Training the Warrior (18 page)

Battle sounds from outside the bunker got
their attention and they ran to the entrance. Tauran and alliance soldiers fought
in scattered groups down the hillside. Taelor counted a group of ten Taurans
loaded down with weapons and heavy artillery, charging toward the bunker. They
stepped out and waved them on, urging the men to hurry. Five alliance soldiers
tried to intercept them, and he nudged Jarrok.

“Hold this position. I’ll help them.”

Not giving Jarrok a chance to object, he
charged down the hill toward the Tauran soldiers. Once he reached them, he
shouldered one of the heavier weapons and prodded them to hurry. They picked up
their pace and made it to the bunker just before the enemy closed in.

Jarrok herded the men inside. “Get set and
start shooting,” he ordered.

“We have company!” Taelor felt obligated to
give his partner a warning while he dodged a weak shot from a hand blaster.
Power weapons had a flaw. They drained quickly.

Jarrok was beside him in seconds and
together they charged down the hill toward the nearest five soldiers. Taelor
took down two and assisted Jarrok with the last. His partner had taken care of
the other two. After their power weapons were spent, the alliance soldiers were
no match for Taurans in hand-to-hand combat. They were utterly defenseless
against warriors.

An ominous sound came down from above. It
grew louder, but they couldn’t see what approached their position. The sky was
thick with haze, blocking their view. Exchanging suspicious glances, he and
Jarrok made a mad dash up the hill once again. Fighter ships, Taelor thought,
it had to be fighter ships. A loud whine followed by a shock blast confirmed
his suspicion. He was steps away from the entrance when another blast hit. He
was thrown to the ground. Pain ripped through him, crushing the breath from his
lungs.
Breathe.
He needed to get up. He had to get air. Searing pain
stabbed his side. It felt like a knife blade sawing against his ribs.
Move
away. Breathe. Get up.

Taelor jerked awake and lurched to his
feet, poised for battle. He wasn’t on a battlefield. One quick glance down told
him he was certainly not in a battle, his forearm restraints were still secured
around his arms. He breathed heavily. He’d been wounded in the fight.

Why did he always dream about that one
particular battle? There were plenty of others to choose from, ones where he hadn’t
been injured. He would much rather dream about those. He stood straight, drew
in a long, even chest-full of air and his head fell back as he exhaled. The
tension in his body melted away. He settled back down on his bed to rest until
it was time for him to watch over Attor.

In truth, it was no mystery to him why he
dreamed of that battle. He’d been on Ero when his mate had died. A part of him
wished he’d died that day too. How could he not have known Norlana was so
dissatisfied? No matter how many times he thought about their life together, he
couldn’t think of one single instance where she’d acted unhappy after he’d claimed
her. They’d laughed and joked together, in and out of bed. Words of passion and
love were exchanged between them. And when he was away on missions, her friends
told him that she missed him, but no more than any of the other mates whose warriors
had left. She’d always been overjoyed to see him when he returned.

Could she have fooled him for so long? How
was it possible? She was his claimed mate. Perhaps that was part of the
problem. He didn’t like to think about the events that led up to the claiming.
Norlana was happy before she’d met him. She’d had a Tauran male she’d hoped to
take as her mate. Taelor had literally bumped into her by accident.

He’d accompanied his mated partner to the free
zone in Capital City. His partner had been searching for a female who’d been
declared missing. She was the daughter of a friend. Taelor was there to help
out. He certainly wasn’t trying to find a mate or even a female for the
evening.

Norlana had rushed out of a dining hall and
ran straight into his arms. That had been it. He’d known she was the one. His
body had recognized her in that instant. That was how it’d felt for him. The
start of his latent period was just that simple. For Norlana, things hadn’t
been so easy. For the next three days, she’d cried constantly. Her tears had cut
him. At first, she’d refused to go with him. So he’d carried her over his
shoulder out of the free zone. She’d kicked and screamed the whole way. On
reflection, he wished he hadn’t acted so barbaric at the time. He’d only
increased her fear. No amount of reassurance on his part or his partner’s would
calm her. No, she hadn’t been happy then. Her only desire had been to escape. After
he’d threatened to tie her down when they reached his lodging, she’d stopped
fighting him. She’d just wept.

