Chapter Four
Her mind raced as they walked. She had so much to think about.
Could she trust this man? She hardly knew him, and of the few interactions they’d had, he’d spent most of them shouting at her or tying her to a chair.
The day was drawing on. The sun that had peeped through the mountains high above them had now withdrawn. Long, dark shadows covered the hills they now walked through. She shivered against their chill, drawing her arms up and hugging them close.
He shifted back, noting her move, but he did not speak.
Ever since their conversation on that grassy hilltop, he’d hardly said a word. Deep in thought, mouth furrowed with concentration, he’d simply walked silently by her side.
As the wind whipped up past her, Ki watched it sway through the pine trees that lay dotted along their path. They were headed up the side of a steep, scree-covered slope. Lined with fragments of rock and the occasional boulder, it was murder on her feet. She took every step as slowly as she could.
He let out a frustrated puff of air and turned to her. “Hurry up. We’ve got barely an hour before dark. We need to get to the cabin before then.”
“I’m sorry, but unlike you, I don’t have any shoes on.”
“I already offered you mine.”
“You’re at least four sizes bigger than me,” she landed her hands on her hips and half turned from him. If he were any other man, she was sure she would be better able to control her emotions around him. Right now her frustration over his attitude drove into her like the blow of a hammer.
“Fine, then stay here and wait for those soldiers to come back, or for the wolves to come out from their dens. I’ve travelled these woods at night before, and they’re a treacherous place.”
“I never asked you to help me,” she snapped. She’d already repeated this fact to him, but his response was always the same.
Turning from her, he let out an angry laugh. “You Tarkans are so ungrateful. Now come here.”
He moved before she could react, and grabbed at her sleeve.
“What are you doing?” she tried to push him off.
“Making you some shoes.” With a grunt, he secured her collar in one hand and the length of her sleeve in the other, then ripped the fabric down the seam. “Now sit down.”
“This is a sacred garment.”
“It’s not practical,” he mumbled as he grabbed her other sleeve and did the same.
She tried to push him off, but he shot her a warning look. Then he stepped back, both her long sleeves in his hands. Looking down at her feet, he nodded his head sharply at her.
She immediately brought her long robe forward, hiding her toes from view.
He shook his head, an irritated look narrowing his striking brown eyes. “If you’re going to be this much trouble, I’ll push you off the pass.”
Taking an indignant breath, she turned without another word and started to head back down the incline, her loose hair fanning around her at the speed of her move.
As she took another step, she lost her footing, a sharp rock spiking up into her heel. With a yelp, she stumbled forward, slipped, and began to roll.
She did not get very far. Jackson leapt to her side, leaning down and scooping her up before she could fall any further. “You are a disaster. I was a fool to think you’re a Tarkan spy; obviously your people were simply trying to get rid of you.”
As he brought her up, she came perilously close to his face. She could feel his breath push softly against her cheek and the fragments of fringe that had fallen over her eyes. Staring up at him, she snapped her head back, pulling her gaze to the ground.
He let out another burst of a laugh. “I forgot, you priestesses don’t like to be touched.” He set her down and stepped away.
Before she could snap at him to walk further back, he knelt down and pushed up her robe.
Her legs twitched, and she thrust one into his shoulder, trying to kick him away.
He caught it easily. “Don’t get too excited.” He fixed her with a dry, dour look as he brought up one of her sleeves. Searching around by his side, he found a long and flat rock. He proceeded to half wrap it in one of her sleeves and then use the remaining fabric to tie it tightly around her foot.
He did the same with her other foot, then stood, clamping his hands on his thighs as he pushed up with a heavy sigh. Crossing his arms, he stared down at her. “There. Shoes.” He nodded down at her feet.
Her lips still wide open and trembling, she purposely snapped her head to the side and stared at a tree across the way.
This drew yet another of his derisive laughs. “You’re very welcome, priestess, now get to your feet. We can’t afford to waste more time.” As he spoke, he drew his head up and stared at the mountains pulling up before them. The crags and dips were now darker than ever. The snow that had glinted a pure white during the day now had the color of dirty chalk. It made it look all the colder.
Before she could continue her protest, he leaned down, latched a hand over her shoulder and pulled her up.
Spluttering, she watched him begin to grin. The grin froze on his face as his gaze darted down to her now bare arms though.
“What are those?” he brought out a hand to touch her arm.
She slapped it back, panic rising in her chest. She clutched her arms around herself, trying to hide them from view.
“What are those?” his voice insistent, he tried to pull her arms back.
