Title: Aeric's Song- Melody
Author: Auna
Illustrations: Lobsteronmyhead
Rating:M (for now, will change later)
Disclaimer: Farscape is not mine, and I am not making any money off this story.
Beta's: Thank you to Shipsister for the technical read-throughs and for all the wonderful pep talks. Thank you to Aeryncrichton for reading through and giving me helpful advice and more pep talks. Any and all mistakes are mine.
Author's Notes: You would not be getting this story if it were not for my husband. He suggested and gently pushed me into writing more fanfic when my original work had come to a standstill. Thank you to him for being so understanding and supportive.
Thank you to the Fluffy Bunnies. I tried to keep notes on everyone who spoke up to my countless questions and scenarios, but everyone stepped up and gave me help, encouragement, and lots of varying points of view. I had the purpose of this story, but it had no point. And the Bunnies came through for me and helped me come up with a plot for the beast. So thank you to them.
Thank you to Loby for her hours of patience and photo-shop manipulation. She is a goddess at these pictures. More animators will be named later, as their pictures are posted. But a heartfelt thank you to all of them as well.
Now for the explanation: This is a continuation of a series I wrote nearly two years ago. gasp It was a series started before PKW, and at the time was not AU, merely futurefic. I hate writing AU. You do not need to have read the previous stories in this series to understand this story. All you need to know to get the ball rolling is that Aeric is the son of John and Aeryn, and Laighn is the adopted son of Chiana and D'Argo. However, should you choose to go back and refresh, or start at the beginning, you may find the entire series from beginning to end here at story is finished. I am polishing the later chapters now, but the story is entirely written. THE PLAN: With the exception of this weekend, I will post a chapter a week, probably Saturday mornings after I get out of bed. (Which I can tell you now, isn't at the crack of dawn.) All new chapters will be posted in this thread, as you can see by the reserved posts.
And I think that's about it. Thank you for your time. I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 1
The swirling blue tunnel stretched out before him; pulling, cajoling, singing to him. The music filled his heart, beckoning to him. Yet he hesitated.
"Aeric, are you all right?" Laighn asked from the seat beside him. "This is the one you wanted."
"I know," he replied, unsure why he waited. "This is it."
"Second thoughts?" his friend asked with concern. "If you're not sure about this-"
"I'm sure," he replied. He was sure. This was the only logical answer, the only solution. He'd studied for sixteen cycles, prepared himself in every way. Millions upon millions of lives were counting on him to finish his mission, including his family.
"Activate the cloaking device," he instructed. Laighn pushed the appropriate buttons above his head, and the correct bleep, bleep noise sounded. "You ready for this?" he asked his half Sebacean, half Nebari co-pilot.
"No. Unlike you, I've never been in one of these things," Laighn replied calmly.
"You're not scared, are you?" Aeric asked with a smirk.
"Since you designed and built this pile of dren we're flying, yeah. I'm terrified." He pulled a charm hanging on a chain around his neck from beneath his shirt and kissed it quickly before stuffing back inside the material and patting it gently. He was content now.
"Oh ye of little faith," Aeric told him as he gently pushed the wheel forward, tipping the craft just far enough into the natural gravity of the wormhole to be caught. "I've got it all under control."
They were swallowed by the blue vortex, but their flight was smooth. There was no panic, no dizzying spinning, no screaming. All gauges on the flight panel before them confirmed that all was well. "Hang on," was his only word of caution before punching a button on the panel.
Instantly, their craft shot forward, throwing them against their seats with the force. Aeric breathed deeply, his eyes intent on the path before him. Laighn merely sat quietly, mumbling under his breath and flinching whenever the tunnels broke apart, causing the small ship to be hurled left or right.
Up, down, sideways they traveled. Aeric lost track of time, intent on the gauges before him and the music in his head, high on adrenalin. He was born for this. He was the master of wormholes, long ago surpassing his father in understanding them. It was in his blood… literally.
