Dara Joy - Matrix 04 (6 page)

"I say this because if I were to go there
you
would go as
well. You would never let an entire season go by without reprimanding me, Yaniff. It took too long for me to agree to become your student for you to let such opportunities slip by."

Yaniff shook his finger at him. "Scamp."

"That being so,
I do not think you wish to subject your old bones to a season in the cold, damp Sky Lands." Rejar craftily viewed the wizard from beneath spiky, black lashes. "Am I not right?"

Yaniff harumphed and crossed his arms over his chest.

Grinning, Rejar turned onto his back and lazily swatted a large nanyat frond. "Yaniff. . . tell me what makes Traed a master of the blade."

Yaniff gazed shrewdly up at his student.
Excellent, Rejar. Your indolent appearance belies your true intent.
It was a remarkable foray into subtle wizardry for one so young.

Rejar had not been fetching silken fabric for his wife; he had stepped out to investigate matters on his own. The impressive initiative earned the student the key to the next door.

His question would be answered.

"Have you ever seen Traed in a life and death battle, Rejar?"

"I have seen him fight, yes."

"That is not the same thing."

"Explain, Yaniff."

"When Traed is in a duel, he never flinches
- not even when a death blow may be imminent. He never gives up. He fights with the ardor of a man who
cherishes
life. Every moment of it."

"Are you sure you speak of Traed? I have seen him put
himself directly in the path of danger without regard for his being."

"I have witnessed this as well. But I assure you, he holds all life dear. Even his own
- though he recognizes it not. Still, he will willingly fight to the death. A man who embraces such conflict, whose skill is masterful, is difficult to best in any fight. He goes in with nothing
and
everything to lose. You see, Traed never fights to survive
-
he fights to live.
Do you understand?"

"Yes, master. I understand."

"Good. Then know this: Traed has had powerful motivators. In battle, his terrible losses have served to strengthen his arm."

"But do they strengthen
him?
He constantly battles himself and the darkness he imagines dwells inside. In the end, this can only break him. . ." Rejar's brow furrowed. "Or... make him
invincible."

Yaniff started, but would not reply. The old wizard was not often surprised. For a moment he had been caught off-guard by the younger man's incredible acuity.

Rejar thought Yaniff's reaction telling. "Perhaps I venture into a place you do not wish me to go?"

"Perhaps you would like to think that." "Do you believe it is my destiny to master the blade, Yaniff?"

Ah, we get to the real matter at last! He worries over his destiny.
Yaniff sighed.
And well he should. ..

"You have the reflexes and skill to become a legendary bladesman. Already you have shown great promise. It remains to be seen whether your
will
carries you to those levels."

"If all you have told me is so, what losses shall then
guide
my
arm, Yaniff?"

"The hand that wields the perfect blade is guided by many things. It is how the blade is fashioned that tells the tale. You have gifts that are yet to be revealed."

"Then tell me no more. Your prophecy hangs over my head like a Cearix that has two edges of one truth; and it concerns me night and day. I already have more "gifts" than I can or want to deal with."

"From your own mouth you state the quest. You must learn to
embody
these gifts, Rejar. Willingly. They must be embraced right to your heart
- or all of your training will be for naught. Do you understand what I say?"

"Yes, I understand your words and I will try to do as you say. I put all of my trust in you, Yaniff."

"Good. Then you have learned well the lesson for this day."

Rejar's lips parted; the old wizard got him again! "You
knew
I would follow you?"

Yaniff shook his head. "No. As always, I left the decision up to you, Rejar. You chose the path and, thus, your lesson."

"I see."

"Come down." Yaniff motioned him with his hand. "The day is nearing its close and the evening draws nigh."

Rejar agilely hopped off the tree limb, landing next to his teacher.

"Suleila has made calan stew for you, Rejar."

The dark-haired man grinned broadly. "I vow I have a taste for it!"

"I know
- which is why I happened to mention it to her earlier today."

Rejar was surprised, yet moved by the thoughtful deed.

"You cannot hide everything from me." The wizard kindly clapped him on the back.

