, for some strange reason, decided to enter this storeroom. There was no explanation for acting so impulsively. Why had she done it? Had she somehow sensed that this man was here? Upon entering the room she had immediately been taken captive by the now-unconscious, foul-smelling brute.

Jeeha said, “Did he … touch you? Did he …”

“He,” Lindha paused uncertainly, “he seemed to want …”

“Say no more child,” Jeeha anxiously cut her off in a rush.

“Lady Jeeha,” Lindha said, becoming exasperated. “It’s not what you think. The man was afraid. He said someone was searching for him — to kill him.”

By this time a number of other Temple Sisters had trailed in to gasp and gape, in and around the little-used storeroom. They spoke in shocked whispers. Many were gathered at the foot of the carved stairs, horrified by the presence of an intruder. Lindha ordered one Sister to wait in the hall and another to shut the door, ensuring none of the paying students were witness to these events.

Bending toward their extraordinary visitor, Lindha scrutinized him. “Jana, he stinks,” she said. “Has the man never washed? And what is that that on his clothes? It looks like blood, and it smells like urine. Or is that some sort of animal offal?” This surprised her. When the man held her against him she had not really noticed how bad he smelled. In fact, despite the circumstances, she had felt drawn to him. She frowned and bit her lower lip. What was worse, she felt drawn to him still.

Lindha moved close and studied the man intently. The intruder was young and thin and his features were strained, as if in pain. Unusually pale, she wondered if the man only ventured forth at night, for surely his skin hadn’t known the touch of sun for months. Why had he collapsed? The possibilities ran through her mind. Exhaustion? Hunger? Fright? He had scared her, but hadn’t wanted to hurt her. Still, he was filthy and had threatened to kill her.

“An odd necklace this is,” Lindha remarked, touching the cold metal ring that was fastened around his neck. “It appears to have bound him. Yes. See his wrists?” A thought struck her. “Perhaps he’s an escaped prisoner. A criminal. Sweet Jana alone knew what evil he may have wrought.”

“I’d better call the guards,” Lady Jeeha said, standing up and brushing her robe.

Lindha spoke without thought. “Wait. Is this not a Temple? The man requested sanctuary. It must be allowed.”

Lady Jeeha stared at her ward and said under her breath, “What are you thinking? Risk the Temple’s good name? For this criminal?”

Lindha shook her head. “He requested sanctuary. As Sisters of Jana we are honor bound.” She bent and whispered softly, so the others wouldn’t hear, “I can tell you more. He’s an off-worlder.”

“No,” Jeeha said.

No one was allowed to visit an off-worlder in the highly guarded compounds that traders visited from time to time. Travelling off-world was rarely allowed, except for those in the services. These were government standing orders since the end of the Hundred Year War. To be caught with an off-worlder would evoke severe punishment. Any off-worlder so caught would be probably killed. The pervading attitude was that those who were not born on Opan were untrustworthy. Most people believed the information broadcasts, and naturally feared strangers. The UWG had an undisclosed, ongoing policy of separation. It was easier to manage the “United Worlds” when they were not actually united.

“He’s most certainly not from Opan,” Lindha said. “His speech and accent betray him.”

“All the more reason to call the guards,” Jeeha replied. “If men are searching for him, and they find him here, there will be a price to pay.”

As Prefect, the final decision fell to her. Lady Lindha gazed down at Ash. What had possessed her to try and protect him? He was so young, this desperate intruder. What had he said?
“I don’t want to die.”
His plea caused pain in her chest, like an ache in her heart. He had been terrified, more like a frightened child than a man. What to do with him? A reply came into her mind instantly:
I think I’ll keep him.
Insane as this unbidden irrational thought was, she smiled.

One of the other Sisters said, “Look, he’s bleeding.”

The intruder lay on his back, his face white. A small pool of blood had gathered just beneath him. It was fresh and red, contrasting with the pale white of the man’s skin.

“Let’s turn him over. Perhaps he’ll die anyway.”

The thought caused Lindha to go cold. Slowly and carefully, Lindha turned Ash over. As she did so a tear in the worn-out animal skin shirt he wore exposed a huge blue Damithst armband. It clicked ominously against the stone floor of the Temple. Lindha stared, aghast.

“Jana bless us,” one of the Sisters whispered.

The women stared as Lindha reached down, pulled the shirt aside and exposed the armguard. The center stone must be the largest Delian Damithst ever found. It took extraordinary wealth to procure such a jewel, but Lindha knew that stone, as did every Temple Sister on every Freeworld. It was the fabled “King’s Mirror,” found over three hundred years ago, by Brent Chayton himself. And it was priceless.

The Talisman bearer was more valuable still.

Almost as one, the Sisters touched their hearts, then foreheads — a sacred sign to Jana. Silently, each recalled the Temple prophecy …

“He is the Trueborn,” Lindha said softly, “the off-worlder with the talisman.” The Prefect had waited all her life for this moment, a time that may never have come, except that now it was here. She would think of the consequences later. For the present, there was work to be done.

