Gift of the Goddess (29 page)

The ClawCaptain hissed, swatting at Trey with one paw. Brin twisted the halberd an inch deeper. Hanging on with all her strength, beating at the scaly hide, Anje muttered, “Die! Die, Mother damn you!”

Brin’s face set in a rictus of effort. With a grunt, he leaned forward, bringing all his enormous strength to bear on the halberd.

The ClawCaptain’s fanged jaw opened and it gave a long, bloodcurdling bellow as the point of the weapon powered relentlessly through its flesh. A violent shudder ran through it and it staggered.

As the Hssrdan swayed, Anje and Trey dropped to the floor. It seemed to fall in slow motion, the slit-pupiled eyes shining with hatred before they glazed over and it hit the floor with a bone-shattering thud.

With one accord, they ran for the door, scooping up discarded weapons on the way. The passageway was empty, but the battle noise reverberated down it, amplified to a deafening degree. “This way.” Trey led, trotting back the way he and Anje had come, a lifetime ago.

As they sped past the barred slave pen, the door swinging open, he punched the air, panting. “They got out! Lufra be praised!”

“They’ll be outside,” Brin grunted. “Freeing the women and children.” He grinned at Trey. “You did that?”

“Tossed ‘em the lock pick and a knife,” said Trey with satisfaction. “They did the rest themselves.” He snatched up a flaming torch as they burst into the open air.

The scene resembled Anje’s idea of hell. Torchlight gleamed on sweaty skin and armored scales. The carnal reek of battle washed over them, an unholy combination of blood and excrement, terror and mud. Figures darted back and forth, some disappearing into the darkness and not returning. Here and there, others fought in heaving knots of violence. Occasionally, a shrill scream carried over the din.

“
Brin?”
A stocky, naked man barreled past them and skidded to a halt. “They didn’t get you then?” He reached out to clasp the shaman’s forearm. Blood streamed down the side of his head. It looked as though his ear had been sheared off. Anje shuddered.

“As you see.” Brin’s teeth gleamed as he gestured at the confusion. “How are you doing, Raidle?”

“Second time lucky, huh?” The man grinned, then shrugged. “About a dozen dead that I know of. Not as bad as it could have been. The ClawCaptain was skimping on guards, the arrogant, scaly shit.” He spat.

“Not anymore.”

151 Denise Rossetti

“Yah!” Raidle whooped and thumped Brin on the shoulder. “Bet that took some doing.”

“All three of us,” said the shaman and Anje’s heart swelled. “What of the outdoor pens?” he asked.

“We got ‘em. Women and kids have all run by now.

“Do you need us?”

Their companion considered, leaning on his halberd. Finally, he shook his head. “Don’t think so. Look at it.” He jerked with his chin. Only one mêlée remained, and men were running toward it from all parts of the camp. “We’re down to the mopping up. We owe you for leading us that first time. Go with your gods, Brin.” He hefted his weapon and glanced at Trey. “And thanks for the help, mate.” With a last glance at Anje’s exposed bosom and a casual salute, he trotted toward the fighting.

“Come on,” said Trey, heading toward the darkness beyond the palisade.

Brin raised a brow. “You’ve got it all worked out, have you?”

“Possibly.” Trey threw his torch into the first patch of moonlit swamp. It died with an angry hiss. “Possibly not. Anje, love?”

“Bear left and stick to the trail. It’s all bog here,” she said. “Trey, you’re limping.”

He grunted. “You try having a SpurSoldier fall on your ankle.”

Brin slid an arm around Trey’s waist, despite his protests. “Lead on, Anje. We’re right behind you.”

They emerged from cover onto a small dry patch under a giant sorrowtree, right under Braithie’s nose. Anje was so certain the girl was going to faint, she sprang forward, hands outstretched. But Braithie was made of sterner stuff. Confronted with the sight of two warriors, both stark naked, one of them a giant, her eyes went as round as a full moon. She swallowed, her stare running over Brin’s body, lodging at his crotch. “I dinna do noothin’ else, even if ye pay me,” she muttered.

