Stormrider (9 page)

If it is but a small Amulet made to fit about a man’s throat, how would it reject a wearer?

Tanith smiled “You ask difficult questions. It has not rejected a wearer in many generations of the Imperitor’s line. I do not know exactly how it would do so. There are ancient stories of the Amulet’s power I remember from my days at school in Antaris.”

But the amulet is here and you are here . . . in Nashira.

Perhaps the Amulet does not possess its power here. How could it have been stolen if it has the power to stop such, yet seemed to allow it?

“More difficult questions. Perhaps they will all be answered when we find the Amulet.”

Perhaps.

“But you have your doubts.”

A wolfish shrug.
I am a wolf, not a human. Such things as you describe do little but confuse me. Among the pack there is no symbol such as you describe needed to determine leadership. It is clear who is leader
.

“Your ways are simpler,” Tanith admitted with a sigh. “But for us, if the Amulet is not found, the truth not discovered, war could erupt among the countries represented in the Council of Nine. Tides of revolution could sweep across our world. People, it seems, are not as stable as wolves.”

True for some. Not for others.
Littlefoot interjected cryptically, trotting back from another independent excursion. She sat close beside Strongheart, with a swirled pink tongue over her black nose and panted lightly.
The slavers are not far ahead. I found their spoor and followed. They are arrogant and incautious. We would do well to avoid them.
She cocked her head, eyebrows quirking in her white mask above golden eyes.
I have detected nothing of Raptor Simic, but he will find you.

“He is a bounty hunter—it’s not me he seeks . . .”

Strongheart, just as positive as Littlefoot.
He will find you.

With a wry twist of her lips, Tanith glanced from one wolf to the other. Only One Eye had not commented. “Hopefully he will not find me before I return to where I hid his ship.”

Tanith had experienced a few tugs of conscience about that maneuver. The thought of leaving him abandoned while she returned to the Circle of Nine troubled her, but she had determined her mission was the most important thing and out of necessity, her first consideration. She would return for him once the torque was safely in the hands of its rightful wearer. He would have to fend for himself until then. Such are the risks of a bounty hunter. Really, he was fortunate to have run afoul of someone such as she who possessed some honor. Some would leave him with no backward thought. Then if he ever intended to leave Nashira, his only chance would be stealing a slaver’s vessel. As he had so succinctly pointed out, that would be no mean feat.

He seeks more than the Amulet.
Strongheart pressed his way into her thoughts.

“Philosophizing again?”

That drew an irritated snort from Strongheart.
Uttering truths.

That drew a snort from Tanith. She glanced again at Littlefoot. “How far were the slavers from here? Would it be possible to catch up easily?”

Yes. They are not far. They are moving slowly. I think they do not yet believe themselves finished here.

Strongheart, climbing to his feet and lifting his nose to the warm breeze.
Your thoughts are good, Stormrider. You are more of The People than you admit even to yourself.

“My thoughts are insane,” Tanith returned. “I think to steal the slavers’ profit from them; I alone, and
I
look with disdain upon
their
arrogance.”

But you are not alone.
Strongheart, great silver ruff standing out around his head, framing what could only be described as a kind face.

Yeah.
One Eye interjected his thoughts at last.
You have us. It will be great sport—like the bear.

Strongheart ignored One Eye. It seemed like the sensible thing to do at that moment.
You seek to take their victims from them. Their profit is something else. You seek to free those of The People they have stolen from a life of slavery.

“That, and more,” Tanith said, working with a suddenly dry mouth. “But if I try to rescue them and fail, my mission is lost. The amulet is lost. There could follow terrible wars. Are a handful of lives worth that cost? Can I balance those few against so many?”

A single life is worth that.
Strongheart huffed his reply.
Always it is a matter of choice. There are times to sacrifice the one for the many. There are also times to sacrifice the many for the one. For the life that is being lived, its loss is the universe. That is all there is.
He lifted his proud head to gaze directly into Tanith’s eyes.
You seek the good. You seek justice and freedom.

Tanith shook her head and swallowed hard. Her mouth twisted into a stiff, uneven line. She raised her chin. Green eyes glittered like jewels while unshed tears pricked the back of her eyes. She met Strongheart’s gaze squarely and knew in the dark corner of her soul what was driving her.

She shivered, croaking her truth past a dry, constricted throat. “I am no saint. I seek vengeance.”

Chapter 7

Angry. That was what he was. More angry than that moon-cursed bear that had brought him down. And, if forced to admit it (though there were few who could
force
him to do anything ) a little disappointed. Raptor had been sure he would be able to work out some sort of partnership arrangement with Tanith.

A loner by nature and desire he had not wanted a partner, but he did owe her and now she was gone; slipped off during the night when he had least expected it, but should have. Even more surprisingly, she had accomplished it without awakening him. And,
that
was something he
really
didn’t like. How smoothly she had deceived him. Her easy manner, spiked with just the right amount of prickliness, had convinced him he would be able to remain near her until his debt was discharged, locate the moon-cursed amulet and gallantly provide both of them with transport away from Nashira. He had, of course, planned on collecting his fee and she would have kept her honor intact . . . somehow.
 

But she had thrown him off balance—then had not hesitated to take advantage of that accomplishment. He frowned, brow knitted. Her easy departure with wolves in tow, revealed nothing good about the state of his normally super-sensitive instincts.

He should have seen it coming, but he had read not one warning sign that such a thing as sneaking off in the middle of the night had been on her mind. There were the wolves of course, but who could tell with wolves—any wolves anywhere—let alone these strange wolves of Nashira.

