The Pearl Savage (10 page)

Matthew and Stephen walked toward
the fire, shifting their weapons in preparation for disarming for the
day.

Philip’s broad shoulders blocked the
light of the fire as he walked in front of Bracus, barring his words
and expression from onlookers, “What of the female?”

“Can you not wait, brother?”

Philip grinned, “I cannot. I must
know… what does she look like? Different from our females?” he
asked, his head tilting to include the few that drew warmth from the
fire.

“Much.”

That caused both men to turn and
look at the lone pair of females near the huge community fire, its
crackling presence flickering on the faces of all who were close.
Bracus appraised them, John, “Jack” Blythe’s mate was one who
leaned in against Jack, the newest member of the Band, his forearm
wrapped protectively around her collarbone, he standing behind her
with his chin touching the top of her head. His eyes met Bracus and
he nodded, watching Philip and Bracus closely; the Band was
protective of their mates. But only one of them was mated at present.
Lillian stood in Jack’s embrace, relaxed in the knowledge that her
mate was a superior fighter, she had a protector of skill; a good
thing for a woman of the clans.

The other female stood apart from
all,
Anna
. Having escaped a
clan she would not name, where a male had tried to force her
attention,
an abomination.
Anna glanced warily at the two Band members, acting as if she might
flee if they moved in the wrong direction.

Months
she had lived here with his clan, and still she did not trust.

Philip sighed, sensing his brother’s
thoughts. “She wants no one. But there are ones who would want her
if she was so inclined.”

“She is not yet ready.”

“Agreed.”

“Her fear is a terrible thing to
see.”

Philip looked at him. “Yes, it is.
But there are some males…” he let his voice trail off. Bracus was
well aware that some clans were not run as uniformly as theirs.
President Bowen wished to gather the clans together and institute a
Police of sorts. Making the Bands of all the clans a universal
protector.

Much
to consider.
It was a matter of priorities, the current one
being the clan’s sustainability; it was threatened by the dwindling
numbers of females.

Philip and Bracus walked to the fire
side-by-side, Bracus reluctant to disarm. He wished to take a bath in
his dwelling. He would lay his weapons down in his own dwelling.
Matthew and Stephen’s quiver and bow lay at their feet as they used a
log pulled close to sit upon.

Matthew watched their approach, his
backside tight against the ground and his feet crossed at the ankle,
arms resting on the log. “Tell us. Our weapons finished… our day
spent.”

Stephen gave a sour look, obviously
tired of being left out of the immediacy of the president’s inner
circle.

Anna watched the group of huge men
come together near the fire, the Band. She scooted back a few steps,
giving up the warmth of the fire for the feeling of security the
distance gave her. The captain, Bracus Goodman, was the only one she
might trust at this time…
might
,
and one other, her mind whispered
. He was their leader and
garnered respect through his treatment of others. He even took time
with the children, a true and decent thing. Memories of her clan
hovered near her, threatening to suffocate with the sheer terror they
provided. She had prevailed, narrowly escaping. Anna forcibly relaxed
her shoulders. Near a half year she had been here. She would not be
able to keep her clan of origin secret forever. Possibly, the one who
had abused her would find her and kill her.

He
had told her so.
She shivered, remembering.

*

Anna could feel his body pressing
into hers, filthy hands groping about her clothing while one hand
covered her mouth to quiet her. She remembered the trees that night
as she lay upon her back, their swaying a black outline against the
moonlight which spilled about her, the forest her witness. She kicked
with all her might, bucking and fighting, his hand left her mouth and
backhanded her across her face, she saw stars, stunned, she lay still
and he continued his onslaught. He was a member of her clan’s Band;
one sworn to protect the clan, protect the females… yet he did not.

She felt her mind leave her body,
this could not be happening to her. Just as he would have his way
with her, a figure loomed above them, an older female, small boulder
raised above her head. Anna’s eyes bulged, the male seeing her
reaction a moment too late before the rock fell on his head, and he
slumped over, off Anna’s body. She sat up with a hiccuping sob.
Relief washed over her in a sickening adrenaline surge, overwhelming
her limbs, numbing them. She opened her mouth to say something and it
was Della, who put a finger to her lips to silence her.

