The Captive

  "Find me a suitable woman," Niklaus said. "And then find my wife. When you do, bring her to Arkata. Make sure no one sees you."

  With a nod, Drade left the room.

  Niklaus went to the window and gazed out into the darkness of the Hodorian night. Where was she? And what was he going to do with her when she was found? He shied away from the obvious answer but, in the end, he knew he would have no choice. Once she signed the mine over to him, he would have no further use for her. She would be just another loose end.

  He blew out a sigh, wondering how things had gone so wrong so quickly. It had all started out innocently enough— a casual conversation with the Cenian ambassador, who was eager to be part of the Confederation, eager to fuel his ships at Tierde, rather than make the long journey to Ohnmahr. Brezor had mentioned that if Hassrick would put in a good word with Marcus and the other members of the Mining Confederation, he would make it worth his while.

  It had been a way out, and Hassrick had jumped at it. Unbeknownst to his father, he had made several bad investments, had borrowed credits and cash he could not afford to repay. Because of that, his family was on the brink of losing everything they had worked for, everything they owned. All Hassrick had to do was convince Marcus to admit Cenia to the Confederation. Hassrick had agreed, confident of his ability to convince his future father-in-law to see things his way. Brezor had cleared Hassrick's debts and made a large deposit to Hassrick's private account. It had all seemed so easy, until Marcus refused to admit the Cenians to the Confederation.

  In desperation, he had gone to Drade. It had been Drade who suggested the attack on Tierde. Invite Ashlynne to Arkata. Attack the mine. Marry the girl, and the mine would be his. The Cenian ambassador could have access to Tierde and the baneite crystals and all would be well. Hassrick had been appalled by the idea, but, in the end, he had agreed. But the attack hadn't gone as planned, either. Due to an error in timing, the attack had taken place a week early. He had thought all was lost, and then, as if by miracle, Ashlynne had showed up. But even that had gone wrong. He had never been eager to marry her, but on meeting her, he had been smitten by her beauty, by her apparent innocence, only to discover that she was soiled goods, no better than a Hodorian streetwalker. Worse, she had stubbornly refused to give him the mine.

  Nothing had gone as planned.

  Only now, when it was too late, did he begin to wonder if perhaps Drade had had an agenda of his own.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Ashlynne turned on her side and ran her foot up and down Falkon's leg. She had been a little embarrassed when it came time to go to bed and Darf had asked if they wanted to share a room. She'd felt her cheeks grow hot when Falkon grinned at his friend and replied, "What do you think?" She couldn't help wondering what Darf and Chaney thought, but she didn't really care. She wanted nothing more than to be with Falkon, to hold him in her arms. She ran her fingertips over his cheek, along his jaw, and down his neck.

  "I guess you're glad to be rid of that awful collar," she mused aloud.

  He grunted softly. "You have no idea."

  "Have you always been a warrior?"

  "I guess so." He grinned into the darkness. A warrior. He liked the sound of that. He wasn't sure if he was a warrior, but he had always been a fighter.

  "Haven't you ever wanted to do anything else?"

  "I don't think I know how to do anything else."

  "How long are we going to stay here?"

  "I don't know. Why? Do you want to leave?"

  "No. I just… What are we going to do about Niklaus, about—"

  "About what?"

  "About us?"

  Falkon grinned at her. "Is that a marriage proposal?"

  She made a face at him. "Of course not," she said tartly.

  "Another hope crushed," he muttered. "Though I can't blame you. I'm no prize, that's for damn sure."

  "Stop that. I think you're wonderful."

  "You just like me."

  "Yes," she said solemnly. "I do. Tell me everything will work out. Tell me we'll always be together, no matter what."

  "Ah, sweetheart, I wish I could promise you that."

  "Tell me," she said, blinking back her tears, "even if it's a lie."

  "We'll always be together." Lifting one hand, he wiped her tears away. "Don't cry, sweetheart."

  "I love you," she whispered. "I love you so much."

  "I know," he said. "I know." He kissed her lightly. "I love you, too, princess."

  She grinned at him through her tears. "Don't call me that."

  He drew her closer. "I don't know what's going to happen in the future, Ashlynne, but if it's up to me, I'll never let you go."

  "Never?"

  "Never."

  It was a promise and a wish wrapped in a single word.

  They spent a pleasant week with Darf and Chaney, and yet Ashlynne could feel the underlying restlessness that plagued Falkon. Often, late at night, she woke to find him pacing the floor, or standing at the window, staring out into the darkness. She told herself there was nothing to worry about, that it would just take some time for him to adjust to being free, but she knew, deep down inside, that he was worried. And so was she. Niklaus would look for them, of that she was certain. He wanted the mine, and he wouldn't rest until it was his. Until they resolved things with Niklaus, they couldn't return to Tierde. Nor could they go to Daccar. Without being told, she knew that Niklaus would have people there, waiting, just in case Falkon decided to return to his home. Her biggest fear was that Falkon would decide to go back to Tierde, to confront Niklaus face-to-face.

