Falcon’s Quest
by
Kathleen Garnsey
(c) copyright by Kathleen Garnsey, May 2011
Cover Art by Eliza Black, May 2011
Published by New Concepts Publishing
Smashwords Edition
ISBN 978-1-60394-499-1
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Chapter One
Another wave of pain ripped through his battered body. His jaw tightened while he held his breath and waited for the torment to subside to a bearable level. Twin suns continued to scorch his burnt skin, and it would not be long before he drew his last breath.
The past two sun-cycles in the sharp crystal sands had been the worst two cycles of his life. Or had it been three? He could not judge since he’d not seen a moon-cycle. How long had he been lying paralyzed, helplessly exposed to the whims of the ruthless elements of this God forsaken planet?
By the stars, he had no idea where he was, why he was here, or how he’d arrived in such a barren place. From the ache in his head, and inability to move any part of his body, he assumed he was severely injured. What limited vision he had from his prone position and swollen eyelids offered little hope of rescue.
There was a name embroidered on the left shoulder of the uniform he wore. Falcon
Rovarn. That must be who he was, unless he was wearing someone else’s clothes. Unfortunately, at the speed his skin was burning, nothing would matter.
Every cell in his body screamed for water. At the current rate of dehydration, he’d be dead before the moon-cycle appeared, if it ever did. The dry, gritty sand had more moisture than his throat. His eyelids stung from the intense heat and he could only pray that keeping them closed would prevent total blindness.
Pain was a good thing; it meant he was still alive and conscious. Dizziness and nausea washed through him with intense vengeance. He summoned every ounce of energy still left in his body in an effort to move one hand, yet his fingers refused, lying still as death in the blistering sand.
All he had control of was his mind, and he feared even that was rapidly slipping. His stomach rebelled violently, but held nothing to purge. Trapped inside a lifeless body without food, water and shelter left no hope.
Would anyone, anywhere mourn him? Would anyone even know he was missing? Gone from where? He managed a silent curse since the power of speech had also forsaken him. So many questions, but he was too drained to care about the answers.
Death would be welcome under the circumstances, yet something deep inside begged him to live. Survival instinct? Whatever those feelings were, a dire urgency gnawed at him to solve the mystery and be on his way to . . .?
Everything suddenly seemed black. He tried to lift his lids, but they would no longer
answer his command. This was the end. He would die alone.
* * * *
Arella held up her hand to halt the scouting party she led through the barren Crystal Desert.
“What is it, Counselor?”
She glanced at her military chief, Gorcey. “There’s something down there in the sand.”
“I’ll see to it.”
Gorcey rode his esroth down the slope to the bottom of the ravine. She hoped that whatever lay concealed in the hot crystal sand was not a threat to her people. She’d only held a seat on Nacrem's council for one annual-cycle, and she’d yet to be seen in a favorable light by senior members. She did not need a problem.
“Councilor, it’s a human, and he’s not of our planet,” Gorcey shouted. “His heart still beats, but not for long.”
This was a major complication. The council leaders sent her to this low-tech outpost in the farthest corner of Nacrem to keep her out of the way. Mardin was so desolate there was only a small med-unit with one part-time med-tech. Lara was good, but she was not a doctor, or a
miracle worker. Arella watched Gorcey struggle up the sandy embankment with a stern expression on his face. He loved to test her leadership, always looking for the slightest mistake so he could demean her.
Gorcey pulled his mount to a stop next to Arella. “What is your wish, Councilor?”
“Take the men to Mardin. Bring back a liter. Maybe Lara can save him. I’ll stay with him while you’re gone.”
“I’ll leave a guard.”
“Fine.” Her military chief slapped a hand on his chest in the traditional salute before he and his men turned their esroths and rode toward home. Home was where one’s family and friends were, and this would never be her home. Mardin only qualified as a place to sleep and work.
“Keep watch here,” Arella instructed the guard. With a slight nudge from her heels her esroth trudged down the slope. At the bottom she quickly dismounted, grabbed her water flask, and knelt next to the near-dead intruder dressed in black.
Even through several days’ growth of facial hair and a severe sunburn, he was fair of face. His masculine features indicated strength and determination, while long dark lashes lay on red, blistered cheeks. From his muscled build she assumed he was a warrior of some sort.
There was a name embroidered in Universal on the left shoulder of his shirt. “Falcon.” She hoped the name on his garment belonged to him. At least his uniform covered all his skin except for his face, neck, and hands. She removed the stopper from her flask, slipped a hand behind his head and tilted it up. She trickled water over his lips.
“Drink, Falcon.” Or die, she thought. His flesh felt hot enough to burn her hand. Her stomach fluttered. His presence unsettled her, but she was not accustomed to touching men, only fighting them. This man had no fight left even though her fingers felt well-toned muscles capable of causing great harm.
If he lived out the sun-cycle she’d be surprised. Many humans had been found in the Crystal Desert, but none had survived. When the twin sun’s rays combined with the minerals in the desert sand it usually proved fatal. After one sun-cycle a human body could absorb enough chemicals to insure death, and from the color of his skin, it looked as if he’d been lying here for at least three sun-cycles. She’d found one man like this, but he’d been mumbling incoherently before he died, so this man must be at death’s door.
A lump rose in the sand close to his feet. Arella slowly released the man, pulled a small sword from the scabbard on her belt. She raised the blade over her head and kept her eye on the growing mound by the man’s left leg. When the sand parted, a seething sardnake reared its ugly head, its salivating teeth moving straight for the unconscious man’s leg.
Her warrior’s training kept her hands steady on the sword while she brought it down and decapitated the desert scavenger. Its green blood sprayed the sand behind it, and a pool formed about it, but was quickly absorbed into the sand. The ugly remains lay in a deflated mound. She hated those nasty creatures. Another reason she loathed this insufferable place with a passion. She’d do her duty as required and wait for a better assignment.
