Darklands 02 - Something Wild This Way Comes Page 17

  The stag she'd dubbed Buttercup shifted suddenly sideways beneath her, attempting to rub her into a tree. Indignation welled up again as she silently and inexpertly battled it with reins and legs. Mathin wasn't even watching!

  Raziel cut his eyes over to the woman Mathin was pretending not to watch. "She doesn't seem to be taking well to the Haunt teaching style of benevolent disinterest, Mathin."

  Determined not to look, Mathin nodded. "I know. But she's stubborn and understands the rudiments. The only thing I can tell her is what she already knows. No one wants a nanny standing over them." At least, Haunt warriors resented it. They'd rather master their problems without a lot of interference. Since he'd never taught a woman to ride he didn't know if Haunt women felt the same.

  Sudden worry nagged at him, but he shook it off. She'd be fine.

  She was not fine. By the end of the day Andrea thoroughly hated stags in general and hers in particular. Nor was she feeling kindly toward her new husband.

  "Get off," she snarled at him as she dismounted, tossing her reins in at him. Not once had he paid attention to her today, and she didn't need him now. If he could ignore her as her stag tried to decapitate her by running under branches, sat down on the ground and tried to roll over, and plodded when she wanted to canter and cantered when she wanted to walk, then he could just keep it up.

  Never had she appreciated her symbiont more. At least it healed her backside and kept her muscles limber. It was a fat lot more than Mathin had done.

  "Andrea...."

  Sick of his poor treatment, she snatched up a stick from the forest floor and pointed it at him, legs braced. "Get lost," she told him coldly. "I'm going to wash up in that lake over there. Try to follow me and I'll turn you into a shish kabob, got it?"

  Furious she would threaten him, he nevertheless stayed where he was. "It is the way we learn to ride." He gritted his teeth as she sneered at him.

  "Go right ahead. Enjoy your butt-headed animals. Just don't expect me to get back on one. From now on, I walk." Spinning on her heel, she stalked off.

  The lake was sparkling and beautiful in the light of the near-setting sun. With a tired sigh she sat down and tunneled her hands through her hair. She remembered why she didn't like the great outdoors. Bugs, dirt and unfriendly animals, some of which were human.

  Sort of.

  Weary to her core, she rested her elbows on her bent knees and stared at the sand under her feet. How had this day gone downhill so fast? This morning had been heaven; the afternoon, hell. What had changed?

  Tears pooled in her eyes, and she angrily swiped them away. She was within sight of the camp, and she wasn't about to let anyone see her cry. Especially not him.

  The first man to go down to the lake and casually strip shocked her. Gape mouthed, she stared as he whisked off his belt and blithely discarded his pants. Face burning, she looked away. She'd forgotten what Jasmine had said about the Haunt's disregard for nudity.

  Unwilling to hang around and watch, she rose and moved into the woods where she couldn't see. It would have been nice to wash herself, but she would have felt awkward even with a company of women. No way was she going to do it surrounded by naked men.

  A large redwood provided a good screen between her and the men, and she leaned gratefully against it. Hopefully they would finish soon. Maybe she could get a basin of water and wash up here in the trees....

  The squawk of her baby griffon, whom she hadn't seen all day--he'd been riding in the wagon with her grandmother--alerted her to Mathin's presence.

  "I thought you might like to see him," he said quietly.

  She accepted her pet without looking at Mathin. "Hello, Lionheart. Miss me?" She half-heartedly scratched behind his ear.

  "He is not the only one."

  "Go away, Mathin." She turned aside.

  He moved around until he was in front of her. "All men are taught to ride this way. We don't care to have others watching our mistakes."

  "Maybe you'd make less of them if you had a little help."

  Exasperated, he took a deep breath. "Stags are nothing like horses, Andrea. If I interfered your mount would never respect you. Bloodlight nearly killed two Haunt and tried his best to trample me before he acknowledged me as master. The animal I gave you is as tame as they come. Obnoxious, but not bloodthirsty. You aren't in mortal danger."

  "I don't care. I don't want to learn to ride it. I'd rather walk!"

  There was only one cure for her defeatist attitude. "I never thought you were weak."