“They are none of your business—”
“They look like wounds. How did you get those?” his gaze finally drifted off the circular scars covering her flesh and up to her face. It was almost impossible to read his expression, but for a moment concern flickered within.
“They...” she couldn’t force the words out; they were trapped in her throat, threatening to choke her as the memory of those scars rose sharp in her mind.
No doubt he could see as she paled and her body drew in, her eyes hooding with powerful, unresolved emotion.
“Ki,” he used her name, and as he did, he let his hand drop, “if I’m going to help you, I need to know everything you do about the... soldiers that attacked you.”
Had he been about to say Zeneethians? Had the hardened ex-soldier finally come around to her version of events?
“They are left over from their experiments,” she did not face him as she spoke. Instead she chose to stare over his shoulder at the grey, rocky world around them. Sparse and unfriendly, as the day gave over to dusk, the sounds of the birds all but stopped. In their place she could hear the wind force its way through the pine trees, scurry over the scant bushes, and roar into the valleys below. Beyond, she swore it laced with the cry of an animal. Long and mournful, the prickle up her spine told her it was a wolf.
Whether Jackson had heard the cry or not, she could not tell; he did not move from staring at her, his brow fixed with determination. “What do you mean?”
“Shouldn’t we push on? You said we had to get to the cabin by nightfall. I think I just heard a wolf too.” Pointing in the direction of the call, she felt her hand tremble as her frantic heartbeat continued.
She did not want to think of what they had done to her. It had taken all of her years of training in the emotional and psychological techniques of the priestess clan just to stay sane.
“I need to know what we are up against. What did they do? What kind of experiments?”
She didn’t want to look at him, but her eyes drifted up as if they were being drawn by a force more powerful than her. Managing a trembling smile, she shook her head quickly. “It doesn’t matter. We need to push on.”
“Ki, tell me.”
“I don’t know,” with a heavy, chest-shaking sigh she gave in. The past day had taught her one thing about Jackson: he was beyond determined. He possessed guile few men could. For better or worse, she could not fight it now. “It has something to do with the devices. They use them in all their technology. In their ships, to power their
weapons, even to keep their cities afloat,” she turned her head upward, a heavy swallow shifting her neck back. Her eyes widened against the growing dark as she tried to distinguish the clouds from the sky above.
He did not interrupt, and he didn’t he yank her face down and tell her the Zeneethians and their floating cities were nothing but a myth.
“I don’t... think they can use them on their own,” she latched her hand onto her arm, searching out one of those ringed scars. Her fingers pushed into the ridged flesh, her body shivering as a disgusted feeling muddied her mind.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t really know. It’s just a feeling. They would hook me up to some kind of machine,” her voice drew light and artificially even. Pretending everything was okay felt like the only way to get through this conversation. If she allowed herself to succumb to the reality of it, she would break down.
“What kind of machine? What was it hooked up to? Do you know what it measured?” he straightened, his attention narrowing in on her as his face filled with a keen energy. No doubt the scientist was finally making himself known.
She shuddered back from his questions. “I don’t know. I was never in any state to assess. I simply remember....” She gave a frustrated sigh, rubbing at her arms harder.
“Any detail will aid us. If we can figure out what they want, we can figure out a way to stop them from getting it. If we understand what they are capable of—”
She looked up at him sharply, gaze fiery. “They have ships and cities that fly. Devices that can read if anything living approaches them within a several kilometer radius. They have weapons that can destroy a person and leave no trace of their body. That is what they are capable of. So tell me, how do you fight that?”
She watched him swallow hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing tightly against his stubble-covered throat. Yet the look of infuriating bravery in his eyes did not cease. It seemed to burn like a fire that would never die.
“Nobody is undefeatable. No matter how large the target, it always has a weakness. All you need is data and intelligence to find out what that is.” He nodded at her. “They are clearly after you, and will stop at nothing to get you back. That is our advantage.”
She felt at once undone and bolstered by his words. His refusal to listen to reason was infuriating, yet his courage touched her deeper.
“But for now,” he turned his head over his shoulder, his neck muscles visibly tightening as another wolf cry pierced the dusk, “we will walk and talk.”
Shooing her forward with a brush of his arms, he took the lead.
It would be a long journey ahead of them, longer if he made her recount her days with the Zeneethians. As she clutched at her quivering hands, drawing them close to the folds of her robe, she tried to still her heart.
It was almost impossible; the sight of Jackson walking beside her, face now dark under the setting sun, played havoc with her mind and soul.
Despite her turgid feelings, together they continued to climb.