Quest For Earth (36 page)

The craven thought snuck into her mind that there was still time for her to escape, to shelter on the
Quinnie
. This was not her fight. And to throw her allegiance to Maaka's cause was bound to sever any chance of the Purideans helping the Darkons repair their ship. But she'd had time these past few days, even busy as she had been, to consider all the Corporation and Board had done since Sherise and her contingent had landed. And now she was certain they had never intended to extend any real assistance.

Her chin lifted and she banished all notions of returning to the
Quinnie
. Such a life would harbour little love or intimacy.

There would be no Maaka by her side.

I have been a warrior before, I can be one again.

Deep inside her essence, a barrier tumbled down. Dissolved. The hum of her blood grew louder as it flowed, thick and thrumming like war drums, through her veins. She felt taller, stronger. For the first time in her life, she fully embraced her Darkon heritage.

She would stand fast as the mate of a warlord and join him in his quest to ensure the survival of his people. And she would discover a way for her own people to go home. In her mind she saw the smile of approval on her brother's face.

She edged closer and examined the model, then waited with studied patience until the men fell silent.

‘I have an idea. But first I wish to lay out some ground rules.' She met Maaka's astounded glance with steady eyes.

‘This is not a discussion. We make battle plans and I am the one who gives the orders,' he growled.

Sherise smoothed her hand over his arm up to his biceps where she curled her fingers over the hard bulge of muscle. She leaned closer, pressing her breasts further against his side, pleased when she felt his heart rate rocket. ‘Of course and I would not have it otherwise.' She smiled. Her lashes fluttered. ‘Kondo has cycles of battle experience which you could utilise. He makes a formidable enemy but a better ally. Give him charge of one of your squads.'

Maaka stared at her through half-closed eyes and fingered his jaw. ‘I will consider the matter. What more would you have me do?'

‘I will fight by your side.'

‘Nay!' His roar reverberated off the cave ceiling. The other occupants stopped their chores, their hands streaking for their weapons before realising no danger threatened from without. They gave Maaka a curious glance before returning to their work.

‘Yes. Darkon blood flows strong within me. I have been fully trained in combat and …' Sherise raised her voice over the expletives coming from his mouth, ‘… and I have a full protective cyno suit. I am no stranger to fighting. I have also been thinking of armour for your men.'

Aah, caught him.

Maaka crossed his arms over his chest, bristling with more than outrage. A telltale pulse flickered rapidly in the strong column of his neck. There was fear beneath his anger. She could feel it unfurling its wings as it beat darkness into his essence. Fear for her safety. So he did care. How much, she did not know, but it was enough to realise she was important in his life.

He clamped his lips together as he rode his emotions.

Sherise released her hold on his arm to rustle inside the satchel that hardly ever left her person. ‘Here it is.' She held aloft a clutch of tikka feathers in her hand.

Maaka snorted. ‘What would you have me do? Tickle my enemies to death?'

She chewed her lower lip for a moment at the cutting softness of his voice, recognising it as the warning signal of a predator about to annihilate its prey.

‘Please, Maaka, listen to me. These feathers are made of metal. I believe they can be woven together to make, at the very least, a half-body plate. If you can locate me sufficient feathers I will make your men armour.'

‘By yourself?' Disbelief laced his voice. ‘There is no time for this nonsense.'

Sherise waved her hand in the air. The light reflected off the feathers in her hand and the silent warriors stared as if mesmerised. The flare was nothing in comparison to the glare in Maaka's eyes.

But his dismissive tone aroused her own anger. ‘I speak no nonsense. I am descended from a long line of Darkon warriors and the sister of a king. I have been born and bred to protect others and stand by my mate's side. Would you deny me my heritage?' Her nostrils flared and she lifted her chin.

‘It is not that I have no faith in your courage, but I need you to be safe,' he admitted.

Her voice softened. ‘Do you not see me as your equal?'