"Did you say everything?" Rejar scoffed. "I can hide nothing from you!"

Yaniff chuckled as they strolled through the
forest
to the house of Krue. "Since you have been but a boy, I have always known when your belly whines for calan stew."

"My belly never whines
- it purrs beseechingly." Two dimples kissed Rejar's cheeks.

"I vow I have a taste for the stew myself," Yaniff whispered as they walked the path. "It was all I could think of in the House of Sages today."

Rejar leveled a bland look at Yaniff. "Of that, I am not so sure."

Bojo squawked agreement as he swooped along beside them. Some winged-companions were quite fond of calan stew.

And others just liked to stir the pot.

SEVEN

Planet Spoltam, City of Aghni

Daxan rested his burning forehead against the cool, smooth stone of a pillar.

Her fragrance is that of the illumia night flower. . . .

His favorite scent. The heady blooms favored the moist air surrounding bodies of water and the silvery glow on moon shine.

Daxan walked outside onto one of the open-air passages that encompassed adjoining sections of the estate. The stone hallways served several purposes; they cooled down the rooms at night by allowing air to circulate freely, while the airy rooms were extensions to the indoor living areas.

This particular passage was perched against a high cliff overlooking the sea. Several chairs, tables, and sleeping couches dotted the length of it. Gauzy curtains delineated separate areas as they fluttered in the gentle wind.

Daxan trusted that the early evening breezes would cool him down. So far, they were only serving to remind him of the feathery caress of her silken tresses as they drifted down his back.

He took a deep breath.

Above him, the sky was a swirling scape of pinks and golds. Stars were beginning to light up the tinted sky; they sparkled above the port city like a carpet of magickal jewels.

Sunsets in Aghni were highly regarded. Even off-landers came to witness the spectacle.

This night, Daxan barely took note of it.

His thoughts were on the Familiar woman who was now under his protection.
Soosha.
The word meant 'a sweet presence' in one of the languages he had studied. Yes, it suited her. Her presence had filled his home; the luscious scent of illumia was clinging to him still.

Earlier, when he had first caught sight of her leaping merrily on to the stalls of the marketplace, he had been thoroughly entranced. Her lovely laugh was so playful!

But when he looked into those dual-colored eyes his heart began to pound. At once, his blood thickened and his loins responded with a strong quickening.

Oh, he had tried to control his reaction- he was a man who had much experience with women.

It mattered not where she was concerned.

His body came alive for her.

Nevertheless, he was presently dealing with a serious matter; he could not afford to become entailed. Despite her ample charms, he doubted he would have involved himself further in the situation. Except.. .

She was a Familiar woman.

Impossible to believe, yet here she was.

And she had placed herself in grave danger.

It was apparent that she had no real idea of the kind of peril that awaited her.

He did.

He knew what horrors could befall her should she be captured by the Oberions. Daxan was vehemently opposed to allowing the slave traders access to Spoltam.

Unfortunately, he was in the minority with that opinion.

That being the case, he could not leave her unprotected.

It was more than just that, though.

He was
drawn
to her.

From the instant he had gazed into those beguiling aqua and gold eyes, he had wanted to experience all manner of pleasure with her.

It was an irresistible desire.

If he took her, would she bite and claw him.. . or sweetly mewl for him to do more? Would she scream his name when he brought her to release. . . or softly call it in rising passion? Would she overflow for him while he licked up all of that beautiful fragrance... ?

He could do all of those things. And by the look of her, she could as well.

The question was what was he going to do about it?

Duty before pleasure.

That was the Spoltam way.

He would send her back to M'yan untouched by his hands and that would be the end of it.

A vision of satiny skin flashed across his mind. The downy touch of her floor-length hair as it glided over his shoulders and back. The lilting sound of her voice. The lush firmness of her thighs and backside.

Daxan was suddenly not sure he would be following the Spoltam way.

Rumors of Familiar beauty were not rumors. This traveler, with her sweet gamin face and sensual form, was utterly captivating. There was no sense in denying that she intrigued him.

What kind of woman left the safety of her home-world to venture forth into the unknown? Despite the fact that she was forbidden to do so by her King?