Anje giggled, light-headed with relief, but Brin stepped forward and took Braithie’s hand as if she were a noble lady. He bowed over it with unimpaired dignity. “I owe you a great debt for your courage. What I can do, I will.”

Braithie’s grimy fingers clutched his. She sniffed and wiped her nose on her shoulder. “Git me away from Nilda. That’d do.”

Brin smiled, the dimples flashing, and Anje saw Braithie’s knees tremble beneath her ragged skirts. “My word on it,” he rumbled. He rolled an eye at Anje and Trey. “Nilda?”

“It’s a long story,” said Trey. “Anje suggested we use Braithie to create a diversion. When I went out to get the rest of the money, I gave her the signal.” He grinned like a boy. “Miners’ blast powder tossed into a fire makes a lovely bang, doesn’t it, Braithie?”

The girl blinked. “Ay. But ‘twas ye took the risks. Ye and her.”

“Don’t worry, Braithie,” murmured Brin, his voice absolutely expressionless. “They’ll get their reward.”

152 Gift of the Goddess

Hastily, Anje fumbled for the Bond link. He’d closed it down to the barest flicker, but she could still detect the anger lurking beneath. When his hand smoothed her hair in the most controlled of caresses, she knew he’d caught the flash of panic and arousal.

“Can we go now? I have yer beasties,” said Braithie.

“Lufra, yes!” Suddenly, Brin grinned broadly, raised his hands above his head and stretched until his spine popped, completely unconscious of three pairs of hungry eyes. “Ah, that feels good!”

One long arm jerked Anje into his chest and he hugged her until her bones creaked. From Brin’s other side, she heard a masculine grunt and knew he’d gathered Trey in as well. She turned her nose into his skin and breathed the spicy essence of Brin beneath the slave pen reek. Her cheek pressed against something rank and slimy smeared over his chest and she didn’t care.

He released her so abruptly she staggered. “Come on, we’re not out of this yet. Anje, you’re with me. Trey, you take Braithie.”

The ride back to The Hollows was a nightmare. Anje cursed herself for not thinking of the human parasites who made their living out of the Hssrda slave trade. The shadowed streets seethed with the dark bodies of escaping slaves and those who pursued them for profit. In the shanty-town slums, they had to fight off two different bands of marauders. If it hadn’t been for the battle skills of the Feolin warriors and their vranee, the Mother only knew what might have happened.

Once they’d enticed the animals through the narrow door of Nilda’s squat, Braithie slipped away into the bowels of the building, reminding Anje of a small, beady-eyed animal in desperate search of a burrow.

Brin dived on Twink’s water bucket and upended it over his head, scrubbing at his skin. When Trey laughed and handed him Brownie’s, he tossed the wet hair out of his eyes and did it all over again, swearing as the cold water stung the gashes on his body. The worst was the slice on his arm. Blood and water trickled over his biceps. Anje eyed it with concern. “Brin, come upstairs. I should doctor that.”

“Upstairs?” It was the first word he’d spoken since they’d entered.

Anje stepped aside from the hole in the wall and Brin’s brows rose. “I see.” He looked around. “Is there any food? Ah!” He pounced on Nilda’s cooking pot, peered inside and grimaced. But he snatched up a crusted spoon and devoured cold, scummy stew with amazing rapidity, while Anje and Trey watched in silence.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he smiled tightly, his eyes as black as onyx. “Now we will go upstairs and you will tell me precisely why and how you lost your minds.”

The trip up the steps seemed to take an age. With Brin looming darkly behind her, Anje’s spine prickled with awareness. The cheeks of her ass heated, as if she felt the heavy weight of his hand. The worst thing was that a perverse part of her could hardly wait. Her sex moistened.

153 Denise Rossetti

Brin shut the door of their shabby room behind him with a decisive click and leaned against it, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He looked exhausted. Trey moved toward him, but Anje drew him back with a hand on his arm. She shook her head in warning.

Brin was no longer masking the link and she felt him gathering his strength, honing his furious purpose. Mother, she couldn’t breathe! He dominated the room, the weight of his silence sucking all the air out of her lungs.

