Mars Colony
"That was an impressive show you put on back at that stinking little village."
Dagan didn't look up from the bowl of food he was holding in his hands. One of the men in this gang of brigands had some talent for cooking, so he was looking forward to eating for once. Now he was annoyed to see an insect dive straight into the stew. With disgust, he tossed it aside. A Calabrian would still enjoy eating it. He wasn't a Calabrian.
"So," continued the cretin who had decided to sit near him. "Maybe you could teach me those tricks. Scared the crap out of those people! Scared the crap out of me!"
Dagan glanced at him. The man was grinning at him, showing rotting teeth that must contribute to his foul breath. "It is not a trick. I have been given these powers by the gods." Dagan didn't add that he wondered if his wasteful use of them angered the gods. His dream last night seemed to indicate their displeasure.
There were restless shouts from the men hobbled together with chains. One of the brigands picked up his big club, and as if punishing a recalcitrant dog, he clubbed one of the prisoners. The man fell to the ground, blood streaming from a gash in his head. Dagan looked away. Perhaps it was better for that pitiful man to die out here in the forest than to be dragged beneath the ground to be fed to a boreworm. If he weren't trapped here waiting for an opportunity for Quatre to take him off the planet, Dagan would use his powers to put an end to this despicable practice. But he was trapped and he suspected that Quatre didn't trust him despite his unquestioning obedience to his commands.
For the last several days he had not even seen Quatre Winner as he traveled with his brigands. He didn't know which was worse; the primitive oafs who did Winner's dirty work or the decadence at Winner's mansion. Dagan didn't care for the filthy women that offered themselves to any man, nor did he indulge in the use of the much in demand drug that seemed to flow freely amongst Winner's men. Although the drug had made him sleep for such a long period that Winner thought he had died, he had none of the reported fantasies, none of the heightened pleasures that these people pursued so relentlessly.
No, Dagan didn't seem to need a drug for the entertainment they sought. Already two days had passed since his fantastical dream. At least he thought it was a dream, but he still was uncertain and much of his time he spent analyzing what had happened. Who was that beautiful enchantress? Why did she insist that he trespassed on her dream? Could such a woman actually exist? He did not believe it! His master had told him that Dagan was the last of his kind. While he had heard stories that Guerani sorcerers lived on Calabria, he dismissed the rumors as stories told to small children to frighten them. Only the lord rulers of Bayman wielded the powers of the gods!
Yet the woman of his dreams had used some energy to save his life against the creature that had attacked. He did not for a moment believe she was Princess Shamara, heiress of the Calabrian Empire. The princess could not be a sorceress! All that he had heard was she was spoiled and pampered by her powerful father, not that she had powers equal to his own. And yet she bore some resemblance to the girl he had met so briefly over two years ago.
"Mount up!" shouted the brigand leader, a hefty beast Dagan knew as Magnar the Cruel. He was a filthy man who lived up to the reputation of his name. Standing well over a head taller than all of them, he did not have to worry about insubordination or rebellion. His arms were huge with muscles hewn from using the battle-ax he preferred to use to hack away at old men, women and children. Magnar was not above killing his own men if he was angered. This was the sword arm of Quatre Raberba Winner.
"Wizard, mount your animal." Magnar was glaring at him from beneath bushy dark brows. Dagan knew that Magnar distrusted him. This morning he had been furious that the blast from Dagan's performance had left so much smoke that many of the women and children and some of the men had escaped the carnage. The foolish men who had stayed behind to defend their homes had been captured. Didn't they realize that life was more important that the pathetic hovels?
Now was not the time to anger Magnar further. Dagan still had not perfected his powers to use fast enough against a man like him. He still had to have time to focus his power, and if he tried to use it on Magnar, he knew the hairy swine would hack off his head before he had a chance. So he hopped on the back of the horse-like beast that would carry him. The horned animal was an abomination of nature. While it carried men, it was still wild and often uncontrollable, and its taste for meat instead of grains often lead it into a hunt after some stray animal against the commands of its rider.