  She gasped and rounded on him. "How dare you! It wasn't my idea to come to your stupid planet in the first place." She swatted a bug unwise enough to land on her cheek. "Look at this place! It's barely civilized. I should have run back while I had the chance."

  In a low, ominous tone, he told her, "We all have regrets." He turned and walked away.

  Bottom lip quivering, she watched him go. Had he meant what she thought he'd meant? Had this morning cured his burning desire to be with her? Had he found her somehow deficient? It would explain his present attitude. Not for a minute did she believe his story about Haunt training methods. It had to be an excuse.

  It was the bugs that finally drove her back to the wagon. Not very hungry, she grabbed a single meat roll and retreated under the wagon canopy with her grandmother.

  "Rough day?"

  "I don't want to talk about it." She took a huge bite of roll to preclude conversation.

  "Shouldn't you be sleeping with Mathin?"

  "No."

  Nonplused, Matilda pursed her lips. "That's not a good idea."

  Determined not to answer, Andrea just kept stuffing her mouth until she was done. "Goodnight, Grandma."

  It had to be due to the presence of the Haunt, for miraculously that was all her grandmother had to say on the subject. Determined to shut out the whole miserable day, Andrea closed her eyes and named every kind of pie she'd ever heard of until she fell asleep.

  The next day was worse. It rained all day. Buttercup managed to deliberately slip and slide in the mud, flinging muck up at his rider with his agile front paws. Twice he grazed her back with his spiked tail. Finally she'd had enough.

  Leaping down, she grabbed the reins by Buttercup's muzzle and brandished her knife in his face. "You see this, you stupid beast?" she shouted over the pounding rain. "You pull one more stunt on me and I'm going to castrate your worthless pecker! You ever hear of rocky mountain oysters? Yours are going to be served up on a platter if you don't knock this crap off."

  Ignoring the incredulous stares of her escort, she sheathed the knife and remounted.

  Buttercup behaved like an angel for the rest of the day.

  The rain didn't let up by the time they camped. Wet and miserably cold in spite of her poncho, Andrea crawled, exhausted, into the wagon with Matilda, who'd spent most of the day knitting.

  "You'll catch pneumonia at this rate," her grandmother predicted as she changed behind the closed curtains. "You should go sleep with--"

  "I'm f-fine," Andrea cut her off, her teeth chattering. "You're just as good."

  "A scrawny old woman can't throw off nearly as much body heat as--"

  "I'll be fine," Andrea insisted, trying to talk over her objections.

  "A randy young man," Matilda finished stubbornly, raising her voice. "You married him. You should be sleeping with him."

  Infuriated, Andrea hissed. Barely able to censor her words, she said in a low, dangerous tone, "I love you Grandma, but don't lecture me. I'm a grown woman, and I'll do what I want. Just because I had the bad sense to stick around here and be taken in...." Emotion choked her for a moment. "The only reason I stayed here is for you. Why is a mystery, but I will not be manipulated by you anymore. You want to preach about sins; think of your own first. Now goodnight."

  Rolling over, she curled into a fetal position under the covers. Maybe now she'd get some peace.

  The wagon cover was thrown open and Mathin stuck his head in. "My bed is not in
here, wife." He knew she wasn't happy with him, but this distance she forced between them did them no good. He wouldn't allow her to sleep with her grandmother again. The miserable night he'd spent previously had convinced him of that. All night long he'd tossed, wanting her in his arms. His dreams had tormented him further, arousing his desire to a fever pitch and waking him yet unfulfilled. Worse than that had been the loneliness. He'd missed her.

  She would sleep with him tonight.

  Andrea glared at him in the dark. "That's right, it's not."

  "Come here, Andrea." The tone he used was low, but powerful for all that.

  Reluctantly, she eased out of the blankets and crawled over to him. Instead of helping her down he took her in his arms and carried her the short distance to his tent. Setting her inside, he sealed the door.

  "Get in bed."

  Had she not been so cold, she would have put up more of a fight. Instead, she flung back the cover and got in, determined to remain on the edge of the bed. The rustle of discarded clothing sounded in the dark. She gulped.