  "Ashlynne?"

  "Did you say something? I'm sorry, I guess my mind was elsewhere."

  Chaney smiled. "It wasn't important. Are you feeling all right?"

  "Yes, fine."

  "Something is bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?"

  "No. Yes." Ashlynne sighed. "It's Falkon."

  "He's not happy here?"

  "No, it's not that. He's just… restless."

  Chaney nodded. "Yes, I've sensed that. He's free from the mine, from the restraints, but he still feels trapped. Helpless."

  "Yes, exactly. He hasn't said so, but I think he wants to go home."

  "That's not hard to understand. Don't we all long for home, wherever it might be?"

  "Yes, I suppose so. My mother…" Ashlynne hesitated as the pain of her mother's loss stabbed through her again. "My mother was from Earth. She always hoped to go back for a visit, but there was never time. And now…"

  Chaney's eyes filled with sympathy and understanding. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "You and Falkon have been through so much. You're lucky, to have found each other."

  "Yes. I love him more than he'll ever know."

  "That's easy to see."

  "Is it?

  "Oh, yes. I can see it in your eyes whenever you look at him, the way you need to touch him."

  Ashlynne felt her cheeks grow warm. "I wasn't aware that it was so obvious."

  "I recognize it only because I have felt it myself."

  Ashlynne glanced at the clock. "How much longer do you think they'll be gone?"

  "Not long."

  Ashlynne nodded. Falkon and Darf had gone into the city to see if they could learn anything more about the attack on the mine. She had wanted to go along, but Falkon had insisted she stay home with Chaney. She had never liked waiting. She hadn't realized quite how much until now. Where was he?

  Falkon lifted his glass and sipped his drink. If the informer they'd found was to be believed, Hodore was innocent of the attack on the mine.

  "What about the two Hodorians I saw?" Falkon asked.

  The informer, whose name was Kye, glanced around. He was a little man, with pale skin and enormous golden eyes. Leaning forward, he drew his cloak more closely about him.

  "Imposters," Kye whispered. "Cenians disguised as Hodorian soldiers."

  Falkon grunted softly as he remembered the day after the attack. They had stopped at
a pool to drink and Ashlynne had washed her hands. She'd had some sort of greenish powder under her fingernails. She hadn't known what it was and he'd been too worried about getting away to give it much thought at the time.

  "Do you know who organized the attack?" Darf asked.

  Kye nodded, his gaze darting into the far corners of the room. "I have a name."

  Falkon leaned across the table. "What is it?"

  "It will cost extra."

  "We've already given you five hundred credits," Darf exclaimed. "What more do you want?"

  "Five hundred more."

  "Done," Falkon said. "Give me the name."

  "Drade."

  Falkon swore softly. Drade, always Drade.

  Kye shifted nervously in his seat, his restless gaze moving around the room.

  "Can you tell me anything else?" Falkon asked.

  Kye shook his head. "I've said enough." He pushed back his chair, preparing to leave.

  "Not so fast." Falkon's hand snaked out, closing around the little man's forearm. "Has the name Hassrick come up in any of this?"

  "Hassrick? Niklaus or Rugen?"

  "Either one."

  Kye settled into his chair once more. "I have heard that the young Hassrick needs money very badly to repay a debt. I have heard that his family stands on the brink of ruin."

  "Go on."

  "No, no, I can tell you no more."

  "Listen, you slimy little weasel, I've given you a thousand credits," Falkon said, tightening his hold on Kye's wrist. "You'll tell me everything you know, or I'll break your arm, and then your neck."

  "They are in it together," Kye said. "Hassrick, Drade, and the Cenian ambassador."

  "The Cenian ambassador," Darf said. "What's he got to do with this?"

  Kye shook his head. "I know not. I only know the three of them were seen together on Hodore, both before and after the attack."

  "It just gets better all the time," Falkon muttered.

  Kye stared at Falkon. "You have something Hassrick wants very badly. Be careful."

  "Why are you telling me this?"

  "You fought on Riga Twelve."

  Falkon nodded.

  "I was there."

  "During the fight?"

  "Yes. You saved my life."

  Darf slammed his fist on the table. "He saved your life, yet you charged him a thousand credits for information? What kind of low life scum are you?"

  "I have a family to feed," Kye said. "And I know that Falkon's woman can well afford the cost."

  "It's all right, Darf," Falkon said. He released his hold on Kye's arm. "Go on, get out of here."

  The little man needed no urging. Huddling deeper into his cloak, the cowl pulled close around his face, he moved slowly toward the door, looking neither right nor left.

