The Skies of Mahdis Read online

  She got up and opened the shutters. Stars were still visible but there was a golden, pinkish glow along the skyline. She closed the shutters against the chill dawn air and brewed tea for herself.

  She was annoyed with Vanteen. What was she supposed to do today? Was she supposed to go back and work the loom? She didn't want to go back there. She wanted to continue to explore Mahdis Keep. She wanted to find Q'winn.

  She dressed then fixed a small breakfast. She should have purchased a few food items at the market. She would have if she'd had a better idea of what to buy.

  Trista finished her tea then went through the small niche by Vanteen's couch and found a jacket that fit. The immediate warmth was a relief. Her bones actually seemed to ache from being chilly all her waking hours.

  It was light when Trista left the room. She walked nonchalantly toward the outer gate and the meadow where the market had been yesterday. No one stopped her or even questioned her. She simply walked out and kept going.

  The sunrise was magnificent when it came. One moment the world was flat in shades of dull grey. The next it was bathed in golden light and vibrant greens. Trista stopped and gazed out over the valleys below the road she walked. Then she turned and looked back at Mahdis Keep. She could see why Q'winn missed his home when he was in space.

  Well, she missed her home, too, and it had not been her choice to leave it.

  She'd reached a crossroads before she admitted to herself she'd been hoping Q'winn would learn she had left and come after her. She sighed then took the road to the left that led back up the hillside.

  She remembered Vanteen's warning and kept looking for the carved posts. She pictured them as totem poles. She saw nothing.

  The road turned again and ran parallel to the ridge. She followed it for another hour before finally deciding to rest on a large, flat rock. A walk like this had gotten her in trouble before, she thought wryly.

  She rested for about an hour then bowed to the inevitable. She had to go back and make some better plan to see the sights of Mahdis than just walking aimlessly.

  No wonder she was free to walk out the gate. There was nowhere to go for miles and miles and miles.

  Sounds above her on the trail had her scurrying behind several large boulders. They weren't coming from Mahdis Keep unless there was another trail that circled around to the end of the one she'd been on all day. It was prudent to observe them before they observed her.

  They were mounted on beasts that Trista supposed were the equines of the Dannarri. They were big, hairy, hoofed and dangerous looking. All ten of them.

  She was feeling secure in her hiding place when rough hands grabbed her. She yelped in surprise as the hands lifted her and draped her over the back of the beast in front of its rider. She struggled and the hands smacked her exposed rump. Male laughter erupted. She called them a few inventive names.

  They might not know her language, but she was sure they understood her sentiments.

  They laughed louder.

  She was just about to demand to be taken to Q'winn when the men suddenly quieted. She raised her head and saw two new riders approaching. One came close enough to grab her chin and roughly yank her head up. Their eyes met.

  Trista willed herself to be still. She'd heard of people having dead eyes. Now she'd seen them for herself.

  He dropped her head and barked out a command. The riders guided their beasts to form a line behind him. They headed away from Mahdis Keep.

  It wasn't long before Trista didn't have energy left to be concerned over her situation. All she had energy for was breathing.

  Her stomach threatened to heave. Her ribs felt as though they were going to break and collapse. Her sinuses clogged. She asked weakly to be allowed to walk and was rewarded with another smack on her already sensitive bottom.

  She must have hazed out. She seemed to wake as the motion of the animal stopped. Hands pulled at her and slid her off the beast. She collapsed in a heap at its feet. Well-trained, it did not flinch and trample her. Some sense she didn't question made her lie still.

  She couldn't even muster a groan when someone lifted her to her feet and mostly dragged her to a tent and tossed her roughly inside. Crawling onto a pile of furs, she curled into a ball and lay as still as possible, listening. The sounds outside the tent drew distant and she tried to relax her sore muscles. Her eyes kept closing. She fought it, but eventually she dozed off.

  Bright light spilling across her brought her to startled awareness. Whatever instincts she had developed in the last few months were working. She remained as motionless as possible.

