The Captive Page 9

  He continued down the path that led to the section of garden wall that had been damaged and crawled through the opening. Standing there, he could see the mine below. A battle cruiser hovered over the mine, the black and gold shield of Hodore plainly visible on the ship’s underbelly. Several small hovercraft lined the beach. Hodore. There was no reason for them to attack the mine, he thought, frowning. They were already getting their fair share of crystals.

  Hatred flooded his soul as he stared at the black-helmeted men swarming over the mine. The familiar stench of cannon smoke and seared flesh reached his nostrils, sickening him. For a moment, his mind went back in time and he saw it all again—the ruins that had once been his home, the charred remains of his daughter’s favorite doll…

  His eyes narrowed as he glanced at the battle cruiser, then at the figures moving around near the mine’s administration building. Had Drade persuaded Hodore to attack Tierde? Was he down there, even now, strutting back and forth while he decided who lived and who died? Drade…

  Falkon’s hands clenched and unclenched as he imagined his hands at Drade’s throat, squeezing, squeezing…

  A high-pitched scream scattered his thoughts. Turning, he peered back through the hole in the wall and saw Ashlynne running across the yard, her skirts billowing behind her. Taking a step forward, he saw two men garbed in the black and gold uniforms of Hodore pursuing her.

  Rage rose within Falkon, hot and swift and impossible to ignore. Adrenaline pumping, he stepped through the break in the wall and gave chase.

  Ashlynne screamed as she felt a hand close on her arm. A moment later, she was jerked to a halt, then shoved to the ground. Before she could so much as blink, the man was straddling her hips, one of his hands imprisoning both of hers.

  She stared past him to the second man, her eyes widening as he began to unfasten his pants.

  “No!” She screamed the word. “No! No!”

  The man holding her down slapped her across the face, hard.

  “Shut up.”

  Cheek throbbing, she stared at the man straddling her hips. She had never seen a Hodorian. The skin of his hand was a pale green covered with fine green hair. He was dressed in the uniform of the Hodorian army. A black-visored helmet covered his head. It was a nightmare. It had to be. She closed her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. She was Ashlynne, daughter of the ruling house of Tierde. No one had ever laid a hand on her in anger or violence.

  She opened her eyes as the man lifted her skirts. She stared at him in horror. They were going to rape her.

  It had to be a nightmare. That was all, just a nightmare. She rocked her head back and forth, praying that she would awake before it was too late.

  “No!” She screamed as she felt the man’s callused hand on her thigh. Her nails raked his neck, his arms, as she struggled to free herself from his grasp. “Let me go!”

  She was sobbing now. Tears of anger and fear and revulsion clogged her throat. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Number Four. He was creeping up behind the two men like a spring cat, his footsteps muffled by the thick grass, his blue-gray eyes narrowed to angry slits. He carried a thick tree branch in his hands.

  Was he coming to help her?

  She renewed her struggles, kicking and screaming with all her might. She felt a sense of exhilaration as her knee caught one of the men full in the groin. He dropped to the ground, gasping for air.

  And then Number Four was there. The branch in his hands came down hard across the back of the man straddling her hips. With a grunt, the Hodorian rolled off her.

  Ashlynne scrambled to her knees, screamed “look out!” as she saw the second Hodorian reach for his blaster.

  Number Four pivoted on his heel and swung the branch at the man’s head. There was a loud smack as the wood hit the man’s helmet, knocking him over backward.

  Falkon was reaching for the man’s weapon when he felt the searing heat of a laser blast scorch his right arm near the shoulder.

  The man’s second shot went wide.

  Muttering an oath, Falkon grabbed Ashlynne by the arm and sprinted for cover behind a flowering vine tree.

  “No, this way!” Ashlynne cried, tugging on his hand. “Hurry!”

  He followed her through a maze of greenery, stood panting for breath while she searched for the hidden panel that opened a door in the wall.

