Hers to Choose (5 page)

“
Skilled troops in those numbers would have annihilated us.” An elusive memory of something he had seen during the battle nagged at him but his head hurt too bad to puzzle it out.

A shudder ran through her. “I thank the Goddess they did not.
”

“It
would be one less problem for you.”

Her face blanked
, then she frowned as his meaning became clear. “The
L’anziano
geneticists will never leave me alone. I was foolish to ever think they would.” Her face softened and her posture relaxed. “My brother has always had my welfare at heart. He says you are a ‘good man’ and I should consider you.”

“Better ‘the devil you know’, eh?
”

She held his gaze steadily. “
Are you a devil, Commander?”

“
With certainty,
Flight Leader
.”

She stood abruptly. “D
rink as much water as you can—and rest. I would like to give you another sleeping draught.” Sophi read Eric’s expression easily. “You’ll refuse it, won’t you?” She shook her head in resignation. “I’ll send Captain Biron later to help you attend to your needs.”

Her robes swirled
around her ankles as she turned and walked away.

The journey bread almost defeated him
. Holding it in his teeth, he pulled with both hands until a ragged chunk remained in his mouth and chewed absently.
Exactly what does Segundo DeLorion think “good” about me?

Reclining against a pad of blankets,
Eric nodded
to one of his lieutenants having an arm wound rebound.

“How are you faring, Crawford?”

“Thanks to Mistress Adonia, I will be fine.” The young cavalryman smiled at his lovely caretaker. “Ready to ride at your command, sir.”

“Commander
DeStroia has a day or so before he’s fit to sit a horse, Lieutenant,” she said. “
Flight Leader
DeLorion nursed him non-stop for the better part of twenty-four hours. I would hate for all her efforts to be ruined by his failure to rest properly.” The light of battle gleamed in Adonia’s eyes.

A smile tickled the corners of his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.
” Eric attempted a mock salute. “I would not dream of disobeying a direct order.”

“You don’t fool me for a moment,” Adonia said. The bitterness in her tone surprised him. “You will be on your feet as soon as you think you won’t fall face first and be mounted as soon as you can hoist yourself to the saddle.” She shook her head. “You aristos do only as you wish with no regard for the repercussions. To yourself or to others.” Closing her eyes, she visibly calmed herself. “Would you like me to summon Captain Biron?”

Feeling the
urgent press of his bladder, Eric nodded. “Please.”

Frowning
, Eric watched her disappear into the brilliance at the mouth of the cave with young Crawford.

As t
he young lieutenant and Adonia walked out of the cave, Lieutenant Crawford immediately spotted Captain Biron speaking with Eudora. Pointing him out to Adonia, they walked toward him.

“Commander
DeStroia is not a bad sort for an aristo, Lady Adonia.” The sandy-haired young lieutenant smiled at his self-appointed nurse. “You would never guess the exalted position he holds. There is nothing ‘high and lofty’ about him.”

“
I am not one of your debauched aristos,” Adonia returned sharply. “Just plain ‘Adonia’ works very well. It may be DeStroia has an ‘ordinary touch’ but he is still an aristo.”

An unhappy grimace flitted across Crawford’s face. “Are you
a Mother’s Acolyte, one of those fundamentalists who believe the High Enclave and the House of Lords are to blame for the Haarb war?”

Adonia stiffened.
“
Our
service to Mother Verdantia is pure.” She stopped and faced the young soldier. Her expression softened. “I don’t mean to sound harsh, but it is difficult not to think your aristos, their decadent sexual games, and interstellar commerce in sacred
cinnagin
brought the war upon us.
Cinnagin
is a precious substance gifted to us by our mother, Verdantia, to be used only in the
Rites
. Your aristos defile our mother planet when you sell it for monetary gain. The
Oshtesh
reject the use of
cinnagin
in the self-indulgent debauchery practiced by hedonistic nobles.” She turned away and resumed walking.

“
The practice of the
Lesser
and
Great Rite
benefits all Verdantians tremendously,” Crawford replied as they walked. They joined the group of Captain Biron and the women. “Most
magisters
and
magistras
use their years of schooling and genetic heritage for the benefit of all. Very few abuse their privileges.”