  Fully naked, he got into bed and immediately pulled her close to him, in the center of the bedroll. Still disgruntled, though his body felt better than she cared to admit, she tried to hold herself away from the hard length poking her in the backside. "Do you mind?"

  He said nothing, but teased up the edge of her nightgown, tracing a pattern on the thigh beneath.

  Remembering his explanations of the Haunt's acute hearing, she silently, but forcefully, shoved it off. It returned, and proved impossible to remove. Angry at his persistence, she rolled over, the better to use both hands to dissuade him. Instead he pinned her to her back and slid his hand to the place that was secretly wet and ready for him, and had been from the moment he'd summoned her.

  Andrea gasped as his fingers slid deep, bringing a delight she was helpless to fight. Her hips bucked, ignoring her now faint desire to deny him. His thumb grazed her most sensitive area, wringing a moan from her parted lips.

  "Little liar," he whispered, and took her mouth with his.

  Their loving was angry and needy, tender yet fierce. Time and again she had to bury her face in his shoulder to muffle her screams of pleasure. If possible it was even better than the first time.

  He deliberately made it last for a long, long while.

  When they were finished she was naked, sweaty and barely able to move. Limp and exhausted, she lay draped over his chest where he'd put her. Though she couldn't forget her lingering resentment at him, he'd certainly proved she still wanted him. Still, the original problem remained unresolved.

  Mathin stroked her silken back, temporarily sated, but unhappy. She still hadn't forgiven him. Inexperienced as he was with long term relationships, he also recognized she might be feeling neglected. Sex wouldn't solve that. Tomorrow he would see what could be done.

  * * * *

  "We're moving just ahead of the rains," Mathin explained the next morning. Andrea was seated in front of him on Bloodlight at his insistence. They traveled in the rear of the column for increased privacy. "We won't have many more sunny days such as this."

  Dappled sunlight poured through the mixed conifer and leafy trees, which faded as they climbed into the foothills. "The plains--and our lands--begin on the other side of these mountains. The citadel itself is only four days from here, but our holdings continue to the edge of the swamp."

  Andrea squirmed in his lamp. She'd been quiet until now, still uncertain whether to be pleased he had come for her last night or not. "You're very casual about owning what is to me a huge amount of land."

  "We hold it and protect it for the Haunt who live there," he explained, tucking a stand of her braided hair behind her ear. "In exchange for this we are given certain rights and privileges. The only land we actually claim as our own is all the land around the citadel, within an hour's ride in any direction."

  "What rights?"

  "Not enough for the price you pay," Raziel said. He'd become increasingly grim as their journey continued. Before she could question him further he kicked his stag into a canter and rode ahead.

  "What's his problem?"

  "Don't mind him. He'll grow more surly the closer we get to his own holdings. Bad memories." He was silent a moment, remembering. "Raziel was once feared as the most devastating warrior in the realm. Not only did he have a wicked temper, he was the best of the best--a warrior's warrior.

  Forty years ago things here were not as settled. Jayems has been working to maintain peace for the last fifteen years, like his father before him. Before that we had many clan wars. Lots of upheaval.

  There were many men who coveted Raziel's reputation and wished to defeat him. Not all of them cared if they earned it in the arena or outside it. One day several of them from a large family known for its shiftiness ambushed him and his younger brother. They captured the boy and forced Raziel to surrender to save his life. The boy tried to get home, but died of his wounds before he made it." There was a grim pause. "His remains were not found for weeks."

  Andrea drew in a shuddering breath. "What happened to Raziel?"

  "They tortured him for days, then rolled his body down into a ravine. They thought he was dead--their mistake. I do not know how he survived ... by the time he had crawled out and I found him he was such a bloody wreck...." He took a deep breath, censoring the worst of the tale. She did not need to know what the scavenger birds had done to Raziel's body, or about the maggots. The bones of his feet had been crushed, as had his hands and fingers. Once Raziel's face had been as famed as his sword. It was a wonder he'd had a face left by the time he was discovered. Haunt might heal without scars, but there was only so much disfiguration their bodies could heal without surgery, which Raziel had refused.

  "Shortly after Raziel recovered, he disappeared for a time. One by one the men who'd killed his brother and tortured him disappeared, too."

