Read Traveller's Refuge Online
Authors: Anny Cook
Traveller's Refuge
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Traveller’s Refuge
ISBN 9781419910593
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Traveller’s Refuge Copyright © 2007 Anny Cook
Edited by Helen Woodall.
Photography and cover art by Les Byerley.
Electronic book Publication August 2007
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Traveller’s Refuge
Anny Cook
Dedication
For my children, Daniel, Anthony, Julie and Jennifer because they always said, “Never give up.”
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Band-Aid: Johnson and Johnson Corporation
Chevy: General Motors Corporation
Explorer: Ford Motor Company Corporation
Nike: Nike, Incorporated Corporation
Ravens: Baltimore Ravens Limited Partnership Baltimore Football LLC
Scrabble: Hasbro, Incorporated Corporation
Snickers: Mars, Incorporated Corporation
Toyota: Toyota Jidosha Kabushiki TA Toyota Motor Corporation
Yahtzee: Hasbro, Incorporated Corporation
Ziploc: S.C. Johnson Home Storage, Incorporated Corporation
Mystic Valley Glossary
attachment
: natural mind bond that does not require pledging rite
barbahla
: flat bread
birth
-
rite
: special rite performed at the oath-binding to facilitate immediate pregnancy
bohras
: wild pigs, very dangerous to hunt thus requiring a large hunting party
bond
mate
: individuals joined by pledging and oath-binding or covenant bond
burda
: time during which an embryo develops mental talents. Parents spend this time joined in sexual union
chinkas
: jeweled clasps awarded to warriors for the required twenty-five braids their hair is confined in. Five colors indicate the warrior’s particular specialties or training
covenant
bond
: bond joining individuals who will not be producing children together, such as
garzhan
couples or third or fourth partners
cucazhas
: vegetable similar to a cucumber or zucchini, type of squash
dinti
: one of the four nonhuman sentient species in the valley—resembles a large dog with extremely long hair. The hair is saved and used for weaving of bonding blankets.
Dintis
often companion young human females
drackas
: wild onions—will not grow as a cultivar
drang
: one of the four nonhuman sentient species in the valley—a small dragon, said to be the forerunner and advisor of the next high clan chief
eight
-
day
: one week
firka
: one of the four non-human sentient species in the valley—a gerbil-hamster-like creature that mostly lives in and weeds gardens
flicknives
: long-bladed wavy-edged throwing knives worn in sheathes on the leg. When thrown they spin like a drill
foltins
: wild potatoes—cannot be cultivated
garzhan
: non-heterosexual
garzhinka
: crude expression for sexual activity
gilly fish
: glittering green fish similar to trout
grimahr
: very large wild catlike carnivore that has various combinations of blue-green, blue-purple or green-purple stripes
grimahr dance
: formalized series of fighting stances that are performed in sequence. Each series can be used both offensively and defensively
hopper
: small animal similar to a rabbit or guinea pig that is raised for food
hot rocks
: briquettes similar to charcoal that can be extinguished with water and reused. Mostly used for cooking
hurka
s: round domed tents fashioned from a variety of materials
jloni
: any adult in a bonded group who is not the biological parent of the children—analogous to a step-parent
jlonijai
: lineage, family line
katuazha
: caretaker for a healer, normally a sibling
kroniche
: leather armor or vest usually armed with tiny throwing knives in sheathes on chest
kzusha
: penis
light stone
: naturally occurring stones incorporated into all lamps in valley. They require no external power
linual
: reed paper
malzhal tree
: tree with very hard, ironlike black glittering wood used specifically for looms
meerlim
: female dress—wraparound with two fastenings at waist. May be sleeveless or have sleeves
mhital
: milking movement at orgasm by cervix—aids fertility chances
moorash disease
: disease carried by cannibalistic
grimahrs
—transferred by biting—usually fatal to humans
morkert
: lawgiver, justice, arbitrator
oath
-
binding
: blood rite to bond heterosexual couple after pledging rite
packit
s: one of the four nonhuman sentient species in the valley—small cats in a variety of colors who often companion young human males
peekie
: blue or green bird similar to a chicken and utilized in much the same manner for meat and eggs
pilkie bug
: small furry blue bug that curls when frightened, usually found in compost heaps
pledging rite
: rite to begin mind bond, must be completed prior to oath-binding
pocco nuts
: coconut, coconut tree
punchbow
: type of crossbow, armed with as many as five heavy bolts and worn on forearm. In the hands of an experienced warrior can be fired while spinning in a circle
quoltania
: blue fruit tree used for a variety of things—cooking, tea, scents, flavoring
rapport
: deep mind bonding, usually reserved for bond mates because of its intimacy, but known also between twins
reefah
: plant that yields oil used for weapons care
rowan
: horse-cow type of animal used for meat, milk, dairy. Produces great quantities of manure used by farmers
schalzah
: a sexual frenzy usually triggered by delayed oath-binding or a twin pregnancy
schalzina
: female biological preparation for oath-binding and pregnancy. If sexual contact with the bond mate is denied either through a delayed oath-binding or loss of mate, schalzina can escalate to life threatening levels with cramping, bleeding, and miscarriage if a pregnancy is involved. Schalzina continues for the duration of the pregnancy.