The man still had not moved. Arella placed two fingers on the side of his burnt neck. A sigh escaped her lips when she found a very faint pulse. It would be a shame to see such a powerfully built, handsome man die. What color were his eyes? He had a look of importance about him she could not fully define. Maybe it was his hair, dark, silky and quite long. Since Nacrem men all shaved their heads and wore the traditional revoc cloth tied turban-style it made this man an unmistakable outsider.
There was nothing ordinary about Falcon. Words could not describe the strange feeling that stirred within her when she gazed upon his face. It seemed odd to see a warrior with no visible battle scars. It was a bit difficult to see all of his face through several days’ growth of facial hair, but his complexion appeared untouched, an example of rare masculine perfection.
She stroked the stubble on his cheek, hoping he’d stir. Nothing. Once again she lifted his head, and when she trickled water over his lips he opened his mouth slightly, allowing some of the water to slide down his throat.
The sound of hooves signaled her men’s return. After allowing the stranger a couple more swallows, she released him and stood to greet the rescue party. No orders were necessary. This group had preformed this task many times for travelers, but none had lived to thank them.
Would this striking stranger be the first? That was like wishing for a true moon-cycle. Nacrem was blessed with perpetual light from twin suns during the sun-cycle, and one sun during what other planets called the moon-cycle. Another reason surviving in this barren place seemed impossible.
Her men maneuvered their esroths down the steep, sandy slope. They dismounted next to the stranger, picked him up and secured him to the litter attached to the back of Gorcey’s saddle. They all mounted and she followed close behind, her gaze riveted to the unconscious man while they journeyed down the floor of the ravine toward Mardin.
Mardin may be her assignment, but it was little more than a refugee outpost. The League claimed they needed trustworthy supervision of the crystal miners. Granted, the crystals sold throughout the galaxy and were Nacrem’s main source of income, but it was well-known this assignment was given to Councilors the League would rather not see.
Since she was the first woman Councilor ever elected to the government body, her acceptance would come hard, if at all. There were many in the League who would never accept her, or any woman. She was held to a higher standard than the men, and they used the slightest excuse for a reprimand. A minor discretion in her personal life would mean immediate expulsion from office. Nacrem women were expected to be subservient to men. She’d learned long ago that life was not fair, but that would never stop her from fighting for the rights of women.
The settlement came into sight and none too soon. The stranger had moaned a few times when his litter bounced over rocks and divots, but was quiet when they halted in front of the med-tech building at the front of the complex.
Arella dismounted when the healer opened the door and stepped outside to greet them, concern evident in her aged eyes. “Lara, I’m glad you’re available. We’ve brought a man in desperate need.” Arella handed her reigns to Gorcey’s assistant, then walked with Lara to the end of the litter. “He’s near death.”
“Has he opened his eyes? Groaned? Made any sound at all?” Lara forced one of the man’s eyelids open with her fingers.
“He did groan when the litter hit rocks in the road.”
Lara walked to the entrance and held the door open. “Bring him in.”
Gorcey and his assistant picked the man up, carried him inside to the exam room and laid him on the table then left. Lara cut the man’s clothes from his body so quickly Arella forgot to look away. Or had she? The sight of his rippled stomach and bulging biceps took her breath away. He was magnificent. Every inch of him perfection, including the parts she should not have noticed. Ashamed for her curiosity, she turned her back on the activity and went to the sink to wash her hands.
In the mirror over the sink she saw Lara drape a small blanket over his manhood. She dried her hands then returned to the exam table. All she could do was pray and hope Lara’s scowl meant nothing. “What do you think?”
“He’s a fine looker, that’s for sure. Too bad he won’t be around long.” She smiled. “Then again, if he’s half as strong as he looks, he might have a bit of a chance.”
Arella sighed. “A bit is not much.”
“True, but it’s all he has.” Lara scanned him with the violet light wand that fed vital stats to the computer. “Oh my,” she mumbled, her eyes fixed on the diagnosis screen.
“What?” Arella held her breath, fearful the man had already passed from this life. She waited while Lara continued the scan, thankful the League had at least allowed her to bring some high-tech med equipment to this God forsaken place.
“It’s been four days since he’s eaten.” Lara looked at Arella. “Did you give him water?”
“A few swallows.”
“It’s a start.” Lara shook her head. “I’m afraid he’s absorbed a high amount of toxins.”
Arella watched the woman pick up a syringe. After the injection, she inserted a needle connected to a tube and a bag of gold liquid that hung from a tall holder at the end of the elevated table. “Will the toxins kill him?”
“If they don’t he’ll have some nasty side effects.” Lara scratched her head. “Most die so I’m not sure about long-term effects.” Lara grasped Arella’s shoulders. “’Tis all I can do for now; however, he must not be left alone.” She released Arella. “I’m needed at the mine. An accident I’m told. I’d have been gone if Gorcey hadn’t caught me locking the door.”
“I’ll stay with him.” Arella forced a smile.
“If he survives the starvation, dehydration and burns, we’ll see what adverse effects the toxins have.” Lara patted Arella’s hand. “Do what you can. If he wakes, give him all the fluids he can drink. Easy on the food. We need to start him back to the living slow and easy.”
“I understand.”
“He may burn with fever. Sponge his skin with cold water. Apply telmet and keep him as comfortable as possible. I wonder if anyone is looking for him since he has a tracking chip in his left arm.”
“I saw no tracks in the sand.” Arella looked at Lara. “We’ll be fine.” Lara nodded then strode out of the med unit while Gorcey entered.