‘You are right. Fear for your wellbeing has clouded my judgement.' His knuckles brushed down the side of her face. ‘Never doubt my respect for you, Sherise.'

‘Then there will be no more arguments. I will stand by your side. As to my idea, pray listen. I have studied the weaving and melding of metal since I was young. This skill can be taught, but I will need help. I have seen the Freeber women weaving cloth. It should be easy enough to teach them. We will need a fire as hot as possible, rods of the metal you use to make your swords and time.'

And time was something the captives of the Half-dead did not have. Their eyes met and understanding flowed between them. His jaw relaxed a centon, the square of his shoulders rounded as she sensed his tension ebbed.

‘We can work through the night,' Sherise added.

Maaka addressed his men. ‘Ronen, take a team of men and source every tikka feather you can find. Bring them to the communal hall. We will all work together until the task is complete. Junta, advise Kondo, I have need of his counsel. The rest of you, see to the metal and fire.'

His men dispersed in all directions, leaving Sherise alone with him.

He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed each fingertip. A tingle like electric sparks flickered down her fingers and along her arm.

‘I should not be surprised, my sweet Sherise, at the extent of your skills and yet I find that I am.' He drew her to her feet and wrapped his arm about her waist. They walked from the cavern and down the long tunnel. ‘No longer do you berate me about warmongering and now you say you will take up arms and fight with me. What has caused this change of heart?'

‘Perhaps I have decided there are some things worth fighting for.'

‘You evade me, still.'

Sherise bit her lip at the sternness in his voice. Did he not trust her? But trust worked both ways. ‘I am not the only one who chooses to conceal matters.'

The muscles in the arm he had looped about her tensed. ‘Explain.'

‘Very well, Maaka.' She took a deep breath, but the words that poured from her mouth were not the careful sentences she had rehearsed in her mind all morning. ‘I have been told the reasons you chose me as your mate is a desire to fulfil some prophesy and, at the same time, gain access to my people's knowledge and technology. Is this true?'

Maaka remained silent for a few paces before clearing his throat and saying, ‘Yes, but 'tis not the entire truth. As leader of my clan, it is my duty to ensure my people survive. Not only this generation, but also the ones to come. Our alliance with the Freebers was negotiated on the terms of merging our people and bartering our different skills for mutual advantage. A united force is much stronger than two divided races. The widening of our gene pool will diminish and, in time, eradicate the flaws in our nature.'

‘Flaws?' Sherise looked him over from head to toe. She could see no flaws. He was a magnificent example of a warrior. Though admittedly, an annoying one. A smirk spread over his face.

‘'Tis good you can perceive no flaws in me,' he said in a humble tone which failed to deceive her.

She said drily, ‘Your inflated opinion of yourself is a major flaw.'

He chuckled.

They emerged from the tunnel and he stepped forward to lead the way down the steep rock staircase. She gripped his belt, keeping her eyes on the steps and refrained from staring into the well of the cavern. He stopped at the bottom. ‘Everyone has their weaknesses.'

She heard it, a slight deepening of his voice hinting at a darker inflection behind his smooth evasive response.
What is he hiding that is so difficult to speak of?
Perhaps it was as simple as a lack of trust. Or perhaps a weakness his enemies would take advantage of and, if known, win over his people? Or was it something worse? Either way, he could not or would not tell her.

‘Now you are the one keeping secrets.'

Maaka huffed out an irritated breath. ‘I knew from the very first moment I saw you that you would be my mate.'

‘In the hospital or when I used my personal compu?'

‘Both.'

‘So upon realising we were not of your world you decided on the strategy of mingling our races with yours and the Freebers. Then you do not see me; not the real, Sherise.' She walked away.

***

Maaka scraped a hand over the top of his head and massaged the back of his neck where tension had tightened his muscles until they cramped.

By Leon's teeth, what just happened? Did I really agree to let my mate join the battle?

