MOONDOCK (2 page)

“Yes.” The time had come. “And Melane, you are also Sabrina’s daughter…in all ways.” She waited for her breathless revelation to brighten those crystal blue pools. “You are a Syron, Melane, by birth and in gifts. The powers are surging inside you, screaming for release--not denials!”

“But…”

“No, do not speak of doubts, only truths. Tonight the truth, you are a child of two sects, two skills, two gifts. The combination can reach further than any known to exist in the Nemows. Lamar skills, together with Syron powers, are an untouchable force!”

“Shemon stop, this cannot be.”

“It can and is! Melane, listen to me, not all of the Nemows’ teachings and rules are infallible. Some are derived out of need or control, to benefit the mass, it does not make them right, just necessary.” Her hand smoothed back the soft bangs on her daughter’s beautiful face. “Oh child, open your mind and heart to what is inside you, let the powers come, stop fighting them. You will need all the strength they can give you. Let them help when your Lamar training fails. There will be times when it will Melane, then you will see I am right.”

“Sabrina had powers no other Syron ever possessed. She could see things in dreams. She had the power to stop or send objects at will. There were others she never spoke of…forces beyond comprehension. I think they frightened her with their strength. She told me once, not even the herbs could restore her own strength when she used certain ones, and once used they were gone forever. Some came naturally, without conscious thought or loss of strength.”

Could it be true? Melane pulled away from Shemon, needing to reflect on her own feelings.

“Tell me Melane? What have you felt?”

“Dreams…I have had the dreams that leave me weak and trembling. Mostly of battles to come. I tried to forget what my mind held, but during the fights my moves came without thoughts, already defending an unseen blow or delivering a killing slash before theirs ended my life.”

“The blending of skills…the two sects.”

Spinning on her, Melane screamed, “But it is wrong!”

“Is it wrong that I saved you from Narmar’s evil fate? Hmm? The woman still fears your strengths, the power that passed from mother to daughter. Oh yes, we have both given you all we possess. Sabrina’s guidance is all that is lacking in your knowledge. It is there--inside--waiting for your call. Never deny what she gave you, listen to Sabrina’s powers and let her help you fulfill the quest.”

“If I go and seek the Selams, do you honestly believe they are real?”

“All legends begin with fact.”

“They would be males?”

“The prospect frightens you?”

“Shouldn’t it?”

“You have faced the Kibra.”

“They are animals, beast before all else. The Selams may be the same.”

“Only finding them will tell you.”

“Should I succeed, can you really think to obtain mutual rule?”

“That decision will have to be faced. I do know, without them, we face annihilation at the hands of those beasts out there. We are losing Melane. The Syron’s numbers have dwindled nearly to half. Without them we will slowly die. Even worse is the suffering the raids are bringing upon us. So many others have been needlessly killed. The Begonés will eventually revolt, their death counts are climbing each day.” Shemon stared into the glaring denial shining in the girl’s gaze upon her. “And the Lamars, dear Melane, you know the losses we have suffered. Your own regiment is down by a third and they are our best warriors. So you see we have no options.”

“They could refuse.”

“Offer what ever it takes to win their agreement. I give you the authority to act and speak for me. What ever is asked, Melane.”

Did she really mean what Melane believed, “Shemon?”

“Yes Melane, even the Syrons. One sect for the whole civilization is a small price. The civilization will flourish, if we rejoin the Selams. We will just have to learn to tolerate the males.”

Selams

The ground lay heavy with dew, sparkling under the fresh morning sun. Melane pulled up on the leather reins halting the easy gait of the Kaymog. His sharp horn cocked in his usual manner as if he too searched for hidden danger. Running her fingers through his thick fur, Melane massaged the great bulk of muscles in the thick neck. “All seems quiet, hey Rolley?”

Her soft laughter over his great snorted reply preceded the long powerful strides as they continued north. “Am I right to go north, Rolley?”