“Anything else, Councilor?”
“I want you and your men to escort Lara to the mine and investigate the reported accident.” Gorcey slapped his right hand against his chest then left the room. Here she was, alone again with a man she found herself strangely attracted to. She must be crazy to have such thoughts about a stranger on the verge of death. By the stars, she could not keep her gaze from roaming his body, especially with all that exposed bronzed skin.
She pulled a chair from the corner of the room and moved it next to the table by his bed and took a seat. He lay still as stone, and was more perfect than the sculpture of Nacrem’s ancient, mythological Warrior God. Her fingers touched his forearm and traced a path to his fingertips.
His skin was on fire, and not just the burnt places. She walked to the sink, filled a basin with cool water, picked up a sponge and returned to her patient. With care, she started her ministrations on his arms, moving higher to powerful shoulders. The feel of hair down the center of his chest tickled her fingers in a nice way. Her sister, Nodia, married an off-worlder, but she never told her how nice hair on a man’s body felt. Nacrem men had no hair on their bodies so looking at this man and touching him was an experience she’d not forget.
There was also hair on his muscled legs and she could not resist running her hand lightly over his skin. The hairs against her palms excited her senses and begged further exploration. Instead she dipped the sponge in the water and wiped his hot skin, far safer than touching him with bare hands. She finished both legs, and then moved to the safer area of his face.
Who was this mystery man? Did he have a family? How had he landed in the Crystal Desert? She’d have to wait for answers. Fate was a funny thing she tried not to question, but this sun-cycle only substantiated the many unexpected turns it could take. As a woman she had much to prove to the League, and what she did with this stranger could make a big impression.
She inhaled deeply and continued to sponge his body again to bring his temperature down, all except the parts under the cloth. He felt a bit cooler even though his neck, hands and face were turning a bright shade of red. She found the telmet burn cream and generously applied it to all the red areas. Her fingertips were ablaze from the feel of his bare skin. Lara was right when she said the man was a looker. It would indeed be a pity to lose him.
She collapsed onto the chair to regain her composure. She could not believe she’d had a physical reaction to a man. No man had ever found her attractive, and if this one were conscious, he’d run like the others. Her experiences with men always turned out badly. Besides, she was a Councilor and had no time for such nonsense.
Her eyes shut from pure exhaustion. Working harder and longer than any man here had a price to pay.
* * * *
Falcon tried to move, but all he managed was a deep groan. His face, neck and hands were on fire. His empty stomach grumbled and his throat felt dryer than the very sand he laid on. Sand? The surface beneath his fingers felt hard. Not desert! His forced his eyelids open and a sterile white ceiling slowly came into focus. He blinked several times, thankful that his eyes responded to his brain. He was in a building of some type. Where in the universe was he? He glanced out the window and noted the sun was rising, which meant he must have been asleep for a complete sun-cycle.
When he turned his head pain shot through him. He silently cursed as burnt skin painfully stretched. He focused through swollen eyes at a sleeping woman, curled in an overstuffed chair beside his bed. Was he delirious? Sunlight streamed through the window behind her and kissed honey-colored hair. It was not exactly blond, and yet not brown, but the luxurious strands were as beautiful as the face they framed. Long lashes lay on flawless tan cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted, and he thought if she smiled, she might have a dimple on the left side since he saw a tiny indentation. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath; so she was real. He could not have imagined a more tempting sight if he’d tried.
As loud as he could, he cleared his throat. He wanted to meet this lovely lady, but more than that, he desperately needed a drink. The gesture worked. She opened her eyes and jumped to her feet so fast it made him dizzy even though he was lying down.
“Could I please have a drink?” The lovely creature stared at him as if he were from another planet and spoke a foreign language. Both might be true, but how would he know when even his own name was a mystery to him.
“You’re…you’re…”
“Thirsty.” He smiled at her astonishment. “I’m either alive, or you’re a glorious heavenly being.”
She rose from the chair, picked up a glass of water from the table then held it close to his lips. “Heavenly being I am no. Alive makes you.”
Falcon repressed a chuckle. She spoke Universal very badly, but coming from her gorgeous lips it was music to his ears. Was that a memory? How did he know the name of the language? He had no idea how many languages there were, or who spoke what, yet he remembered Universal. Maybe he would recover.
He lifted his head and drank greedily, water running down the sides of his mouth. He finished off the first glass then held it toward her and she refilled it. “Thank you.” He pushed to a sitting position. “I moved! I actually moved!” The woman stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had, but she did not know that yet.
One glance down revealed a lack of garments, yet his nakedness in front of this lovely woman did not bother him. What kind of a man did that make him? Did he have a reputation with women? Had he promised fidelity to one woman? Right now he was more concerned about quenching his thirst and filling his empty stomach.
He laughed to himself since that thought felt contrary. Putting food before being with a beautiful woman did not seem natural to him. “I owe you many thanks for saving my life.”
“Welcome, you are. Name do you have?”
“Falcon, I think.” He finished the second glass of water and held his cup out for more.
“Know not? Only think?” She filled his glass.
“I have no memory.” He studied her quizzical expression until her cheeks turned deep pink. “I was hoping you might have some idea of who I am, and how I got here.” He gave her a grin that always turned a woman’s head. Whether that was instinct or memory did not matter, the woman’s blush said it all. “By the way, where am I?”
“Mardin, town of.”
“What planet?” The look on her face was priceless. It would appear this young, innocent beauty had never left the confines of her home let alone her planet. Although he could not compare her to anyone, he knew what he liked, and he liked her all too well.