At last, the blue tunnel disappeared and they shot into the blackness of space, free from the turbulent current. A blue planet appeared through the screen before them- calm, peaceful. White clouds curled through the atmosphere, obscuring part of the small world from view.
"That's it, huh?" Laighn asked.
"Yup," Aeric answered.
Both men simply studied the blue orb for a few microts, letting the silence stretch out, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally, Laighn spared his partner in crime a quick glance. "Excited to visit the ol' homeworld again?"
"It's a hit and run, Laighn."
"It doesn't have to be, you know. There's plenty of time still."
Aeric sighed, pushing the wish to the back of his mind. He'd been obsessed with Earth since he was thirteen cycles old; over half his life. He'd gotten a small taste of it when he'd accidentally fallen through a wormhole and met his grandfather. He'd been granted tantalizing tidbits of information through the old movies his father had stashed.
But even though it stared him in the face at this very moment, even though he was about to walk over its (to him) hallowed ground, it was still just outside his grasp. Besides, it wasn't the right century. "I promised Dad. In, out, back to Moya. Hit and run. Zero presence."
Laighn snorted. "You've been hanging around Sethya too much."
Aeric couldn't help but laugh; he had sounded a bit like the ex-peacekeeper. "You ready?" he asked his friend.
"Let's go," Laighn answered.
"Double check the cloaking device."
Laighn pushed a few buttons and studied the panel in front of him. "Still holding. I gotta give it to you, Aeric, that was a brilliant piece of tech work. I think even Tean was impressed. Now if you could just make one big enough to cover Moya, we'd be set."
"I could, if we didn't mind sacrificing life support systems."
Laighn laughed. "It wouldn't be the first time we'd have to breathe shallow."
"Yeah, well. We have other issues at the moment."
"Right. Flower Power. Let's go commit mass murder."
Cringing over the accuracy of Laighn's flippant statement, Aeric pushed a few more controls and directed his ship to the planet ahead. Time to commit genocide.
Wham!
A screaming siren blasted throughout the cabin of their small spacecraft as they slammed into the flight panel. Aeric's head felt as if it would explode, and he could feel blood trickling over his hairline. "What the frell was that?"
Laighn was in no better condition, his pinkish blood oozing from a gash in his cheek as he quickly scanned the monitors. "I'm not sure. I think it came outta the wormhole."
"Oh frell," Aeric said, looking at the monitors in front of him. "Oh frell, oh frell, oh frell."
"What?" Laighn asked, the fear leaking into his voice, despite his efforts to remain casual. "What!"
"We're going down."
As if to confirm Aeric's grave assessment of the situation, his ship began to shudder and a panel at the rear of the flight room fell to the ground with a muted crash. White steam poured from five separate vents in the flooring.
Laighn began to flip switches and turn knobs, desperately trying to compensate for the atmospheric and mechanical anomalies. Aeric held tightly to the flight stick, using every skill he could conjure to keep the craft under control. "Where's Brennic when you need her?" he asked, his strained voice barely audible through the chaos around him.
"You're your mother's son, Aeric. Get a grip!" Laighn yelled. "And get to Earth NOW. We won't hold together much longer."
He jumped out of his seat and ran the short distance to the rear of the cockpit, once again pushing buttons and twisting knobs. Fire blasted from a control panel and he grabbed an extinguisher, desperately trying to put out the flames and remain upright at the same time.
Their speed was far greater than Aeric had ever intended this craft to travel outside of wormholes, and the planet was looming larger and larger. They entered atmosphere and the control room began to heat up to almost intolerable levels. They passed the white fluffy clouds that had intrigued him earlier. The ground sped towards them, all while Aeric gripped the flight stick, struggling to maintain any amount of maneuverability.
The impression of vast amounts of green entered his mind briefly, just as his module slammed to the earth. Aeric and Laighn were thrown to the floor, sparks and steam erupting around them. The young Crichton felt his head slam against something hard, something sharp, and blackness began to descend.
His final thought, before the oblivion released him from any pain, was that he had failed everyone he loved, failed mankind, failed countless species seeking respite. And then there was nothing.