“You four,” Lindha ordered. “Get the stretcher. Carry him gently, take him to my room. Get an infirmary table set up there — we’ll want to wash and examine him. Be careful not to jar that wound.”

“To your room, Prefect?” one of the Sisters shyly queried.

“Yes,
my
room — you heard me correctly.” Her voice was caustic.

“Yes, Prefect,” they replied.

“Tjeeha,” Lindha was as brisk and efficient as any drill sergeant. “Search the information networks. Find out if there is a hunt for this man, but don’t let tell them he is here, for Jana’s sake. Get whatever information you can, and then report back to me.” The woman obediently rushed from the room.

Lindha scanned the faces of the remaining women. “Those of you left — sterilize this room. Be sure to leave no sign. If any were to search the Temple they should find no evidence of an injured stranger. This duty is vital. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Prefect,” they chorused.

“Lady Jeeha.” Lindha turned to the Second Lady of the Temple, speaking quietly with respect for her position. Lindha was prepared for this trial. Born to hold the Prefecture, she came from an honored lineage and had always taken her duties seriously. Once Lindha had seen the jewel, she had not hesitated.

“Yes, Prefect?” Jeeha smiled with pride in her eyes. Lindha was Jeeha’s protégé.

“Lady Jeeha, will you please come with your potions and remedies? We must cure that man, as you well know, and we cannot use a public clinic or even risk our own infirmary. Of all the Sisters you are renowned for your gift of healing. I …” She faltered, “I may also need you.” Her cheeks heated with sudden nervous embarrassment. There was no telling what the Trueborn would require.

“Of course, my dear Prefect. As you wish.” Jeeha nodded, and strode off.

Steeling herself for what lay ahead, Lindha left at a steady pace toward where the stranger waited in her bedroom. He smelled like blood and death and looked no better than an ill-kept wild animal. She sighed. Well, duty could be a loathsome thing, but it was still a duty, for the love of Jana and for the future of all.

T
he Trueborn remained unconscious.

An intravenous drip flowed. Lady Jeeha and Lady Lindha stood on either side of the off-worlder as he lay face down on the infirmary table. The three were gathered together in the Prefect’s private rooms. With pursed lips, Jeeha sponged Ash’s ugly shoulder wound.

Even though Lindha had seen many naked men in the Temple clinic, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes from the man. She assisted Jeeha, often moving to change the water. Unconscious and stripped of his disgusting clothes, the Trueborn seemed so vulnerable. Not dangerous at all, he seemed more like an overgrown boy than a man.

His back, thighs and shoulders were covered by lesions, tissue damage that had formed thin, puckered healing scars. It was clear that he had been whipped uncountable times, on more than one occasion. She would have that skin repaired to its natural state as soon as could be.

The Trueborn had frightened her, had held a knife to her throat, and had threatened to kill her. She could still recall the feel of the blade against her skin. But for all that, the man still held a profound allure.
He is beautiful,
she thought in wonder.
And dark haired.
Could he possibly be the one that came to her in her dreams? No. Never. But she had been drawn to that storeroom. Had he somehow called her?

Lindha doubted that he’d been sculpted, but his body was physically perfect. Broad shoulders and well-developed muscles knotted under his skin. They were not big and bulky; instead he looked as if he would be swift and agile. His hips were narrow, his legs long, buttocks hard and powerful, thighs thick and muscular. He could run like the wind, she was sure. Strange as it seemed, he distinctly reminded her of her favorite stallion, Bethan.

Lindha held a bowl of warm antiseptic while Jeeha worked at the wound, cleaning the Trueborn’s shoulder as completely as possible. She had already changed the water five times. The dirt on his skin was ingrained. He smelled slightly better now that his clothes were gone; they had really been disgusting, covered in blood and, well, excrement. Maybe he had some function in an abattoir? This possibility made no sense at all. There were standards of cleanliness and care for the beasts in such places, much less for any workers.

She hoped their guest remained insensible while they attended his wound.

A
sh stirred, slowly regaining consciousness. He raised his head slightly while his eyes attempted to focus. Once awake and aware, he tensed, preparing to defend itself or flee.

Lindha placed a restraining hand on his good shoulder. “Lie still now,” she said in a low, calm voice. “You’re safe, among friends. I am Lady Lindha, Temple Prefect of the Sisters of Jana. And this is the Lady Jeeha.”

Jeeha added, “We are both here to help you, sir.”

Safe. I am safe with the Sister’s of Jana,
Ash thought. He was soothed by these words and by the woman’s warm, gentle touch. He relaxed and shut his eyes. Somehow he had come to the Temple, as planned. If they had wished him harm, the harm would have been done while he was insensible. He had been told to lie still and was glad of it because he felt utterly drained. Then he smelled something he hadn’t smelled for as long as he could remember, something wonderful.