“Of course, Nacrem. Where think you?”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know.” Falcon grinned. This slip of a woman, dressed like a male soldier, enthralled him with her quaint dialect. The leather tunic and pants displayed every one of her feminine curves quite nicely, and he deemed her to be in fine shape. “Maybe you should bring whoever is in charge here so I might have a few words with him. Would that be possible?”
The scathing look she gave him said, in no uncertain terms, he’d made a grievous error. Her extraordinary lavender eyes turned dark and dangerous which set off an instant sexual response in him he struggled to suppress. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you in any way, my lady. That was not my intent. I just…”
“Women no in charge, assume you? Ignorant in bed too much to be out?”
The way she turned sayings backwards made him laugh, and that made her angrier. He knew she meant he thought women were only good for one thing, warming a man’s bed. Her disgruntled glare made him instantly wipe the smile from his face. “Never would I think such an archaic thing, and I apologize if I gave you the wrong idea.”
Falcon tried to wrap the small covering around him better. As a result his hands hurt just moving them and his backside still felt drafty. “By the galaxy!” He held up his hands, twisted them, raised his arms, and kicked his legs. “The sunburn hurts, but it feels so good to move. I thought I was paralyzed for life.”
“Why think you paralyzed?” She stepped closer and stared into his eyes. “Sands and suns of ours poison, but paralyze no.”
“That’s good news.” Her eyes roved his chest and he wondered if she liked what she saw, but he suddenly felt like a science project. “Did you find a ship?” She simply stared. “A spacecraft?” Her gaze did not waver, her expression remained blank. “Did you see any kind of conveyance?”
“Con…con…veeeeyounce?”
“A means of travel.” This was not going well. He managed to swing his legs over the side of the table and was able to ease his feet to the floor. Dizziness and nausea assailed him when he tried to stand on his own so he sat back down. Not a good sign. The woman still stared at him. Had he grown horns? “We seem to have a bit of a language barrier here.”
“Bad Universal I speak. Long have way back.”
“Long way to go.” Falcon kept his amusement to himself. “You’re doing fine.” He watched her stand and move to the side of the chair, further away from him with a strange look on her face.
“No fine.”
“Yes fine.” He lowered his feet to the floor and was able to stand. Relief poured through him and he let out the breath he’d held. He glanced at his arm and visually followed the tube to the holder behind the pillow that held some kind of gold liquid. He would not question the contents since it had obviously saved him.
He grabbed the holder, rolled it toward him and began the most important steps of his life. Slowly he made his way to the chair close to the foot of the examining table. At least his legs worked, even if they were weak as a newborn’s. He fell onto the chair instead of sitting. Gracefulness did not matter, but movement did. He rested his hands in his lap and stared at his red, burnt skin.
“Help you, I will.”
Falcon’s gaze followed the woman’s backside while she walked to a cabinet, removed a jar of something and returned to him. How she moved fascinated him. Her style and grace surpassed royalty. Her long, graceful fingers opened the lid and scooped out some green cream that she massaged into his hands. The burning instantly quieted. When she finished with his hands she spread the soothing ointment on his face. Her tentative touch told him she was not at ease around men. He did not need a mirror to know he needed a shave while she tried to rub the cream through his short beard.
“Thank you for your help.” He thought he detected the beginning of a smile and wished he could see her laugh. Her hands found his forehead and nose, then moved to his ears.
“Welcome you are.” She stopped her movements. “Close eyes, you must.”
He closed his eyes and savored every moment her feather-light touch spread cream over his eyelids. He imagined what it would be like to have her run those tempting hands over the rest of his body. That was a dream. For now it was a relief just to stop the burning. Without her he’d be dead, and he’d never forget her for her kindness. “Who’s in charge here?”
“Councilor Arella.”
“May I see Councilor Arella?”
“Looking at her, you are.”
It was his turn to stare. Angel, turned med-tech, turned ruler. “So happy I am to greet you, Councilor Arella.”
“Mock me, you do?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Never.”
“Backwards might I say things, forwards I know how.”
“You’re a very intelligent woman, Arella.” Her name flowed like musical notes, her voice soothing, and her beauty more than pleasing. As a woman she stirred parts of him that were best left at rest for the moment. “Where are my clothes?”
“Lara off cut them.”
He was afraid to ask what that meant. “May I have them, please?”
“Most certainly.”
She bent down and retrieved a pile of rags from the floor that were the same color as the uniform he’d been wearing. Just his luck. Stuck in an unknown place, half starved, weak as a babe and just as naked. He took the paltry offering and ran his hands over the remains. Something in the pants pocket caught his attention. He removed three items and laid them in his lap.
Arella stepped to his side. “Have you what there?”
“Wish I knew.” He caught her questioning gaze and desperately wished he had the answers they both wanted. Never had he felt this helpless or stupid. Unfortunately nothing could return a lost memory except time, and he was not sure how much of that he had. Something inside him screamed an urgency to move on, to find something, or someone, yet he’d no idea of who or why.
“Hungry you are?”
“I could eat a gastrodomos.”
“Sorry. Have no gastro…dooo…”
“Just a joke.”
“Joke?”
Falcon sighed. He should not joke with a person who did not understand the language well enough, but her reactions were so cute he could not help himself. “It means saying something to make another person laugh.” Again, she gave him a blank look. Maybe the sun had done more damage than he thought. Whoever he was, his instincts told him failure was not in his vocabulary.
“Eat you must.” Arella walked to the door. “Be back, I will.”
“And a nice backside you have, my little saving angel,” he muttered to himself. Since he was in this position he had to look for the positive, and Arella was the only good thing so far. Food would be most welcome, yet he grew more impatient, angry and frustrated with each passing moment. It seemed as if he were born an hour ago with knowledge of nothing except pain and speech. How could he remember to speak and nothing else?