Adonia straightened proudly.
“The
Oshtesh
do without those comforts. My people have existed without the benefit of your
diamantorre
and the protection of the sigil towers for centuries.”

Biron cocked his head in question.
Crawford explained what Adonia had told him a moment before. Adonia remained stubbornly silent while the two men discussed her opinion.

Captai
n Biron addressed Eudora. “Are you a Mother’s Acolyte?”

Her
silence was his answer. With a tired sigh, he shook his head. “I suggest your understanding of the events of our recent history is flawed.
Primus
G’hed and Mother Lyre have discouraged the growth of your sect among the Oshtesh and I know them to be open, accepting people. Honest ignorance can be remedied. Willful ignorance is nothing but poorly disguised prejudice and I have no patience for it.”

N
either of the women would meet his eyes.

“
The discovery of the aphrodisiac by the Haarb was a tragic accident. But, once
Cinnagin
became known to the universe, its sale was necessary to finance our planet’s defense from the Haarb. The aristocrats responsible for the fall of our sigil towers paid with their lives and took tens of thousands of honorable, self-sacrificing noblemen and women with them.” Biron continued to pierce each woman with a hard gaze. “Those nobles you sneer at dedicated their lives to the service of Verdantia’s people and I’ll not hear them denigrated by you.”

Silence descended on the small group.

Adonia’s quiet voice broke the stillness. “Commander DeStroia needs your help, Captain Biron.”

He nodded curtly and strode off.

Eric gave a sigh of relief when Biron entered the cavern and walked to him. Biron paused, scanned the picture before him then covered his lower face with his hand, pretending to rub his jaw. Eric slanted a sardonic glance up at his captain. “Yes. I asked for my clothing and was given this…” he picked at the loose-fitting garment draping his large frame, “…dress. Mistress Layna informed me that it would not ‘chafe at my wounds like trousers would’.” He shrugged. “As ridiculous as I look, she is right.”

Biron’s
face assumed a serious mien. “I particularly like the beading and embroidery work around the neckline, sir. A perfect complement to your eyes and hair. The burning question is can we survive the sight of your glowing white calves and bony ankles?”

Laughing at Eric’s growl
, Jon leaned over and supported his leader’s struggle to stand.

“Damnation, my head is swimming,
” Eric grunted.

“Steady on,
sir.” Biron shrugged himself under his commander’s right shoulder, placing a supporting arm around Eric’s ribs. “Lean on me. We’ll take this slowly. It is not far.”

”You lied. That
was at least a hundred miles there and back.” Eric accused as he collapsed on his pallet when they returned. Sophi waited there for him.

“Thank you, Captain. I’ll see to him now.” The captain returned her smi
le and nodding at Eric, left. Eric watched her eyes run over him, appraising.

“As you can see,
Flight Leader
, still in one piece.”

She bent down and held a cool hand against his forehead. “And no sign of a fever returning. Good. I have brought some stew we cobbled together
—a change from dried meat and journey bread.”

“Will you sit with me while I eat?
” Eric asked. “There are things we should discuss.”

Sophi
nodded and lowered herself gracefully to her knees beside his pallet.

“Your brother charged me with bringing you safely to Sylvan Mintoth
. I feel Haarb in these numbers indicate a threat to Verdantia that must be addressed immediately.” Eric spooned in a mouthful of stew, chewed then swallowed before resuming speaking.

“
Take your
flight
and return to
Sh’r Un Kree
. I freely acknowledge your superb fighting skills and you certainly know the wastelands better than I, but I cannot risk the life of the sister of Doral DeLorion in crossing this wasteland while the chance of a Haarb attack of that magnitude remains a possibility.” Eric examined her face for a reaction to his statement. Her face gave away nothing.

“As soon as I and my men can ride,
I will reconnoiter to the east. I must swiftly calculate the threat level the Haarb forces present—for that, I must first determine their numbers—then report back to Sylvan Mintoth. To your brother,” he emphasized.. “When the Haarb threat has been dealt with, I will return for you.” Spooning more stew into his mouth, he busied himself eating.