---
Thomas Caruthers stood and stretched his back, working the kink with his calloused hands, ignoring the questioning look from the horse hitched to the tether in front of him. He was getting too old for this. If he wasn't careful, his daughter Emmaline would realize something was wrong, and then she would be unnecessarily worried as well. He desperately wanted to save her that burden. Soon, she would have enough to deal with.
He looked around at their small, isolated farm, pleased with the view. Their cabin was some distance away, the smoke from the cook fire rising into the blue sky in a lazy, thin stream. Jasper, their milking cow, was roaming idly, flicking her tail occasionally as the flies teased her. He couldn't hear the chickens from this distance, but he could see them wandering around their pen, enjoying the crisp spring afternoon.
It wasn't fancy by any standards, nor would they ever get rich working this land. But it had been home for over ten years now, and had served them well. Some seasons were harder than others, but the land and the good Lord had always provided. He was counting on that trend to continue. Marcus would return soon, and Emmaline would be safe. He simply needed to hold on a little longer.
It was getting more difficult though, and he was beginning to wonder if his neighbor had even survived. "Dear Lord," he said, taking off his wide brimmed hat and wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt as he raised his eyes heavenward. "I'm getting worried. It doesn't look like Marcus is coming back, and you and I both know that my time on this good earth is getting short.
"Emmaline is a good girl; she's obedient and works hard. But she's not cut out to work this place by herself. And Douglas Standry is just waiting for me to go to the great beyond to get his hands on our land. What will my daughter do without my protection? That man wouldn't treat Emmaline right. She'll be all alone in the world. I'm all she has now that her mother has passed on. Lord, please, show me the way. Show me what I need to do. Whatever you want, no matter how hard, I'll do it. In Jesus' name- Amen."
No sooner had the benediction to his prayer passed through his lips than a grayish black trail of smoke curled across the sky above him. Was it a sign from God? The trail was hurtling at a speed that boggled poor Thomas' mind, and he gasped in fear as the trail descended ever closer to his small farm.
He watched as the billowing cloud passed overhead before some unseen, awful force slammed through the trees in the surrounding forest, finally stopping with crash louder than her could ever imagined. He waited for a moment, shocked into stillness, fear gnawing at his stomach.
But this could be the answer to his prayer. This was a sign from his maker that his girl would be taken care of, and who was he to balk at the good Lord's wisdom. Hadn't he told God "no matter how hard"?
Gulping to wet his parched mouth, and breathing deep to calm his racing heart, he untangled himself from the harness on his plow and stepped toward the crash site. He had to do this. He had to go see what had happened.
Truth be told, the trip took slightly longer than need be. His legs were having a hard time obeying his command. But they were reluctantly true to their master, and at last he stood at the edge of the new, small clearing, shocked by what he saw. The place was stripped, the ground smashed, as if some heavy object had pressed into the ground. The trees were torn, splintered, some completely uprooted and seemingly trapped against other trees.
A man, unlike any he had ever seen before was stumbling over debris, dragging something behind him. His hair was midnight black with streaks of blonde, while his skin was so pale it was almost white. His lips were dark grey, and at that moment, they were grimacing with the effort the load was causing him. Thick, pink liquid was mottled in his hair, and slowly gliding over his brow into his eyes. He was wearing grey pants and a grey tunic, cinched around his stomach by a brown belt that appeared to be wrapped several times around his middle.
The load he was pulling was a man; a bleeding, unconscious man, and Thomas had to wonder briefly if this creature had been the cause of the current state of the individual being dragged. But no, the pale person was trying to be careful, if quick. And it was obvious he was injured. He stumbled several times, and at last fell to the earth in an unconscious heap beside the man he'd been trying to help.
Now was the time for decisions. "Lord," Thomas said under his breath, "Grant me the wisdom and the strength to do Thy will."
These strange men had been sent here by God to help him, and he would not let his own fear, or lack of understanding, impede His will.