“Damn the fates!” Falcon stood, laid the three mysterious items from his pocket in the chair, then rearranged and secured the covering around his waist. He grasped the liquid holder, grateful it had wheels because he needed to walk.
This situation seemed impossible. How did one go about remembering? He studied the room while he meandered in circles around the examining table. There were jars on wall shelves filled with meds and bandages. Various charts of the human body hung on the wall, labeled in a language he could not read.
An overpowering urge to escape assailed him, yet he had no idea why, or where he’d go. When he returned to the chair he glared at the items from his pocket, wishing they could communicate with him somehow. Surely they held a clue.
The first item he picked up was a cylindrical metal container that contained something he sensed would be used for self-defense. There was no proof to his assumptions, simply gut reactions. Next he picked up a small, green opaque stone that cast a muted glow over the room.
He reached for the nearly flat, round metal disk. The moment he grasped it in the palm of his hand an image of a spacecraft flashed through his mind. The object’s weight was barely noticeable even though it covered most of his palm. With one finger he traced the outer edge of the circle, stopping at a recessed button on the side. When he pressed it a lid popped open and a small vid-screen glowed. For the first time he felt a ray of hope.
The door opened and his lovely rescuer walked in carrying a tray laden with various dishes full of food and pieces of fruit. He closed the disk, pushed his items to the back of the chair then sat on the front section. “Thank you for your kindness, Councilor Arella.” He slid the object under the material that covered the top of his thighs, not sure why he did not want her to see it.
“Welcome, you are, Sir Master Falcon.”
He did not have the heart to correct her speech. “Will you join me?”
“In what?”
“Share this meal with me.” He smiled. “I could use the company, and conversation.”
“Conveeersaa…”
“It simply means talking between two or more people.”
“Talk is fine.” Arella laid the tray across his lap. “Eat you for strength.”
He picked up a spoon and ate some of the steaming soup from the glass bowl. “Very good. What kind of soup is this?”
“Ask you the cook, you must. My department this is not.”
“Then tell me about your department.” He continued to eat while Arella stared. “What is your job?”
“These people backwards, they are. I need bring them into tech world.”
Falcon took a bite of fresh bread. “Is that another place from here?”
“Funny you are. Technology they have not much. Bring it to them, I must.”
“How will you do that?”
“Time is little.”
He laughed. “A little at a time?” She nodded.
“Laugh at me again, do you?”
“As I said before, I would never laugh at you, only with you.” Falcon polished off every bite of soup and bread while she watched. Arella had a seriousness that made her appear sad and lonely. That assumption was probably as wrong as the others he’d made. No woman this beautiful and smart would be lonely, but her expression did not lie.
“Clothes I will get you. Naked you cannot be.”
“My thanks.” His gaze followed the sway of her hips while she walked out of the room, causing his burns to grow hotter. That woman could prove to be a handful, and he had no desire to test her anger. If he were honest with himself, he wanted to hear her moan in passion and see the look on her face when he brought her to fulfillment. More delusions from the sun.
Either he truly was the worst kind of scoundrel who only used women, or his mind
indeed remained buried in the sand. If he was not a scoundrel, then Arella had a dangerous effect on him, one he would have to work hard to control.
It was the tight-fitting warrior garb she wore that turned him hotter than a laser light. Still, he doubted she was as tough as she pretended. There was far more to this shapely woman than the way she dressed and the brave face she wore to reassure him. She hid something deep in her soul, and he must be hiding his own demons to recognize hers.
Chapter Two
Arella assessed the clothing in supply, not sure any of it would fit the stranger’s muscular frame. He was broader in the chest and arms than any of the other men, and when her mind wandered to all the parts of him that were larger she felt her skin flush with the same heat that assailed her every time she got close to him. It was disconcerting to say the least. Control had always been her middle name, yet the sight of his massive chest and muscular arms caused her heart to flutter, and her lungs to malfunction. Clothes, she must find clothes.
On the top shelf, labeled extra large, she found a white cloth tunic and black leather pants that would have to work since there was nothing bigger. She grabbed the largest pair of socks and boots supply held and headed back down the hall to the med-room. When she opened the door, she could not help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. Falcon’s head was tipped to the side, one leg draped over the arm of the chair which caused quite an open gap in the cloth wrapped around him.
She shook her head and willed her gaze away from the blatant display of manhood. She wondered if he knew what he did to her. Nacrem men who were good-looking were so conceited she could not stand to be around them. Every government social function she’d attended seemed like a parade of men so full of themselves it made her stomach churn. Even her sister’s husband fell into that category. Oh, he was charming and made Nodia happy, but he was arrogant, and to her that was a huge turn-off.
Arrogant charmers did make good spies, but if this man expects to waltz in, and get information from her by seductive looks and sweet talk he’s sadly mistaken. She planned to stay focused on her job so she could prove her worth as a Counselor.
She tossed the clothes onto his lap and dropped the boots on the floor. One boot took a bad bounce and landed on his left foot and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was on his feet so fast it startled her, his hands wrapped around her throat. “Sorry,” she croaked.
“Arella, I…” Falcon immediately released her. “Never sneak up on a warrior when he’s sleeping unless you want to be harmed.”
“Warrior? You are this?”
“Grabbing you was instinct, so I must be.” He smiled and returned to his chair. “My sincere apologies.”
Warrior. Of course he was a warrior. He certainly had the build with muscles bulging in places most men only dreamed about. Possibly all men were built the same where he came from. Her heart still raced so fast she had trouble catching her breath.
“Scared me, you did, but afraid not I was.” Of course she lied, but she would not have him think her a coward. She considered herself a warrior and was proud of her abilities. She’d trained intensely, passed all the tests given to men. She was proud of that feat and knew she’d earned her post.
