Heart's Lair (21 page)

Before she could take another step the rapax slammed into her, knocking her off her feet. As she fell his claws sunk through her backpack, tearing her flesh. She screamed.

Liane felt herself lifted in the air. She struggled wildly, the realization the monster meant to carry her off adding strength she never knew she possessed. The rapax hesitated in its upward ascent. His wings beat furiously to counterbalance Liane's squirming weight.

She fought to shrug out of the backpack. The animal's rank stench swirled around her, choking her. She could barely breathe. Her heart pounded in her chest, so hard she thought it would burst.

Blessedly, one arm slipped free of the pack's straps. She hung, momentarily suspended in air, by the other. Liane glanced at the ground, at least five meters below her. It was a long drop, but there was no other choice. With a quick prayer, Liane shrugged out of the remaining strap.

She fell, willing her body to remain loose and supple. She hit the ground on both feet, then rolled forward and over. The impact was hard, but Liane had little time to spare recovering from it. She was immediately on her feet, running.

Overhead the rapax howled wildly, the backpack still in its grip. It circled as she scrambled down the mountainside, growing ever closer. Then the backpack dropped from its claws. This time, it was coming in for the kill.

Panic shuddered through Liane. There was no backpack to protect her anymore. The rapax's claws would sink deep. Then it would lift off, carrying her helpless and bleeding to some lonely, inaccessible aeriethere to die, ripped apart, as it slowly ate her alive. The shrill cry of the monster reverberated through Liane's brain, blocking out everything but the icy, numbing terror. She stumbled and fell, twisting, screaming, kicking.

Above her, a harsh blast of blue fire slammed into the beast. It halted, just meters above Liane, a smoldering hole gaping in its side. With a violent lunge Liane rolled away, barely avoiding being crushed as the rapax plummeted to the ground.

For a few stunned secundae, all she could do was stare.

Then realization filtered back. Someone had shot the creature. Liane staggered to her feet and looked up the mountainside.

There was Karic, shouldering a blaster, as he nimbly scrambled down the rocky incline. Relief surged in, making her suddenly light-headed.

With a small groan Liane sank to her knees, unable to decide if she were happy or sad that he'd found her. Her head drooped, her arms clasping her body. Harsh shudders wracked her slender frame.

Karic slid to a stop. He threw aside his gun and knelt before Liane, taking her into his arms. She cried out, tightly clinging to him. He tenderly stroked the tousled silk of her hair, fighting for control of his own wildly beating heart.

He had almost lost her.

A fierce, aching protectiveness overwhelmed him. Karic pulled Liane even tighter, memorizing the sweet feel of her, her tantalizing scent. Soon, it would be all he had. This battle between them couldn't go on.

He saw that now and accepted it. Their cultures were too different, too much at odds with each other. They had never had a chance. Liane moved in his arms, moaning. His hand slid down her back to stroke and comfort her. Long fingers snagged in torn fabric that was damp and sticky. Karic stiffened. He lifted his hand and saw the blood.

Karic leaned over her. Two sets of slashes, deep and jagged, oozed blood from either side of Liane's back. He swallowed a savage curse.

"Take off your tunic!" he brusquely ordered, steeling himself to the pain he must cause. Climbing to his feet, Karic ran off to retrieve the backpack. Liane was still kneeling there, hunched over in agony, when he returned.

Her backpack held little of any use save a spare tunic and a leather flask of water. Swearing softly under his breath, Karic pulled the two items out. From his own backpack he retrieved a jar of healing salve that he'd grabbed along with his food supplies. Karic gently unfolded Liane's arms, now clasped about her in rising anguish. He tugged up her tunic.

Liane tensed. Her hands captured his. "No!"

He looked deep into her eyes. "I need to tend your wounds. This tunic's ruined. I'll make bandages out of it." He gestured to the clean tunic lying beside him. "You can put this one on afterwards."

Pain clouded her eyes. "II don't know . . ."

"Trust me. I have to care for you. You can't reach these wounds yourself."

