The Pearl Savage (19 page)

Her
mind flooded with memories of the last moments before she fainted:
Charles struck down, the guards killed, Prince Frederic on the floor,
unconscious. That they had not killed her was a mystery. They
probably wanted details of the kingdom; they would not have it.

It was the least she could do.

Clara removed her crown, laying it
behind her head, symbolic of her dislike of being a Princess, it
could stay where it lay. She sat up quietly and looked at the sky,
the stars glittered above her like diamonds in black velvet. Taking a
deep breath she was assaulted by the dryness of the air, cool on her
lungs, she stifled an urge to cough. The air was so strange Outside.
The Record Keeper had been mistaken, for she lived.

She breathed, and she lived.

Her people did not need to be
confined to the sphere.

Clara
looked at the
savage
who lay beside her, his chest rising and falling with each breath,
her eyes traveled to his gills and they fascinated her. They flowed
apart and together with synchronicity.

She shook her misgivings away, she
need not dally. Now was the time for escape. She spied her knapsack
at the base of her bed and quietly crawled to the end of the bedding,
careful not to rustle or make noise. She looped the knapsack over her
shoulder as she stood, then round the other and backed away.

As she was turning she noted that
there were five males, all the biggest she had ever seen in her life.
She knew that they were humanoid, but not entirely. With the gills
and the hugely muscled physique, she was not absolutely certain of
it.

She moved away slowly, gaining
distance, placing her feet in areas where the brush was least and she
could traverse it silently. She looked above her, noting the moon was
full, so bright outside the sphere it hurt her eyes to look upon it.

She
traveled, wishing all the while that she could stop and appreciate
finally having escaped to the Outside.
As
she walked she made her way to the forest border, seeing the sphere
beneath her and thought of Charles.
What
would be his fate? Again, it was more her fault than she liked to
admit.

Tears
burned unshed in her eyes,
could
she do nothing for anyone?
She was by herself, having escaped Prince Frederic and the Queen’s
abuse. But what of food, shelter and clothing? She sighed, moving
forward.

Feeling
thirsty, she disentangled her knapsack. Lowering it as she squatted
and searched for the water bottle she remembered Charles had filled
before the guards and Frederic had come upon them. She shuddered,
remembering. He would have raped her had it not been for the
savages’
timely interruption. A momentary pang of guilt seized her, but she
would not let it overwhelm her. She needed to escape them as well.
Charles’ sacrifice would not be for nothing.

She gulped the cool water down,
relishing its sweetness, placing her palm on the rough bark of the
tree, feeling the texture of it for the first time. So many new
tactile experiences.

It was at that moment Clara became
aware of a noise behind her and immediately thought of an animal or
some such. The Record Keeper told tales of large animals in the
wilderness of the Outside.

Clara
whirled around, her skirt swirling around her legs and before her
stood the
savage
.
Clara’s heart stopped in her throat, a look of rage stood on his
face. Clara did not hesitate, she turned and ran.

She could hear his pursuit and
realized it might be futile but she would not just stand there, prey
to be taken.

Branches grabbed and tore at her
clothing as she ran, her shoes a hindrance, the corset binding her
lungs.

Crashing
behind her, the
savage
came.

When she felt she could run no more
and the breath burned in her throat his strong arms clasped her from
behind and he lifted her off her feet. She kicked and flailed about,
trying futilely for release but his arms were bands of brass,
unyielding and hard.

“Be still! I mean you no harm!”
he spoke by her ear urgently.

Clara
stilled. It was no use, she could not escape the Prince and his
guard, she could not escape the
savages.
Her fate was sealed, she was not her own mistress but
the
mistress of others.

****

Bracus looked down at the Princess
as she struggled, good Lord, was she a fighter! For such a small
female, how she thrashed about. Bracus worked to subdue her without
hurting her, harder than it seemed. Finally wrapping his arms over
the top of hers from behind and folding her against his frame where
her head touched his chest. She slowed her struggles when he told her
but he did not trust that she would cooperate. He cautiously released
her and she turned on him, furious…those beautiful eyes flashing,
one still bruised and swollen.

Clara
turned on the
savage
,
angry at him for capturing her, angry at the circumstance, angry
about everything.

“Let me go,” she hissed, her
bravado slipping before such a huge male.

“I cannot,” he answered,
spreading his arms wide.

Somehow, this is not how Bracus
envisioned their first meeting to be.

“
I
have escaped the sphere and wish to be free. I do not want to be
forced anymore,” she looked around her and became aware that the
remaining
savages
had
subtly appeared in the holes between the trees and her anxiety grew.
She felt claustrophobic, their presence a reminder that possibly, a
new prison awaited.

“We mean you no harm. We wish to
establish a peace between our peoples…”

“
So…
you
kidnap
me,” Clara raised a brow, looking at each
savage
before her, their eyes glittering back in the shattered light cast by
the moon. “You rip a hole in the sphere…”

“How else were we to establish
communication?” Bracus asked logically.

Clara crossed her arms, narrowing
her eyes, feigning bravery she did not feel. “Peaceably?”

Bracus was silent. This was not
going as expected, her exterior did not match the fire within. “I
am Bracus.”