“Thanks for the clothing. I’m deeply indebted to you, my fair Councilor.”
“First dress you, then we conveeersss…talk.”
“Deal.”
“Cards I wish not to play.”
Falcon chuckled. “It does not always indicate a card game, it also means an agreement. I’ll dress, and then we can talk.”
“Eagerly I await down hall in office. Door is my name. When ready, you are.” She could not wait to shut the door behind her and take a deep, fortifying breath. Why was it so difficult to breathe with Falcon in the room? He robbed her of her ability to fill her lungs, and sent her mind into total confusion. She hurried to her office, opened the door and stepped inside. Behind her desk she collapsed onto the soft Ekove leather chair.
What would she do with Falcon? That thought was dangerous if she considered her options too long. He was perfectly built; intelligent, full of charm, and impossible to ignore. For her own good, she’d keep everything professional. Besides, she had no interest in men. Every experience she’d ever had with a man had brought her nothing but pain, suffering, and total embarrassment.
Why any woman wanted to life-mate and be possessed by a man was beyond her. She refused to be owned, mind or body. Men only cared about their own careers and needs. Nacrem women rarely made a love match. She thought her sister had, but that life-mating had become stressful for Nodia, and she suspected the relationship was worse than her sister would admit.
A knock on the door interrupted her musings. “Enter.” And he did, looking like a Nacrem God of legend, sculpted to perfection in all the right places. Leather pants hugged his legs, and the white fabric of the tunic strained across his chest, barely hiding leashed power. The warrior in her wished for a demonstration of his strength and abilities.
“Please, Falcon, seated be you.” She gestured to the pair of hand polished Brackenwood chairs in front of her desk. She felt plain stupid trying to hold a conversation with this monster of a man, especially since her knowledge of universal was so limited.
“What did you wish to speak to me about?”
“Attention you have created in me.”
“Excuse me?”
“For something you do?”
“No. I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Forgive me, you will. Wrong I speak, this know us both. By the morrow, better I will be, this is word to you give.”
“I don’t understand what you mean by ‘attention’.”
“Explain I will. You have need to go somewhere, yes?” She watched him nod. “Where be this place?” Her heart ached at the lost, troubled look in his deep blue eyes. “Then we find you a place. Agree?”
“Agree. And how do you purpose to find this place I’m to go to?”
“Know I do not. Head of Nacrem League, can decision make.”
“Where is the League?”
“Votrella. Nacrem Capitol.”
“When do we leave?”
“Health determines.” He looked tired and in pain. His IV was still attached and she wondered how he’d managed to get dressed.
“I’m ready now.”
“Miracle you are. Morning, possibly.” It was indeed a miracle the man was alive let alone moving around. She certainly did not need him collapsing while they traveled. There was no rush, except for the fact his presence bothered her in ways she could not explain.
“I can travel now, Councilor. I’m afraid staying here will create more inconvenience for you.”
“Inconveeeen…eance you are.” He stared at her strangely and she wondered what she’d said. This moon-cycle she would wear the headpiece, and by the morrow she’d speak perfect Universal. She’d never had a reason to learn it before, but now it was a necessity. A few planets they dealt with spoke Universal, but her rank was not high enough to allow her to participate in meetings with them.
Arella stood. “Stay here, you will. Back I will be. Must put you to sleep in place.” She left her office and walked down the hall to the guard’s headquarters where she found several men gathered around a small table playing Arkatar. Why men liked to waste their money on a dice game she’d never understand. As soon as the men realized she was there they all rose and saluted. “Be seated.”
“What can we do for you, Councilor?” Gorcey asked.
“Our survivor will live. He’ll need quarters for the moon-cycle.”
“We’ll take care of him. How does he fare?”
“He’ll recover.” Questions were written on Gorcey’s face, and she sensed his animosity for the stranger. “He only speaks Universal. He has no memory of who he is. Next sun-cycle I’ll take him to the League.”
“I’ll ready a team to escort you.”
“That will not be necessary. I want all of you to continue your duties here, and see if you can determine how he arrived. Patrol the area with diligence, Gorcey. I leave you in charge.”
“I insist you take guards with you. Your safety must be insured.”
“This man is no threat. We’ll travel faster alone.” She knew Gorcey’s men would report every word that passed between her and Falcon. “I don’t want to call attention to him. Two travelers will be less noticed.”
“I officially protest, Councilor. And I…”
“You think me stupid, Gorcey?” She knew what all the men thought about her being in charge. Half her reason for going alone with Falcon was to get away from these overly biased men. “Need I advise you not to challenge my authority?” Gorcey shook his head. “Are we clear?”
“We are.” Gorcey saluted.
Arella turned and left the men to their game. She hated to leave an unsuspecting stranger with those bullies who would taunt Falcon every chance they had, but she had no choice. At least her men did not speak Universal, so there may not be a fight. Falcon could not share her small, simple quarters. It was not socially acceptable to sleep with a man before life-mating. Sure, most women did so regularly, but she was a Councilor, and she had to keep her reputation beyond reproach. Granted, it was a risk traveling alone with the man, but the trip would be over in one sun-cycle.
* * * *
Falcon lay on the rough cot and listened to the men who played their game and laughed at his expense. Damn. He hated being the butt of their jokes. He may not understand their language, but he knew the tone and felt the vibes. Nacrem. Had he ever heard of this planet?
Footsteps shuffled toward his bed. Without looking he knew it was Gorcey and the man had it in for him. He hoped whatever test the man was about to instigate did not involve fists since his hands burned painfully. He knew warriors, and they judged everything based on physical excellence. Fighting he knew, but he had no idea who trained him, or when.
