Vengeance (15 page)

Slowly I strip out
of my tattered clothes, casting them aside.  I lift the mirror,
turning it this way and that to inspect my body.  I am a mass of
bruises and small cuts.  The flesh along my right side looks red
and sore, though it doesn’t appear to be discolored from any
internal bleeding.  My ribs must be bruised instead of broken
like I first thought.  At least that is a plus.  I have
countless scratches along my legs and feet but those are nothing more
than a mere annoyance.

What I focus on now
is the collar at my neck. It is a wide band of silver metal that
spans from the tops of my shoulder to just below my chin.  A
double hole had been cut from the metal to allow the chains to loop
through.  Similar manacles cuff my wrists.  I try to clean
the damaged flesh beneath but find it too painful to do more than
sprinkle water over the wounds.

The water becomes
dark and murky long before I am clean.  With each layer of dried
blood and muck that I scrape off I feel more like my old self.  When
I have made sure that every part of me is clean I turn and begin to
slip into the clothes that have been given me.  The top is a
halter made of a softened black leather-like material.  Two
pieces crisscross over my upper chest and connect at the back of my
neck.  Two wide buckles reside just beneath either arm,
attaching to a cape-like back that falls to my calf.  The lower
hem of the halter cuts into a sharp V and ends at my belly button,
leaving my sides bare to the elements.

The pants are made
of a matching material, resting low on my hips yet not snug enough
for me to feel suffocated in the heat.  The legs flare out just
above my ankles allowing me to move around.  I crouch low and
spring up, testing the new clothes.

I’ve
certainly worn far worse,
I
muse as I think over the horrid see-through outfits Aloysius forced
me to wear when I first arrived at Calisted.  This at least
covers me adequately.

A
loud bang on the door startles me and I tip over my wash basin.  Red
water floods over the floor, creating a growing patch of moisture.
 “Great,” I mutter and kick my soiled clothes over
the water, hoping to soak some of it up.

I glance back in the
mirror shard one final time and mentally prepare myself.  I take
three steady breaths and then unlatch the door and step through into
a long hall.  Doors line either side.  All are closed
except the one at the far end.  I do not bother to look at the
two guards who step in behind me as I walk.  They are the same
who escorted me here earlier, kicking and screaming.

I won’t deny
that it wasn’t exactly Queen-like behavior but at the time I
did not care.  How was I to know what waited for me on the other
side of that door?

My
feet tread along the floor as room after room passes by.  I do
not pause to wonder what lies behind each door.  All that
matters is that I figure out where the heck I am where they have
taken Bastien.

The
floor changes as I step through a curtained door.  Gone is the
wooden planks, only to be replaced by a material very similar to
straw. It has been woven into long mats. The colorful patterns are
intricate.  Someone with an eye for detail spent many hours
creating these.

Two enormous hands
clamp down on my arms.  I rise off the ground, no longer walking
on my own accord.  Apparently I took too long in my bathing, or
these guys just really want to get this over with.  Can’t
say that I agree with them.  I’d rather this next part
never even happen.

With a unified
shove, I find myself face down on a mat.  The fibers leave burn
marks on my skin as I slide palms first to stop myself.  A
snarled hiss sends the guards back several steps.

I raise my head to
see the hooded Roamer seated before me on a chair nearly three times
the size of my own throne back on Calisted.  Razor sharp claws
curl around the armrest.  Its legs are parted and I realize too
late that even though a crimson cloth drapes over its lap it does not
fully conceal him from my sight.

I cry out in
surprise when a hand latches onto my neck and jerks me around.  I
stare into the vivid blue eyes of a man who stands only a foot taller
than me.  His skin is as red as a setting sun, his lips purple
and full.  His head is hairless, as are his arms and legs.  He
looks as if someone waxed him recently judging by the patches of raw
flesh across his bare chest.  A strange woodsy scent clings to
his skin as he reaches out and presses his hand to my ear.

“Who are you?”
I whisper.