The sight of her tears had made him ache
inside. He loved her, and he couldn’t bear to see her cry, but he’d never let
her go since all he desired was to be with her night and day. He’d actually
resorted to locking her inside his quarters those first few days on the rare
occasions when he had to leave for any reason.

Emotions he’d never experienced had swelled
inside him. Besides an all-consuming love for his female, he’d also felt an
overwhelming need to protect her, not just from danger, but from any male who
came near her. None of the warriors tried. And his partner had made sure no
unwary Tauran male wandered anywhere close to them.

Before the claiming lust had come upon him,
the closest he’d ever come to her while they were secluded inside his dwelling
was to sit beside her during meals or sleep next to her at night. She would
tremble and start weeping if he attempted to pleasure her. Even his attempts to
simply embrace her had been denied. It was the most uncomfortable three days
Taelor had ever spent in his life.

His partner had assured him that Norlana
would feel differently after the claiming. “As the latent period ends, your
marking glands will swell with the combination of your marking scent and the
claiming essence. After you cover her with your scent, your essence will join
with hers. She’ll understand she’s meant for you.”

The other mated warriors had told him the
same thing. She would know him and love him. They’d been right. Once the latent
period had ended and he’d claimed her, Norlana had told him she’d never felt so
much love for anyone before. She’d never shed another tear. His mate had been
happy. He’d been overjoyed.

Now Taelor wondered if any of her words
were true. If so, was it only because of the claiming? His scent, his essence, had
he drugged her with his body? He knew he had. All warriors did. They just didn’t
like to admit it.

The other thing they hated to admit was the
feeling of gut-wrenching fear that came on them during latency and claiming.
Warriors weren’t afraid of anything, ever, with one exception. They feared
losing their mate. Taelor would have preferred to cut his own heart out rather
than experience the reality that he hadn’t been there to protect her or die for
her. His greatest fear had come true. He’d failed his mate.

One thing he knew for certain was he never
wanted to claim another unwilling female. The stark reality weighing on his
mind was the choice simply would never be his to make. And worse, he wouldn’t
have the luxury of another latent period ever again.

Chapter Ten

“Let me see him, Taelor,” Laeness begged
tearfully.

Taelor steeled his heart as he shook his
head. His sister’s concern over her son was understandable, but he couldn’t
allow her to come to the brig now. Attor’s time was near, only a few hours
away. And
Avenger
was half a day’s journey from Fortress.

“I only came here to let you know his
temperature is falling. His fever is breaking, Laeness. You know what that
means.”

She whipped about and rushed away, leaving
him standing alone in the doorway to her quarters. The sound of her weeping
pained him. Taelor went to her and pulled her into his arms in a brotherly
embrace.

“Is there a female traveling with you who
is willing to…help…after he’s bladed?”

In all his thirty-five years, he’d never
spoken to his sisters about sex or sexual acts. He’d rather be exposed in the middle
of a battlefield than standing there asking his sister if she had someone
willing to please her son sexually. He felt like a complete ass.

To his surprise, she nodded silently, then
lifted her face to gaze at him. He waited while she wiped away her tears.

“Allya, my aide, has volunteered. She and I
have been studying the instructions the head mistress sent.”

Taelor was shocked. “You’ve read them?”

His sister stiffened and lurched away. She
seemed insulted. “Of course. He’s my son! I had to know what he needs.”

“Of course,” he muttered. He should have
known. Taelor turned and stalked to the door. “Prepare the female. I’ll call
for her when the time comes,” he said as he left.

There was something unsettling about
knowing his sister knew the details of what happened to warriors immediately
after blading. Certain information should remain private, he thought. He hoped
the head mistress hadn’t disclosed everything.