The two women turned to look at the
male, Anna’s attacker. “Go now, far away. Before he awakens.”

“But what of you? He will hurt
you,” Anna said, her body quaking.

She smiled grimly. “No, he will
be occupied with explaining himself. However, this one is of a mind
to not be remorseful. He will try again. You must go.” Della’s
stout body and dour face was set in purposeful lines. She held out a
pack, with odd straps that wound
around ones arms.

“This has what you need for a
journey of this length.”

Anna peered inside… jerky, dried
fruit and nuts. More food than she would need. She gave a confused
look at Della. “You need what is here and more… than I can give
you. Follow the cobbled road until it ends. Head west.” Della
rifled through the folds of her skirt, producing a rough map. “There
are rumors that the mid-western clans are governed more fairly.”
Della gave a significant look at Anna. The translation was: the males
were true, without criminal transgression.

That was how the Clan of Ohio had
found Anna; dirty, delirious, and half-starved. Her fear not as
awesome as her desperation.

Anna started when a male spoke to
her, “Anna?”

She instinctively backed away, then
stopped, steeling herself. She must be brave. Not
all
males were as the one she had escaped from. Joseph stood looking at
her, eyebrows raised, waiting for a response. She usually just nodded
in return. But this night, still in the grip of her memories, out of
the warm shelter of the fire, she wished to have
some
human contact, even if male…
especially
male
.
She purposely stepped closer, regaining the steps
she had given up. She needed to start to believe.

To trust.

Joseph regarded Anna in surprise.
She did not run off as she usually did. He watched as resolve formed
in her eyes and he fought not to show his shock. He had been greeting
her from the very first. When she came to them a starved, filthy
thing, delirious from dehydration, asking over and over, “…is
this the midwestern clan?”

He had watched these months as her
shyness was for males, but females, she trusted.
That
had given the Band pause
.
They considered her to have
been a victim of some kind. But when questioned she just shook her
head. Even Bracus, who had found her and established some trust,
could not extract the reason for her state upon arriving. What clan
did she hail from? A mystery.

One Joseph wished to solve.

“Yes, Joseph,” she croaked out,
her voice unaccustomed to being used.

The remaining Band around the fire
looked up sharply upon hearing Anna’s voice, a rare sound.

She immediately noticed their
attention and faltered, but Joseph said, “Please…tell me what
you think upon.”

Anna stood stupidly before him, all
thoughts gone, save one. “I am cold.” However insignificant the
statement, it was what she
could
say.

Joseph smiled,
that
he
could manage.
He extended his hand, sweeping it toward the
fire. “Join me by the heat then, Anna.”

She gave the barest of smiles and
Joseph’s heart soared; to see this quaking female regain a semblance
of who she was, giving him the slimmest regard.

They walked toward the fire
together, a man of the Band and a female hanging on to a grain of
hope,
fiercely
.

CHAPTER 11

Charles and Clara climbed the steps
leading to the Royal Manse, Clara with trepidation, Charles
sure-footed as ever. He looked at her rumpled work skirt and blouse,
tired from the day in the fields, her rosy cheeks giving testimony to
the outdoor work. The sphere felt cloying with the moisture this day.
Charles realized the time was coming for the cleanse of the sphere.
When that time was near, the moisture level became unbearable.

“The cleansing is near,” Charles
remarked, wiping his brow with his once-white handkerchief.

“Yes,” Clara said, smiling. She
was nearly immune to the humidity of the sphere.

Charles gave her a glower, she
looked much fresher than he, his breeches sticking to his body as a
second skin.

Clara laughed, her smile fading as
Peter swung open the double door, ushering them into the wide foyer,
the steam-chandelier not yet operating. Fading sunlight streamed
through the many stained glass windows like fractured rainbows
slicing the interior.