His hands slipped from her clasp, and he carefully began to remove Liane's tunic. When Karic pulled the garment over her head, she immediately clamped her arms across her chest. For an instant his gaze lingered on her nakedness, on her slender limbs, on the sweet mounds of her breasts.

He wrenched his gaze away. Gently, ever so carefully, Karic turned her back to him. He tore the tunic into long strips. Then, grasping the water flask in one hand and a rag in the other, he paused.

"This will hurt, Liane," he said, his voice husky with regret. "I'm sorry for that, but it must be done."

"II know," came the muffled reply from the bent head.

He hardened himself to her soft gasps as he proceeded to cleanse her wounds, each little sound stabbing through him like a tiny dagger. By the time he had applied the salve and was ready to bandage her back, his brow was damp with sweat, his own body wracked with the effort it took to inflict pain and watch her suffer.

Gently, so as not to cause her anymore discomfort, Karic slipped the clean tunic over Liane's head. She submitted spiritlessly this time, making little effort to cover herself. There was no hope of traveling anywhere with her this nocte, Karic realized. He'd have to find shelter.

In the deepening twilight, Karic's Cat vision scanned the mountain below him. The lights of Fodina twinkled sinisterly in the distance. He didn't like being even this close to the lawless mining camp. Karic dragged his gaze back up the mountain. Halfway there, he noted a cave.

He transferred Liane's belongings to his own backpack. Slinging his pack and the blaster over one shoulder, Karic gathered Liane into his arms. She snuggled against him, nuzzling her face into the crisp, golden chest hair. His lips moved to her forehead for a fleeting kiss. Then, summoning his remaining strength, Karic set out.

The going was treacherous, and it took two more horas to reach the cave. Liane was already asleep when Karic gently laid her down. The hardness of the stone floor immediately woke her.

"Karic?"

His hand touched her in the darkness. "It's all right, Liane. I'm here."

She moved to pillow her head in his lap. "I missed you," she murmured drowsily. "I'm glad you're here."

The deep, even sound of her breathing soon filled the small cave. Karic sat there for several horas, stroking her hair, before sleep finally claimed him.

A metallic hum woke Karic. He was instantly alert, scanning for the location of the strange noise. It was coming from somewhere outside the cave. He gently shook Liane awake.

She propped herself up on one elbow, which brought a grimace of pain to her face. "What is it?"

"There's someone outside." He carefully slid from beneath her. "Stay here."

Karic crept over to the cave's entrance and peered out. A huge metal monstrosity, complete with two mechanically operating arms, was slowly gliding up the mountain on its cushion of air. Perched high in a windowed cabin were two faces. The drivers, Karic grimly thought.

He choked back a savage curse. It was the dreaded Fodina Sweeper, roaming the mountains in search of hapless slaves for the mining pits, and the two flying the machine were Atroxes. He couldn't cloak his presence from those non-humanoids.

Karic knew they were coming for them. His head whirled with possible plans and found only one. He must lead them away while Liane had time to escape. Together, they couldn't travel fast enough, not in her weakened condition. But alone, he knew he could lead the Sweeper a long chase before he tired enough to be captured. It should give Liane all the time she needed.

He ran back to her. "Get up! I've got to leave you. Once I'm gone, head out and don't look back. If I can, I'll find you later."

His glance, burning with a fierce intensity, lingered on her for a fleeting moment. "For what it's worth, I want you to know I would have taken you anywhere you wished to go. I wouldn't have forced you back to my lair."

Before she could reply Karic ran from the cave. Liane struggled to her feet, intending to go after him and make him explain, but he was gone. She staggered toward the entrance, each step setting afire the raw wounds on her back. The sight that greeted her immediately banished the pain.

An airborne machine was pursuing Karic down the mountain. Its jointed metal arms, complete with grasping pincers, flailed after him like long, lethal tentacles. Though the descent was rocky and treacherous, Karic managed to stay beyond its reach.

Liane ran back to retrieve the backpack and blaster, then exited the cave. She knew she should be on her way. There was a danger the machine might return to look for other occupants of the cave. But first she had to know what became of Karic.