  A young girl sat a crock of water in front of her and scrabbled, crab-like, back out the slit in the tent. She was incredibly thirsty and she sat up and drank deeply. She also itched. There were little creatures akin to fleas living in the furs. She felt them biting.

  She listened to the activity outside the tent. There seemed to be a great deal of hustle and bustle. Without warning, the tent flap was flung open and the man with the dead eyes stood looking down at her. Trista knew his was the face of danger.

  He stared wordlessly at her for several minutes, then turned and left. Trista heard brusque orders being given then a man stepped inside and hauled her to her feet and shoved her out the tent flap. He walked her to a larger, more permanent structure that resembled a tent on a wooden platform. He used his foot to tap on the doorframe. A woman immediately opened the door and pulled Trista inside, rapidly closing the door to prevent the man from following.

  Several of the women inside began talking to her in hushed tones. Trista knew Dannarri well enough to begin to panic. These women were charged with bathing her and preparing her for their leader.

  Asking just who their leader was would be redundant. Trista already had that figured out. The man with the dead eyes. The cold ball of fear in her belly grew and she started to tremble. The women saw it and one of the older ones wrapped a blanket around her and held her for a few minutes until she had calmed. Somewhere inside Trista knew she couldn't afford to become a hysterical woman right now. No matter what happened, survival was what mattered.

  Trista was led through a slit in the rear wall of decorated leather to a small bath chamber. Steam rose from the water. Something bit her ankle.

  A bath would at least rid her of whatever vermin were feeding off her.

  She put the reason for the bath out of her mind. She'd soak and rest and plan her escape. Maybe they'd bring her some food, too.

  Food was indeed forthcoming. She ate sparingly, fearing to overindulge and become sick from it. After her bath she was given clothing and instructed to dress quickly. At least the clothing did not look seductive.

  A coat made of brown furs was given to her and she gratefully pulled it on. It was too big for her but she didn't care. It reached to mid-thigh and was blessedly warm.

  Trista didn't have time to enjoy the warmth. She was quickly hustled out of the tent and down a paved path and through an arch. She glanced around the barren courtyard. There were no fountains or pots of flowers here. Her companion opened the door of a large stone structure and handed her off to benevolent looking man who led her to yet another door. The door was opened and Trista shoved inside the chamber. The door closed behind her. The man with the dead eyes waited there.

  The chamber itself was warm with a cheery fire in the hearth. The wood was fragrant and snapped and crackled as it burned. Tapestries hung on the walls. The furniture was wooden and massive in scale. Trista couldn't reconcile the room with the coldness that emanated from its possessor.

  He gestured for her to sit by the fire. She shook her head and refused to move from the door. She could see it annoyed him, but she wanted to be near the door. Not that she thought she could make it very far if she did fling open the door and run. Nonetheless, she was not going to willingly cooperate with any of these people.

  "Kassa," the man ordered her.

  "No."

  A feral smile bowed his lips. "Kassa," he repeated.


  "No."

  He stood and approached Trista. She stood her ground. Without a word he struck her hard enough to knock her off her feet. She lay on the cold stone floor and tried to catch her breath.

  He grabbed her and lifted her to her feet with an ease that alarmed her anew. Combating his strength with her own was going to be foolhardy. She'd already lost that battle and she knew it

  He suddenly fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her face up to his. His mouth came down on hers. She reacted without thought. She bit him.

  Without hesitation he struck her again and she collapsed on the floor. He grabbed her and tossed her onto the couch as if she were a rag doll. She yelled in denial at him and dizzily rolled back to her feet.

  He grinned and walked toward her, licking the blood from his lip. She backed away until she suddenly was up against his desk. Her hand closed on something hard and heavy.

  Trista waited until he'd grabbed her. She swung the object and struck his temple. He dropped like a rock.

  She didn't wait to see if he was out cold. She bolted through the door and into the courtyard. Instead of running through the arch, where guards surely waited, she scrabbled up and over the stone wall. To her amazement, there was nothing but trees on the other side. She disappeared into the forest as quickly as possible. She ran and kept running.