“
I
am Clara,” she said, looking at each
savage
amongst the trees. If they meant to kill her, they would have done so
already. Her eyes rested on
the
savage
who had been outside her sphere the one time. She was not sure what
role he played but she felt least confident about him.

“We need you to accompany us. Our
President has a proposal…”

“Your president?” What was that?
thought Clara.

“Our leader,” Philip said
stepping forward and Clara automatically stepped back, which made
Bracus itch to touch her, his hands clenching by his sides to halt
the action.

They had no King she asked herself?

Bracus
saw her expression and interpreting it correctly answered, “We have
a different hierarchy, Princess
,
”
he said.

“
You
don’t seem like
savages
…”
except for the clothes, or lack thereof, she thought. But she wisely
kept that to herself.

Bracus
was offended. “We are not
savages
.
We are the Clan of Ohio. And these men and myself… we are the Band,
the protectors of our clan.”

Clara covered her mouth, the what?
She looked up at him, willing herself not to laugh but they all wore
serious expressions.

The
savage
that frightened her came forward and she cringed back. Bracus, seeing
her expression looked that way and saw nothing but the Band. What
frightened her so?

He opened his mouth to inquire when
she spoke, “What do you mean to do with me?”

“Just a meeting with our President
for a possible negotiation. Then you may return.”

She never wanted to return. Not as
long as the queen ruled or Frederic held her captive under the sham
of a marriage for alliance.

“But first, I must ask: who has
laid their hands upon you?”

She had no idea what he was talking
about.

He touched his own face, indicating
her injuries and she was reminded of the beating.

Automatically she replied, “I
fell, in the Royal Manse, two days past.”

He stepped closer and she fought not
to move away, her knees weak.

“I know the abuse of a hand and
the difference between that and clumsiness. You did not fall,” he
stated with surety.

Clara
said nothing. By sheer habit and force of will she held her tongue.
She was ashamed by her face, by not being able to defend herself. At
least she would not admit it all to this stranger.
Bracus,
her mind supplied.

Bracus wished to run his hand over
her injured face, erasing it from her; why would she not admit the
truth? There was much here he needed to understand. There would be
time for it. Somehow, in some way he could not explain, she reminded
him of Anna, but not near so timid. She had a fire inside her that
burned bright. He smiled at her upturned face.

She smiled tentatively back, her
anger beginning to leak away. She did not feel harm from him. Clara
felt she was near expert in determining if someone meant it.

He
turned, making his way ahead of her and she followed. Her future lay
uncertain before her and she must follow it where it led, even if the
outcome was a mystery. He held his hand out, and she lay hers within
it as he clasped it around her, the size swallowing it whole. He made
her feel safe, she was not sure why. She turned to look behind her.
The
savage
that
she did not trust was at her heel, dark intent shadowing his face and
she shuddered, walking on.

The
guard was biding his time. The Princess,
Clara
,
he corrected, holding the hand of his Captain. She was so close he
could have reached
out
and moved his palm through her hair, which had come undone from its
tether during all the transit. But he knew that time was his
friend… and soon enough, he would have his chance to have her all
to himself. Protecting his clan from the dangerous females of the
sphere.

****

They traveled back the way they had
come, Clara and the Band. The horses came into view, Briar Rose
appearing silver in the moonlight, a spattering of a darker color
appearing along her back and sides. She shone like a faded star and
Clara was drawn to her as a moth to flame.

Bracus released her hand reluctantly
as she approached the horse, and he warned her, “Not from behind,
Princess, a horse likes to see a person’s approach.”

“Clara,” she corrected absently.

Changing the direction she had been
moving, coming right up underneath the animal’s nose, she turned to
Bracus. “May I pet it?”

“Her,” he corrected. “Briar
Rose.”

“From the fairy tale?”

He looked surprised. “I have heard
such.”

“Mayhap we have some of the same
literature.”

“Much of what we had was lost,”
Bracus said.

Philip added, “In the Time when
Ash Covered the Earth we lost many things of importance.”

Stephen interrupted harshly, “It
is not important. Survival is important. That is all that matters
now.”

Matthew shrugged and Joseph said,
“It is a hard thing, survival. But, if happiness and purpose could
be obtained as well, I would be keen for that.”

The group of men nodded and Clara
felt that their two peoples were not as divergent as she had
presumed.

Reaching out, she touched the great
horse’s nose and it was crushed velvet beneath her hand. She had
never known another texture like it, so shocking.

She drew her hand away and looked at
Bracus. “She is so soft.”

As if on cue, Briar Rose neighed
softly, shaking her mane and bumping Clara’s hand, an invitation for
more petting that made her laugh.

Bracus could not get enough of
looking at her. Here she was, kidnapped from the only home she had
known, with five strange men and a new animal she’d never laid eyes
on, beaten and yet she could enjoy a stolen moment with the horse.

Matthew broke the silent rapport,
“Let us be about breaking down camp. We have much to accomplish and
the clan does not need our lengthy absence.”

Matthew
was practical and in this area especially, he was vigilant. They did
not need the
fragment
to
come lurking about while they were gone. Normally, five males would
be too much to take, but Bracus had felt confident that it was
required. Now that the acquisition of the Princess, (
Clara
,
he corrected) was accomplished, he knew he had made the right choice.