When his head rose and fell it made her wonder if he could really understand her. She talked to him enough. He had been with her since Shemon gave her the Kaymog when she turned thirteen. A fine strong mount, he taught her how to ride that first month. She still wondered over her own stubbornness on remounting him every time he dumped her on her backside. She even conquered his deliberate shifts in directions. The Kaymog’s ability to maneuver at their highest speed in any direction, made them invaluable in battle. Rolley’s great size gave Melane an additional advantage, allowing her to tower over all other riders in battle. His powerful hind legs stretched out, doubling most Kaymog’s strides. Not a one in the stables could best them in a race.

His upright height, when moving, was Melane’s only problem, for he rose into the trees, threatening to unseat her against the limbs. Rolley always seemed to duck low enough to include her in his avoidance. She felt better having him with her. He was also a good guard. Kaymogs hated all other beasts and Kibras more than any other. He could smell them before she could see them. All the hairs about his neck would bristle out in alarm if one were near. The Kibra’s inability to break any Kaymog as a mount became the one advantage the Lamars still retained. Having these animals meant a Lamar’s very life.

Melane’s feelings for Rolley went deeper than those associated with weapons or mounts--he was her companion. She felt he cared for her, too. Many times in hand to hand combat, Rolley actually fought the Kibra. Though his small, stubby front paws didn’t extent far, the long claws could rip through a tree to get at the nourishing sap and did mortal damage to an enemy that came too close. She never witnessed another Kaymog act in such a defending manner.

“Is it the power, Rolley?”

Shemon’s words went long into the night. Melane learned many things about the council and her foster mother last night. More than once, she actually heard Shemon’s acceptance for what she found fault with because of necessity for the whole.

Many of Melane’s own questions began to see the light of truth, but she still felt confused over the answers. Like the Syrons, and what made them the life givers in the eyes of the council. Why not the Weavers or Begonés? If Shemon knew the answer, she held her silence, she said only that the ancients decreed it so. To Melane’s young mind it was a lame excuse
. Reasons.
Yes, she wanted answers for so many things.

Like Narmar’s hate. Even Shemon still feared its reach for Melane. She knew that was why she placed Lamar guards with her until they reached the boundaries of Nemow’s kingdom. It was also why they left under cover of darkness, before the other questors.

Melane decided on going north to find the Selams. Always the Kibras came up from the south. She did not think an equal force would tolerate the Kibra’s presence anywhere near their lands. For that reason, she decided on the farthest direction away from the beasts. The north was an unknown wilderness beyond the great forest. The Nemows were not explorers or conquers, having no need to venture beyond their vast holdings. Whichever way any of the others decided upon, Melane’s heart felt heavy over their survival. All were facing unknowns, few possessed the abilities to deal with nature’s dangers, be it elements or beast.

She thought again over what the Selams would be like, shivering when the ugly image of Kibras couldn’t be dismissed. The huge, barreled hulks, were thick and coarse, with dark tufts of hair on their shoulders, chest and legs. Like the beast they behaved like, their unkempt mane of hair and long rutted beards could never hide the snarling male beneath. Should the Selams come close to these hideous features, Melane knew, she would not find the courage to confront them. She held little fear of bringing shame to Shemon, sure they would end her life.

They traveled on past the great forest, over the rolling green hills and gentle stream clustered tree groupings. The land was much like Cibrac, until the terrain became steeper and Melane saw the ominous mountains ahead. Almost purple against the afternoon sky she thought the high peaks appeared like formidable guards. Rolley sensed the threat as well, slowing his steps in caution.

“It is what hides in their folds we must prepare for, my friend.”

Was this the Selam’s land? The closer they came to the fierce cliffs and giant trees thrusting out of the jagged rocks, the more she felt the foreboding over what the inhabitants would be like. The Weavers taught that the exodus of the Selams had taken many directions. Very few Nemows accompanied the fleeing Selams as most mates perished from the illness that struck only the males.

Mates? The word conjured up images of wild beast, making Melane shudder and push away the idea.