Gorcey stood at the side of his bed and babbled something that sounded derogatory. He wished the man would just go to sleep and leave him alone. Falcon rose to a sitting position and swung his feet to the floor. The boots Arella provided fit reasonably well, but they were not as hard as the ones he was used to wearing. Hopefully that was a memory flash. He stood and stared at Gorcey. The man kept babbling, and then shoved a fist into his shoulder.
“What do you want, soldier? Your endless chatter bores me.” It took great effort to maintain his balance when his head felt like it was spinning in circles.
Gorcey shoved him again. That was it. He grabbed Gorcey’s wrist and wrenched it behind the man’s back. “You’re an idiot. Too bad you can’t understand me. I’d like to clean the floor with your face, but for Arella’s sake, I won’t.” He released Gorcey with a shove that forced him to stumble several steps backward. If Gorcey’s buddies had not caught him he’d be flat on the floor. This could get ugly and he was not in physical condition to take on the lot of them. He sat back down on his bunk and held up his hands. “I mean no harm. I just want to rest.”
To end it he lay back down, turned toward the wall and hoped they tired of this useless game. They grumbled, shouted a few names at him, or so it sounded, and then returned to their childish game, for which he was grateful. His stomach cramped, burnt skin cried for relief, and his head throbbed. He hated that blasted dizzy feeling that seemed to come and go at its own will.
The soothing effects of whatever cream Arella used had faded and he wished she were here to apply more. Her touch was heaven. Was there a woman in his life, someone he shared his bed with? Certainly a memory like that should be strong enough to return.
Time was his only friend, and his worst enemy. He pulled the blanket over him, and with as little motion as possible, removed the glow-stone and flat round disk from his pocket. The stone gave plenty of light under the cover to study the object. From the sounds the guards made, they were well engrossed in wasting their credits.
When he popped the lid he stared at the insignia on the small vid-screen. There were fourteen planets in a circle with two crossed swords in the center, which obviously meant something. With his index finger he touched the center of the screen. It immediately changed and a feminine voice spoke. “Welcome, Falcon Rovarn. Enter password.”
Okay, he must be Falcon, but had no password. “Warrior,” he whispered to the disk. The sweet female voice replied, “Password in error. All information will be destroyed if incorrect password is given again.” With a curse he slammed the lid down and shoved it back into his pocket.
The information in the palm-com had to be important. A strong feeling of failure overwhelmed him. Whatever mission he was on must be life and death, because feelings this strong had dire implications.
* * * *
“Falcon?” Arella laid her hand on his shoulder.
Falcon sprang to his feet, threw his arm around the intruder’s neck and positioned his hand to inflict the death blow. Then he realized it was Arella. He released her and stepped back. Damn, he’d done it again. “My apologies, Councilor Arella.”
“You did warn me not to surprise a warrior, so I suppose it’s my own fault.”
She smiled and he was immediately lost in the depths of her lavender eyes. Several locks of hair pulled loose from the tie at the nape of her neck and softened her exquisite features.
“You’re staring at me strangely. Is something wrong?”
“Your speech, it’s perfect. What happened?”
“I told you this sun-cycle you’d see an improvement.”
Falcon shook his head. “You’re good. Very good.”
“My thanks.” Arella pointed to the table. “The men have already eaten and left for patrol, but I’ve brought you some food before we begin our journey.”
He rose, walked to the table and took a seat. His appetite was ferocious and the food was gone before he knew it.
“Would you like more?”
“No.” He stood. “I’m anxious to get started.”
“All is ready. Follow me.”
He did like to follow her. Tight brown leather pants accentuated her every movement and her tunic was snug enough to highlight breasts he’d call perfect. She was a picture of womanly curves, but he liked her spunk and confidence.
They made their way out the back of the building and walked toward some type of stable. Two humped-back animals lay in the sand, legs folded under their bodies, their long, curved necks turned toward them as they approached.
“That one is yours to ride.”
She indicated the larger of the two wretched looking creatures that had enough hair to supply every bald head in the universe. He’d ridden many kinds of animals, but never one of these. “You want me to ride that?” Falcon raised an eyebrow and stared at Arella.
“Unless you plan to walk.” She smiled. “It’s quite a distance on foot. I would not recommend walking.”
“That is the sorriest looking beast I’ve ever seen. He’s even too lazy to stand! Look at him.”
“He is a she. And if she stood you could not mount her.”
“What is she?”
“A Cameora. She’ll serve you well. Now mount up. My patience grows thin and our time is short. In the bag tied to the front saddle you’ll find a revoc cloth and a pair of gloves to protect you from the suns.”
With a grumble he mounted the pitiful, shaggy creature. The moment the animal felt his weight she rose to her feet, nearly unseating him. He held on to the strange saddle horn and went with the flow. “Does she have a name?”
“Hateu.”
He’d hate her all right, but he kept his remarks to himself. How could he criticize her world when he did not know what to compare it to? Hateu followed Arella’s mount, if that is what one called these creatures, and they left the small, remote village behind. “I’m surprised Gorgon didn’t insist on coming with us.”
“Gorcey. And he did.”
“Thank the universe I don’t see him.”
“You may thank me. I insisted he stay behind.”
Falcon could not get over the change in her speech. Her Universal had become letter perfect. At least he would not have to spend the day deciphering what she says, but he’d miss all her cute facial expressions when she was confused.
The scenery consisted of tall rocks, flat rocks, and sand--tons and tons of sand. Hateu trudged through the soft, desert terrain, her large, round hooves sinking deeply with each measured step. The twin suns beat down on him, making his burns worse than yesterday. He reached in the bag, pulled out the gloves, slipped them on, and then tackled the revoc cloth. He put it on his head, then wrapped it around his face, leaving only his eyes exposed.