Trey took a step forward. Anje couldn’t see how he found the courage. “Aren’t you going to say thank you?” he asked. Gods, he must be mad! Her heart lodged in her throat.

Brin’s long-lidded eyes glittered with anger. “Certainly.” He bit out the words, his voice rising with each syllable. “I value my balls, not to mention my life. I am exceedingly grateful for my rescue. Accept my humble thanks.”

His chest expanded as he dragged in a breath. When he spoke again, his voice was very low. “Sorry,” he said. “Thank you. Truly.”

He blinked and abruptly, his eyes blazed. Pushing away from the door, he paced across the room. Trey jumped aside before he was mown down. “Sweet Lufra, I have never, NEVER, been so frightened in my life! And there was nothing I could do!
Nothing!
”

Brin ran a hand through his wet hair and the drops trickled over his thick wrist. “You took an insane risk, both of you.” He whirled around. “For me! What if you’d been killed—or captured? How could I live with that?”

Trey limped forward to block his path. “How could we live without you?”

Brin shut his mouth with a snap. His hands shot out to grasp Trey’s shoulders as if to shake him. Just as abruptly, he let him go. “I swear I’m going to beat you bloody.”

Trey arched a brow. “Anytime.” He smiled.

The shaman cut him an evil glare. “How dare you take such a risk?
How dare you?
”

The desperation that boiled across the link, the yearning—Sweet Mother, the loneliness!—tore her apart. Anje couldn’t bear it. She stiffened her spine. “I told you why we dared. In the cave.”

Brin stalked over and sank his hands into her hair. He began unraveling her beaded braids, as if he knew how much they irritated her. But though his fingers were gentle, his expression was anything but. “So you did,” he growled. “While Trey—” Abruptly, he pressed his lips together. Two spots of color burned high on his cheekbones.

“You aren’t going to talk about it, are you?” Trey said to the shaman’s broad back.

Brin didn’t turn. “No.” He tossed the string of beads aside and sifted his fingers through Anje’s hair, fluffing it over her shoulders. For a moment, she thought his hands trembled.

“Why not?”

154 Gift of the Goddess

Brin tucked Anje under his arm and turned slowly. She had the strangest feeling he was holding on to her for support. But he treated Trey to a stare cold enough to freeze the blood in his veins. “Don’t ever,
ever
, touch me like that again.”

“Why? Because you loved it?”

155 Denise Rossetti

Chapter Twenty-Three

Children of the Mother—Government:

The Children of the Mother are ruled by an elected Council of five Matriarchs. All citizens over the age of twenty-five may vote, both male and female, but only women over the age of fifty are eligible for the Council. The Matriarchs employ advisors on an ad hoc basis and gender is no bar. In fact, the Battle Commander of the Children is often male.

Excerpt from the Great Encyclopedia, compiled by Miriliel the Burnished.

The shaman shrugged. “A reaction of the body. Any mouth would have done.”

Trey’s lashes fell, shuttering his expression. He pushed a clenched fist against the wall and rested his forehead against it.

Anje didn’t need to be Bonded to feel the depth of his hurt. “Trey, you promised me! Don’t give up.” She flung her arms around Brin’s waist and dragged in a preparatory breath. All hell was going to break loose. “He’s lying.”

“
Anje!
” With an outraged roar, Brin tried to prize her loose, but she hung on tight.

“You Bonded me, mighty shaman.” She nipped him on the meat of his chest. “Deal with it.”

Brin lifted her off her feet and bent his head to growl in her ear. “I’m going to beat you, scout. I swear.”

Anje’s laugh was shaky. “Anytime.” She unwound her arms and looked at Trey, frozen with the painful return of hope. “Do whatever you like, Trey. I’ll know if he’s lying. Body or soul.”

“Anje, don’t do this.”

“That’s not what the link’s saying, Brin.”

“But I
can’t
! I mustn’t! It’s a matter of honor and trust. Lufra, I’m
responsible
for him!” His voice thickened. “Taking advantage of this…” He hissed in frustration. “This infatuation—what would that do to him? What would I become?”