  “Where does this come out?” Falkon asked as he followed her through the opening into a dark tunnel.

  “I’m not sure, exactly. All I know is that it comes out in the jungle somewhere. My father…my father told my…my mother and I we should use it if we were ever attacked.” She closed the door, plunging them into total darkness. “I’ve never been in here before.”

  “Give me your hand.”

  “Why?” He heard the suspicion in her voice.

  “So we don’t get separated. You want to go first, or should I?”

  “You,” she said. She felt his hand slide over her shoulder, down her arm, then close around her hand.

  She followed behind him, her free hand wrapped firmly around the controller in her skirt pocket.

  Step by careful step, she followed him blindly through the tunnel. She tried not to think of what might be living in the tunnel, but visions of spiders burrowing into her hair and snakes crawling up her legs flooded her mind.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when a faint gray light appeared at the end of the shaft.

  Minutes later, Number Four came to a stop.

  Ashlynne peered around him. The tunnel opening was camouflaged behind a twisted mass of snowberry bushes. Beyond them stretched miles and miles of uncharted jungle.

  “Do you see anyone?” she whispered.

  “No. Apparently they concentrated their attack on the house and the mine.” He swore under his breath, cursing himself for having mentioned the house.

  A small sob rose in the girl’s throat. Her parents were dead, her home had been destroyed. He knew how she felt, and a brief, unwanted flicker of compassion swept through him.

  “What are we going to do now?” she asked, her voice quivering.

  “I think we should spend the night in here.”

  “In here?” She glanced over her shoulder, unable to stifle a shudder of revulsion.

  “You got any better ideas?” he asked curtly.

  Ashlynne shook her head, hating him because he was alive and her parents were dead. She peered through the vines. The sky was turning dark. It would be night soon.

  “I’m gonna try to get some sleep,” Falkon said.

  Turning away from the opening, he walked back a few feet from the entrance and sat down, his back to the wall of the tunnel. He winced as he explored the laser wound on his arm. The numbness was wearing away and now it throbbed relentlessly. But he could live with the pain. Better that than losing his arm entirely.

  He looked up at the girl, who was still standing near the tunnel’s opening. “You’d better get some rest while you can,” he suggested wearily.

  Ashlynne shook her head. “Surely you don’t expect me to sleep on the ground?” She looked at him as if he had just asked her to eat a slab of raw meat.

  Falkon lifted one inquisitive brow. “Why not?”

  “Because…because I can’t. It’s dirty.”

  Falkon snorted. “Suit yourself.”

  Slowly, she pulled her hand from her pocket, revealing the controller.

  “What are you gonna do with that?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Secure your hands and feet, of course.”

  He glared at her as she activated the controls. The manacles on his wrists and ankles made a dull clanking sound as they locked together. He swore as the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through his arm.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  “Are you?”

  “Sorry, but not stupid,” she retorted. “You’re a prisoner, after all.”

  “I just saved your life.”

  She had the decency to look asha
med, but she didn’t unlock the manacles.

  With a weary sigh, he stretched out on the ground, though with his hands and feet shackled, it was next to impossible to get comfortable.

  Ashlynne watched him carefully, unable to believe he was actually going to sleep! But there would be no rest for her, she thought. Even with his hands and feet shackled, she didn’t trust him. The minute she closed her eyes, she knew he would be on her, and once he had the controller, she would be at his mercy.

  She stared at him for a moment, then gazed at the sky again. It was full dark now, and she was hungry and tired. And alone with a slave. Her fingers tightened on the controller. She would use it if she had to. Just because he had saved her from the Hodorians didn’t mean he could be trusted. He was a slave, a man sentenced to live out the remainder of his life in the mine. Suddenly the strength went out of her limbs and she sank down to the ground. Tears stung her eyes. Her throat felt tight and thick. Burying her face in her hands, she wept bitter tears, crying for her parents, for Magny, for the loss of everything she had ever known, everything she had loved. All her life, she had been loved and cared for. She had never wanted for anything. She’d had the best education available, the finest clothes money could buy, the security of a good family. And now, none of it meant a thing. Better she should have learned how to survive in the wilderness than how to paint a landscape or sculpt or entertain foreign diplomats.

