of
creatures in corners. Maggie thought of spiders and bats and bears, not to
mention Gulaps and Wartmen. She grabbed bigger handfuls of his cloak and ran up
his heels.
The path jogged left, then right, and emerged into a small
rock chamber lit with a dim glow from an aperture overhead. Maggie stepped near
the opening and peered up into the indigo sky. The four orbs of the
conjunction, slightly off-kilter now, shone brightly. Their combined light just
about equaled that of a quarter moon. At her feet lay a ring of small stones.
The scent of charcoal embers still lingered about the long-extinguished fire.
“Sit here while I gather firewood.”
“Wood? Where will you get wood?” Maggie looked about the
barren chamber.
“I have stored a supply farther along the path.” He gestured
into the shadows and when Maggie nodded, he vanished again.
Maggie remained rooted to her spot until he returned, arms
laden with short, thick logs and small twigs. He stacked them neatly and
reached into his pack, removing a flint. He struck a spark and held it to
several small sticks. They caught immediately, and he fed twigs to the flames,
gently breathing them into life.
“Tend the fire,” he ordered and rose, dusting off his hands.
“Where are you going? Don’t leave.” Maggie didn’t want him
out of her sight again. The cave echoed and his brief journey to get wood had
made her feel vulnerable. “Don’t leave me,” she repeated, ashamed of her
pleading tone.
Kered grinned. “You would not want to accompany me, I
think.”
“Sure I would,” she said, smiling back. “The fire will be
fine.”
“It is now time for one who has attained the seventh level
of awareness to tend those needs of nature of which we spoke.”
“Oh.” Maggie gestured him off. “Shoo. Come back soon.”
Without another word, he blended into the darkness in the
direction of the entrance. Maggie crouched by the fire. As her wait lengthened,
she became aware of aching muscles. Her headache had returned, and she unwound
her bandages and used her hands to comb through her hair. Gently, she probed
the lump at the back of her head. Satisfied that it hurt no more than when
Nilrem first bandaged it, she carefully folded the clean cloth and stowed it in
Kered’s pack. There was no blood visible on the cloth, and she had been taught
to waste nothing.
Nilrem. Furtively, she pinched her arm. Still awake.
Dream? Game? Real life? The here and now were Kered and his
quest. Should she have stayed on the mountain? No. Kered could protect her and
Nilrem could not. There were no guarantees that another storm would send her
home. Whoever this Samoht was, he sounded vicious and likely to return, for he,
too, sought Nilrem’s wisdom. Too many unknown dangers lurked about this world.
She faced the glaring need for warriors.
The decision to go felt right. A peace descended and her
stomach knots eased. The warrior’s obvious strength was like a magnet, and she
was the iron filings. She intended to stick to him. She didn’t know why, only
that it seemed right to do so.
Kered watched Maggie for several moments before entering the
chamber. Besides taking care of his personal needs, he had dragged a supply of
brush across the entranceway, a supply he had stored in a side chamber on his
journey out to Nilrem. His breath caught in his throat as Maggie’s hair fell
down her back. The bandage had concealed its beauty. His hands itched to gather
it up and hold it against his cheek. Soft it would be, he was sure, and
clean—and scented with flowers, strange flowers with an erotic scent he did not
recognize. A pleasure slave’s scent. Only pleasure slaves danced. And only for
their master’s enjoyment.
Maggie’s shoes were fashioned for dancing.
Carrying her on his back to the cave had been a torture with
her warm legs about his waist and her sleek arms encircling his neck. Carrying
her had proved his inadequate attainment of sensual control. Granted,
creatures in corners. Maggie thought of spiders and bats and bears, not to
mention Gulaps and Wartmen. She grabbed bigger handfuls of his cloak and ran up
his heels.
The path jogged left, then right, and emerged into a small
rock chamber lit with a dim glow from an aperture overhead. Maggie stepped near
the opening and peered up into the indigo sky. The four orbs of the
conjunction, slightly off-kilter now, shone brightly. Their combined light just
about equaled that of a quarter moon. At her feet lay a ring of small stones.
The scent of charcoal embers still lingered about the long-extinguished fire.
“Sit here while I gather firewood.”
“Wood? Where will you get wood?” Maggie looked about the
barren chamber.
“I have stored a supply farther along the path.” He gestured
into the shadows and when Maggie nodded, he vanished again.
Maggie remained rooted to her spot until he returned, arms
laden with short, thick logs and small twigs. He stacked them neatly and
reached into his pack, removing a flint. He struck a spark and held it to
several small sticks. They caught immediately, and he fed twigs to the flames,
gently breathing them into life.
“Tend the fire,” he ordered and rose, dusting off his hands.
“Where are you going? Don’t leave.” Maggie didn’t want him
out of her sight again. The cave echoed and his brief journey to get wood had
made her feel vulnerable. “Don’t leave me,” she repeated, ashamed of her
pleading tone.
Kered grinned. “You would not want to accompany me, I
think.”
“Sure I would,” she said, smiling back. “The fire will be
fine.”
“It is now time for one who has attained the seventh level
of awareness to tend those needs of nature of which we spoke.”
“Oh.” Maggie gestured him off. “Shoo. Come back soon.”
Without another word, he blended into the darkness in the
direction of the entrance. Maggie crouched by the fire. As her wait lengthened,
she became aware of aching muscles. Her headache had returned, and she unwound
her bandages and used her hands to comb through her hair. Gently, she probed
the lump at the back of her head. Satisfied that it hurt no more than when
Nilrem first bandaged it, she carefully folded the clean cloth and stowed it in
Kered’s pack. There was no blood visible on the cloth, and she had been taught
to waste nothing.
Nilrem. Furtively, she pinched her arm. Still awake.
Dream? Game? Real life? The here and now were Kered and his
quest. Should she have stayed on the mountain? No. Kered could protect her and
Nilrem could not. There were no guarantees that another storm would send her
home. Whoever this Samoht was, he sounded vicious and likely to return, for he,
too, sought Nilrem’s wisdom. Too many unknown dangers lurked about this world.
She faced the glaring need for warriors.
The decision to go felt right. A peace descended and her
stomach knots eased. The warrior’s obvious strength was like a magnet, and she
was the iron filings. She intended to stick to him. She didn’t know why, only
that it seemed right to do so.
Kered watched Maggie for several moments before entering the
chamber. Besides taking care of his personal needs, he had dragged a supply of
brush across the entranceway, a supply he had stored in a side chamber on his
journey out to Nilrem. His breath caught in his throat as Maggie’s hair fell
down her back. The bandage had concealed its beauty. His hands itched to gather
it up and hold it against his cheek. Soft it would be, he was sure, and
clean—and scented with flowers, strange flowers with an erotic scent he did not
recognize. A pleasure slave’s scent. Only pleasure slaves danced. And only for
their master’s enjoyment.
Maggie’s shoes were fashioned for dancing.
Carrying her on his back to the cave had been a torture with
her warm legs about his waist and her sleek arms encircling his neck. Carrying
her had proved his inadequate attainment of sensual control. Granted,
Similar Books