---
The world around Aeric was no longer black; it was a fuzzy brownish-grey. His head felt as if someone was tearing it apart with a shavnel-prong, and his body was screaming with all the aches and pains. He'd lived. Somehow, he'd survived the crash. Taking in a shuddery breath, he attempted to move; his leg, his arm, his head- he didn't care what, but the effort merely compounded his agony and his lungs expelled the air of their own volition.
"It's all right," a soft, feminine voice assured him. A feather soft caress brushed the hair out of his eyes and lingered over his brow, offering comfort. "You need to lie still, or you will make your injuries worse."
Holy dren, someone had found them. His mind slowly began to process the implication of that realization, and panic set in. His heart started racing and unbearable pressure pushed down on his chest. These people wouldn't understand.
"Laighn," he gasped, riddled with guilt and remorse over exposing his friend to this danger.
"Your companion is alive and resting, as you should be," the woman's voice assured and reprimanded simultaneously. "It is time for rest."
Aeric felt the rough edge to a cup press against his lips, and sweet moisture tipped into his mouth and dribbled over his chin. He hadn't realized how thirsty he'd been, but the instant the liquid seeped over this parched tongue his body greedily consumed as much as the unseen woman would allow. Twice, the cup was refilled and both times it was drained.
His head was gently lowered to a soft cushion; he hadn't realized that it had been lifted to accommodate his drinking, and overpowering weariness began to confuse his mind. He couldn't fight any longer. Slowly, his thoughts faded until he was once again drifting through blessed oblivion.
---
When Aeric opened his eyes again, the room was no longer brownish-grey or fuzzy. His head no longer felt as though his brain was hanging from his skull, and the searing pain in every dench of his body was now a dull ache. Things were slightly improving.
"Hello," a vaguely familiar voice greeted.
He gently turned his head to stare into the most beautiful green eyes he'd ever seen. The owner of the eyes was sitting in a wooden chair in a corner of the small room, her raised crafting needles held motionless as she looked at him expectantly. It was apparent her blond hair was supposed to be in a bun, but loose strands framing her face hung limp, as if she hadn't had the time or inclination to fix the trivial problem.
"Hello," Aeric responded nervously. He needed to be careful. This was not supposed to happen. No one was ever supposed to have seen them. "Where's my friend?" He asked in English, grateful he had forced himself to learn the language decently after the last time he'd been here. The sooner he could grab Laighn and leave this place, the sooner they could assess the damage and begin repairs.
The young woman stood, placing her needles on the chair behind her before stepping closer to the bed. Her long brown skirt and petticoats swished as she moved, her boots clunking on the wooden floor with her progression. Reaching a short table beside the bed, she poured water from a pitcher into a wooden cup and held it out for Aeric to grab.
"He is resting, as you are."
"Thank you for your help," Aeric began, intent on leaving, making an effort to sit up. "But he and I need to get going."
"Your companion needs rest. So do you." Gently, she placed a rough hand on his bare shoulder and pushed back into the pillow, holding out the cup for him once more.
He'd been too weak to resist, so he merely accepted the cup and gulped quickly, hoping that obedience would grant him a measure of freedom. "My friend has medical issues you won't be able to fix. I need to help him. I need to get him back to…" he paused briefly, trying to come up with a term for his personal space module that she would understand. "… our ship."
It was a lame explanation; there weren't any oceans within a few thousand metras of the crash site. In an effort to go unseen, he'd purposely chosen one of the least populated areas he could manage to reach as his beloved ship hurtled through earth's atmosphere. A wasted effort, it appeared.
"You are in no condition to go anywhere," she told him firmly. For a petite young woman, she seemed to have a will of stone. And she wasn't budging. "You have a concussion and several injuries that will take a long time to heal."
Dren. But he'd been through worse and had managed to walk, crawl and drag himself to safety. This time would be no different. He once again sat up, purposely using what little strength he had against her gentle push, letting her know that she had no choice in the matter.
"Thank you for your help," he repeated. "I'm sure I owe you my life. But my friend and I will not be a burden on your hospitality any longer."