"This man is holding the rest up."
Dagan turned to look at the prisoners. The one who had been clubbed could not walk. Dagan had to turn his head to keep from seeing the tortured look in his eyes. The man had lost his home, his family and now his life. The injustice made his stomach churn.
"Cut him loose." Magnar nudged his beast forward, and with a swing of his mighty ax, the prisoner's suffering was at an end. "Now let's go. We will reach the mine in Sector 7821 before sunset."
Magnar jerked his animal away from the body it was already beginning to graze upon. Dagan's own mount tried to disobey his commands to get a few bites, but Dagan put his hand on the rough coat of the animal and transferred enough of his power to make it respect its rider.
"Ride beside me, Wizard Kael."
Dagan did as ordered. Although he wouldn't have to hear or see the prisoners far to the back, he did have to take shallow breaths so not to gag from the stench rising from the unwashed Magnar.
"In a few days we will go to the south where there is a village to be used for the mine in Sector 7824. Word of your powers should have reached them. I do not want a repeat of what I saw, or rather was unable to see, today. Some of the men escaped, and I wanted one or two of those women to amuse myself." Magnar's dark eyes were on Dagan's face. "You don't approve."
"Since when was my approval important?" Dagan turned his head to avoid his rotting breath.
"In the next village, you should take a woman." Magnar laughed. "Perhaps it would make you more powerful."
Powerful enough to kill you? But Dagan didn't respond. He wasn't about to prey upon the poor wretched females of this planet. Dagan wondered if the females on Calabria had been so similarly abused because Ryana had complained about their lower than low status on the other planet, something Emperor Trey had been reported to have changed.
They reached the mining town before sunset, and the prisoners were lead beneath the ground almost immediately. The mine manager was glad to see them. Production at his mine was low because the boreworms were hungry. The manager hadn't even looked at the men he was sending to a gruesome death. Only the males were rounded up because the women were necessary to produce more and the children didn't satisfy the hunger of the creatures. The barbarous people on this planet disgusted Dagan.
There was a canteen at the mining town, so Dagan reluctantly joined the other men to get something to eat. The food was passable, but Dagan was so hungry he wouldn't complain even if an insect did land in his bowl. There were plenty of women, displaced from their homes by the brigand raids. These women were so destitute that they no longer cared that they were providing a service for the same men who had murdered their fathers, husbands and sons. Dagan was so disgusted by the sight of their activities with the brigands that he left the canteen with his food.
The streets were dark, but he could see where he was going by light from the buildings around. He needed rest far from the evil taint of the people on this planet. What purpose did the gods have in showing him this? If they were telling him to make no alliances with the human species, they couldn't do so more eloquently.
Dagan slipped into an alley, moving to the darkest shadows and sat with his back against the wall. He was eating his food in peace when he heard a noise and his senses became instantly aware of another person in the alley. A female. He could tell by the scent. As she came closer, he could see that she was young, filthy, and painfully thin. He remembered seeing her in the canteen, one of the brigands mauling her. She hadn't protested, even when she had been passed to another. What did she want with him?
"Are you the wizard?"
"If I am?"
"Magnar the Cruel sent me to you."
The food he had just put in his stomach threatened to resurface. "I don't need your services."
She dropped to her knees near him. "I dare not return without doing as ordered." Her thin, cold fingers touched him, and Dagan shuddered with disgust. Even if he wanted to oblige her to save her life from the beast Magnar, Dagan knew he wouldn't be able.
"He does not need to know," stated Dagan. "I only want some rest. Go to the end of the alley and stay out of sight, but warn me if anyone approaches."
She drew her hands away, and he heard her sigh with relief. "I did not wish to…to…not with a wizard." Her head was turned to what remained of his food. "I…I haven't eaten for days."
Dagan shoved the mostly empty bowl to her along with the roasted fowl he had been given at the canteen. "I suggest you consider some story to tell Magnar about our tryst."