It seemed all the men wore a revoc cloth, but he did not tie it like a turban, somehow he could not bring himself to conform that much, but it did shelter his skin from the suns’ rays. The heat still penetrated through the gloves and head covering and caused pain, but he’d experienced worse. He may not remember those experiences, but he knew in his soul compared to other problems he’d experienced this was simply an inconvenience.
He put his confidence in the bushy, long-legged beast beneath him. Desert. He hated deserts. There must be a good reason why, other than the nothingness and heat. Arella turned in her saddle and gave him a good looking over. Her gaze made his heart pound in his chest. She tempted him to start creating woman-related memories, which proved a man never forgot nature’s urges, and natural instincts could not be erased. He smiled at her, but she had no idea it was because her shapely backside tempted him. If she could read minds she’d never take the lead again.
Arella’s hand raised and his mount stopped so fast he nearly flew over the ridiculous hump in front of him. He caught himself by grabbing a handful of long hair that hung down the center of Hateu’s lengthy neck.
“Why are we stopping?” Before she could answer his animal went down on her front knees, then her back legs folded and she settled onto the hot sand. He let out the breath he’d been holding. This animal made him nervous. He hated the feeling and eagerly dismounted.
“Hold out your hands.”
Arella stood in front of him with a small jar in her hand. “Bless you. I hoped you’d remember.” He pulled off his gloves, tucked them under his arm and held out his hands.
“It’s my job to remember.”
“Too bad you can’t remember other things for me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My past. Who I am. That kind of remembering.”
“I see.” Arella opened the jar and began to spread salve on Falcon’s burnt skin.
Her soft touch awakened a demon inside him that wanted to kiss her senseless. Very inappropriate, but kissing was the least inappropriate activity on his mind. Unfortunately he’d have to settle for the hand massage. “Thanks for your help.”
“It is nothing.” She pushed Falcon’s head covering to his shoulders, and then moved her hands to his face.
“Damn!”
Arella pulled her hands away. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”
“Hurt me?” She had no idea. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m just frustrated.” Her fingers returned to his face and she worked the ointment into his cheeks, over his nose and across his forehead. He’d give her all day to stop. When her hand inched toward the back of his neck he leaned toward her, moving so close her breath tickled his skin. Damnation. He wanted this woman in his arms, her lips pressed to his, her tongue doing battle with….
“Is something wrong?” Arella stepped back and replaced the lid on the jar.
“No.” Falcon took a deep breath and dismissed his runaway urges. “How far do we travel?”
“Be there before change of sun-cycle, we will.”
For some reason she seemed a bit nervous and her speech slipped with her mood. Had their closeness affected her in the same manner? He hoped so. He sensed many memories with women, but he doubted any of them compared to Arella.
“Up to it, are you?”
“You bet.” He’d love to test his language theory, but he needed to maintain a safe distance between them. She hurried back to her Cameora, jumped onto the saddle and spurred the animal into a trot.
He slipped on his gloves and his right leg was still in the air when his mount’s back legs rose from the sand. He threw himself onto the saddle a moment before the sorry beast lunged to her feet and bolted after Arella’s mount. “I do hate you!” At that admonishment, Hateu picked up speed and let out a strange sounding groan.
They rode for hours across scorching sands, passing nothing but rocks. No water, no people, no cities. Nothing. What a foreboding place. If he had to be stranded it was just his luck to be on a desolate planet. He doubted he was here by choice. Hopefully this League of hers could answer his desperate questions.
Long shadows appeared across the desert sands and they rapidly grew longer as the suns sank below the horizon. Great. Stuck in a vast desert in the dark. Just his idea of a vacation.
They traveled on, yet darkness never fell. It had been twilight for quite some time, and instead of a rising moon, there was another sun peeking over the opposite horizon. No wonder there was desert everywhere. Lights glowed in the far distance ahead. Thank the fates. Civilization at last.
* * * *
The busy city of Drearn lay directly ahead. Arella was not as happy to be back in civilization as she thought. After nearly an annual-cycle in Mardin, she’d grown accustomed to quiet isolation. She’d made a few trips to Votrella to vote on measures when required, but overall she stayed in Mardin.
The League sent supplies, and only minimum communications were required, so interaction with fellow Councilors was rare. Out of sixty members, she was the most junior, in age and position. It was no secret the majority of the voting body did not want her seated as a Council member. If it had not been for her mentor, Eldron Passer, she would not have her title.
Drearn was far more advanced than Mardin, but nothing like the capitol city of Votrella. They’d leave their Cameoras at the boarding stable then jump a flight to the capitol. She turned her gaze to Falcon.
She pulled to a stop in front of the office. The moment Hateu parked herself Falcon slid from the saddle like a man possessed. Riding a Cameora did not please him. She’d laughed at the faces he’d made while riding. She’d never forget the look in his extraordinary blue eyes when he gazed at her.
She dismounted and made her way to the rough looking stable master who sized them up as they walked toward him. She knew his type, greedy and a woman-hater. Hopefully the negotiation would go better than she anticipated.
“We’d like to stable our Cameoras,” she said as cheerfully as she could manage.
“How long?”
“I’m not sure exactly.”
“That’ll cost you more,” the stable master said.
“I can pay.”
“You’re that woman Councilor, aren’t you?” He grinned. “That don’t change nothin’. Just show me the color of your coin.”
Nasty little man. She handed him two kwaffa coins, which was outrageous for the short time she expected the two Cameoras to be stabled. When she glanced at Falcon, she immediately became worried because of his gruff expression that said he wanted to pounce on the stable master. Falcon moved closer to her.
“I may not know your language, but that man is giving you trouble, and I have a strong urge to make him eat his words.”
Arella held back an appreciative smile. “You don’t know what he said.”