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting bare feet on the rough wooden planks beneath the springs as he braced himself with his hands. Overpowering dizziness threatened to crumble his resolve, but he pushed away the need to lie back down and flung the hand sewn quilt off his lap.
She gasped and turned around before he realized he was naked. Frell. "Where are my clothes?" he asked more gruffly than he intended.
She'd made him this way; he refused to let her make him embarrassed now. Though he was mortified to realize that she'd seen the mottled scar tissue that ran in a three dench wide line from his hip to his knee; it wasn't something he paraded around for others to notice. It was then that he pulled the blanket back over his lower half.
"Emmaline, who are you talking to?" a man's voice asked quietly from the doorway behind him. Turning his head too quickly, spikes of pain hammered through Aeric's skull.
He could tell his eyes were flinching under the strain of the pain, but he kept them open to observe this new development. The man speaking was an older gentleman; his hair a mixture of white, grey and brown, white being the prevalent color. Lines around his eyes spoke of hard labor and worry. His clothes were simple; brown trousers, tan tunic, work boots.
"As you can see, one of our guests has woken, Papa. He is insisting to take his friend and leave."
"Thank you Emmaline. Please leave us for a moment."
This did not sound well. Uneasiness pooled in the pit of Aeric's stomach and he had to force himself to sit still as the blond woman left without a backward glance. The older gentleman stepped into the small room and closed the door, keeping watchful eyes alert.
He paused momentarily, breathed in as if to say something, but remained silent briefly before finally speaking. "It would not be wise for you to venture from this home right now."
Aeric shook his head in disagreement, frustrated. "I appreciate your concern, but you don't understand the situation. I need to leave. Just tell me where my friend is and I'll be out of your way. Unless you've done something to him that you're not willing to tell me about."
He knew he was sounding defensive, but these people had been very vague about Laighn until now and he knew that a man with pale skin, grey lips and pink blood in this timeframe was at risk for people who could not accept those that were different. He would be declared a demon and killed, at best.
"Your friend is fine. He is in my room, resting. I have been tending to his needs, as best as I know them to be."
"You can't help him. I can. It's nothing personal, it's just that I have…" he paused, once again searching for the right words, "equipment that will aid him in his recovery."
"My name is Thomas Caruthers," the man introduced himself as he placed his hands in his pockets and slowly walked around the bed to Aeric. "I don't know who you are, or where you came from. To be truthful, I'm not even sure what you are at this point." He dragged the wooden chair next to the young Crichton and sat, straddling the back and resting his arms over the rim of the backrest, maintaining direct eye contact. "I took a huge risk bringing you to my home."
"I understand your concern, that's why I'm trying to leave."
"Please," he said calmly. "Don't go yet. Stay here while you and your friend recover. I will help you retrieve whatever equipment is needed."
"Why?" the young man asked wearily. It was getting harder and harder to resist laying back down, but a man from the late nineteenth century shouldn't be this accommodating. There was an ulterior motive in here somewhere.
"You are right," Thomas answered the young man sitting on the bed, looking at him suspiciously. "I plan on asking you for a favor. But your agreement is not requisite for my hospitality, and you are free to say no. You are free to come and go as you wish. But I ask you to stay."
"What is the favor?" The injured man was having difficulty keeping his balance, but through sheer obstinacy, he remained at the edge of the bed.
"Now is not the time for that. Later. When you are healed."
---
Thomas was reacting on instinct, knowing that this stranger and his companion were the answer to all his troubles, but also knowing that they had no idea what they'd been sent here for. He'd spent much time over the last thirty hours praying and reading his bible. And no matter how he approached the problem, he always came back to the same answer. They were meant to help each other.
"I want to see Laighn. Now. Where are my clothes?"
He had to earn this young man's trust, and the only way was to give him the freedom he requested, even if it was detrimental to his health. Reluctantly, he stood from his chair and went to a trunk at the foot of the bed, retrieving the garments Emmaline had painstakingly washed, dried and mended earlier. "When you're ready, I'll show you to your friend."
