Men of Anderas II: Dak the Protector (11 page)

"One of those thugs got away. If he gets
back to Draagon, you'll have more to worry about than Dak's state
of mind.

Kierin watched in stunned silence while
Talon grabbed up his weapons and whistled for his horse. Several of
the Riders' mounts followed Talon's into the clearing. At least
they wouldn't have to walk home.

"I'll load up the bodies from the meadow and
dump them in a ravine somewhere. Dak can take care of your horses.
Release him or I'll take the problem out of your hands. I told you
on the Transport that I'd kill him if that was the only way to free
him from your imprisonment. If he's still like this," Talon
indicated Dak with a jerk of his head, "when I get back--a couple
of days, a week at the most--I
will
kill him, Kierin. No man
deserves this."

Kierin sat staring at the spot where Talon
stood long after the echo of hooves faded into the night. Talon
would do exactly as he threatened; she had no doubt of that at all.
Could she gain Dak's willing acceptance of what she required and
free him from the power of the amulet? Her heart ached from what
she'd put him through. Surely, once she explained how desperate she
was he wouldn't turn his back on her. She had planned on telling
him why she bought him when they reached the safety of her
fortress. Talon's threats and Dak's lack of emotional life forced
her to change those plans.

Dak continued to confuse her, to excite her
in ways she never imagined; and she wanted him back. She wanted the
slow grin and wicked wink. She wanted the blaze of anger in his
dark chocolate eyes. Maybe it was time to stop thinking about what
she
wanted and think about Dak. As if there was any time
awake or asleep that she
didn't
think about her unusual
Anderan.

"Dak?” Kierin’s whisper floated on the night
air, soft as the mist dampening her skin. "Will you come over here?
Please? I'd like to explain.” This feeling of exposure was absurd
considering what she needed from him. She couldn't shake the
feeling that neither of them would ever be the same after tonight.
Whether that was good or bad remained to be seen.

Dak didn't move his bedroll back to the fire
pit, but he did move closer. Kierin sifted through the various
truths of her situation, deciding which ones applied to Dak. Could
she tell him enough to guarantee his help? Without condemning him
to the same death sentence she faced? She couldn't tell him
everything. Some secrets absolutely must stay buried deep within
her fortress.

"Would you care for a cup of tea?” The offer
sounded ridiculous considering they very nearly lost their lives
not more than an hour ago, but it gave her something to do with her
hands and delayed the moment when she had to look Dak in the
eye.

Dak never acknowledged her question. Knowing
she wouldn't drink it if she made it, Kierin abandoned the teapot
and faced Dak.

Any flicker of hope she had left that this
conversation could wait until they reached her fortress died when
she saw Dak in the full light of the fire. Talon was right. With
her single-minded goal of procuring the services of an Anderan, she
had destroyed another human being.

"Please believe that I never imagined
something like tonight happening. I honestly thought I could get us
safely home before Draagon or his Phantom Riders came after us.”
Kierin drew in a deep, shaky breath and pulled her blanket closer
around her shoulders.

"I am so sorry, Dak.” She wiped at the tears
she could no longer contain. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. I
never thought anyone would be hurt.” Kierin’s heart beat painfully,
making breathing difficult.

"You don't know about my world. We've
limited our travel to the less populated planets on this side of
the galaxy. Your world, and others like it, is more advanced--more
capable of providing for yourselves the services we can offer. So
many life forms don't even have the basic knowledge necessary to
prevent infection or supplement their children's meager diet.

"The healing properties of nature's bounty
are as different as the inhabitants of each world, yet they all
share the same aura of power. We can … sense which herbs and
minerals will work for whichever remedy we're seeking, regardless
of the environment.

"What most people don't know is that we
can't do this alone. It takes two of us--a male and female. A
female crystal witch is the one who knows which element will work
but it takes a male crystal witch to activate the natural power
locked in each element."

Kierin knew she was avoiding the issue. Dak
didn't need to know the history of her race.