He was maintaining his lead, even drawing away, when four skim craft suddenly appeared out of nowhere. With a sickening surge of horror, Liane realized the occupants of the big machine must have called for reinforcements. She saw Karic slide to a halt, trapped between the sweeper and the four craft spread in a semicircle before him. For the merest flicker of an instant, she watched him hesitate. Then, with lightning speed, he attempted a feint to the left then a quick dart beneath the skimmers. The Sweeper's metallic arms, so ungainly looking when not in use, were suddenly as swift as Karic. They shot out, one clamping around his neck, the other about an ankle.

Karic was jerked to the ground. As he struggled to pry open the pincer from about his throat, he was inexorably dragged back toward the huge machine. A large door opened. As Liane watched in helpless anguish, Karic was pulled into the bowels of the Fodina Sweeperand disappeared.

"More ale, and be quick about it!" a burly, grimyfaced miner shouted.

For what seemed the hundredth time this sol, Liane filled a mug full of foaming Moracan ale and slid it across the counter for one of the other female table servers to deliver. She sighed and brushed an errant strand of hair from her damp forehead. How many more sols must she endure this noisy, overcrowded tavern, the leers and less than gentle fondling of her body? Too many times to count now, she had barely evaded being dragged away by a drunken miner. It was a violent, dangerous camp, and Liane wondered how much longer she could avoid the inevitable.

She'd been here a full three sols now, earning her keep while healing thanks to Karic's salve, all the while trying to glean information on how to get into the mining pits. She knew Karic was in one of them, condemned to lifelong labor, extracting the precious beryllium stone. It was a life that was generally quite short, so the talk around the camp went, for if the hard labor didn't kill you the frequent explosions from the highly volatile stone eventually would.

Liane had no idea how she would find Karic once she was able to sneak into the pits, but the consideration of leaving him there never entered her mind. He'd sacrificed himself for her. Coupled with his parting words that he'd take her anywhere and not force her back to his lair, she knew she couldn't turn her back on him.

It would be certain death for him otherwise. But that was the only reason. She didn't dare examine any other motives too closely. Her feelings still smoldered too disturbingly beneath a thin layer of hurt and betrayal. Perhaps, above all else, it was that realization that drove her to stay, risking everything to see him free. Even after all he'd made her suffer, Liane couldn't leave Karic to such a horrible fate. She didn't hate him that much.

As she worked that sol and into the early nocte, Liane became uncomfortably aware of a man sitting across the room, his back against the wall, his long legs propped on a table. He'd been there for horas, nursing a single mug of ale, his dark eyes watching, taking in everything. And she was most definitely part of that everything.

He was tall, powerfully built, his dark blond hair thick and curling down the back of his neck. He had a hard, ruthless face, and his features were roughly chiseled. His dark, snug clothing only accented his commanding physique. And though the man appeared to possess no weapons, there was an unmistakeable aura of virility and danger about him.

She was suddenly aware of his gaze, assessing her with the same frank curiosity she was bestowing upon him. She looked away, but not before she saw a dark brow arch and lips quirk in amusement. Nervously, Liane wiped a rag across the counter, wondering who he was. If he were another tracker sent out by Necator . . .

Her shift ended an hora later. Liane gratefully slipped away, her mind already intent on her impending meeting with one of the miners. He'd been badgering her all sol to go for a walk. Liane had politely but firmly told him no, until he'd offered to give her a tour of the mines. The coveted miner's pass was the only way through the gates, as well as past the force fields at the pits' entrances, and only the miners possessed them.

Liane had discovered the beryllium slaves never left the pits. They lived and eventually died down there, loading endless carts of the valuable stone barehanded and unprotected from the periodic explosions. Sometimes they were just maimed and survived to labor again, but usually the blast of the highly unpredictable beryllium killed them. Liane wondered at the cruelty of letting those hapless prisoners take such terrible risks while the miners worked, fully protected, from inside the armored mine diggers.