  Falkon’s jaw clenched as he listened to the girl’s sobs. He had a ridiculous urge to go to her, to gather her into the circle of his arms and assure her that everything would be all right. She was such an innocent, she would probably believe him. At least until tomorrow.

  He knew about the jungles of Tierde, about the slime-pits and the blue fire-sand. While imprisoned in the mine, he had heard numerous tales of men, slave and free alike, who had been lost in that jungle, never to be seen again, heard a dozen grisly stories of the cannibals and renegades who hid in the depths of its green heart, heard of the wild animals and wilder men who preyed upon the weak, the foolish, the unwary.

  With a sigh, he closed his mind to the sound of the girl’s tears. He had no comfort to give her or anyone else. All he wanted was his freedom and five minutes alone with Drade.

  He fell asleep, a smile on his lips, as he contemplated squeezing the last breath of life from the man who had destroyed his home and murdered his family.

  Chapter Ten

  Niklaus Hassrick scowled at the tele-screen. “Dammit, Drade, what the hell happened?”

  The image on the screen shrugged. “We made a mistake.”

  “A mistake! A mistake! Is that what you call it? You damn fool, you were supposed to wait until she was here.”

  Drade shrugged again. “What’s done is done.”

  “That’s all you have to say? Is that what you want me to tell Lord Brezor? I’m sorry, but what’s done is done?”

  “You’ll think of something.”

  “You’d damn well better hope I do, ‘cause if I go down, I’m taking you with me. What’s happening there now?”

  “Everything’s under control. The mine itself is undamaged. As far as everyone knows, it was an unprovoked attack by the Hodorians.” Drade frowned. “Two of my men were found dead a short distance from the house.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “I’m not sure. I think one of the servants must have killed them and escaped through the back wall. I wouldn’t worry about it, though. The jungle will take care of whoever it was.”

  Niklaus ran a hand through his hair. This whole thing had gone from bad to worse. It had all seemed so simple at the beginning. He swore under his breath. There had to be a way to make it work. A forged letter from Marcus, perhaps, bequeathing him ownership of the mine? Or papers alleging that he had bought half the mine? One way or another, he had to gain control of the mine, it was the only way to fulfill his bargain with the Cenian ambassador, the only way to save himself from ruin.

  “Hassrick?”

  “You’re sure she’s dead?”

  “The house was leveled. No one could have gotten out.”

  “Someone killed your men.”

  “Yeah, but I’m willing to bet it wasn’t the girl.”

  Niklaus grunted softly. At the sound of his father’s voice, he muttered a quick goodbye and broke the connection.

  He would find a way out of this mess somehow.

  His future, his reputation, depended on it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Falkon sat up, his body tense, his ears ringing with the sound of a woman’s scream. Maiya…

  It took him a moment to realize the scream had come from Ashlynne.”What the hell’s wrong with you?” he asked gruffly.

  “A…a spider.”

  “What?”

  “There was a spider on my arm. It…it scared me. I hate spiders.”

  Falkon grunted softly, then turned away. A spider. “How about releasing me?”

  She hesitated a moment, then activated the release mechanism.

  Falkon stood up. After stretching his arms and legs, he walked to the tunnel’s opening and peered through the vines. Dawn was breaking over the distant mountains. The rising sun splashed the sky with brilliant streaks of ocher and fiery shades of crimson. He heard the trilling of birds, the rustle of the leaves on the trees outside the tunnel, the shriek of some wild animal.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the girl. Her hair fell in a tangled mass of silver blonde curls down her back; her face was smudged with dirt. Her dress was ripped along the neckline, revealing one softly rounded shoulder and a tantalizing glimpse of smooth creamy flesh. She didn’t look so high and mighty now, he mused. “Let’s go, princess.”

