The Swords of Gregara - Jenala, a sci-fi romance (3 page)

*****

Jenala stopped in the entry and asked Sarina to send a tray to her room.
  
Right now all she wanted was another one of those pills Brenton gave her and then her bed.
 
She knew there was no way in Ashara that she’d be able to be in the company of other people and be a decent guest for dinner.

Her back throbbed.
 
The sooner she got additional rest to restore the remaining wounded tissue, the better off she’d be.

As she headed to the stairs she saw Santro enter the lobby.
 
Now that her mind wasn’t muddled with pain, she recognized how attractive a man he was.
  
A flash of need traveled from her breasts to her core and took her by surprise.
 
She remembered the play of his muscles as he carried her.
 
Even through her pain she felt a strong attraction to him.
 

He may have only one eye, but the moss green with golden flecks was striking.
 
Especially with the shock of dark, almost black hair with copper streaks at the temples.
 
He was tall, lean and strong.
 
She remembered him running with her in his arms.
 
She could see now that his arms were incredibly muscular.
 
He was well used to using the sword at this side.
 
She remembered those strong arms cradling her so gently.
 
The shirt and pants he wore fit him incredibly well.
 
Highlighting his long legs, flat abdomen and wide shoulders.
 

She walked over to him.
 
She saw a flash of lust at her approach, yet when she looked up at him again, it was gone.
 
“Thank you.
 
You probably saved my life today.”
 
She noticed his clean scent, like he was fresh from a bath though his hair wasn’t wet so she could only surmise that he smelled this wonderful all the time.

“You’re welcome.”
 
His gaze raked her body, “Why did he attack you?
 
Do you know him?”

“His name is Zlaten Vandalar.
 
He wants my mine, among other things.
 
Why are you looking for him?”

Santro’s eye narrowed and his mouth turned down.
 
Anger radiated from him.
 
“Who said I was?”

“It was rather obvious he’s afraid of you.
 
You appeared and he fled.
 
It wasn’t just that you came upon him fighting a woman, and losing I might add.
 
No, there was definite fear in his eyes.”

“He killed my brother.”

“Ah,” she nodded.
 
“I’m sorry for your loss.
 
It would appear we have this in common.
 
I believe he murdered my father. I’m Jenala Delasa.”

He took her extended hand and shook it.
 
“Santro Baltin.
 
Would you care to dine with me this evening, Jenala?”

“I’d love to, but I’m afraid my wound is getting the best of me and I must go take my medication.”

He nodded, “I understand.”
 

“Perhaps we can make it breakfast tomorrow instead?”

Smiling, he said, “I’d like that if you are well enough.
 
I’ll meet you here at seven.”

“Very good.”

Santro bowed to her.
 
“Until then.”

In her room Jenala carefully unwrapped her bandages.
 
She wanted to see the damage that Zlaten had wrought on her body.
 
The reflection in the mirror showed an angry, uneven line of healing flesh more than a foot long across her back.
 
Brenton was right; it was not going to be pretty.
 
Ashara, it wasn’t pretty now, but it was improving by the minute thanks to the med tech wand Brenton used.
 

She got the pill bottle from what was left of her coat.
 
Something else she’d have to do tomorrow.
 
Repair the slash in her coat.
 
Hopefully Sarina had needle and thread because she hadn’t brought hers with her.
 
It may be fall but snow was still likely.
 
She still wouldn’t be able to go through the mountains with no coat, even riding Lottie.

Jenala had a restless, painful night.
 
The pills Brenton gave her took the edge off the discomfort of her flesh remorphing for not entirely.
 
She got very little sleep.
 
Every time she turned on to her back she awoke.
 
She’d get up take another pill and pace the small room.
 
From the window across the room to the door.
 
In front of the bed back and forth.
 
She tried sitting at the small desk and reading but she couldn’t concentrate.
 
All she could think of was Santro.
 
How he’d taken care of her.
 
Without asking he’d carried her and made her feel safe.
 
Really safe for the first time since her father died.
 

Finally she rolled to her stomach, took another pain pill and washed it down with Darinda brandy.
 
By the time the sun rose she was dressed.
 

She made her way downstairs to the meal room for a cup of hot aeta before meeting Santro.
 
He must have had the same trouble sleeping she’d had because he was already sitting at a table when she entered the dining room.
 

“You seem to be an early riser.
 
Unfortunately, my back has turned me into one as well.
 
Would you mind eating a little earlier?”

“Of course not.
 
I kept hoping you would come down sooner.”

She smiled.
 
“That’s sweet of you.
 
Why would you hope that?
 
I would have thought you’d had enough of me.
 
I’ve been nothing but trouble to you since you first laid eyes on me.
 
And I believe I owe you a shirt.”

Santro laughed, a dimple appeared where his scar ended.
 
“A beautiful woman is never trouble but you do indeed owe me a shirt.”
 
