When Comron suddenly saw the humanoid figures emerging from the brush, he grabbed Vaush’s arm. Was Larrs finally making his play? The two figures staggered out into the clearing wearing tattered, bloodstained clothing.
Comron glanced at Vaush. “It appears we’re not the only survivors.” Now there would be witnesses to the collaboration between Van Laven and Bastionli.
“So it would seem,” Vaush replied.
When she started to rise, Comron seized her arm. “Don’t mention our names; they may not realize who we are.”
Vaush nodded her understanding and rose to greet them. “Hello, are you injured? We have medical supplies.”
Comron recognized the middle-aged Ballarian merchant. The heavy-set man’s dark hair was plastered to his brow, his dull gray eyes were haunted, and his face was smeared with grime. The woman with him still wore her lavender attendant’s uniform, though the left sleeve had been torn away. Her flaxen hair was a horrendous mess upon her head, most of it having escaped the clip that normally held it secure. She wore only one shoe; the heel had broken off it. Her expression was equally lost and shattered, though there was some life in her eyes at catching sight of them. Would the two newcomers recognize them as well? This could be trouble.
“Oh, thank Zelo,” said the Ballarian as he let Vaush examine the gash on his forehead. “We were afraid we were the only ones who survived. We ran across a few bodies on the way here.” He shook his head. “It was horrible, just horrible.”
After saturating a strip of cloth with water from her canister, Vaush glanced at Comron. “I need to clean the wounds. I could use more water, please.”
Comron hesitated; it was one thing for him to repay his debt to a Ti-Larosian when there was no one to witness the act, but to continue working with her now was a different matter entirely.
Vaush cast him a scathing look. “Never mind.” She rose and headed off to retrieve it herself.
Comron sighed heavily and went after her. “I’ll do it,” he said, taking her canister as he moved past Vaush. Given time, perhaps there would be another way to deal with this inconvenience without incurring her wrath. Why should I care what this Ti-Larosian thinks of me?
“I-I can help,” said the female attendant, hurrying to catch up with Comron. She peered up at him, looking a little less rattled and eager to be of assistance.
As they made their way back to the creek, Comron considered the implications of the new development. The fact that he and Vaush weren’t the only survivors gave more credence to the theory that Larrs Bastionli wasn’t behind this whole mess. Was it all just exceedingly bad luck?
“I’m Halyn,” said the attendant as she knelt next to Comron, filling her canister.
Comron glanced at her. Though he mostly saw fear in those clear blue eyes, there was also something else. “Yes, I remember you from the transport. You refreshed my drink.”
She smiled sheepishly and there was the look—the look most women gave him—the one Vaush had not.
“I’m glad you made it,” she said brushing a few strands of hair from her eyes and returned her attention to the canister.
Comron glanced back into the brush and considered how simple it would be to rid himself of one of his problems.
“What is your name?” she asked, screwing the lid back on the water container.
Damn it. “Rhence,” he replied, giving his younger brother’s name.
“Rhence,” she repeated and extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
He accepted her hand and cocked a brow. “Not the best of circumstances.”
The sober look returned to her eyes. “I know … I wish I could have done more to help the others. It all happened so fast.” She shook her head and gave him a look of utter helplessness. “They trained us, but I wasn’t prepared to deal with anything like this,” she fretted.
Thank goodness you weren’t the one who happened upon me, he thought. Only then did it occur to him how greatly Vaush differed from Halyn. From the beginning, Vaush had proven herself to be levelheaded, feisty, and fully competent in rendering aid to the injured.
“I’m sure you did all you could,” Comron said as he rose from the bank. “We should get back to the others.” He suspected that there were many perils in this place that would lend themselves fairly well to relieving him of this inconvenience.
Vaush had managed to clean most of the dirt from the Ballarian’s face and was ready to make use of the flesh mender. Comron watched as Vaush tended to him, saw the earnest and kindness in her manner. He imagined her as she had tended to his wounds. Had there been a hint of animosity as she healed the wounds of her family’s enemy? Why had she helped him when she could easily have let him die?
