Ki Book One (8 page)

She shuddered back from his questions. “I
don’t know. I was never in any state to assess. I simply
remember....” She gave a frustrated sigh, rubbing at her arms
harder.

“
Any detail will aid us. If we can figure
out what they want, we can figure out a way to stop them from
getting it. If we understand what they are capable of—”

She looked up at him sharply, gaze
fiery
. “They have ships
and cities that fly. Devices that can read if anything living
approaches them within a several kilometer radius. They have
weapons that can destroy a person and leave no trace of their body.
That is what they are capable of. So tell me, how do you fight
that?”

She watched him swallow hard, his Adam’s
apple bobbing tight
ly
against his stubble-covered throat. Yet the look of infuriating
bravery in his eyes did not cease. It seemed to burn like a fire
that would never die.

“
Nobody is undefeatable. No matter how
large the target, it always has a weakness. All you need is data
and intelligence to find out what that is.” He nodded at her. “They
are clearly after you, and will stop at nothing to get you back.
That is our advantage.”

She felt at once undone and
bolstered
by his words.
His refusal to listen to reason was infuriating, yet his courage
touched her deeper.

“
But for now,” he turned his head over his
shoulder, his neck muscles visibly tightening as another wolf cry
pierced the dusk, “we will walk and talk.”

Sho
oing her forward with a brush of his arms, he took the
lead.

It would be a long journey ahead of them,
longer if he made her recount her days with the Zeneethians. As she
clutched at her quivering hands, drawing them close to the folds of
her robe, she tried to still her heart.

It was almost impossible; the sight of
Jackson walking beside her, face now dark under the setting sun,
played havoc with her mind and soul.

Despite her turgid feelings, together they
continued to climb.

Chapter Five

They reached the cabin with no time
to
spare. Night had
fallen a good half-hour before, and for the past 15 minutes Jackson
had been on high alert.

A wolf pack had been on their tails. From
the subtle crack of a twig being trodden in half to the lingering
smell on the wind, he’d had no doubt of what was out
there.

Pushing a hand into the small of Ki’s back
and practically throwing her through the open cabin door, he
whirled to close it quickly.

Stumbling, she turned, nostrils flaring.
“How dare you—”

Her grumble was cut short as a wolf call
ran
g out from just
behind the door. Startled, she gasped, flattening a hand on her
chest as her eyes widened.

“
Relax. They can’t get inside.” Shifting
past her, he made his way through the dark to the table he knew was
on the other side of the room. The cabin was small, and he found
his arm brushing past Ki’s. She yanked it back instantly. It
brought a slight smile to the corners of his mouth.

As he fumbled over the table, his hand
clutched the matches and the oil lamp. Pushing his fingers down the
sticky glass, he struck a match on the chipped wood and finally lit
the oil.

The glow of the lamp lapped and flickered
up his arm and face. Turning, he walked over and set it down above
the fire place. Ki still stood by the door, a good meter back from
it, her hand pushing into her chest. A wolf was scrabbling at the
dirt outside, occasionally pawing at the door itself. With every
snuffle of its muzzle or scratch of its claws, she gave a slight
shudder.

“
They will get bored and give up,” he
assured her as he grabbed at some dry wood by the fireplace,
heaping it into the coals.

“
We have wolves in Tarkan, but they would
never act like this. They are scared of people.”

He couldn’t stop the mocking chuckle from
shaking his breath
.
“That is because you have hunted them near to extinction. They know
to avoid you if they wish to live. Ashkan wolves are by and large
left alone. They know to stick to the woods and not come into the
towns, but up here is their own domain.”

Her hand dropped from her chest, and no
doubt she fixed him with an incredulous look. In the dark all he
could see was that
rounded bottom lip of hers turn in. “Will you use
everything you can as an insult against my people?”

“
Only when it is true and it stops you from
trembling at the door.” He stood, brushing his hands against his
rough, woolen work pants.

Twisting her neck up in that haughty way
he’d come to recognize was her main reaction to everything, she
walked further into the room.

Small, it only possessed a single bed, a
table, a chair, a fireplace, and an old cupboard of supplies. She
walked over to the bed, pressing her hand into it as if to check
the spring. It was made of old, moldering hay that had seen too
much damp, but it was better than the cold stone floor
below.

Shrugging over her shoulder, she looked at
him, then back down at the bed. Straightening, she tugged higher on
her collar and took a steady step backwards.

He knew what she was thinking, and he
couldn’t help but laugh. Perhaps she really was a priestess; he’d
met few women as reserved as her.

“
There should be a canister of wine in the
cupboard. And if we are lucky, the last trackers to use this place
may have left some cheese and preserves.” He pointed past her,
finally controlling the smile that had fattened his cheeks at her
quaint behavior.

She stood with her bare arms hooked behind
her back, a nonplussed look on her face. “I cannot drink wine. It
is forbidden for a priestess to indulge in alcohol. I will need
water instead.”

Snickering, he leaned a hand onto the
fireplace. “There is no water. And unless you would like to go
outside to brave the wolves to pull some up from the well, there
will be nothing but wine.”

Patting her throat demurely, she shook her
head.

“
Your lips are dried and cracked.
Presumably you haven’t had a drop of anything since you fell to
earth this morning. After all the crying, screaming, and berating
you’ve done, I imagine your throat is parched.” Shifting past her,
he leaned down to the cupboard and began rummaging within. In
seconds he’d brought out a wheel of cheese carefully wrapped in
dark cloth and leather, and a bottle of corked wine. Blowing the
dust off it, he turned it around, checking the label.

“
I will be fine,” she shook her
head.

