Lost in Barbarian Space (2 page)

Honor snagged a towel from a nearby shelf and blotted her face. “Surely you faced worse on old Earth?” Nik and Nera’s expedition to the war-ruined planet that gave life to most of the systems and planets throughout the galaxy was legendary. As were the wild, mutated beasts they’d discovered there.

Nera shot her a bland look. “Let’s hope so. Now, while we’re on Markaria, we’ll be assigned a warrior guide.”

Honor groaned. “I get the impression, from what I’ve read about Markarians, that they like to be in charge.” Not to mention appeared to be more brawn than brains. They carried giant swords, for star’s sake.

“Brandall, all men think they want to be in charge.”

Nera wasn’t wrong. But Honor had seen Nera with Nik. He respected her—her skills, her opinions, her intelligence. If he had trouble letting Nera take the lead in a fight or a security situation, Honor didn’t see it.

“All right,” Nera said. “Let’s go meet some barbarians.”

Honor glanced at the planet again out the window. Weeks with primitive, testosterone-ruled men on an undeveloped, wild planet.

Wonderful.

***

He sensed his prey was close.

Colm Mal Kor crept through the trees, keeping his foot treads silent. The Forest of Brandar, a favorite hunting ground for warriors, rose above him.

The trees had thick trunks, and between them dangled curling vines the size of Colm’s wrists. On the rocky ground, smaller bushes snagged at his fur-lined boots.

Recently, a wulver beast had been reported here. It had slaughtered deer, other forest animals, and attacked a man passing through.

The sound of a twig snapping broke the silence, and Colm stilled. He let his nanami—the tiny organisms that lived within him—free. His senses expanded, information flooding him. He could hear the tiny insects of the forest buzzing, he could feel the warmth of the sun filtering through the trees, and he could smell the rank scent of rotting meat.

The stench of the wulver.

Colm reached over his shoulder. His sword made the slightest noise as he pulled it free of its leather scabbard. The blade was a true warrior’s weapon—long, heavy, with engravings at the hilt. A sword made for a man to use to kill, hunt and protect.

Another sound reached his ears. Heavy breathing. A snort.

The wulver beast charged out of the undergrowth.

It was huge, its back as tall as Colm’s six foot, five inches. It was covered in dark-gray fur, and its elongated jaws were filled with huge fangs and covered in blood.

It reared back on its hind legs, rising above him like a nightmare, and roared.

Colm stayed calm, tightening his grip on his sword. His dual hearts beat a steady rhythm in his chest. He stared at the burning yellow eyes of the enraged beast.

“Today is a good day to die, my wild friend,” Colm said calmly.

It roared again, like it was defying Colm’s words.

Colm raised his sword, his gut hardening. “When we lose the fight with the wild inside, it is time to leave this world…with honor.” He wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or the beast.

The wulver charged at him, and Colm leaped forward with a cry.

He dodged under the beast’s claws, using the increased speed his nanami granted him. He reached up and sank his blade into the underbelly of the wulver, working through the thick, gray fur.

Its roar this time was deafening, echoing through the forest. Colm yanked his sword out, twisting away, and ducked another swinging claw.

Colm thrust the sword into the creature’s side. It caught the edge of the thicker fur, and he had to put more strength behind the blade.

The animal didn’t give up. Wulver beasts were known to become more enraged when they were injured.

Another thrust to the beast’s belly, and the creature fell backward. It was still struggling to rise, to fight, its yellow eyes fixed on Colm.

Colm wiped the blood off his sword on the beast’s fur and knelt beside the dying animal. “May you hunt well in the next life.”

When the creature breathed its last breath, Colm closed his eyes. He felt a deep, helpless sorrow, and as his nanami surged, threatening to break his control, he tightened his jaw and fought back the restless fury.

There was the sound of pounding footsteps and a body barreled out of the trees. Colm’s best friend pulled up, coming to a halt next to him.

Kavon scowled. “You killed it already and left nothing for me.” He lowered his massive sword.

Kavon was dressed like Colm, in black, leather trousers, with just a leather harness crossing his chest. The harness held Kavon’s sword scabbard to his back. Around his wrists were gold cuffs topped with gray fur. They were from a preda wolf, and matched the ones Colm wore on his own wrists. He’d been there the day Kavon had taken down the great beast…and Colm had killed his own. They’d been twelve.