She scurried away like a rat and was crouching in the shadows at the end of the alley eating the food so fast he thought she would choke. She barely paused to breathe, and soon enough the bowl was empty, licked clean. Dagan closed his eyes from the sight. Gods, there wasn't a decent human being alive. They were all filthy animals.
When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the forest, but the sun was shining through the thick foliage. How did he get here? Something was licking his hand, and he looked down to see the wolf that had been in his last dream. Dagan stared into the wolf's eyes and saw that it was not dangerous, so he petted its head. He must be having another dream. Dagan dared not hope that the Princess Shamara of his dream would make another appearance in this one. Magnar had rudely awakened him before he could have a satisfactory conclusion to his other dream. Anyway, he would much rather have the experienced Oxana appear in his dreams.
A bird's cry drew his attention upwards, and Dagan looked up to see an eagle soaring overhead. The wolf bounded away, and Dagan followed it eagerly, sure that he would be lead to her. They seemed to run for hours through the thick vegetation before they came to a clearing. The beautiful enchantress sitting on the bank of a stream kicking her bare feet in the water was not his devoted Oxana. The eagle landed nearby on a tree branch and the wolf walked slowly forward, then settled on the grass beneath the tree.
The dark-haired young woman turned to look at him. "You again?"
"You don't seem pleased to see me." Dagan moved forward, then sat on the bank near her.
"You are not Prince Dagan," she remarked, turning her head to look at him.
"You could not be Princess Shamara," he returned, looking into her eyes. She was beautiful, and very bold because she stared at him with the same interest he was showing her. "You are a sorceress."
"I am no sorceress," she said, leaning away from him, lowering her lashes. "Although I do have Guerani powers, I am not evil."
Dagan laughed. "The princess of the Calabrian Empire would not be a Guerani!"
"My mother was full-blooded Guerani," she explained. "I am the only one of her children to show any sign of Guerani powers."
He looked down at her hands. The master had told him that their power was in their hands. "I still do not believe such a wild tale."
Her eyes met his again. "Am I to believe Prince Dagan would have dark powers?"
"I have no dark powers!" Dagan was outraged by her accusation.
"The legends say there will one day be a Guerani of dark powers to return to Calabria to re-claim his place among us," she told him. "You must be the one."
Dagan snorted with laughter. "I was hardly on my way to Calabria willingly, and I certainly was not looking to regain any lost heritage. Where did you hear such foolishness?"
"A learned elder told me of his findings shortly before I left Calabria. He has been able to translate old writings from the Guerani hills. Many of the Guerani prophecies foretold have come true. The union of my mother and father was one of those prophecies."
Dagan moved closer to her. "Tell me more, princess. I am intrigued." He was more intrigued by her clean, fresh scent and her clear, creamy skin. She was the loveliest female he had seen in a long time. At this moment, he couldn't even remember the color of Oxana's hair.
She wasn't talking. Instead she was watching him, and it occurred to him that she might know his thoughts. If she did, she didn't reproach him. Dagan leaned away from her.
Suddenly she laughed softly. "No quest today, Prince Dagan? Have the gods not given you a task to perform?"
His task was probably to keep his hands off Princess Shamara. Although this was still just a dream, Dagan knew the gods were watching and judging him.
"That is a very honorable quest." There was laughter in her dark eyes as Shamara stood. Had she heard his thoughts? "There is a pool formed by this stream further down. I am going to bathe. You look as if you need to bathe as well."
Before he could argue, she dashed away with the grace of a gazelle. So she was going to bathe? Did that entail removing her clothing? The mere thought made his heart pound erratically, and he could barely breathe. The eagle took flight, and after only a slight pause, the wolf bounded after it. That was an omen Dagan could recognize.
He found the pool by following the wolf and came upon it just as Shamara slipped into the water. But the sight of her slender back and the pile of clothing she had left on the mossy bank made him so weak that he fell to his knees. If the gods expected him to not touch her, they were indeed very cruel. Her feminine wiles were more powerful than the mightiest swords.