“Here you are,” he said, handing Vaush the water. When she glanced up with those amazing hazel eyes to thank him, he saw genuine warmth and gratitude. Caught off guard by it, he naturally reciprocated the gesture until he noticed Halyn watching him. Immediately, he moved away from Vaush.
Resentment filled him as he found himself wishing the two had never joined them, needlessly complicating the situation. Why wasn’t Vaush equally concerned? Didn’t she fear Larrs learning of her treasonous acts?
Finishing her work with the Ballarian, Vaush approached Halyn. “That cut on your leg. We’d better do something about it before it becomes infected.” Halyn nodded and followed Vaush over to the fallen log where the Ballarian sat.
Comron returned to his bedding and sat with his back against the tree trunk. Night was falling rapidly, and they would need their rest for tomorrow’s journey. Perhaps Halyn and the Ballarian could be bribed into silence. If Nethic ever learned of his dealings with Vaush, he could never hope to become its ruler. Though the confrontation had occurred centuries ago, the hatred burned brighter than ever before between their people.
By the age of five, every Nethicaen could recite the tale of how the Ti-Larosians had betrayed Nethic and left their world to be burned by Emperor Sellusion during the Unification Campaign. He recalled how Nethic had held out for months under siege, hoping beyond hope that Ti-Laros would honor their pledge-bond as they had in the past and fight alongside them. They sent messenger after messenger, calling on Ti-Laros, entreating them to hurry before all was lost.
Ti-Laros hadn’t arrived until after the last of the great Nethicaen cities was reduced to a charred cinder, and their great army was completely decimated. At that point, Ti-Laros surrendered to Emperor Sellusion, and they were generously rewarded for bending the knee without a fight.
Though Ti-Laros made feeble attempts to win back their favor, Nethic staunchly refused any aid that Ti-Laros offered to rebuild their world or to hear any of their cowardly explanations for failing to come to their rescue. Nethic finally exacted their revenge by assassinating the Grand Duke of Ti-Laros, and thus started the recriminations and cold warfare between the two, once strong, allies.
But today, Ti-Laros had arrived in time to save his life despite the bitter history between them. Comron sighed heavily and glanced over at Vaush.
She was kneeling, applying the antiseptic to Halyn’s calf. Halyn jumped in fear, knocking the device from Vaush’s hand. When Vaush abruptly reached down to retrieve it, Comron heard the blast-fire whiz through the air and saw Halyn’s head snap back and splatter.
“Whoa!” Comron exclaimed as he dropped down and drew his firearm. He peered out from behind the tree wondering who the hell was firing at them.
More blast-fire erupted into the air. Vaush jumped to the ground and instinctively scrambled toward Comron. The Ballarian followed suit as Halyn’s lifeless body fell backward over the log she’d been sitting upon.
Comron dove to the ground just as two more shots hit the tree trunk, cutting it in two. Comron turned to Vaush and motioned for them to follow him out of the clearing into the brush. Scurrying on their bellies under the hail of automatic blast-fire, they hid in the thicket.
Vaush started to speak, but Comron covered her mouth and
pointed in the direction from which the shots were fired. He attempted to activate the radar on his blast gun but, as he guessed, the atmospheric disturbance interfered with its operation. He’d have to shoot blind. He felt around on the ground for a stone, then slowly rose and tossed it several meters to the left. There was sudden motion up ahead and Comron reacted quickly, bringing his weapon to bear and squeezing off three rounds in the general direction.
They heard a sharp cry of pain, a bit more commotion, and then they heard the soft rumble of an engine as the assassin sped off on a single hovercraft.
“My God! Who was that?” Vaush said, peering up over the brush. “Why are they shooting at us?”
Comron clenched his jaw as he considered the question. He was certain that the shot that took out Halyn was meant for Vaush. But was the shooter only after Vaush or was she simply the first target? And where the hell did the shooter come from? Had he been a passenger aboard the transport? Comron moved off in the direction of the shooter.