Kavon’s golden-brown gaze zeroed in on Colm. There was a shrewd intelligence there, and an unwavering determination. It was those qualities that had made Colm pledge allegiance to this man, far more than Kavon’s legendary sword arm.

Colm was so very sorry that soon, he would have to break that allegiance.

Colm shook off his bad feelings and hid them behind a smile. “I’m sure there are some ground hares to be found.”

Kavon muttered a curse.

Colm’s smile turned real. No warrior would ever deign to hunt hare.

“Maybe mated life has made you slow, my friend.” Colm pressed his tongue to his teeth and finished cleaning his sword. “A beautiful woman in your bed has made you lazy. You need to be faster next time.”

Kavon snorted. “I think you are jealous, Colm. You cavort with whatever female takes your interest and toss her out of your bed the next day. You cannot seem to hold on to one. I’ll take Aurina in my bed every night to hunting a wulver any day.”

Colm liked the free-spirited skyflyer Kavon had claimed as his, but Colm knew he would never have a woman of his own.

Couldn’t ever claim a bondmate.

His gut hardened, like a rock had settled there. He sucked in a breath. It didn’t matter. He enjoyed a variety of pretty females when it suited him.

“How about we get this wulver home? You have your grand feast to prepare for.”

Together, they hefted the beast up, and set off through the trees.

“The skyflyer ship from the Institute of Historical Preservation is already in orbit,” Kavon said. “It is an honor to have them here to study and learn more about the First Warriors.”

Colm already knew. Everyone in the village, across Kavon’s lands and beyond, had been talking about it. It made Colm scowl. He’d known Kavon’s mate, Aurina, would change their lives, but he didn’t have to love it. Kavon and their King, Corant Mal Rann, were controlling outside access to Markaria, trading for advanced technology—like medscopes, that could cure all manner of injuries and disease, and personal computer devices like Syncs.

But Colm was a warrior. He lived to ensure the security of his people, and knowing there were more advanced peoples out there—and some of them were interested in his world—made him uneasy.

“They want to explore our world,” Kavon continued. “And I want you to lead them. I’m assigning you to be their guide and protect them.”

Colm stopped. “No.”

“Colm—”

“No.” Colm shook his head and stared at Kavon. “I am not a babysitter.”

And he had his own issues—issues he’d kept secret from Kavon—that would only be exacerbated by outside influence.

Kavon tugged on his end of the wulver and they kept walking. The tense silence was only broken by their heavy treads.

They cleared the trees and ahead their two hargon beasts waited, grazing on the grassland where they’d left them. The large, muscular animals were favored by warriors. With their tough, black, leather-like skin, sharp horns atop their heads, and spikes down the back of their long necks, they were excellent animals for a warrior to ride into war or a fight.

“Colm, you are my friend and my best warrior. Aurina’s cousin is the leader of this group and I need you to ensure he doesn’t get eaten by a darken beast or get lost in the Darken Wilds. Our world is not what they are used to.” The warlord turned to look out across the meadow.

Colm followed his gaze. In the distance, the spiked peaks of the Grimore Mountains in the Darken Wilds were visible. The Wilds were a dangerous place, especially at night. They were home to all manner of beasts and desperate raiders. Kavon also had mines there and his warriors worked hard to protect the miners.

The highest, most jagged peak caught Colm’s attention. Mount Furioso. It was where their ancestors, the First Warriors—explorers from old Earth—had crash-landed thousands of years ago. It was where they had gone on to use their advanced technology to create the nanami and give birth to the modern-day Markarians, from the wild, primitive animals they’d been before.

With Aurina’s help, they’d discovered the crash site of the First Warriors’ ship on a wild, daring adventure into the Wilds that had almost cost Kavon his life.

But that dangerous quest had also gained Colm’s friend his mate, and the Terran treasures they’d found, including the legendary sword, Durendal.

“Who is this cousin of Aurina’s?” Colm asked reluctantly. He’d never let his friend down before, and he didn’t plan to start today.

Colm took the wulver beast from Kavon and hefted it over the back of his hargon. The animal snorted steam in protest.

