Firestorm (13 page)

***

The campfire illuminated the night, casting a warm, red-gold light over Teague and Raina as they huddled by it for warmth in the rapidly chilling desert. Motes of fire and ash rose on the air, flaring briefly in incandescent glory before dissipating far out in the darkness. Wood sap heated snapping and popping in sporadic bursts, the only sound of life in the heavy, desert silence.

Supper had been finished several hours before, a simple repast of journey bread, dried meat sticks, and a handful of sweet, succulent palmas fruit that Teague had managed to shake loose from one of the tall, narrow trees growing in abundance around the small oasis. He'd been correct in his supposition that the Katebs hadn't strayed far from the nearest source of water, Raina thought, staring at him through the smoke and shimmering heat of the fire. He'd been right about a lot of things.

They'd worked well together today, she and Teague, fighting the Katebs when his initial attempt to divert the nomads' interest in her had failed. His claim to be her life mate had flowed surprisingly easily from his lips. Surprisingly easily, for a monk.

He sat there, seemingly absorbed in the task of polishing the Kateb dagger he'd appropriated from one of the dead men. Fascinated Raina watched as he slid the cloth he grasped in his long, strong fingers up and down the gleaming length of the curved blade, his actions so smooth, so sure, so gentle. Would his hands move as expertly over a woman's body . . . her body?

More and more frequently of late, since the lingering effects of the radiation sickness had finally left her, Raina thought of Teague. Countless questions filled her mind of what manner of man he truly was, hidden beneath the protective facade of his monkish demeanor, of why he'd left Incendra and when, and of what had turned him from the life of a normal man to that of a monk.

So many questions, so few answers, and no right to ask, either. It surprised her that she even cared to know. She'd never had any desire to pry into anyone's past before, and certainly no man's.

Yet this strange monk with his tormenting secrets intrigued her. But why? Was she still so confused and needy, after all these cycles, that the first man who tossed her even the smallest crumbs of kindness and concern could turn her head?

She'd almost succumbed to the charm of a man once. Brace Ardane, Marissa's husband had treated her with respect and kindness from the moment they'd met. He had treated her with courtesy even after she'd tossed him into a cell when he'd brought her dying friend to the fortified city of the Sodalitas. Always, Brace had comported himself with dignity and courage, until even she couldn't help but find him admirable, in both spirit and body.

But he was Marissa's even then. Because of that, Raina had kept her distance with cutting words and a threatening banter all these cycles, and never thought or desired to find another like him. Never. . until she'd met the monk Teague Tremayne.

Raina inwardly winced at the irony of it all. She, who had long ago vowed never to trust or desire a man, now trusted and desired a man she couldn't have. A monk .. . a man who had taken perpetual vows of chastity, whose path must always follow a different course than hers. She should be thankful that once again fate had protected her from herself, from her rare if foolish inconstancies of the heart. As she would continue to do herself, once this mission was over and they parted forever.

"You both seem unusually quiet and pensive tonight," Rand's voice unexpectedly pierced the silence. "I must admit to the anticipation of a slightly more entertaining evening than sitting here listening to the wind blow and the fire burn."

"And since when did we agree to provide your entertainment, Volan?" Raina demanded irritated by his intrusion into her bittersweet thoughts. "After all that time in that biosphere, you should've long ago adapted to the silence."

"Raina, there's no reason to be cruel." Teague laid down the polishing cloth and the dagger. "I can't imagine any being ever getting accustomed to an existence limited to the confines of a biosphere."

"Fine," she muttered picking up a twig and twirling it in her fingers in an attempt to avoid meeting his reproachful gaze. "Then let him provide the topic of conversation. I'm fresh out of them at present."

The monk turned to the carrying pack. "Well, Rand? Any suggestions?"

The Volan chuckled. "Quite a few, you can be sure. For starters, though, I'm very interested in learning why you left Incendra."

Teague gave a start, opened his mouth, then clamped it shut.

Raina laughed in disbelief. The Volan had asked one of the exact questions she'd been thinking just a few minutes ago. A question she'd never have asked in a millennium, no matter how badly she'd wished to know the answers. If nothing else, Raina had always respected another's right to his privacy. But now that someone else had asked the question, she found herself leaning forward in expectation, eager to hear Teague Tremayne's reply.

He must have seen the change in her body, must have felt the palpable aura of anticipation filling the air. He glared over at Raina. "Did you set him up to this?"

She reared back in surprise. "What? No, I didn't, though I'll admit to a certain interest in hearing your answer. It's only fair, after all. You know a lot more about me than I wished to share."

"Fair, is it?" Teague considered that for a moment, then shoved a hand through his hair and sighed. "Well, I'm not so certain what fairness has to do with this. My reasons for leaving Incendra, however, are my own. I'll not share the details with anyone."

"Anything you care to reveal will be accepted with the greatest respect and interest," Rand said. "It's past time we began to know each other better."

"And what will you share in return, Volan?" Raina snapped. "You, who are so full of questions yet reveal so little about yourself?"

"Ask me anything you wish to know. If I have the answers, I'll tell you," he replied. "If you truly care to know."

That offer took Raina aback. "Well, I'll be sure and do that, if and when I am interested."

A low chuckle drifted over from across the fire. Raina's gaze jerked up, meeting the faintly amused Teague's. "And what's so funny, Tremayne?"

"You've a most amazing way of doing battle," the monk said. "First you threaten and scold. Then, when you finally get what you want, you leap back like some child surprised that she really got what she asked for, and not at all certain what she'll do with it now that she has it."

Raina scowled. She slapped the stick smartly and repeatedly against her leg. "It's not like that at all. You misconstrue my motives."

He shrugged. "Perhaps. I suppose you'll just bear closer study."