“What are you doing?” Vaush hurried after him as the Ballarian remained behind in shock over the loss of Halyn.
“Hush! He might come back,” Comron said.
“Do you think this is wise?”
“You can stay back there with him.”
“Without a weapon? I think not.”
She followed him as he searched the area where the shooter had lain in wait. After a moment, Comron squatted down, brushed some leaves aside, and then reached for a small metallic object. He held it up, squinting at some writing on the side of it.
“A shell from one of the rounds he fired,” Vaush observed.
“So it would seem.”
“A bit sloppy of him to leave it behind.”
“I hit him. He panicked.” He turned the shell over until he found what he was looking for.
“Poor Halyn,” Vaush said sympathetically. “I have a feeling that first shot was intended for me. I’ve made so many enemies in my line of work, there’s no telling who might be after me. But what I can’t figure out is how they could’ve possibly known that I’d be marooned here?”
Comron slipped the shell into his pocket and stood. “You weren’t the target, just the bonus.”
“How could you possibly know that?” She tried to keep up with his long strides as he headed back to camp.
“You’ll just have to trust me,” he said over his shoulder.
“There’s someone out there trying to shoot me. I think I deserve to know who it is.”
Comron’s mouth drew to a firm line.
“You recognized the markings on the shell, didn’t you?” Vaush pressed.
He cut his eyes at her, admonishing her to lower her voice. The Ballarian was off to the side lamenting over Halyn’s body and Comron didn’t care to have anyone overhear their discussion. How could he confide in a Ti-Larosian that a Nethicaen assassin had been sent here to kill him? The markings on the shell were Nethicaen and indicated they were off the latest production lines, which meant someone very high in rank was behind the attack. He had no doubt the same person who orchestrated the assault on the imperial transport back on Nethic had likely tampered with the navigation system on the Mobias transport as well.
If only he could communicate this information to Crausin.
“The shooter will need time to treat his wound and possibly remove the projectile. We should move off, find somewhere else to camp before he returns.”
Her hands planted firmly on her hips. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you know.”
Comron glanced at the Ballarian whose eyes were now upon them. “Then stay here and take your chances,” Comron barked and moved past her to gather his things.
She huffed at him, but went to retrieve her gear. “Come, Wensel,” she said to the Ballarian. “I’m sorry for your loss, but we need to be on our way.”
Wensel looked up at her with wet eyes. “Please, just a moment more.”
Vaush nodded and moved off to join Comron. In a low voice, she continued her inquiry, “If I wasn’t the primary target, who was? And why would I be considered a bonus?”
Comron pulled his doublet on over his bare skin. The corner of his mouth tugged to the side as he held his silence.
But Vaush wouldn’t be deterred. “Only Nethicaens think of Bastionlis in those terms.” Her eyes widened with the sudden realization. “The assassin is Nethicaen, isn’t he? And he’s been sent here to kill … you.”
His jaw twitched, he shot her a hard look. “That’s dangerous information for a Ti-Larosian to possess.”
She leaned in closer and spoke sternly, “No more dangerous than you possessing knowledge that a Ti-Larosian intentionally saved the life of a Nethicaen prince. Royalty or not, they’d split me on the rack and run me through with a disrupter rod if they ever learned of it.” She inclined her head in earnest. “You keep my secrets, and I’ll keep yours.”
The tension visibly dissipated from Comron as his instincts told him he could trust her. The conspiratorial bond forming between them was a nuanced thing he was slowly warming to. Now that he knew for a certainty that Larrs Bastionli wasn’t responsible for the attack on the Mobias ship, he concluded that Vaush Bastionli had chosen to save the life of her worst enemy simply because it was the noble thing to do.
Clearly, this was a woman of noble character, a person unlike any Ti-Larosian he’d ever had the misfortune to know. Still, discretion was warranted.