“Princess, Olive has your change
of attire waiting in your chamber.”

“Thank you, Peter.”

Clara turned to Charles, looking
over his sticky breeches and slightly rumpled blouse, he shook his
head. “
You
Princess, she will require formality in her
audience, I am as a bug.”

Clara laughed, and he winked. “You
will await here then, while I change?”

“Yes.” Charles and Peter watched
her climb the great staircase which led to her chamber.

Peter sighed. “She leads a hard
life, our highness.”

“Yes she does.”

Peter and Charles stood in mutual
silence. They were bound by the same laws that governed everyone in
the Kingdom of Ohio; pretending their monarch was not ruled by her
own selfishness and the ebb and flow of wine, rather than commerce
and the daily yield of life.

Peter and Charles continued in
amiable quiet. For years, since Charles was a youth, Peter had been
at this door. He had seen many things.

An intuitive man, he remarked on
Charles’ bearing, “What has happened this day?”

Charles hesitated, then continued,
“Clara’s cream field yields a pink wash.”

Peter’s face fell. “The Queen will
not like this. She will blame the daughter, whether it be her fault
or no.”

“Yes.”

“This is why you accompany her?”

“Yes, and with Prince Frederic
still about…” Charles let his words trail off.

“Yes, a troublesome man, most
troublesome.” The older man looked at the younger, a gaze of
perfect understanding passing between them.

“It will be good when he takes his
leave,” Peter said.

“Yes, does he not have a kingdom
to rule?”

Peter’s lips curved into a wry
smile. “Yes, that is the way of it. However,” he arched a brow in
apparent amused disdain, “I believe whatever ‘ruling’ there is may
be done by King Otto.”

“He is too weak, by far, to rule
that sphere,” Charles remarked, to which Peter only nodded in
agreement.

They looked up at the same moment
that Clara descended, resplendent, the day’s glow still upon the
creaminess of her cheekbones, a dress of the palest pink falling to
brush the tops of white shoes. The bruise the only reminder that hers
was not a life of softness, but of survival.

She nodded at Peter. “Where is the
Queen?”

“She takes rest in her chamber,”
Peter paused. “Princess,” Clara turned, having already begun to
make her way to the corridor, “…the King and Prince await you as
well.”

Clara felt this was worse news. Ada
seemed to gather more strength and anger when she had an important
audience. At least she had Charles. “Thank you, Peter.”

“You are most welcome, Princess.”
Clara knew that it was Peter’s way of subtly warning her to be
prepared for more than just the Queen’s ire. She and Charles walked
down the long corridor to Ada’s chamber. It felt like the old stories
of pirates, when the end had come, one walked the plank. Clara knew
how those lost souls must have felt, her life balanced on the narrow
wood.

CHAPTER 12

Bracus looked up, startled, Anna had
responded to Joseph with actual words. It was a rare thing when she
spoke. As a point of fact, it was he, Bracus, that she most often
spoke to. She was reticent with males.

He observed the two of them say a
few things to each other then they walked over to the fire together.
Amazing… and wonderful
.
It would be a great thing for that female to find solace and finally
reach out to a male, a member of the Band would be especially good.
He swung his head back around and both Matthew and Stephen had
matching expressions of surprise. Even unflappable Philip, usually
the one that chose his emotions carefully, had paused at the scene.
He turned and looked at Bracus, his gladness a cloak about his face,
shadowed in the twilight that was giving way to night.

“Joseph has cracked her, I see?”
Stephen said derisively.

Bracus frowned at him. “It is a
good thing that she responds to anyone, you should be glad of it. She
is not an egg, dolt.”

Matthew smiled, calm as always. “You
just wanted her for yourself,” clapping Stephen on the back, who
slapped his hand away.

“I care not. There will be females
aplenty when the sphere is penetrated,” Stephen said.

“I caution you, President Bowen
has only authorized a negotiation with this Princess. It is no
guarantee that they will wish to help us in our plight. After all, it
is not theirs,
obviously,
”
Bracus said.