Sighing, he turned and left the room, softly closing the door behind him.
---
Her heart was racing, and she just knew that she was blushing. Her hands were shaking. How embarrassing! Why didn't her father warn her that he'd removed all the man's clothes when he put him in the room? She'd spent many hours sitting in the chair knitting, making sure that he needed nothing, watching him.
He'd looked so peaceful when he was unconscious, but the moment his eyes were open, he was a mass of energy, turbulent and alert. His hair was a riotous mess, and she couldn't help but think that his personality was probably similar. And his eyes were the color of the sky on a cloudless day.
When he'd sat up and the blanket fell to his waist, showing her his torso in all its glory, she thought she was going to swoon. His shoulders were wide and his chest hard, his muscles obviously toned with frequent use. But it was also scarred. Long, thin trails crisscrossed over his chest and abdomen.
What had this man endured that left him so battered?
Her thoughts were interrupted by her father exiting the room with an indiscernible look in his eyes. He'd brought these strange men home yesterday with little explanation, but he'd seemed more determined and more hopeful than she'd seen in a long time. He had a new purpose.
"Is everything all right?"
He looked up at her sitting in her mother's rocker, almost surprised to see her. His smile was instantly set, reassuringly. Poor Papa. He thought she didn't know about his worries.
"Yes, Emmy. He will be coming out soon. He wants to see his companion."
She clamped her mouth in an effort to keep her opinion to herself. The young man was in no condition to move yet, and he would only make his injuries worse.
She didn't have to wait long before the door opened. The stranger leaned in the doorway, obviously bracing himself against a bout of dizziness while trying to get his bearings. His black shirt was disheveled, apparently thrown on in haste. He was wearing brown leather pants and his feet were bare. His eyes were watchful, scanning the room, briefly lingering on her before turning them back to her father.
"Laighn?" he asked simply.
Her father pointed to the appropriate door, and the man began his short trek. He wasn't fast, settling for a shuffle-drag method, but he staunchly made his way across the common room. He was cringing in pain, and she could stand it no longer.
Purposely, she stomped across the room and did the unthinkable; she put a man's arm… a strange man's arm… around her shoulders and leaned in a manner that would force him to put his weight on her. He tried to pull away, but at the moment she was stronger than he was and she held on.
And that was when her world changed. She had expected anger, an argument, or more resistance of some sort. Instead, he grinned. It was tarnished by his pain, but one side of his mouth quirked up and a small chuckle escaped his lips, and her heart was lost.
Please Marcus, stay away a very long time. And please Papa, find a way to keep these men here long enough.
"You and my sister would get along very well," he told her breathily. "She was a bully too."
"What is her name?" she asked, guiding him across the room, eager to hear anything at all about him or his family. Family. Maybe he was already married. She felt as though she'd been kicked in the kidneys.
"Brennik," he told her.
"And what is your name?"
He paused, as though reluctant to tell her. After a few steps, he drew in a haggard breath and responded. "Aeric Crichton."
They were at the door, so she didn't have time to question him further. Rather, she used the moment to roll the name around on her tongue. She loved his accent. He pronounced his name "Air-rick", and it had such a beautiful lilt.
The moment his eyes touched upon his companion, his mind was lost to her. He shrugged out of her hold and hobbled to the bed, sitting on the edge. "Laighn, you alive?" he asked, almost flippantly.
"Yl!erab," was the strange, low reply. "Etis sh!arc eth fo tuo eema rou!y grad ot dah I."
Aeric's friend made her nervous. With his pale skin and grey lips, he was unlike any man she'd ever seen before. But growing up on this farm, it wasn't as though she'd seen a whole world of men, either. Maybe he had a skin condition she'd never heard of. He was obviously foreign. She could only wonder what language he was speaking.
"Oh please. You just like making dramatic entrances," Aeric accused.
Laighn snorted and smirked. "En!o em ewo !ouy."
"More like five."