"Which was exactly my point to begin with," the Volan interjected triumphantly. "All of us getting to know each other better. Now, tell us what you care to of your story, my friend. I grow impatient."

The monk graced the Volan with a wry smile. Raina had never been so glad for the reprieve his action gave her from his unrelenting stare. What had he meant, that she'd "just bear closer study?" Was he as curious about her as she was about him? Raina shrugged aside that unsettling consideration and its potential implications. She wasn't so sure she wanted to know why the monk might be interested in her.

"Why did I leave Incendra?" Teague began. A pensive, considering expression darkened his eyes, then he lowered them to stare into the fire. "Because I had nothing to keep me here, no home, no family, no name, and no hope. The monks of Exsul took me in, gave me a new home and life and self-concept. I owed them everything in return."

"Even to the sacrifice of your personal freedom?" Raina asked. "I can't see ever owing a debt that would deserve such a sacrifice."

He glanced up, pinning her with a relentless gaze. "And I say we all sacrifice our freedom in some form or another, sooner or later. As long as we consider it well spent, what harm is there in it?"

"None, I suppose," Raina admitted. She began to sketch aimlessly in the sand with her twig. "But when it's a choice made to avoid one's responsibilities, or to flee from oneself, I don't see it as one well spent."

"And what choice did you make, all those cycles ago?" Teague asked quietly. "To flee your past, perhaps, and never face it?"

Raina's jaw went taut, but she refused to look up. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you? You blame all men for what one did to you, and vow to live the rest of your life punishing them for the actions of one. In the process, you turn your anger within as well as without, inexorably destroying yourself. And there is nothing—nothing—quite so dark or cruel as what we do to ourselves."

"How moral and upright coming from you—you, who always seem to have all the answers!" Raina shoved to her feet. "How glib, how clever you always are, with your monkish platitudes and pronouncements. Well, it won't work this time. You're not going to turn the mistakes of your past, your feeble reasons for choosing the monastic life to hide behind, against me."

She threw down the stick she still clenched in her hand. "Have a very pleasant evening debating this further with the Volan!"

In a spray of sand and righteous indignation, Raina turned and strode away in the direction of the small, spring-fed pool. Teague watched her go, remorse flooding him. He'd been a fool to prod at her so. He didn't know what had possessed him to attack her like that, though he truly believed Raina had allowed the anger and bitterness of her rape at the hands of Malam Vorax to twist her perceptions and relationships. Yet it wasn't his right to involve himself into her personal affairs. He wasn't her life mate, after all.

"You touched on a raw nerve there, my friend," the Volan offered, gently piercing the tumult of emotions roiling in Teague's mind. "Was she, perhaps, striking too close to your own doubts and fears?"

Anger rose within him. "Think what you want. You always do anyway."

"You are two of a kind. Did you know that? Both wounded, both fighting as hard as you can not to bleed to death from that wound, yet bleeding nonetheless. Have you ever considered," Rand quietly persisted, "that perhaps you could help heal each other? It seems the way of your kind."

"I need no one's help," Teague growled. "I have my vows to sustain me."

"Vows that sustain but don't cure. The cure, I think, can only come from within oneself. And, sometimes, one cannot do that without the help of one's friends— and lovers."

"Lovers?" Teague gave a disbelieving laugh. "You grow dangerous, Volan. Now, you'd have me renounce my vows, give up all I've worked so hard to attain, and take a lover."

"If the vows no longer serve, then they're of no further use. Did the femina speak true when she claimed you hide behind them to flee from yourself?"

"You know nothing of me or why I do what I do!"

"No, I don't know the details, it's true. But I can guess, from the little you've shared this night and all the days and nights we talked while the femina was ill, that you've suffered some horrible wounding of the spirit. A wounding you've spent all these cycles attempting to sublimate in a monastic life. And you've done quite well at it, too, haven't you? A fifth-degree Grandmaster with special powers few others possess. Few can ever hope to attain such exalted heights of self-avoidance."

Teague rose. "Your words are hard, Volan, unfair, after all the time we've shared together. And, for all your study of our ways, there's still much you don't understand. Perhaps will never be able to understand."

"True enough," Rand admitted. "But I try. I truly try."

"I know you do." Teague ran his hand through his hair. "I'm weary. Perhaps another time we'll talk more of this, but not tonight."

"Honestly spoken, my friend," the Volan agreed. "But what of the femina? Don't you owe her at least as honest an admission?"

Though he didn't want to acknowledge it, Teague knew Rand was right. He just felt so vulnerable, so unstable right now. To seek Raina out . . .

"You're right, of course." He sighed his reluctant acquiescence. "I do owe her an apology."

With that, he turned on his heel. In a few, quick strides, Teague had left the circle of light and headed out into the darkness shrouding the oasis. A chill breeze stroked his face. Teague shivered, grateful now for the long tunic and cloak. With the addition of the thick lana-cloth blankets and a well-stoked fire, though, they should sleep warmly this night.

As he walked along, he made a mental note to gather more wood to sustain the fire through the night, just as soon as he made his brief apologies to Raina and returned to the camp. A good night's sleep would renew them all for the hard day of travel ahead. Even with the welcome addition of the equs, the journey was still-He stopped short, every nerve instantly on edge. Be it an unusual sound or sudden premonition, something had triggered his well-honed warrior's instincts. There was danger close by, out there in the darkness.

A low growl floated by on the breeze; the gamy, distinctive scent of a desert sand cat followed swiftly in its wake. He recognized it at once. All it took was one time, the memory of just one encounter . . .

Then he saw Raina move in the moonlight, slowly inching her way backward. She was about five meters ahead and slightly to his left. Until then, she'd blended so well with the trees that he hadn't seen her. Her dagger was clenched in her hand but, other than that, she was weaponless.