Still grumbling, Taelor stormed into the brig,
ignoring the officer on duty. Halfway down the cell block a bloodcurdling howl
greeted him. Jarrok was outside Attor’s cell, calmly leaning against the bars
while he stared at the thermal remote in his palm. The med-tech was nowhere to
be seen. Attor’s loud howls had no doubt discouraged him from staying.

“His temperature is down to one hundred and
three and…make that one hundred and two.” His partner shrugged apologetically. “Falling
about a degree every thirty minutes now.”

Taelor joined Jarrok in front of the cell.
Attor shivered and moaned constantly now. His body had changed drastically. To
a casual observer, he appeared no different than any of his mature warrior brothers.
When his fever broke, he’d be ready for the final alteration that would
complete his transformation.

Taelor and Jarrok exchanged nervous
glances. They both knew what had to be done.

“We can’t delay any longer. Get him into
the other cell,” Taelor said. He was grateful his voice came out sounding
confident.

They grabbed Attor by his upper arms as
gently as possible and dragged him out of his cell. The movement jarred his
forearms and he howled pitifully. His cries of pain didn’t stop until they
finished cuffing his wrists to the chains and let him slide down to the floor.
Semi-conscious, he rested quietly for a few minutes while taking quick panting
breaths.

Jarrok grunted. “Heavy carcass for a young warrior,”
he complained.

“Must be those big blades,” Taelor
retorted.

“Gacking royals,” his partner grumbled just
loud enough to be heard.

Taelor took a quick glance at the remote.
It read one hundred and one. He showed his partner the readout. “We’ll find out
in a few hours.”

The next thirty minutes brought about two
changes. Attor sweated profusely, drenching the metal floor, and he woke up.
His temperature was back to a very comfortable and normal one hundred degrees.
His moans of pain turned to snarls.

“Time.” Safely on the outside of the cell,
Taelor grabbed the ends of both chains and held on tight. “Help him stand. It’ll
take both of us on the chains. I’ll try to hold him until you get back around
here.”

Jarrok hooked his arms under Attor’s
armpits. “Stand, Attor,” he barked the command while he lifted. Surprisingly,
the young warrior shuffled his feet, gained a foothold and stood straight, all
six foot eight inches of him. Taelor thought his partner was pressing his luck
when he looped a section of chain through each of Attor’s giant fists and
ordered, “Hold on tight. Don’t let go! Don’t pull until we tell you.”

Attor growled at first, then threw back his
head and howled in pain, but he obeyed. Jarrok dashed out of the cell and
relieved Taelor of one of the chains.

 Jarrok leveled an exasperated look at him,
and said, “Well, don’t just stand there. Pull!”

His partner was full of surprises. Together
they gradually drew Attor’s arms up, stopping at a point where he could use his
body weight to pull back against the chains. Every inch of movement ripped a
painful roar from the young warrior, but he followed Jarrok’s instructions and
didn’t fight or pull against the chains. Taelor wrapped the end of his chain
three times around the lowest crossbar on the cell to help secure his hold. He
pulled up the slack. Jarrok did likewise.

“It’s time, Attor. Pull!” Taelor ordered.

The young warrior wrenched down on the
chains, shaking the entire front of the cell. Metal creaked but held. Attor’s
roar vibrated the walls. He pulled harder. Sweat drenched his body as he
labored. He howled in pain with each mighty tug against the chains. Between
howls, he growled constantly.

The first hour passed swiftly for Taelor
and Jarrok. They kept a tight grip on the chains while Attor worked to free his
blades. Taelor couldn’t help worrying about the cell collapsing. The chains and
bars were solid and made of the strongest blend of metal known to the empire, but
the bars bent slightly with every pull. Attor was strong and heavy. It was a
close contest. Somewhere inside that giant body there was a final surge of
strength that would eventually wrench his blades free. He just hoped the metal
could hold up against Attor’s rage.