  "Raziel got them." The words barely emerged from her tight throat. Poor Raziel. "He didn't torture them, did he?"

  Silence.

  "Mathin? He didn't, did he?"

  "He did not repay them for everything they did," Was all he would say. Some things were not for a woman's ears. "When the full extent of what he'd survived was discovered, the Haunt began to call him the Immortal, and still do." He snorted. "I think he likes it. Certainly he plays on the name to retain his privacy. Even women avoid him now."

  "Jasmine doesn't."

  His voice softened. "Jasmine is very special." She gave him a suspicious look over her shoulder, and he playfully nipped her ear. "Not as special as you are." His hands roamed over her thighs.

  "Stop that!" she hissed, darting a look at the Haunt just ahead of them. She clamped her hands over his; a useless exercise. They continued to roam, stoking fires. "This is mean, Mathin. There's nowhere to finish this."

  Relenting, he stopped tormenting her. This was no place to pull off and indulge themselves. "Later."

  "Maybe," she muttered.

  His fingers twitched on her thighs.

  "Ok! Later!" She had no doubt he'd start up again if she didn't quickly agree, and she didn't relish the thought of making out under the still dripping trees.

  Privately she admitted Mathin's attentiveness was reassuring. Perhaps it had been only the "riding lessons" that had caused his distance, though she thought it was a really stupid way to teach. Maybe the warriors here really did prefer to learn that way, but she'd lay odds the women didn't. She'd have to ask some questions when they got where they were going.

  She didn't like thinking about it much. As Mathin's wife she was now a lady of rank, and the idea terrified her. She didn't know what was expected of her, and life as the daughter of a blue collar worker and a stay at home mom had hardly prepared her. "Uh, Mathin?"

  "Hm?"

  "Is there a lot of protocol and stuff I ought to know? I mean, I'm not exactly princess material."

  He laughed and nuzzled her throat. "You do fine, my rogue. Don't worry so."

&nb
sp; Andrea shrugged her shoulder, dislodging him. "I'm serious! What's expected of a ... what am I now, anyway?"

  "Lady wife. And as for what's expected ... you can have charge of running the household affairs of the citadel, if you like."

  "You want me to be a housewife?" she inquired dryly. It didn't sound like much of a challenge. She felt him smile against her cheek.

  "Our household consists of the entire staff and garrison, though I'll be happy to assign someone else to deal with the garrison if it overwhelms you. Traditionally the chatelaine oversees the supplying of the household from garden and field, orchards, livestock and the hunt. You'll have direct supervision of laundresses and household staff. There are budgets to see to and household and grounds improvements. In addition the lady of the manor often works with the clergy, seeing to the care of orphans, widows and the disabled." He paused a moment. "If it doesn't seem like enough I'm sure I could find something else as well."

  She choked. "Is it humanly possible for one person to do all that and still stay sane?"

  "I don't know about humanly possible," he teased, "but it should keep you out of trouble."

  "While you ride around, bash bad guys with your sword and rescue damsels in distress, right?"

  "Exactly."

  The foothills got steeper until they were traveling through a crack on the top of the mountain four riders wide. Wind whistled through the pass, whipping her hair into Mathin's face until he handed her a black silk scarf to secure it under.

  "Thanks." As she looked up from tying it on, she gasped. Carved into the walls were crumbling reliefs of beast-headed men and women. "What is that?"

  Mathin glanced at the rock. There were several scenes depicting the characters gardening, warring against giant reptiles and building cities. "They were here when we arrived. Legend has it they predate the arrival of the Symbiont People."

  She whipped around to look at him. "Predate ... You mean there's someone else on this planet?"

  Pleased to discuss one of his favorite subjects, he told her, "Not that we've seen. Both Jaymes' citadel and mine were abandoned for many years before the Haunt took them over. But the Symbionts are now at war with something they call 'the beasts'. They are very secretive about their business--possibly because they fear revealing weakness to us--but we do know they've been driven from the cities they built beyond the swamps by these beasts. Since no one wants the swamps it's doubtful the war will continue once they stay within its borders, but I would like to know what drove them there. It must be powerful, for even the Haunt found the Symbionts a challenge."