"My father and brother didn't expect to die
so there aren't enough activated crystals to last more than a
couple of months. I can make a living with my herbs and potions,
but I have to recharge my security every six months. It's all that
stands between me and Draagon."

Kierin searched Dak's face for any sign of
comprehension or understanding. At least he was looking at her
instead of some point over her shoulder. A chill that had little to
do with the night air settled around her shoulders. In a perfect
world, she’d never have this conversation. She’d have a husband and
the issue would be a decision made by both of them. Dak was a
stranger, despite everything they’d been through together. There
would be no loving touches and gentle teasing and a part of
her--the place where dreams lived--shriveled and died a little at
what she would miss. Just thinking about putting her request into
words embarrassed her to the point of tears. Unable to look at Dak,
Kierin focused on the dancing flames, drew a deep breath and
prayed.
Please let him understand
.

"When I heard the rumors of an Anderan space
crew being held on Safe Haven, I knew it was the answer to my
prayers. Even this far from Anderas, we know about the plague. We
know you can only father male children.” Kierin risked a quick
glance at Dak. He was an intelligent man. Maybe he would make the
connection and she wouldn’t have to actually say the words. The
amulet he wore hid his thoughts.

"Within a few weeks of conception, I could
draw on a baby's power and keep my fortress secure. A son is my
last chance, Dak, my
only
chance. Do you understand?"

Kierin waited for Dak's response. The
silence of the night, broken only by the pop and crackle of the
fire and the gentle soughing of the wind in the evergreens, weighed
heavy between them. "Say something … please?"

Just when she thought Dak would ignore her
question, he drew a deep breath into his lungs and shook his
head.

"You could have asked for my protection and
I would have given it freely. With one message to JarDan, I could
provide all your monetary needs--indefinitely. The one thing you
ask of me, I cannot give."

"Why?” Kierin no longer fought the tears
filling her eyes. She was so sure Dak was the solution to her
problem. His quiet denial hurt. She couldn't give up. "I remember
your reaction on Safe Haven. I've seen the look in your eyes. You
can't expect me to believe you can't … perform."

"You didn't ask for sex, Kierin. You asked
for a son. I have no doubt we'd be good together. Hell, we would
probably set the sheets on fire, but it would be protected sex.
Does your knowledge of the plague extend to the laws the Tribunal
passed to protect our race?"

With her hopes, dreams and plans shattering
around her, all Kierin could manage was a small, negative
motion.

"To create a child with a woman from a
planet other than those settled by the Ancients is punishable by
death. Since I'm an adopted member of the royal family, banishment
is the punishment of choice. The result would be the same to
me."

"That's ridiculous. You don't choose to love
someone like selecting a pair of shoes at the market. Your laws are
unrealistic."

"I'm not in love with you, Kierin, and I'm
not sure I even believe in the concept. I'll select a suitable
mate--from my legal choices--and we'll have a son to carry on my
family name. As for the laws of Anderas, I didn't write them and
may not completely agree with the concept that created them, but
I'm sworn to uphold them--with my life, if necessary."

Wiping at the wetness on her face, Kierin
knew she would never change Dak's mind. His strength of character
was one of the unexpected facets to his personality. One of the
reasons she'd allowed foolish dreams to take root in her heart.

"No one would ever know. I'd never ask you
to give up the life you have on Anderas."

"
I
would know. The only thing that
kept me sane in that prison was the belief that--somehow,
someway--I would go home. We don’t grow up knowing we’ll end up
light years away from Anderas living virtually alone. Anderans live
and die on Anderas. It’s our anchor. We travel, but we
always--always, Kierin--know we’ll go home.

"Do you honestly believe I could turn my
back on my own child? Or his mother? I can’t believe you want to
bring a child into your world. Why would you endanger an innocent
knowing Draagon could kill you at any time? What would happen to
the boy then? If it means spending the rest of my life imprisoned
by this damn stone, my answer has to be no."