True, many a Lycanean female fought beside her mate and indeed were at this moment preparing for battle. Some women were even as strong and skilled as the men. But the idea of his sweet Sherise facing the horrors of the Half-dead struck terror into his heart. But he could not deny they needed every soldier capable of wielding a weapon if they were to achieve victory. He would have to place his trust in her armour and his body to keep her safe.

And there had been a shadowed look in her dark eyes that disturbed him. He had a sneaky feeling this entire encounter with his mate had ended badly as he stared after her departing figure, wondering whether he should call her back.

Given the amount of work yet to be completed before they embarked on the first stage of their attack, perhaps it would be wise to shelve their personal issues and concentrate on the matter at hand. Still, a true Lycanean never left his mate in need. The pain and confusion she harboured clouded his judgement, so great was his desire to offer her comfort. But if he did so, he would be honour bound to tell her everything.

He rolled his shoulders. Would she recoil from him? When she learned the Lycaneans could be turned and become as one like the Half-dead? When she realised, under their skins, they could well be brothers?

Bred in the birth chambers within the Fortress, both races shared a similar genetic structure. They had been mutated into two separate peoples, forever at war, forever seeking to destroy what one could become and what the other should have been.

Training in the use of the Star People's weaponry would occupy the remainder of the day. Should time permit, then he would seek out Sherise and share this secret that he abhorred.

And feared.

Chapter 24

Night had fallen in the city and Bree was ready to put the Commander's plan into action. Her nerves tightly wound, she'd been unable to eat the remainder of the day, and now nausea added to her discomfort.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded to Dyrke and walked out the front door of his house and down the four steps. The two peacekeepers standing sentry spun around but made no move to intercept her.

She kept walking, counting down the seconds in her head. Heart pounding, she kept her head up like she had every right to be walking about the streets one hour before curfew. She heard the sound of running feet and shot a glance over her shoulder. One of the sentries was heading in the opposite direction. She assumed he was off to report on her and obtain fresh orders. The other guy had stepped out onto the road and watched her progress.

Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

She stopped, turned around and broke into a run, back towards the guard.
That's it. I've really got his attention now.

A shadow slipped out the door and down the steps. The guard had his hand on the butt of his weapon, as if uncertain whether or not to fire on her.

Dyrke raised his hand and brought a frying pan crashing onto the guard's head. The guy grunted and folded to the ground.

Bree sprinted the last couple of metres and stopped, looking down at the fallen man. ‘He's bleeding. You must have given him quite a wallop.'

‘The other will return soon. But I calculate we have a good half an hour before they begin searching for us.' Dyrke stared along the street. ‘The little girl is back.'

‘I hope she doesn't raise the alarm. Okay. I'm off for the landing area.'

‘I wish you safe journey. In the meantime, I will locate the building where my men are being held.' Dyrke hesitated. ‘If you are unable to send a signal and no shuttle has been left behind, you will be alone and unprotected.'

‘It's fine. Don't worry about me. Kondo would never leave us without a means of escape from this place.' Bree pushed his arm. ‘Go. We've both got work to do.'

And without a backward glance, Bree left him behind.

***

Two hours before dawn, Sherise clipped the last piece of her nano armour into place. She had to give Kondo credit for taking the initiative to steal not only weapons from the
Quinnie
but also several sets of Darkon armour. It would come in handy with the battle ahead.

Taking a deep breath, she wriggled her fingers into tight fitting gloves. With her fingernails clipped short and wiped clear of crimson paint, her transformation into a Darkon warrior was now complete. She spread her legs apart to balance her weight and activated the compu, metal bands surrounding both her arms from her wrists to her elbows. A current sizzled and burned over her skin from the tips of her fingers and toes to the end of her braided hair.

By Cercis's cloak, why is the melding always painful?

Surely by now their scientists could have invented a less painful way of connecting the nano technology with the wearer? She pulled a face when she remembered she had yet to secure her helmet. The connection with the brain was always the hardest part.