She had seen very little animal life since entering the ravine between two large mountains. There could be new dangers behind the thick tree trunks that could hide her twice over. Every noise caused her to tense and get ready for what might jump out.

Their tedious travel during the warm afternoon exhausted her, making her seek out an early shelter for the long night ahead. The large contorted tree beside a stream afforded the lofty retreat she preferred to the ground. Rolley seemed content with his foraging. Melane never lost sight of his raised horned head as his great grinding jaws as they devoured the brush. Daring not to light a fire, she ate the cold provisions of grain and nuts, washing it down with the cooling handfuls of the clear running water.

Before the light failed, she whistled for the Kaymog. Using his great height, she climbed from his shoulders onto the thick supporting tree limb. Tying a rope about her to the trunk, to prevent any mishap, Melane settled into the hard perch. Rolley curled up beneath her at the tree’s base, looking more like a docile mog, some pet of a child, than a warrior’s steed.

Sleep wasn’t a luxury that night. Rolley’s low growls and Melane’s own stiffened senses followed the dark lumbering shapes in the night shadows. Darting yellow and red eyes circled about the strangers in their midst. Melane’s hand never relaxed its hold about the sword, her other laid close to the knife and sling hanging from her hip.

~*~

The trim legs were planted apart to hold the lithe stretching form as Melane worked out the night’s stiffness. Rolley bent down beside her. “Impatient to be away my friend?”

Mounting his wide bulk, “Can’t blame you, the night was too long. Shall we follow the creek?”

The huge clawed paws splashed loudly in the small stream. Disliking the prospect of facing many more nights like the last, she tried to imagine where, within these mountains, the Selams might settle. As the morning stretched out Melane found no signs of any presence, other then tracks of unfamiliar beast.

Conquering a difficult climb that forced her to dismount Rolley, letting him find his own way over the boulders, she came upon a large sparkling pool. A soft sheet of water fell over the high cliff surrounding the inviting pool. Dark green trees bent low along the deep edge as if they too sought the cool water.

Feeling tired and dirty, the decision was easy. The armor and weapons dropped quickly around her tanned bare legs. Only the knife belt remained about her waist, making the white smock flare out about her hips. Unable to resist the waiting pleasure she pulled away the helmet, releasing waist length waves of thick, midnight rich hair.

Her dive was clean and silent into the deep blue water. The strokes expert as they glided across the mirrored surface.

~*~

Startled by the unexpected vision, Wylan’s black eyes heated over the impact. Unable to tear his gaze or senses clear of the ethereal movements, he gave up the struggle and savored the rare event. Like mystical wings, the slim arms and delicate hands cut soundlessly through the water, making him look at his own massive ones in comparison.

“An elamie?” The breathless admission caused his muscles to ripple in stunned awareness. The flowing cloak of black silk above the sleek white, cloudy shape of her body firmed the proud arrogant features of his chiseled face. The hidden beauty was not a vision, the whimsical laughter floating across the pool to his hiding place proved all too real. Awareness ripped through his corded body, forcing his eyes to search the opposite bank for her protector. The strange large beast he found instead, didn’t diminish the warnings silently bombarding his senses.

Never taking his attention away from the elamie, still enjoying her believed privacy in the pool, Wylan made his way soundlessly through the brush, freezing when the obvious large guard on the opposite bank rose up to his full height. The beast’s large black nostrils sniffed and vibrated in the air. Knowing he was down wind from the animal, he again checked the elamie, almost faltering when finding her to be floating atop the water. Full, twin peaks bobbed in languid motion, enticing his virile male body. The fresh pale globes could fill his palm. The truth painfully tightened his lions, setting his determination on the prize within his reach.

Whatever prey his planned week of hunting might have brought, Wylan knew could never touch the treasure he stumbled upon. How she came to be here, alone, was unimportant. All knew the claiming laws, Wylan better than most. He did not intend to lose this prize, scoffing that any Selam could be so careless. He had not seen her close enough to be sure, but this elamie definitely held virtues beyond any he glimpsed upon in the past. The wealth of possessing one such as this would be unequaled; the promised pleasure a private haven.