“Niklas Phoenix,” Kavon answered. “He is an astro-archeologist. He studies history and works for the Institute. His woman travels with him…as head of his security.”

Colm raised his brows. “His woman is his security?”

A small smile flashed on Kavon’s usually serious face. Since Aurina had come into his life, Kavon had shed much of the darkness of his childhood and smiled more frequently.

“Apparently. If Aurina has taught us anything, it is that women are capable of doing more things than we’ve ever imagined.”

Colm coughed to hide a laugh. Aurina did not let her warrior get away with riding over her, or ordering her around. Kavon had gotten very good at asking nicely—something with which most warlords had great difficulty.

Markarian women were the lifeblood of their society. Colm was well aware that, apart from their soft skin and delicious smells, women ran and contributed to most aspects of Markarian life. The head of Kavon’s mines was a woman, his head healer and scholar was a woman… Colm knew better than to underestimate a female. But they were not as physically strong as warriors, even with their nanami, and they were rarely warriors.

Colm scraped a hand through his long hair. “I still think I am better off here, training the warriors, rather than traipsing around the Wilds with these skyflyers.”

“I am still your warlord, Colm,” Kavon said quietly. “Besides, you have been training more lately than ever before. The warriors complain you drive them into the ground.” Kavon’s intense gaze drilled into him. “You keep driving yourself to be better, to hone your skills and your control.”

“As any dedicated warrior does, warlord.” This was a topic he wasn’t going to discuss with his friend.

“You know I hate it when you ‘warlord’ me. Anyway, you don’t have time to wiggle out of this assignment…they are due here on the hour. Will probably be waiting for us when we return to the estate.”

Kavon slapped Colm on the shoulder. “Come, let’s get this wulver beast back to be skinned and the meat delivered to the kitchens. Then you will need to prepare your sword.”

Colm frowned. “Why? I don’t need my sword to eat a feast.”

“I have promised our visitors a sword-fighting display before the feast. A fitting welcome to Markaria, don’t you think?” Kavon swung up onto his hargon beast.

Colm groaned and grabbed the reins of his hargon.
The Great Warrior grant me patience
. He heaved out a breath. The training he had planned, followed by a quiet dinner and possibly talking a willing female into his bed, looked like a distant dream.

Now, he would have to spend his time entertaining goggle-eyed outsiders who considered him a dumb, unthinking, fighting machine.

He nudged his hargon into a fast pace. Hopefully he could ride out his frustrations and at least face the skyflyers with his famous warrior control intact.

Chapter Two

Colm stood by Kavon’s side in the great hall. His hair was still wet from washing, and he was wearing new leather trousers—ones not stained with the blood of his hunt.

With his enhanced hearing, he could tell a group was approaching from the corridor outside. Footsteps and quiet murmurs.

Aurina entered first. The former deep-space scout was smiling, her pale skin glowing and her sunset-colored hair falling around her shoulders. When her gaze fell on her bondmate, her smile widened. Today, she was wearing typical Markarian dress—a leather corset and a long skirt that hit at mid-calf. She usually wore trousers and shirts, but she’d had to accommodate for the growing mound of her belly.

Kavon was going to be a father. Colm slid his hands behind his back, his fingers lacing tightly together. He was happy for his friend. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Kavon. But the idea was like salt into a wound Colm didn’t even know he had.

Colm would never be a father.

Aurina’s laughter brought Colm back. When Kavon wasn’t dragging her to their rooms, she spent most of her time helping with Kavon’s mining operations. The woman was fascinated with rocks, and now assisted the mining superintendent.

The man who followed Aurina into the hall was tall and broad across the shoulders, with dark hair. This had to be Niklas Phoenix. If he’d been born on Markaria, he would have been a warrior. To think he was a scholar was strange. His blue gaze moved around the hall in a way that told Colm the man had catalogued everything in an instant.

For a second, Colm didn’t really pay attention to the woman by Phoenix’s side, but once Colm focused on her, he wondered how he hadn’t noticed her the second she’d moved into the hall.

She moved like the darken beasts. A smooth, steady glide with the promise she could explode into action. She wore some sort of dark armor that molded to her tall, slim form. Markarians all had dark shades of hair and dark bronze skin. This woman had hair like moonlight and eyes the color of jewels in a box.