  "Well," Darf said. "That was interesting."

  "Yeah. It all makes sense now."

  "It does? How about explaining it to me?"

  "Hassrick needed money. Cenia has been trying to find a way into the Confederation so they don't have to go all the way to Ohnmahr for fuel. Not only is it a long journey, but the crystals of Ohrnahr lack the strength and longevity of those mined on Tierde."

  "Where does Drade fit in?"

  "I'm not sure, but I think he must be the middleman. Cenia probably promised him a place of power in exchange for his help. Ashlynne's father refused to consider accepting Cenia into the Confederation, so Hassrick decided to get rid of Myrafloures. Ashlynne was supposed to be on Trellis when the mine was attacked, but somebody got the dates wrong."

  Falkon grunted softly as the pieces seemed to fall into place. "No wonder Hassrick was so eager for the marriage to take place. With Ashlynne still alive, Romariz couldn't take over the mine, and he still had a chance to fulfil his bargain with the Cenians."

  "Falkon…"

  "What?"

  Darf lowered his voice. "I think we're being watched."

  "Where?"

  "The three men at the end of the bar. They've been watching us for quite some time."

  Falkon leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms out to the side, as if he were working the kinks out of his back. From the corner of his eye, he could see three men in long dark coats standing at the far end of the bar near the door. "Got 'em."

  "Do you recognize any of them?"

  "The one on the right. His name's Roge. He works for Drade. I want him alive."

  Darf muttered an oath. "Why is it this happens every time you show up?"

  "You're just lucky, I guess," Falkon replied with a devil-may-care grin. "Think how dull your life would be without me."

  "Nothing wrong with dull," Darf retorted. "I like dull."

  Falkon stood up and moved toward the door. "You coming?"

  Darf sucked in a deep breath and exhaled in a long sigh. "What do you think?" He stood up, muttering, "Chaney's gonna be madder than a Hordorian hellcat."

  Moving casually, Falkon walked toward the door. Darf paid the bill, then followed Falkon outside.

  "Have you got a weapon?" Darf asked.

  "Stunner. You?"

  "I'm always armed when I go anywhere with you," Darf replied dryly.

  Falkon grinned. He could feel the adrenaline flowing.

  "They're coming," Darf whispered.

  "I hear 'em."

  "You got a plan?"

  Falkon shook his head and continued walking. "Where does this street go?"

  "Branches off a few yards down. If you go left, it leads into the business district. The other way leads into a dead end."

  "Okay, the dead end it is."

  "Let's hope it isn't," Darf muttered bleakly.

  The alley was long and dark. A high wooden fence blocked the far end. Falkon went halfway down and moved to the left; Darf moved to the right.

  The three men paused at the head of the alley. They conferred a minute, then two of them entered the alley. The third waited on the street.

  Falkon stood with his back to the wall, listening. The two men walked quietly, pausing every few seconds. There was the sound of a scuffle, followed by a grunt. The second man passed in front of him, and there was no time to wonder if Darf had won or lost. He fired the stunner. In the flare of light that followed, he saw Darf standing over the other man, his golden eyes gleaming. He glanced at the alley entrance and saw that the third man was gone.

  "That was too easy," Darf said. "I don't like it."

  "Yeah." Falkon looked at the man he'd stunned. It wasn't Roge. Neither was the man sprawled at Darf's feet. "Did you kill him?"

  Darf shook his head. "No," he answered with some regret. "Do you want me to?"

  "No. Let's go home."

  "The women? Are we going to tell them about this?"

  "No, I don't think so."

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Darf's dwelling was dark when they arrived, and Falkon knew, deep in his gut, that the house was empty.

  Darf paused and sniffed the air. "Someone's been here."

  "Yeah," Falkon muttered, and knew that the men in the bar hadn't been sent to spy on them or to kill them, but to delay them. "Drade."

  Darf turned to face him, his pale yellow eyes glowing in the dark. "Drade?"

  Falkon nodded. "They've taken the women."

  With an oath, Darf turned and ran toward the house. Flinging open the door, he darted inside. "Chaney? Chaney!"

  A cold dark anger settled over Falkon as he followed Darf into the house. He stood inside the door, waiting, listening to Darf's footsteps as he went from room to room calling his wife's name.

  "They're gone." Darf's voice. Flat. Empty. "What do we do now?"

  "We go to Trellis."

  Darf didn't ask why. Going to a small closet, he withdrew a pair of weapons and tossed one to Falkon. "Let's go."

  Ashlynne sat close to Chaney, taking comfort from the other woman's nearness. She lifted a hand to her neck, her fingers exploring the thick lynaziam collar. How had Falkon endured it for so long? She felt as
if she was choking. Every time she moved her head, she felt the edge cutting into her skin. The shackles on her hands and feet were equally heavy and uncomfortable.