Before his dreamy musing destroyed his concentration, Wylan faced the formidable task before him. Stopping her creature could prove as challenging as fighting the night’s Mylar. The beast actually stood taller than Wylan’s great height and was wider than his broad shoulders. The great claws on the short stubs and powerful hind paws told of the animal’s potential. The way the beast paced about in alert strides said he would defend his swimming mistress with his furred life.

Wylan’s fingers released the tie holding the whipple at his thick belt. Holding the sturdy cords, he positioned them with expert ease between his strong grasp, ready to send the weapon to its mark.

The whirling sound cut through the still air, swirling Melane about to search for the threat. A shrilling shout froze her in the water as Rolley’s cry shattered in her ears. His crashing body drew a painful groan from his shocked lips.

Busting through the brush Wylan’s massive arm rose to silence the beast struggling to rise and break free of the cords wrapped about his powerful thrashing legs.

“No!” The screamed plea halted the downward thrust of his thick blade.

His senses came alive to the elamie staring at him with wide blue eyes. Winning her without a fight never crossed his mind. Seeing the unexpected feelings she carried for the beast gave him a new advantage.

In slow caution, his stance eased back from the threat still struggling at his feet. If the great beast’s strength had not severed the whipple by now it would not happen. She did not know and awareness made him curious over her reaction. “Come out elamie!” Wylan’s sword lowered, its point directed at the animal’s chest. “Now!”

Treading the water her eyes filled with the awesome bronzed image. Tall as a tree and as tough, the male stood with his thick muscled legs spread wide. Full golden shoulders bulged over the powerful expanse of the contoured muscles that moved and flexed across his great chest. Melane’s head shook in frightened denial.
Worse than the Kibra.

She wanted to flee from the battle. All Lamars faced the weakness and conquered it, or died. But this…this was an instinctive panic against an unknown danger.
He was male!

“Do I kill the beast?”

Her stunned eyes dropped to Rolley’s pitiful form now stilled in exhaustion. “No!” The admission barely passed her tightly held lips. Thoughts of escaping made her cautious eyes dart about, but she was in the middle of the pool. This enemy could easily span any distant bank she headed for. In slow unwanted strokes, Melane started towards him.

His sword eased away from Rolley as she advanced, coming to a stop in mid air before her. Her weapons lay on the bank in front of the bush. Had the obstruction hid his awareness? Melane forced her eyes to remain on his massive form. Melane tried hard not to let the power and strength in his golden form defeat her courage.

A vision in the water as she stood, rising out of depths she became a mythical goddess. The lure to his senses grew fierce, the way the transparent barrier clung to her honeyed skin and the soft alluring curves, enticed that savage desire all males ultimately faced. In twenty-seven years, Wylan knew none before possessed the invisible power this elamie emanated. His admiring gaze halted at the weapon resting at her slender waist. “Take it off.”

Was she too willing in obeying his command? Why did her docile appearance send warnings blaring inside him?

Holding out the sheathed knife dangling from the belt, Melane stepped fully out of the water. Only a step to her right and she could set the blade down. Keeping her eyes to his fierce black ones, she moved the offending weapon out arm length. Bending forward, as if to place it down, Melane moved without thought, exchanging one for another before he could blink at her trickery.

Crouching low before the giant, his blade held as much a threat as his own matching stance.

“A foolish move, elamie.”

Her confidence rose in stature to the weapon now in her possession. “We will see who is the fool.”

Her attack obviously surprised the male and Melane pushed her advantage, striking fast and sure, with expert maneuvers. His defending blows were jerky as if stunned and unsure how to deal with her. Keeping him off balance was her only hope of succeeding. The male’s reach was twice her own and to question the power he’d yet to use against her could mean death. Why he held back confused Melane, but she refused to let her attention slip.