“
You will drink,” he pushed the bottle into
her chest and he headed for the table. Slamming the wheel of cheese
down, he unwrapped it and sliced off a chunk, handing it to
her.

She accepted the cheese but did nothing
but stare back at him blankly. “Do you really expect me to eat
this?”

A harsh laugh pushed his chest forward.
Leaning against the table he shrugged
expressively
. “That
depends on whether you want to live. If you feel like dying of
starvation and dehydration, then go ahead.”

“
I thought you said I was your personal
concern?” she challenged. “I thought you said you were going to do
everything you could to keep me from the Zeneethians so you could
figure out what was going on?”

“
Good point,” he crossed his arms, one
cheek fattening against his eye as he offered her a half smile.
“Drink and eat before I force you to. There is no water and there
are no delicacies for you to feast on. Tonight you will have to
live a simple existence.”

Huffing, she finally turned and sat demurely
on the edge of the bed, placing the wine carefully beside her with
a nervous frown.

“
Don’t get crumbs in the bed, I find them
very irritating when I sleep,” he took a bite of the chunk of
cheese he’d just sliced and watched with relish as she flushed at
his words.

“
I will not sleep with—” she got to her
feet.

“
You will be sleeping on the ground.” He
nodded down to the small, soot-covered rug before the fireplace. “I
will need my strength for the pass tomorrow. Should any more of
those wolves be out there, I’ll need to be rested. Not to mention
those soldiers.”

Shoulders deflating, she sat back on the bed
with a deep but wary breath. She proceeded to carefully place the
cheese on her lap, smoothing out the folds of her robe first. Then
she broke off the smallest chunks she could, placing them into her
mouth slowly.

He breathed through a laugh. “Don’t tell
me, priestesses are forbidden to eat in front of men. I can turn
around if you’d like?” he offered jokingly.

“
No,” she didn’t look at him, “I’m a little
dizzy.” She brushed her hand over her face, hooking her sleek,
shiny hair behind an ear.

Her features were slight, her skin smooth,
she reminded him of the oriental women of the north. Though
distinct territories, both Tarkan and Ashka were home to many
races. From the dark-skinned nomads to the fair-haired mountain
dwellers. Ki’s ancestors no doubt originated from the temperate
northern islands. Once they had belonged to the Ashkans, now the
territory was split right down the middle. He’d fought battles
there in the previous war; it helped him readily guess her
heritage.

No matter where she came from, she was
still Tarkan. The dispute between his people and those murderers
had never been along racial lines, it had always been
nationalistic. Though blood and ancestry were shared between them,
recent history was not. Their morality diverged. Their way of life
was so separate as to be unrecognizable. Everything a Tarkan stood
for an Ashkan would dispute.

His thoughts hardened his jaw, and he tried
to ignore her as her unfocussed gaze dropped to the ground.

He was doing this for his people, and needed
to remind himself of that fact.

Finishing off another chunk of cheese, he
stood roughly. “Drink the wine,” he ordered.

“
I can’t,” she turned from him as he loomed
above her.

“
Fine,” he leaned down and snapped it up,
yanking out the cork.

Before he could try to force her to drink
it, his conscience caught up with him. Could he really hold her
head back and tip it down her throat, just because she was Tarkan?
The thought of manhandling someone, especially a woman, was
abhorrent to him. Yet there existed this obvious clause in his
mind, a loophole. If she was Tarkan, it didn’t matter if she was a
woman, it didn’t matter if she was fatigued and injured, it didn’t
matter if she was running from a force hell bent on kidnapping her.
All that mattered is what they’d done to his people.

Her gaze flicked up. At first frightened,
her expression mollified as she concentrated on him. “I have no
defenses against you. I can hardly stand anymore. Yet I beg of you
not to force me to drink that. It’s forbidden.”

Her glare did not waver. As the fire
crackled behind him, it lit up her face, its reflected light
dancing over her pale cheeks and forehead.

He stepped back. It was not a conscious
decision; his body did it for him.

A sudden pang of guilt spread up from his
gut with the speed of a bullet.

He prided himself on his diligence and
manners. He was the kind of man who opened a door for a woman, who
would stand up for her if anyone berated her down the street. His
mother and sister would be horrified if they’d known what he was
about to do.

Watching him warily as he stepped further
back, she brushed her hand over her face. The move was sluggish,
her fingers pushing into her dropping cheeks.

She needed water. She needed rest. No doubt
she also needed to know she could trust him. She would not let her
guard down and rest if he threatened her every other second.

Guilt now so powerful he almost felt sick,
he placed the wine carefully on the table. “I am...” he couldn’t
force the word sorry from his lips. Instead he grabbed at the oil
lamp still on the fireplace. “I will go out and see what I can draw
from the well. Stay here.”

For a moment her eyes lolled back into her
head and it looked as if she would faint. At the mention of going
outside, her head snapped forward. The move was lethargic, but
still her gaze sparked
.
“You can’t – the wolves—”

He tried to assure her with a nod, heading
for the door
. “I still
have my gun. It may not work against your soldiers, but it is more
than enough to scare the pack away.”

Still on the edge of the bed, she watched
him carefully as he brought out his gun and made for the door.

“
Be careful,” she begged through a hard
breath.

It made him pause, one hand on the door as
the other hooked the lamp under his arm and held the gun.

He pushed himself forward, the door creaking
ominously as he opened it with all the care and precision he could
muster.

“
It’s fine, you don’t have to go out,” she
whispered nervously.

Ignoring her, he moved forward, gun at the
ready, swinging the lamp in an obvious arc.

He knew the packs of these ranges, and they
were scared by little. They were, at least, fastidiously nocturnal.
For whatever reason, whether it be biology or habitat, they only
ventured out of their dens to hunt at night.