"Emit! sith ni evew dren fo e!lip a si sith. !Tey B nal!p a tog?"
"No," the man answered on a sigh. "Not yet. I'm working on it. How are you holding up?"
"K!cap dem eth tuoth!iw syad! erom elpuoc a rof ev!il lli !erugif I. gnithy!na esimor!rp tnac I that !retfa."
"Yeah, I though so. I'll take care of it."
Laign nodded, his eyes drooping. "N!am, sknath!. Ouy no! tnouc dlo!uc tnuoc no !ouy. His strength was depleted, and he slipped into unconsciousness.
Aeric stood, grimacing and holding his side, and began his shuffle-drag walk once again. "Where are my boots?"
"You're not planning on going anywhere?" she asked before she could monitor her words. What right, other the panic in her own chest, did she have to tell this man anything?
He looked tired; more than just the strain of his injuries, he looked weary, and worried. "Yes, I am." He took a few more steps. "If I don't, Laighn will die. I'm not going to let that happen."
She could see the resolution on his face, the determination as he moved steadily onward. There would be no dissuading him. But she had to try. "I'll go. Just tell me what you need, and I can retrieve-"
"No!" His answer was short, harsh. His face softened when his eyes met hers. "No, Emmaline. You cannot go for me. This is something I have to do."
The way her name came out of his mouth was soft, almost lilting, distracting her slightly from his gentle refusal. But she could be stubborn as well. Stepping to him, she pulled his arm around her shoulders and began to guide him again. "Then I will go with you."
"No." He didn't bark the rejection again, merely emphasized his point.
They were now in the common room, and she helped him to sit on a chair at their dining table. Papa had been quiet during this entire interlude, watching everything with careful eyes. But as she turned to retrieve the strange boots, she could hear him address Aeric.
"See reason, son. You don't know where you are going. You were unconscious when we brought you here. You could be searching for days, weeks even, for the objects you cannot see. You need a guide."
When Aeric closed his eyes and dropped his head, she could see his resignation. Her father, with a few well placed, wise words, had convinced him. She would guide him.
---
The trip had been long, slow going and exhausting. She'd made him stop frequently, much to his annoyance. But they'd finally arrived at the location her father had told her, and she was now standing at the edge of the new, small clearing, waiting for Aeric. He hadn't let her go any closer. In fact, he made her turn around and shut her eyes to the count of fifty.
And to her surprise, when she turned around, he was gone. She was alone. That never used to bother her. When Marcus was still living at the next farm over, she wandered these woods all the time by herself. For hours, she would explore and watch and wonder at the beauty of nature.
But all that had stopped several months ago when her father's friend left to visit the city, having to deal with some legal issues that had never been explained to her. After Marcus left, during one of her evening vigils, Mr. Standry and his men had approached her. She shivered with the memory of that unpleasant meeting, and nervously searched the surrounding trees.
"Well Miss Caruthers, isn't this a pleasant coincidence?" a low voice greeted her. Fear curled over her spine and she turned to face the man who'd been stalking her.
"Do you not have a farm to run?" she asked bravely, refusing to show how scared she really was that this man and three of his field hands were slowly approaching her.
"Don't worry," he assured her with a smile that turned her stomach. "I run a tight ship."
His brown cowboy hat hung low over his eyes and for some reason she couldn't understand, she couldn't help but notice how his brown mustache twitched at the sides of his mouth when he talked. She wanted to laugh, but she clamped down on the urge. She had to get rid of these men before Aeric came back. "Why are you on my father's land?"
"Well, ma'am," he said, stepping closer, into her space. Mr. Standry was taller than her and she had to lean back slightly to look him in the eye. But she refused to back up. She wouldn't give him an inch. "This will be my land soon, and I take care of what is mine."
Anger simmered in the pit of her belly, and she narrowed her eyes. She knew she was acting recklessly, she knew what he was capable of. She'd had a hard time explaining away the black eye to her father after the last encounter with this man, but something inside her wouldn't let her cower.
"Well, Mr. Standry, until this land actually becomes yours, you can get off of it. Now."