Her dark head disappeared under the water in the large pool, and after a moment she resurfaced and threw back her wet hair. She opened her eyes and looked straight at him. "Won't you join me, Dagan?"
"You are tempting me to defy the gods," he accused her.
She giggled as she twisted and swam away. He could see the length of the back of her body. This was too much! As he pulled off his boots, the wolf howled, but Dagan ignored him. He would teach Princess Shamara how unwise it was to tease grown men. But before he could toss off his shirt, a rippling in the water of the pond drew his attention. The ripple spread out into a wide circle and began to grow larger.
"Shamara, get out of the water!" His senses were awakening his dormant power, warning him of danger. Shamara seemed to realize it also because she was swimming for the nearest bank. But she had been in the middle of the pond, and she hadn't reached the edge before water spewed upwards and a scaly creature emerged. A forked tongue snaked out and wrapped around Shamara's waist as she tried to scramble up the slippery bank. The dragon- like creature jerked her into the air and opened its mouth wide to drag her inside. But Dagan was able to send a blast at its neck that made it rear its head back. Shamara extended her arm, but Dagan could not reach her.
Suddenly a sword lying amongst her clothing flew into the air and towards her, end over end. She caught it by the hilt just before the creature dragged her beneath the water. There was no way Dagan would be able to attack it if he could not see it. Seizing his own sword, he dived into the murky pool.
At first he couldn't see, but when his eyes came accustomed to the dark, he made out the forms of the serpentine creature and Shamara, tangling in the water, bubbles rising around them. Shamara was stabbing at it with her short sword as the creature tossed its head back and forth, trying to snap her spine. Dagan swam to them as fast as he could and managed to grab of a fin. He sank his own sword into it, then jerked it out to land another blow. To protect itself, it threw Shamara from its mouth then whipped around to find Dagan. Dagan's powers wouldn't work under water, and he was not particularly skilled with a sword, having ignored that facet of his princely training. The gods must intend for him to face his death here.
Shamara appeared over the head of the serpent. Taking her sword with both hands, she drove it downward. He heard the crunch of bone even through the water, and the serpent beast shuddered, threw back its head one last time, then drifted downward, motionless. Dagan watched until he could no longer see it in the black depths of the pond.
Turning, he saw Shamara also drifting and Dagan realized she must have been injured in the monster's last action. Dagan swam swiftly toward her and caught her in his arms. She remained unmoving until they broke the surface of the water when she opened her mouth and drew in a deep breath. Dagan was relieved that she was still alive, and he wasted no time getting to the mossy bank before he rolled onto his back and took his own deep breath. Dagan stared at the reddish yellow sky as he thanked the gods for sparing their lives.
"You are hurt!" Shamara's face appeared above his. She put fingers to his cheekbone and he saw that they came away bloody.
"It is a scratch," he said tiredly.
"I can heal it." She reached out to him again, but Dagan grabbed her wrist.
"You are weak, Shamara, from your fight. Perhaps it is unwise."
Her eyes were looking into his. "I want to help you."
Dagan smiled. "You have done enough. You killed the creature. But I am now convinced that you are not the princess of Calabria. She could not do such a thing."
Shamara tossed back her wet hair. "You know very little of me and Calabria, Prince Dagan. But from what I have seen, I know that the stories about you are true, that you have neglected your training for frivolous pursuits. My mother was an imperial guard, and I have been trained in the art of weaponry. My masters have praised my progress while I can see that you are obviously the shame of your own sword master."
Her boasting almost made him laugh. "Do you realize, princess, that you are naked?"
Her eyes flew downwards, and she shrieked and seemed to sprout more than two hands as she tried to cover herself. Dagan burst into laughter. When she tried to dash for her clothing, he grabbed her ankle and pulled her down onto her back. He couldn't resist teasing her a bit, but when he covered her body with his, his mind cleared of almost everything but the pleasure he felt as her curves pressed against him.
"My Guerani princess, you have cast a spell on me," he said softly as he leaned close to her. Nothing was going to stop him from kissing her this time.