With more than a little irritation he unlimbered his body. It still stiffened in the chill of the night, old injuries creaking, bones tingling. He stood within the starkly empty maw of the cave, looking out across the peach streaks of Nashira’s dawning. He drew a deep breath, flushing the frosty bite of it through his lungs, shocking himself to complete wakefulness. Alert now, he pried loose the anger and discarded it so he could think more clearly.

He wasn’t one to launch into immediate pursuit even if he had a reason to pursue. Golden brown fox eyes glittered in anticipation. Perhaps, with injuries now healed, this was just the sort of exercise he needed. He grinned.

Reason. He was a master at it. He prided himself on his ability to outthink anyone—or anything if one counted some of the strange creatures he had encountered in his time. Chasing one’s quarry was only a last resort. Far better to understand, follow thought processes and project yourself one step ahead of the quarry. Far better.

“Well, Stormrider,” Raptor mused aloud, words echoing softly in the cave’s empty interior, “I know what it is you seek, but you never spoke of where.” He continued grinning into the distance. “I, however, have my ways; a quick side-trip to my ship and I will be far more than merely a memory in your life!”

Long, lean limbs flowing with regained strength, Raptor moved swiftly about the cave, gathering the few remaining items Tanith had left behind. His sleeping furs, a necessity for survival, even for a bounty hunter. An ample pouch of food, left, no doubt, because he had had a hand in gathering its contents. The few of his own meager possessions he had arrived with were untouched. And, there was the knife. It was a very large knife. There were no other weapons. He picked up the knife and turned it over in his hand. The silver blade glinted in the brilliant light of the morning. It was perfectly balanced. He doubted it had come from Nashira; then again, Antaris, civilized place that it was, would have little use for such a knife. For a few moments he wondered where it might have had its origins, then tucked it securely in his belt.

Raptor made a pack out of the items he would be needing and slung it, along with the pouch of food, over his shoulder. He made his way down the precipitously inclined trail with the swift, sure-footed agility of a mountain pony; one of which he could have used right now. He was a powerful man. One well accustomed to walking—or running—but that did not mean he shunned the easier path.

It was eerily quiet in the small valley. With Tanith and the wolves absent it felt terribly empty. She may well be a Janissary with a reputation, but in his opinion, she was also a bit of a fool to reject help when it was offered, despite her moon-blessed pride.

Bottoming out on the trail, he headed directly for the trees and stream as he jerked open the food pouch partaking of a few bites as breakfast while he pressed on. It tasted dry as straw, lacking all the flavor it had possessed when he had shared it with the damnable Janissary. How that could be he was not sure. It was the same dried food.

Raptor didn’t hesitate. He was moving now, his body in harmony again with itself, injuries healed, muscles flowing as the night’s last lingering stiffness faded. His intention was to cover ground fast, dispense with the preliminaries as swiftly as possible and get on with it. A bounty hunter had a few more tricks in his arsenal than a Janissary simply because he was not bound by the rules of the circle of Nine—he was bound by no rules other than those of his own making.

His tall, lean body, all edges and angles, moved powerfully as he shifted from a fast walk to an easy jog with the warming of his body and loosening of his muscles. He drew deeply of the quickly warming air. Long, forceful strides, strides possessed of the confidence of a lion, carried Raptor swiftly to his destination. Soft grasses bent, then sprang up behind his heels, releasing a fresh, biting fragrance. The scent of rich soil and dew-dampened greens wafted to his nostrils. He watched the terrain carefully as he traversed it. He had hidden his craft carefully despite the little time there had been with the cursed Dinh Dinh right on his tail.

It had been long days and a traumatic-injury since then, but he had no difficulty in remembering exactly where he had hidden his ship. With no wrong turns or hesitation, he went directly to the spot where he had cached it.

And found nothing.

Nothing, except a site totally destroyed; branches scattered, concealment shredded. There was no subtlety. It was torn apart completely and there was absolutely no sign of the craft in which he had arrived. No wreckage. No trace, no hint as to its whereabouts.

At first, with the realization of what he was seeing—or more properly—
not
seeing, Raptor didn’t react at all. Nothing stirred within him. It was too unbelievable.

A few seconds later reality set in. Then golden eyes darkened. Raptor’s temper rose and his knuckles whitened as fists clenched in barely controlled fury. The color of heat swept in to stain his cheeks. If anger was what he had felt at the cave when he had first discovered Tanith gone, then this was high fury.

“Hela take you!” he spat out the denunciation, calling down the curse of the queen of the dead like the old friend she was. It was into her arms he wished to send the miscreant responsible for this.

Stiff-legged, he took a couple of steps back, seething, then turned, expertly searching for clues, or any small thing to mark the way. There was little to see but destruction. Was it The People who had committed this act? Determined to make sure he was not
Jaiqi
, slaver, had they wanted to trap him here?
 

In high color, Raptor wrestled his fury, fighting for cool control, then released the power of his anger to She Who Creates. Survival depended on his ability to do so. Fury was a luxury. He did not have time for it.

He continued to search the area carefully where the craft had rested, then had been artfully concealed in the brush. It was too clean, too well done for it to have been The People. They would have left indicators since they were so proud of their abilities and their unchallenged dominion of the area. The men of The People would have wanted him to know it was they. No, it was too tidy in its destruction, too well executed. It bore the stamp of a—the realization he had been trying to avoid came slowly, like the trickle of water from the melting ices of winter—Janissary. It bore the stamp of Tanith Aesir.

His auxiliary senses were coming alert after the dormancy of injury and he could almost smell her presence here; could almost feel her essence. She’d been here all right. Been here and gone, and it wasn’t just the previous night that she had unearthed the ship. She had found the craft prior to that. He remembered reading about her training in the various files The Circle Of Nine had presented him. She’d have the ability to repair the minor damage to the ship. Yet, by the sign she left the night before when she’d departed, she had gone on foot. She had not taken the ship. Why, he wondered.