An adventuresome one.

While the males of her species traveled extensively, it was rumored that the females did not. From what he knew, very few actually left their homeworld. He had heard that most preferred to stay on M'yan.

No doubt causing trouble.

When they did travel, their males were often seen accompanying them, safeguarding them from the slavers who attempted to capture them at any cost.

Of course, conditions were much worse now.

There were rumors that Oberion slavers were even infiltrating some of the outlying Alliance planets, operating in hidden ways.

Still, he understood the Familiar desire for adventure. While the Spoltami concentrated their focus on scholarly pursuits, he had always had a taste for risk.

This predilection for experiencing the unknown manifested itself in many ways.

Some of them highly interesting to the women on this planet.

There were some special techniques in the art of loveplay that he had acquired that were considered unorthodox.

Of course, some skills one must simply be born with. . . It
was said that Familiars possessed pleasure skills so refined that with a simple touch they could have their partners shivering with longing.

Daxan wondered if this woman could actually make him, a 'well-seasoned' male, tremble with such a desire.

Despite the fact that he was a decisive, energetic lover, no one had ever claimed his control. He was too focused to relinquish that amount of power.

The High Guild of Aviara had already been informed of her whereabouts. He had seen to that. Until someone arrived. . .

Time with her could be wisely spent.

Since she was anxious to explore, mayhap, she would not mind exploring him? She had said she wished to learn of other peoples.

His white teeth flashed a rather sensual smile.

Perhaps he could interest her in what
he
had to offer? Pleasure could be a fine gift for adventurers to give each other. If his guest was willing to be adventuresome, he would make sure she would not forget him when she returned to M'yan.

In fact, he would ensure that her thoughts of him would
be fragrant
with the pleasing memories of her short time on Spoltam.

It soothed a man to know that a woman remembered him fondly.

He grinned, saluting the prospect of risk
- without which many men and women would never get together.

By the blood of Aiyah, I am a philosopher as well as a scholar!

He snorted and stretched his muscles. In the setting sun.

EIGHT

Planet Mollock

"We come not a moment too soon, Charl! What kind of a world do they let my sister languish on?"

Brygar, in his human form, stared at the soggy plains and gray skies of Mollock with the disdainful expression of a cat that is expected to step in, well, mud.

Traed, slipping twice, finally reached the irksome Familiar, who was standing on the only dry spot on the plain. A large boulder.

With his hands on his hips, no less.

"Where is she, Charl? I see nothing here!"

Traed ground his teeth together. "That is because she is not here. Did you not hear me call out to you to halt?"

Brygar shrugged. "Of course I did. What is your point?"

Traed took a deep breath and tried to maintain his calm. He was known as a patient man. An utterly calm man.

Restrained.

Then why did his low voice sound as if it was through
gharta
shells?

"If you heard me why did you not stop?"

"I saw no reason to. There has been enough tarrying already! Now, where is she?"

Traed spoke slowly so the dolt would hear his words. "She. . . is. .. not. .. here."

"WHAT? What trickery is this? Do the Sages think that-"

Traed put up his hand to stop the spectacular tirade. "The Sages have naught to do with it.
You
jumped the wrong Tunnel. This is not the right world, you fool!"

Brygar's mouth opened to deliver a scathing reply
- but Traed's words finally sunk in. "Wrong world?" He looked down with a combination of curiosity and contempt.

As if the land insulted him by its presence beneath his feet.

"Is she not on Spoltam?"

Traed closed his eyes.
Give me strength.
"Yes, but this is not Spoltam. We are on Mollock."

"Hmmm." Brygar crossed his arms over his massive chest. "The information posted inside the Hall of Tunnels must be in error. You should tell them to fix it, Charl. There is no telling how many travelers they have led astray."

Traed gave him an arch look. "I can tell you exactly how many, Familiar.
None.
The information is not in error.
You
took a wrong turn in the Hall."

Brygar snorted at the ridiculous statement. "Impossible. I am a Familiar. Need I say more?"

Traed just stared at the large man.