She seemed to be thinking the same because she lifted her head to meet him. Her soft, sweet lips were more potent than any drug. Nothing existed around them as he kissed her, not the wind in the trees, not the screeching of the eagle, not the howling of the wolf. Dagan put his hands on the ground on either side of his head to keep them from doing things to her that might spoil the innocent pleasure of this moment.
Her fingers glided along his back over his wet shirt, and he realized she was pulling the sopping cloth upward to touch his skin. He could read her thoughts clearly, that she wanted more than this kiss, and Dagan wasn't about to be so noble to refuse her.
But the wolf was growling, and Dagan remembered the gods.
He jerked away from Shamara. "You make me forget myself, princess!"
Not caring that she was naked anymore, she smiled as she closed her eyes and stretched. Dagan had to look away from the tempting sight. "Put on your clothing, princess."
"Why? Do I offend you, Dagan?"
He gritted his teeth. "Put on your clothing." He turned away, and after she made a sound of annoyance, he could hear the rustle of her clothing. "If you are the princess, your imperial parents would be ashamed of you."
"Ha! My father expects me to return to Calabria a married woman. I would guess he doesn't care if we indulge in our pleasures before or after we have said any vows. Now I am ready to discover just what those pleasures are."
"I am not going to marry you," Dagan told her without turning around. "There is another woman that I love."
"Only one?" she asked, her tone sarcastic.
Dagan turned around to look at her. The clothing was clinging to her wet body and he caught himself wondering what it would be like to peel it off. Like the skin of a sweet fruit that he would savor slowly.
Shamara sniffed. "For a man who loves another woman, you think of touching me quite frequently."
"You think just as frequently of the same," he accused her; annoyed that she could read his thoughts. Apparently it was not a trick he could perform exclusively.
"You should take off your clothing," she said.
Dagan gasped. "We are not going to…"
"As much as you would like to, Prince Dagan, we are not going to do anything. But your clothing is wet, and you will catch a chill."
"I'm not going to get sick. This is a dream," he reminded her.
"Is it?" Her brows were raised.
"I can awaken at any time."
Shamara came to him. She was warm while he was beginning to feel a chill from his wet clothing. "If it is just a dream, then why should it matter what we do?" She took the bottom of his shirt and began to drag it upwards. His skin seemed to burn where her fingers touched him.
Despite his resolve, Dagan lowered his head so she could pull his shirt off. "You are playing with fire, princess."
She ran her hands over his chest. "I don't mind a little heat."
He put his hands around her waist and pulled her against him. "You are going to get burned."
Shamara slid her hand around his neck and pulled his head down to hers. "This is only a dream," she whispered against his lips before she pressed hers to his.
Dagan was so lost in the pleasure of her kiss and feeling her hands running over his bare skin that the voice he heard seemed to be coming from many miles away. He shook his head and raised it, only to find himself in the alley, the wretched woman clinging to him, trying to pull his head back down.
"So, you decided to follow my suggestion, wizard."
Dagan jerked his head from the woman and saw Magnar standing over them. He couldn't respond. The woman was wiggling on his lap, and he dared not breathe in the stench from both her and the repulsive leader of the brigands.
Magnar suddenly frowned. "Woman, what did you do to my wizard?"
Magnar's eyes were on his face, and Dagan became aware of a warm trickle down his cheek. He reached up and felt a gash on his head.
The woman scrambled away from him, but Magnar caught her arm. "I did nothing, I swear! I did nothing."
"You will regret your foolishness!"
Although Dagan was stunned, he dragged himself weakly to his feet. He felt strangely chilled. "Stop! I…I must have bumped my head in my…my eagerness."
Magnar responded by throwing back his head in laughter. "If she can make you that impatient, she must be a good lay. Come, woman, and show me what you did for the wizard."
She didn't protest as he dragged her away. Good riddance. His flesh felt filthy from where she had touched him.
Dagan reached up to touch his cheek, noting that it was where Shamara had tried to touch him to use healing powers.
Had it been only a dream?