Kierin had come too far to give up without a
fight. There had to be a way to convince Dak.

"With a son, Draagon couldn't get to me. My
fortress is impenetrable."

"Draagon can't get in and you can't get out.
Sounds like a prison to me. I know firsthand what that’s like and I
refuse to have my son live like that. Do you plan to spend the rest
of your life locked within your fortress? The people who need your
herbs and potions, do they come to you or do you go to them? Is
there some secret to looking at someone and knowing that Draagon
hasn't paid them to get close enough to slip a blade between your
ribs? I know what it's like to grow up without a mother, and
believe me no child deserves that. There are enough uncertainties
in life without deliberately seeking out danger. Why don't you
leave this planet? You said yourself; there are hundreds of places
your race could go. Find a new place to live, someplace with a few
single male crystal witches or whatever you call them and pick out
a husband who will jump at the chance to make you pregnant."

"That's impossible.” Kierin tried to hold
Dak's steady gaze, but the secrets she guarded deep within her
fortress forced her to look away. No one--not even Dak--must ever
discover the secret that was her father's greatest achievement and
his deepest fear. "Is there no way to change your mind?"

"I'm sorry you went to so much trouble for
nothing, Kierin."

"So am I, Dak.” Kierin lowered her head,
suddenly too tired to hold her body straight. "If you agree to what
I need you die. By refusing my offer you've condemned me to death.
There's no way out.” Acceptance of Dak’s refusal was
heartbreaking.

"Too much has happened tonight. I can't make
any rational decisions right now. Tomorrow will be soon enough to
figure out what I need to do. We need to take care of the horses
…."

"Sit down. I may not be much in the way of
protection, but I'm still able to dig a hole big enough to bury
what’s left of the horses without assistance."

Kierin watched Dak in silent misery. For a
moment she'd seen the spark of anger in his eyes. She had to
believe there was still hope. She'd give him the night to think and
confront him again in the morning. Maybe he'd change his mind. If
not, she had a couple of secrets she could use to try and force his
hand.

Curling into a ball, Kierin sought what
comfort she could find on the cold, hard ground. "Good night,
Dak."

Chapter Nine

Draagon pasted his phony, patronizing smile
on his face and stood to greet the envoy from the local village.
He'd spent a great deal of time perfecting his "faces" in the years
before the Phantom Riders. He liked to think of this expression as
his "beneficent god" face. It was his favorite face because he knew
it infuriated the peons under his control.

Control was more than having the biggest
army or the most devastating weaponry. Control was subtle. Control
was smiling at your enemy with just enough sincerity on your face
that he never saw the blade you slipped between his ribs. Control
was the knowledge that every word, every gesture, held the promise
of life or death and
they
couldn't do a single thing about
it.

The trio of full-time farmers serving as
part-time town council was no different from the hundreds of men
just like them he’d dealt with over the years. Regardless of the
size of the city, town or hamlet, all it took to gain their
cooperation and, eventually, control of their pitiful communities
was the correct wording of his demands. Most men--and these three
were no exception--would quickly concede defeat when forced to
watch the rape of their wives and daughters.

He wasn't always so … excessive … in his
actions. He’d tried any number of alternative actions to gain the
attention of the locals, some more effective than others. Burning
the town, for example, guaranteed he got their attention but the
loss of monetary gain for his Phantom Riders made it an
unacceptable choice unless none of his other options worked.

"Lord Draagon," the leader of the group
stepped forward, "we have done what you asked. Your Riders now
control the town and all of our weapons. When will you release our
families?"

Flicking an imaginary speck of dust from the
immaculate gray wool uniform, Draagon ignored the comments. Only
when he could smell the fear and loathing in his guests did he
acknowledge the question.

"My dear mayor," he drawled, while fingering
the cluster of misshapen crystals suspended from a thick silver
chain around his neck, "did I not make myself clear? I don’t recall
asking
you to do anything. I seem to remember that my
comments were more in keeping with a demand. Don’t you agree?"