  She ran until she couldn't run. Then she jogged. Then she walked. Finally she knew she had to rest and looked for a hiding place. She came upon a stream and dropped onto her belly and drank. The cold water threatened to cramp her stomach.

  She remembered the old western movies she'd watched as a girl and started to walk upstream. She'd walk a few minutes on one side of the stream, then jump across and walk a few more on the other side, all the while scanning the area for a place to hide and rest. Finally she blundered onto a rock outcropping and squeezed between two boulders into a space just big enough to curl up in.

  She couldn't judge with any accuracy how long she'd been running. If she were home, she'd guess the sun would be setting in about an hour. Unfortunately, she'd not paid enough attention to the sun yesterday.

  The fur jacket made her sweat while she'd been moving. Now she was grateful for its warmth. Maybe with the protection from the wind afforded by the rocks and the jacket she'd be all right through the night.

  She knew that falling asleep was probably not the smartest thing to do, but she also knew she needed the rest. She told herself she'd only sleep for a little while. She closed her eyes and willed herself to rest.

  It was dark when she woke. The night held an eerie stillness. There was no breeze, no sound, no sense of movement. Then she heard it. One of the equines snorted. They were very close. She remained as still as she could and listened.

  It was already too late. She heard the stealthy movements getting closer. They had found her but she wasn't going to make it any easier for them. They would have to crawl in here and get her.

  They eventually did. Finally tired of their stealthy game, one of the men reached into her little den and grabbed her feet and dragged her out. The rock surface scratched her stomach as the jacket and her shirt rolled up to expose skin. She kicked at them but they easily avoided her efforts. They lit torches and she looked at them, one by one, to see if the man with the dead eyes was with them. He was not.

  She was tossed face down over one of the equines again. Her stomach muscles rebelled. The man in charge of her did not have a hold of her and she suddenly flexed and jumped off the animal.

  Her actions did not please her captors. Hands grabbed and pulled the jacket from her. They ripped her shirt open and two of them grabbed her arms.

  "You are disobedient,” said one of them. He pulled off his gloves and motioned to one of his compatriots to bring a torch closer.

  He slipped a large ring from his finger and held it in the heat of the flame. Satisfied it was hot, he stepped up to Trista and pressed the face of the ring against her left breast, branding her. She yelled in surprise and pain and kicked at him. He dodged it easily.

  "Remember this and do not anger me further,” he said without any trace of emotion. He walked toward his mount, giving orders for their departure.

  This time the man Trista was given to sat her in front of him on his beast. He held the reins in one hand and wrapped his other arm tightly around her. As they started down the trail he whispered to her.

  "Be still and cause no more trouble. I will send my wife to see to the burn. It is small and will heal. Who are you? Do not seek to lie,” he said. He spoke so low Trista was sure only she could hear him.

  "I'm no one."

  "See. You lie already. Who are you? Are you the woman Q'winn H'akan brought to Mahdis?"

  "Who is Q'winn?"

  "Do not play me woman. I am your only hope. I am Cael, not Santonna. Keep my secret and I will keep yours."

  "What is Santonna?” Trista asked as innocently as possible. She remembered the word. Vanteen had used it.

  "A neighboring tribe. They are not as friendly as the Cael. Or as civilized. Now be still and trust me to get word to the kaden."

  "What is your name?” she asked.

  "S'ydd. Now be quiet."

  Trista nodded dumbly and slumped in his grasp. She was learning to take whatever opportunities for rest she could. He shifted to allow her to lean her head on his shoulder.

  "You are brave, I will give you that,” he whispered. “It is several hours back to Tornan Village. Rest."

  "The man there. The one in charge. He will kill me.” Her voice shook despite her efforts.

  "No. He is dead. A blow to the head. I think his brother will thank you."