“That is the first thing you have said to make me doubt your
judgment.” Sophi wore a cool smile. “I believe your exact words were, ‘Warriors with intimate knowledge of the desert wastelands are a valuable asset’.” Her eyebrows rose. “An experienced commander does not discard a ‘valuable asset’ when he needs it the most. You need our knowledge of this area. My brother, of all people, will understand.”

If you are harmed in any way, Doral will kill me first and ask questions later
.
Eric gripped the bowl tightly and closed his eyes in frustration. “And you will follow me whether I want it or not.” He glanced at her.

The enigmatic
smile on her lips answered him quite clearly.

Eric could not recall a moment when frustration had consumed him so thoroughly. He
stared unseeing at the far wall, trying to stop the caustic rise of bile in his throat.
Dammit-all. The Haarb invade again in unknown numbers. I swore on my honor to protect a woman who thwarts my attempts at every turn. Three-quarters of my men lie dead. My head is fit to explode and I sit here too weak to stand, wearing a gods-be-damned
dress
. Fuck!
Fuck
!
Fuck!
His empty bowl flew across the width of the cave, smashing into little bits against the far wall.

Amused feminine
eyes tracked the bowl’s flight and returned to him. “You seem to be regaining your strength. I’ll be back later to look at your dressings.” Sophi rose, a wicked glint in her eyes. “Very fetching robe, Commander. I don’t know many men who could pull off that look.”

Worry nagged at Sophi as she shielded her eyes from the sun and scanned the entrance to
L’ago Mistero
. Three days had passed since Petrina and Rhea’s departure to scout the eastern region—too long for experienced desert trackers. She had kept busy tending to the wounded, particularly the handsome commander she was beginning to consider “hers” but unease lurked to prod her sharply when she had a moment to reflect on their non-return.

“They should be back by now.”
Eric’s deep voice at her shoulder startled her.

“Did my brother teach you to move so silently, Commander?”

“I share your worry for them,
Flight Leader
.” His dark brown eyes held hers for a long moment. “I am healed enough to ride. I suggest that we–” He never finished his thought for at that moment she saw a movement at the mouth of the cave. Her
flight
sister, Rhea, bloody and limping badly staggered into daylight. With a cry, Sophi ran to her, catching her as Rhea collapsed, and eased her gently to the ground. Eric knelt beside her, calling for water.

“
Flight Leader
,” Rhea croaked through parched lips. “Found Haarb.” She panted, her eyes closing. “Two battalions, maybe more. Have Petrina.”

Adonia arrived with a
water skin and handed it to Eric. He urged small sips on Rhea. The remainder of the
flight
and  the cavalry surrounded them.

“Caught us.
Got away. Hid. Tried. Free. Petrina.” Tears ran down Rhea’s cheeks. “Too many. Horses dead. Water gone.” She curled up in a ball and keened quietly.

Sophi caught her
flight
member to her breast and rocked the distraught woman, holding her tightly and smoothing her hair. “Shh, Rhea. Shh. We will go after Petrina. I will need you to guide us. I need you to be strong.” The young woman shuddered and uncurled, sitting up slowly, clutching the water skin. She set her lips in a tight line and nodded vigorously.

“Yes. I can find them again.
I
will
find them.” She looked up at Sophi. “They know you are here,
Flight Leader
. They’re looking for
Segundo
DeLorion’s sister in the desert. They tortured Petrina to reveal your whereabouts. I couldn’t do anything.” Her fist pounded her thigh. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I lay hidden for hours, listening to her screams. I couldn’t do anything.”

Her heart felt rendered in two at Rhea’s words and
Sophi closed her eyes to conceal her agony. Fighting for composure, she opened them. “Rest while we prepare to leave, Rhea.” She turned to Eric. “Commander DeStroia, she will need one of your mounts.”

“Of course. We will be ready to ride within the hour.”

Sophi handed Rhea off to Adonia with murmured instructions for each woman, then she turned to Eric.

“I would like for your men to travel
paired with members of my
flight
, Commander. Stealth is our friend and my women are practiced at moving quickly through the wastelands unseen.”

“What do you propose?”

She exhaled a long, slow breath.
Please listen before you say no.