The
man glances down at me and I force myself not to react when I see his
eyes have no pupils.  They are a wash of blue, brilliant and
startling at the same time.  
Can
he even see me?

I
feel a slight pinch against my ear and wince, fidgeting in his grasp.
 He steps back and bows low.  It is only then that I
realize he possesses the same manacles that I do.  
He
is a slave.

“The device
that has been attached to your ear will translate my words.”  I
turn, surprised by the deep voice that fills my ear.  “Can
you understand me clearly now?”

I nod slowly, wary
of taking my gaze off the Roamer as the slave melds back into the
shadows of the room.  It is not an overly large space, barren of
furniture or frills. There is a solid wooden table that rests on the
far side of the room.  Each chair is made of the same wood that
I noticed on the stool in the wash room.  All of the chairs are
backless and curved at the sides to accommodate the great width of
these creatures.  

“Good.”
 The Roamer’s lips peel back to reveal multiple rows of
needle-like teeth.  I suppress my shiver and clasp my hands
before me tightly so that I can hide the near constant tremor.  “I
wish us to be friends, you and I.”

“Friends?”

He nods.  “It
is good to have friends, is it not?”

“I suppose,
though I can’t remember the last time I kidnapped a friend and
nearly starved them to death before such a proposal.”

A barking laugh
erupts from its throat.  The creature shifts toward the edge of
its seat.  “No.  Perhaps you do not, though your ways
are not like ours.”

I lift my chin, well
aware of the fact that I am speaking to a creature of great power.
 He sees me as an equal and for the moment that is a good thing.
 “What is it that you want from me, other than
friendship?”

“Knowledge.”
 The creature splays its hands out before him in the air.  “You
possess the sight.  I would like to know what it is that you
see.”

“I see
nothing,” I answer honestly.

It raises its claw
and trails down its cheek.  A narrow line of flesh peels back
and brown blood oozes forth.  “The collar on your neck
took me years to perfect.  I am quite proud of its design.”

I remain silent,
waiting for my captor to embellish more but it does not. Instead, he
sinks back into the seat.  “I have waited a very long time
for this moment.”

“Well that
makes one of us.”

Another bark.  I
smile, matching wits with him and knowing all the while how risky my
actions are.  Though this creature seems intrigued by me, I hold
no delusions that he would not snap my neck in a moment if it felt
the desire to.  

“Although you
may not realize this, many among the stars are aware of you.  They
have followed your birth, waiting for you to rise to power.  I
knew that one day we would meet.  It was written.”

“Seems to be
an awful lot of things written about me.  They can’t all
be true,” I mutter.

He smiles.  “I
summoned you here, bought your life from the slave traders at a very
high price, though not as high as it should have been if they had
truly known who you are.”

“A half-price
bargain.  You sure know how to make a girl feel special!”

“Oh, but you
are special.  This much I know.”  He clasps his hands
around the ends of his chair.  The wood creaks as he leans
forward.  “I saved you from slavery.  Saved you from
starvation and disease.  The mines are no place for a woman like
you.  It is a dangerous place.  Too unstable.  Too
many deaths.  You should be grateful for my sacrifice.”

“Grateful?”
I scoff, rolling my eyes.  If Kyan were here he would be fuming
over my complete lack of decorum.  Knowing this I attempt to
rein my anger in a bit.  “I am here now.  What is it
that you want from me?”

“I have
something that belongs to you and you have something that I desire.
 Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

“I
believe you are mistaken,” I reply, forcing my voice to a
volume that makes me sound confident rather than hint at the weakness
that I feel.  I am riddled with doubts, and exhaustion weighs
heavily on my mind.  This circular talk is beginning to sap my
strength.    “I have brought nothing with me.”

“Ah,” it
nods its head.  A black tongue flickers out over its lips.  “It
is you that is mistaken.”

With a clack of its
claws, the purple lipped slave rushes from the room. I hear a door
open and close, followed by hurried footsteps.  I wait with my
hands clasped.  The tips of my fingers have gone numb from my
tight grip but still I do not relent for fear of letting myself
unravel.