“Look, our truce still holds,” Comron said. “But we can’t have the Ballarian witness any unduly cordial behavior between us. You understand, don’t you?”
She looked away. “Of course.”
“It’s for your own good. You yourself stated what could happen to you if Larrs were to get word of it.”
She nodded reluctantly. They both turned as Wensel approached.
“I’m sorry,” Wensel said. “I thought it improper to just leave her there that way.”
“It’s all right,” Vaush replied. “I also lost a dear—”
“Unless you both want to end up like the girl, I suggest you get moving,” Comron said as he headed off. “Come on!”
CHAPTER 11
After trudging through three more kilometers of dense forest with nothing but the silvery light of the moon to guide them, Comron found a new clearing in which they could break camp for the evening.
The clearing was smaller than the previous one, forcing Vaush to place her bedding a little closer to Comron than she would’ve liked. It wasn’t that she feared he’d act inappropriately toward her. After all, Wensel was here and, despite his initial actions, Comron had proven himself to be a gentleman. It was her own feelings that gave her pause.
Try as she might, Vaush couldn’t banish the image of his tall, sculpted frame from her mind—the broad, rounded shoulders and muscular chest, the rippled abdomen where the water had cascaded down over his lower parts …. His strong, sinewy arms had felt wonderful wrapped around her when he’d carried her after the panther attack. She’d never felt so safe or cared for when she’d slept knowing he would remain there, watching over her.
Even now, with the assassin out there, she felt safe with Comron near. Vaush hated that he felt obliged to maintain their distance for appearances’ sake. She would have liked to pass the evening talking to him, to take advantage of the rare opportunity to know the man, this Nethicaen prince. She lifted her eyes to him and found it to be like gazing upon a planet-bound god. Her mouth twisted—a planet-bound god engaged to be married in four weeks!
She turned away and noticed that Wensel had already finished eating and had bedded down for the night. With his extra weight, the poor man wasn’t doing well in the sweltering heat and the unrelenting pace at which Comron drove them. No wonder he’d passed out so quickly. Perhaps she would have too if it weren’t for the exhilaration coursing through her. Again, she found her gaze drifting toward Comron about a meter away, his long legs stretched out before him.
You have no right to en
tertain such thoughts, he is promised to another woman!
“Is something wrong?” Comron asked in a tone that suggested he was bored. He reclined against the trunk of a tree and folded his arms behind his head.
“Pardon me?” Vaush said surprised he was speaking, but then she heard Wensel’s gentle snores.
“You look … perturbed,” Comron said.
Her faced burned shamefully at being caught in the midst of her carnal thoughts. She parried nonetheless, trying to right herself. “I was contemplating whether or not we would be rescued before the Murkudahl Treaty Hearings begin.”
His expression fell abruptly.
“They start in five days, you see.”
“I’m well aware of that,” he replied curtly, though keeping his voice low so as not to disturb Wensel.
“I may attend the hearings with my father,” she said, fabricating further.
Comron chuckled softly at that notion. “Only two delegates are permitted per territory. I seriously doubt your father would choose you over your brother, Skarus, or any of his senior advisors.”
A wave of humiliation and jealousy washed over her as she tried to figure out whether the barb was a compliment to Skarus or an insult to her. She knew that Nethicaen society held women in fairly low regard, celebrating them as glorified breeding vessels and providers of pleasure, but not much else.
So, deep in thought, she almost started when Comron said, “You bruise far too easily.”
Vaush could already hear his next words, which shouldn’t surprise me, being an inferior female. Though he didn’t actually speak the words, she could see it in his smug countenance.
“If Larrs chooses Skarus over me, it will be because my father and I do not share the same opinion on the matter.”
Comron’s green eyes lit up beautifully. “Then you are in favor of overturning the emperor’s edict?”
“No, I support the edict, but for altogether different reasons than my father.”
“Oh,” Comron said, disinterested.
“Father cares nothing for the welfare of Murkudahl. Guarding his share of the power-generation industry is all that concerns him.”