  “Is it safe?”

  Falkon shrugged. If there were men prowling the jungle, the birds wouldn’t be singing. Indeed, the moment he stepped out of the tunnel, the jungle grew silent, almost as if it were holding its breath.

  Ashlynne stepped warily to the mouth of the tunnel, the hand in her pocket fisted around the controller. She saw Number Four standing a few feet away, his head cocked, as though he were listening to something only he could hear, and then he began walking east.

  She felt a peculiar lurch in her stomach as she looked at him. He wore only a pair of tight-fitting breeches and a pair of black boots. The early morning sunlight cast blue highlights in his long black hair. She stared at his back, pity rising within her when she saw the ugly marks left by the lash. His arms and legs were long and well-muscled.

  The thought of those arms, the strength of them, made her tighten her hold on the controller. She would have to be on her guard every minute, she thought, else he over-power her and wrest the controller from her grasp. She would be helpless then, completely at his mercy. Blackguard that he was, he would probably trade her to the Romarians in exchange for a way off Tierde.

  Falkon looked over his shoulder, frowning when he saw the girl staring at him. “I’m leaving,” he said, “with or without you.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I know so.”

  Slowly, Ashlynne drew her hand out of her pocket, the controller pointed at his back. “You will wait for me.”

  Falkon glanced at the controller, then back at the girl. He had no doubt she would use the thing. She had done so before. “Right.”

  Arms crossed over his chest, he watched her step out of the tunnel. The hand holding the controller was trembling. A muscle twitched in his jaw. One slip of her thumb and he would be writhing on the ground at her feet.

  He choked back the anger that rose in his throat like bile. It was maddening, humiliating, degrading, to be at the mercy of another and even more so to be at the mercy of a mere girl. There was a good chance he could jump her and wrest the controller from her grasp, but not now. He would bide his time for just the right moment.

  “You’ve been injured!” She gestured at his arm with the controller, felt the nausea rise in her throat as she stared at the ugly black burn across h
is right biceps.

  “Yeah.” He glanced at the wound. The skin of his upper arm was raw and red, black around the edges.

  “Does it…does it hurt very much?”

  “Damn right.” He took a deep, calming breath. “Are you ready to go now?” He forced the words through clenched teeth.

  “Shouldn’t we…your arm. Shouldn’t we tend it first?”

  “I don’t know how, unless you’ve got a medi-kit hidden in your pocket.”

  Ashlynne shook her head.

  “Let’s go then.”

  “I’ll follow you. Mind you go slowly. I…I won’t hesitate to use this if I have to.”

  “I have no doubt of that,” he muttered. Pivoting on his heel, he started walking, slowly.

  Gradually, his anger melted. It was the first time in months that he had been outside the mine compound or the jinan. The sun felt warm, soothing, on his back. A deep breath filled his nostrils with a myriad of scents—earth and trees, the perfume of wildflowers, the stink of a rotting carcass, the heavy smell of damp tree moss.

  Falkon walked steadily toward the rising sun. If he remembered correctly, there was a star base located on the eastern strip of Tierde. He could leave the girl there. With any luck, he would be able to steal a cruiser and get the hell off this rock. Free, he thought. Soon, he’d be free again. He lifted a hand to his throat. With any luck, he’d soon be free of the heavy collar and the shackles, too

  The laser burn on his arm seemed to throb in time with his footsteps, increasing as the day went on until it was a constant pulsing pain.

  At noon, they stumbled onto a deep green pool surrounded by gigantic blue ferns and a profusion of flowering vines.

  Falkon paused at the edge of the pool, his mouth watering as his gaze swept over the surrounding area.

  Ashlynne licked her lips. “Do you think it’s safe to drink?”

  Falkon nodded. “Probably.” Judging from the variety of animal tracks, the pool appeared to be a watering hole.