The creature surveys
me, its eyes a darker shade of red than I have seen on the others.
 “What is your name?” I ask.

“Only my kind
can speak it.  It is forbidden for outsiders to use.”

“Fair
enough.”  I dip my head in acknowledgement.  
Thank
you Kyan for teaching me how to be respectful even when it’s
the last thing I want to do!  
“Then
by what name should I call you?”

The Roamer seems to
ponder my question.  I wait in silence for several moments,
wondering what is taking the slave so long.  Finally the
creature sits forward once more.  “You may call me Drach.
 On my world this means killer of the innocent.”

I swallow down my
disgust, knowing that he has chosen this term to unsettle me.  “A
fine name,” I manage to say.

I feel the tremble
in the ground long before the two Roamers appear.  Hanging
between their raised arms is Bastien.  His eyes are open but
appear to be unseeing.  His mouth hangs ajar, obviously knocked
out of joint.  Bruises cover every inch of exposed skin.  Blood
clings to him like a second skin.

My heart cries out
for him but I show no external emotion.  I can feel Drach
watching me.  “Is this what you think is mine?”

A veil of skin
closes over Drach’s eyes and then opens once more.  “This
is your mate, yes?”

I
laugh, thankful that it is a genuine laugh.  “Him?  No.
 He is my guard, my protector, but certainly not my mate.”

The nostrils on
Drach’s nose flare out and I see anger alight in his eyes.  A
guttural growl rises from his throat as he thrusts to his feet.  “You
lie.”

“I do not.”

Drach storms forward
and seizes me by my face, lifting me from the ground.  He forces
me to meet him at eye level.  “I can smell it on you.  You
have feelings for him.”

“I
care for him, yes.  He is mine to protect just as much as I am
his, but I do not love him.”  Even as I speak the words I
hear my voice falter when I say
love
.
 Drach hears it too.  

He
lowers me to the ground and releases me but does not step back.  I
find myself staring into the lower portion of his chest.  
I
see now why Earth was overrun with these beasts.  Their sheer
size would be enough to make any man cower.

As this thought
strikes me I realize that this battle on Earth has yet to happen.  On
my Earth this siege won’t occur for another year or so.
 Aloysius came back in time to try to prevent losing a second
time.  Now it is my task to ensure that these creatures never
set foot on Earth in the first place.  

I have long since
given up trying to understand the ribbons of time, how they can weave
together so perfectly to allow myself to be present and also in the
past and future.  Every thought, every action can shift the
balance.   Though Earth has already lost this war in the
future, in the present I can still change the course of events.  I
can still save my people.  

“Do you wish
to barter for his life?” He asks, drawing me from my thoughts.

“With what?”
 I raise my hands out to my side for him to see that they are
empty.  “I have nothing to offer you.”

Drach steps back and
kneels before me. Even then he is still taller than I am.  I am
too intent on meeting his gaze to realize until it is too late that
his hand has pressed against my abdomen.   “On the
contrary,” he smiles as his claws curl possessively around my
belly.  I shudder as his rope-thin lips peel back into a
gruesome smile.  “You possess two very small things that I
desire greatly.”

I stare into the
dark, numb and unseeing.  I can hear Bastien’s steady
breaths even though I can’t see him.  I keep reminding
myself that I should be thankful that at least he is near, that I
know for now he is safe, but all I can think about is myself.

I
place a hand over my stomach and close my eyes.  
Pregnant?
 How could I not have known?  Drach knew before I even did!
 What kind of mother does that make me?

With everything that
has happened over the past couple of weeks I had assumed that stress
and imprisonment was the reason for my unsettled stomach.  Apparently
not.

What
am I going to do?
Plays
on a constant repeat in my mind.  I lean my head back against
the wall as tears slip from between my eyes.  
Eamon
doesn’t even know he’s going to be a father yet.

I linger somewhere
between despair and anger for several hours.  I cradle myself,
wishing more than anything that Eamon were here to hold me. He would
know how to make it all right.  He always has.