“
I have five in my
flight
—four if Rhea is our guide. You have a
ride
of eight and Captain Biron. I suggest we pair two of your men with each one of my women—that will give us four groups of three. We will spread out and travel as the
Oshtesh
—in small groups, silent and unseen. You can ride with me. Once we get to the Haarb encampment, I will gladly surrender all strategizing to you.”
I want you rescued, Petrina, and I am far too emotionally compromised to make sound decisions. I must trust Eric DeStroia to make them on our behalf.

His warm
green eyes held hers for a long moment. She felt his gentle touch on her shoulder. “I would spare you this, Sophi, if you would let me. Take your
flight
, return to
Sh’r Un Kree
. You may doubt my expertise after the Haarb ambush. I couldn’t blame you, but we really are very good at what we do. The Haarb aren’t prepared for infiltration of any sort. I will bring Petrina back, I swear it.”

My emotions must be written on my face.
She shook her head vehemently. “I know
exactly
what cruelty the Haarb can inflict. I will
never
leave a sister to suffer at their hands. I don’t doubt you. But it must be me. I must be part of the rescue strike. They tortured her because of
me
. I am her
Flight Leader
. It must be me.”

Again, he gazed at her for long moments
. She could almost read the internal fight on his face. Finally, he nodded. “So be it. I’ll assign two riders to each of your women. Let me know when you are ready to move out.”

With
her desert-savvy women showing the way of it, their small groups moved swiftly and silently across the wasteland, following Rhea. Eric rode quietly beside Sophi, each lost in their own thoughts. Sophi battled the soul-killing memories of her time as a Haarb slave. A particular day, four years ago, haunted her memory.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The steady vibration of her cell walls was driving her insane. The deep throb of the hyper-light engines penetrated your bones wherever you were on the Haarb battle cruiser, but the bone-rattling tremors were worst in the slave quarters. The absence of light in her cell was so complete she could see the red worms of blood vessels in her eyes as she stared sightlessly before her. The sensory deprivation merely magnified her anxiety. Fatigue dragged at her like a heavy weight, but she denied herself the sanctuary of sleep. She had to stay awake. She kept vigil for her friend, Claudia.

The Haarb had taken her cellmate
some time ago.
Three days?
Sophi thought by the progression of light and dark it must be at least that long.
Please, Goddess, let her come back unharmed.
Sophi’s imagination tortured her with the things Claudia might endure at the hands of the Haarb. The tiny beauty was her dearest friend and companion—two strangers thrown together and made sisters of the soul by the nightmare they endured. But together … they could face anything.
I will be there for you, Claudia, no matter what happened, just please, Goddess, please, don’t leave me alone. I don’t think I can do this alone.

Her heart jumped in her throat and she bit back a whimper as the
hissing of voices and the clack of clawed footsteps sounded loudly in the corridor, approaching her cell. In the absolute dark of her prison, Sophi curled into the corner of her bunk. Her mother’s parting words to her, “Sophi, survive,” rang in her brain.

The footsteps paused in front of her cell and the door opened. The blaze of light from the corridor
was as blinding as the darkness had been. A thump sounded, then the door shut her back into blackness. A low moan came from the area of the door. Her heart leapt with hope.

“Claudia? Is that you?”

“Stay back.” Her friend’s voice sounded gargled and wet.

“Please, let me help you.” Sophi felt her way to the floor and
crawled toward her friend.

“No!
Back! No touch! No touch!” Claudia’s voice rose hysterically.

“All right. I’m sorry. I’m getting back on my bunk. I won’t touch you. I promise. I won’t.” Sophi
crabbed backwards in the blackness and propped against her bunk, miserably uncertain about what she could do for her beloved companion. She didn’t know what would help. “I’m here if you need me, Claud. Tell me what I can do for you. I’ll do it.” She waited long minutes for a response but none came.

In spite of her concern for her friend, s
he must have dozed off for when she next opened her eyes the overhead bulb in their cell cast a dim light. “Claud?” she whispered softly. She recognized Claudia’s slender form lying by the door, but bald, grey skin had replaced her lustrous brunette hair. A liquid gurgle echoed off the walls of the cell
and corresponded with the rise and fall of Claudia’s ribs. Sophi scooted to the edge of her bunk. “Claud, please let me help you. Are you all right?”