As the last word left her lips, she felt her hair at the back of her head gripped in a vice, and her body slammed into Standry's. The sound of chambers being loaded echoed through her mind as her captor's other arm snaked around her, pinning her against his body. His mouth was a mere inch away from hers, and his breath washed over her face.
"I can make you mine. Right now."
"Let her go," a voice commanded, and all five faces turned to see Aeric standing a few feet away, tall, strong, imposing.
He'd changed slightly. He was now wearing a brown leather vest, and strange guns were strapped to each thigh in holsters she'd never seen before. A satchel was hanging at his back by a strap flung over his chest and shoulders. His arms were crossed and he was looking directly at her tormentor.
Standry was only slightly surprised, and he didn't move. Nodding to his men, the three shotguns were redirected, and all were now pointing at Aeric's chest. "Well, if this isn't a surprise," her captor said conversationally, as if he didn't have her in an indecent hold. "I'm afraid you are not understanding the situation. This is my future wife. And you are imposing on something that is none of your business." His words became hard on that last sentence; an unspoken threat.
"Emmaline, do you want to be with this dren-faced fekkik?"
She had no idea what those words were, but she understood the general meaning and she shook her head. "No."
Before she could process what was happening, Aeric was beside them, one of his strange guns pushed against Mr. Standry's temple, the brown hat pushed up at an undistinguished angle.
---
Aeric was having a hard time maintaining this facade. His body was screaming at him and moving at all was costing him dearly. He hoped they couldn't see that his pulse pistol was shaking slightly.
"She said no, and my daddy taught me that no means no. Let her go," he said clearly, making sure that all of them could hear what he had to say. The bastard's arms dropped and Emmaline stepped away, relief etched over her face. She stepped behind Aeric, using him to shield herself from the antagonists.
"Tell your men to drop their weapons and kick them to me," he instructed. The man in charge nodded and three weapons were lowered, dropped, kicked. "Emmaline, get them." She did as he bid, gathering the weapons and holding them to her chest awkwardly. "Drop them over there," he indicated the location he wanted them, "and search the men for any more weapons."
Her head turned so fast, he was sure she would get whiplash, and her eyes were wide with shock. She gulped. "I… I-"
"Emmaline, you can do this. You need to search them. Unless you want to hold the pistol?" He'd be fair, he'd give her the option. He knew neither were to her liking, and that he was asking her to do things that were outside of her comfort zone.
She shook her head and approached the first man, gingerly looking in his gun holster and pulling out the pistol. Tossing it into the pile already on the ground, she was about to move on. "Check his waist, his legs, his armpits, his socks," Aeric instructed.
She gulped, but bravely nodded and proceeded to follow his directions. By the time she'd finished with the underlings and was approaching the man who'd attacked her, the timidity was wearing off and she was able to frisk him without hesitation.
"I'm done," she finally declared, proud of herself for finding the small arsenal that was now lying in a heap behind them.
"The three of you can clear out now," Aeric told them. "Don't turn around, don't look back. And don't ever come on this land again." He stepped closer to the boss, leaning in close to his ear. "And don't ever approach, look at, or think about Miss Caruthers again. You will not like what happens to you."
Glaring, all four men cautiously moved away. They retrieved horses that had been tethered out of site, and rode away. Aeric managed to stay upright until their hoof beats faded, but his body couldn't hold up any longer and he sank to his knees. And then his face met the earth.
"Aeric!" Emmaline yelled, and he heard her boots crunch over the mulch of the forest floor as she ran to his side. He first saw her skirts as she approached and knelt beside his head. "Aeric, no!" She was crying and he felt her fingers comb back his hair and move over his back, his shoulders, his arms.
She crouched low and her face became visible. Her hair was disheveled, barely any left in the bun. Her nose and eyes were red and puffy, and clear liquid streamed from her nostrils down to her mouth. Her whole face was scrunched, and he could feel the misery emanating off her.
And suddenly, he understood Sethya on a whole new level.
Damn.