Then he gestured to the vacant chair across from him.
 
“Please sit.”

He stood and pulled out the chair for her.
 
She sat gingerly, ever cautious of her back.

“I see your back is bothering you this morning.
 
The nupenian, Brenton, told me that you would still have to heal on the inside.”

“Yes, it’s healing well on the outside but inside it’s still quite injured.
 
He has me wrapped in bandages to aid the process.
 
His were rather tight.
 
I unwrapped myself last night, which was a mistake, as I had a very difficult time trying to rewrap them myself.
 
I have to go back to Brenton and have him wrap me back up.
 
Then I’ll have to come back here and take another pain pill.
 
I did find that Darinda brandy makes them go down so much easier.”
 
She wiggled and straightened her back trying to relieve the pain.
 

“He seemed like a competent man and you were quite relieved when we reached his office.
 
So much so that you passed out.”

She laughed at that.
 
“I was in a little bit of pain, if you remember.
 
Seriously, he’s a good friend and more competent than any doctor we’ve had since…I don’t remember the last time we had a good doctor.
 
Probably when I was born.”

The waitress came to take their order.
 
Santro ordered eggs with tequati, toast and coffee. “I acquired a taste for the Earth beverage when I was being fostered by Sunev.”

“I’ve tried it, I still prefer my aeta.”
 
She placed her order for the same plus fried sunda root, tequati and aeta.

 
“Where did you learn the way of the sword?” asked Santro.
 
“There aren’t a lot of women in my tribe that use it.”

“There aren’t a lot of women anywhere that use the sword.
 
My father taught me.”

“Of course,” he said putting two and two together.
 
“Your father was Oliria Delasa, the master swordsman.
 
I knew your father.
 
He was a good friend to the man that fostered me.”

Their breakfast arrived and Jenala dug in with gusto.
 
She swallowed “Ah, I needed some food.
 
All those pain pills and no food was making me nauseous.
 
I couldn’t eat last night, I was hurting too bad.
 
Now I’m ravenous.”

“By all means, please eat.”

She took another bite before she spoke again.
 
“I don’t remember my father mentioning you.”

“He wouldn’t have.
  
I was just a boy.
 
But he would have probably talked of my teacher, Sunev, who’s now my good friend.”

“Yes, Sunev is a name I know.
 
I met him once at the annual kalcion market in Sepiwa.
 
A large man with clear green eyes.
 
Eyes the color of a jewel.
 
Yours on the other hand, are the color of early spring moss with flecks of gold.
 
Very nice.”

He blushed.
 
Jenala had made the big man blush.
 
“Thank you.
 
It is kind that you noticed my eye.”

“Noticed it?”
 
She laughed.
 
“It’s rather hard not to notice it.
 
We should get this out right away because I sense it troubles you.
 
I do not find your scar unattractive.
 
It is simply a part of the person I know as Santro.
 
Scars are the mark of a warrior.
 
I have my own scars, including the new one Zlaten gave me yesterday.
 
It is a flesh wound.
 
A
long, deep
flesh wound, but a flesh wound nonetheless.
 
Your wound was much more serious.
 
Did Zlaten give you that one?”
 

“Yes.
 
He challenged me for Valmud of the Otulas.
 
He cheated.
 
Threw something into my face that made it burn.
 
I couldn’t see to block all of his blows and lost my eye.
 
I couldn't prove it at the time.
 
After I was wounded, he challenged my younger brother and killed him.
 
That time the council saw Zlaten throw the acid powder into Kreston’s face.
 
He was arrested and the council agreed to let me seek ‘justice’.
 
He fled before sentencing.”

“So now you’re hunting him, correct?”

“Yes.”

There was something about this man.
 
He was inherently honorable and trustworthy.
 
She felt it deep in her bones and she knew it from his story of Zlaten’s treachery.
 
She made a quick decision and didn’t mince words, “I have a proposition I would like to run by you.
 
I need help with Zlaten and my mine.
 
Zlaten has disappeared for the moment, as you’re well aware, but I know he will be lying in wait for me somewhere along the way unless I leave before he does.
 
He wants to claim me and my mine.
 
I can’t let either one of those things happen.”

She saw Santro’s jaw clench.

“I propose you come with me for the winter, assuming you have no other obligations that would prevent it.

“You could help me work my mine.
 
I will give you fifty percent of the ore and you can help me keep watch for Zlaten.
 
He will be encamped in my valley, where he’s been for the last two weeks.
 
The only thing that has kept him from killing me is Lottie.
 
He’ll be trying to get me and my mine.
 
I guarantee it.
 
If you stay here, you won’t get the opportunity to confront him.
 
I can give him to you.
 
He will be harassing me, perhaps even try to kill me.
 
At the very least he will rape me and instantly claim me for life.”
 
Now it was her turn to clench her jaw.