With a watery
, keening sound, her friend slowly rolled over and Sophi could see her clearly. Sophi clapped her hand over her mouth, barely preventing the scream of horror fighting to escape. Huge vats of liquid used to induce genetic mutations lined the ship’s large docking bay. She had seen them when the Haarb marched their captives to the cells. She knew the Haarb were created mutations. She had never considered they might alter their captives.

“
Sold to water world.” Claudia’s slow words came out slurred.

The round
, gray, amphibian eyes that replaced her glorious green eyes blinked slowly. Blood-red gill slits flared where her ears had been, sucking air with a liquid gurgle. The beauty’s pert aristocratic nose had been excised. A thick-lipped slit in a leather-skinned fish face replaced a once generous mouth, quick to smile. One slow tear trickled down from the inner corner of a glassy eye.

“
Vats alter me. No hope—return home. Next procedure, won’t breathe air. Beg you. Kill me.” Sophi strained to understand her speech.

“What!”

“You—last hope, Sophi. You—bigger, stronger. Beg you. Kill me.”

Lady Claudia closed her eyes
, and Sophi didn’t hesitate.

Though
High Lord DeTano’s war ships attacked mere hours later and rescued her from horrors surpassing mere death, it was too late for Sophi’s friend.

~
~ ~ ~ ~

The memory turned her bones to liquid and vomit rose in her throat.
No! No! I am a woman of the Oshtesh, a warrior and desert hunter. Memories cannot hurt me. I am strong. I am resilient.
Sophi firmed her resolve.
Petrina needs me to be strong.
She straightened and squared her shoulders.
I need a distraction.
She broke the silence.

“Have you known my brother for
long, Commander?” Her eyes, alert for unusual movement, anything out of the ordinary continued to scan the broken profile of the horizon.

“No.
I met him after the
Tetriarch
formed. I commanded our queen’s private bodyguard. When he and High Lord DeTano moved into her apartments, my command expanded to include them—though men more deadly would be hard to find. That I protect
them
? It is laughable.”

“So you have only known him for, what, four years? I would have guessed much longer. You remind me of him.” Her eyes cut to him briefly.

“Hmm. And how is that,
Flight Leader
?”

A slow
, unwilling smile stretched her lips. “You are both sneaky. I count myself fortunate to have you on
my
side in a fight.”

He grunted. “
And you know this, how? When you were nursing me, I resembled a well-ventilated practice dummy more than a skilled swordsman.”

Her face sobered. “During the
Haarb ambush.”
My eye was drawn to the moat of dead bodies with a savage, blood-drenched warrior at its heart. It was you.
“I have never seen such a deadly display of swordsmanship.”
You were magnificent.
Remembering the feel of his nude body under her hands, each hard muscle delineated to create a masterpiece of male beauty, she amended her thought.
You are magnificent.

Eric shrugged.
“Your brother told me after High Lord DeTano rescued you from the Haarb, he took you to
Primus
G’hed and his wife Lyre. You have lived with them, isolated in the desert, ever since.” The handsome commander glanced at her as they rode. “Was there nothing you missed about your estates or family to pull you back?”

Where do I begin?
“I was not the same person then. The Haarb methodically stripped my identity from me. I became a
thing
. I needed time and quiet to pull the shattered pieces together, to rebuild myself, if you want.” She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “The
Oshtesh
gave me respect. Their respect enabled me to respect myself again and helped me gain a new identity—warrior, hunter—not slave, not voiceless victim. They presented a society antithetical to that of the decadent court in Sylvan Mintoth with its reliance on sexual
magick
. I wasn’t besieged at every turn with men wanting something from
Segundo
DeLorion’s sister.”

“Then w
hy did you agree to return to Sylvan Mintoth? It seems your life with the
Oshtesh
brought you wholeness and peace.” Eric studied her.

With a soft, wry
snort, she answered. “
Primus
G’hed and Mother Lyre kicked me out. She told me I had to return with you. Explore my birthright.” She smiled at the surprise on his face. “We have the formidable personalities of Mother Lyre and Doral pressing us together into this match.”
He looks distinctly uncomfortable, how amusing.