  Trista felt sick at the thought she had killed him. She had only wanted to knock him out and escape. The world spun but S'ydd's whisper got through to her.

  "Listen now, woman. They will say it was you. His brother will say it. But he will also say you were defending your woman's honor. He will imprison you instead of killing you. I will get word to the kaden. The Cael will ransom you."

  "What..."

  "No more! Be quiet!"

  Trista obeyed. It wasn't very smart to draw the attention of the others. She shivered and S'ydd unfastened his coat and pulled her closer. Under the cover the darkness and his coat, he patted her hip in reassurance.

  Trista thought over what S'ydd had told her. She had more questions than answers. He implied someone else had killed that man, had simply finished what she'd begun. Maybe even the man's own brother.

  And what was S'ydd doing with the Santonna? Was he a spy? Did the Santonna have spies at Mahdis Keep?

  S'ydd had indicated Q'winn would ransom her.

  No, he hadn't, she realized. He'd said the Cael would. That did not necessarily mean Q'winn would be the one to do it. She didn't know whether to be angry with Q'winn or pray for him to come for her. She wanted to blame him for all of it. He was responsible for ‘retrieving’ her from Earth.

  He'd better come for her. She had a few things to say to him. If she lived until he got here, she would make him take her home.

  The village was dark and still when they arrived. Trista was taken back to the chamber where she'd struck the man whose name she had never learned. A different man sat behind the desk. S'ydd escorted her to the center of the room, bowed to the man, and retreated, leaving Trista alone.

  Trista met the man's gaze as evenly as she could. He did resemble the dead man, but his eyes were alive and glittered in the firelight.

  "What is your name?” he asked.

  "Trista Roberts."

  "Well, Seeker,” he said with evident amusement, “have you found what you were looking for?"

  "I don't understand."

  "No matter. You have handed me quite a gift. I thank you,” he said with a little dip of his head. “Still, you have also given me quite a problem.” He rose and walked over to her. “What is to be done with you, little Seeker?"

  "Set me free. I will be gone. I will never be in your ey
es again."

  The man roared with laughter. “Ah, but I cannot. Tell me, little Seeker. Where are you from? The Cael brought you to Dannar, did they not?"

  "I come from Mahdis Keep."

  "Of course you do. The stronghold of the Cael. But before that?” He perched on the edge of the desk. “No matter. I know from your speech you are not Dannarri.” He sighed.

  "For the favor you did me, I will not kill you. S'ydd will no doubt speak for you. He is Cael.” He grinned as Trista started.

  "Yes, I know all I need to about S'ydd. He is useful so he lives. I will set a high price for you and we will see just how valuable you are to Q'winn H'akan. S'ydd!” he called out.

  The door opened and S'ydd reentered. He bowed. “Y'emar."

  "Lock her up. Have the women see to her,” Y'emar ordered then dismissed them both with a wave of his hand.

  S'ydd took Trista's arm and pulled her to the courtyard.

  "He knows about you!” she hissed at him.

  "No. He does not."

  Trista struggled against his grip. “Yes, he does! He knows you are Cael. He told me! Be careful."

  "Be silent and come,” he commanded, dragging her when her feet refused to cooperate.

  There was an arch carved into the face of a large rock wall and it was there S'ydd took her. Stairs led down into blackness. Trista was a few steps down before she remembered to count. She reached ten when she could see torches at the bottom.

  When they made the lower level, S'ydd opened a door and gestured for her to enter the cell.

  "I will send my wife with blankets and food. Just be quiet. For now at least.” He turned to leave.

  "Wait!” Trista called to him. He paused.

  "Will you really get word to Q'winn?” she asked.

  He squeezed her hand and closed the door.

  Six

  Trista was getting sick. It was more than the runny nose. Every deep breath meant a coughing fit. Every shallow breath meant not enough air in her lungs. She wasn't so cold anymore. She felt feverishly warm.

  She had no idea how long she'd been in the cell. The women who came and brought her food and water to bathe with indicated it had been eight days.