schalzintelo
: a very rare form of mind frenzy triggered by a delayed covenant bond between twin-bond twins
schela
: ring of muscle in vagina that locks around the head of the penis preventing withdrawal
semtorn
: initial sponsor in the valley, individual who administers enzyme through a bite that is required for long-term survival in the valley. Enzyme transfer must be performed during a bonding rite
sharda
: men’s kiltlike garment—not plaid
shera
: men’s wraparound shirt. When made of heavy fabric it may serve as a coat
sim
: very mild alcoholic drink similar to ale
singing stones
: flat disks fashioned from
chinka
material that are used to capture any audio sound—played back by spinning the disk
slith
: tiny decorative knife worn as a hair ornament by warriors, given in recognition of special events in the warrior’s life, used in the oath-binding ceremony
wachaz
: thorny bush. Leaves are used for tea to relieve cramping particularly for
schalzina
, bark is used for tea to relieve headache
wolvala
: species of wild wolf
woolie
: species of sheep. Wool used for clothing, meat for food
Cast of Characters
Llewellyn Family
Baron Merlyn Llewellyn: father
Jade: mother
Children, in order: Epona (called Eppie), Tyger, Llyon, Wrenna, Arano, Arturo, Robyn, Wolfe, Hawke, Falcon, Panther, Llynx, Cougar and Gazelle
Bishop Llewellyn: Merlyn’s brother
Out-valley Characters
Traveller Devereaux: Wrenna’s bond mate
Dancer Devereaux: Traveller’s brother and Eppie’s bond mate
Fremont Llewellyn (usually called Free): Baron’s estranged father, head of the government agency that employs Traveller and Dancer Devereaux
Teacher, Tracer, and Raven: Traveller and Dancer’s siblings
Carl DeMarko: hunter sent to retrieve Traveller and Dancer for Free Llewellyn
Tiffany DeMarko: Free Llewellyn’s lover, Bishop Llewellyn’s lover.
Mystic Valley Inhabitants—Lost Market Village
Dai Janusai: healer, senior warrior, third in covenant bond with Merlyn and Jade
Homer Brown: abusive out-valley man who settled in valley
Silence Brown: Dai’s daughter and Homer Brown’s bond mate
Marta Ewell: midwife who delivered most of the Llewellyn children
Dan Miller: village baker
Eron Burns: village butcher
Noah Jones: barter keeper
Micah Jollye: blacksmith
Mystic Valley Recent Immigrants
Hamilton and Rebaccah McCrory: scientist and wife who fled to the valley to escape Free Llewellyn
McCrory children: Elizabeth, Samara, Qwenna, and Andrew
Nathan and Morgana Taylor: Hamilton’s coworker and wife who also fled to the valley to escape Free Llewellyn
Taylor children: Joshua, Jacob, and Sapphira
Locations
Bright Shadows Mountains: mythical mountains placed in the general area of West Virginia, USA
Dai’s Hamlet: village halfway between Lost Market and Talking Wall
Dai’s Retreat: home that Dai built near Dai’s Hamlet so that he might visit his grandchildren there more easily. Frequently used as a summer home by the Llewellyn children.
Deep Meadow: huge meadow southeast of Lost Market where village children sometimes play
Elyria: one of the numerous bonding cottages where newly bonded couples spend the first three months of their bonding in privacy
Lost Market: primary village in Mystic Valley. Most inhabitants of Lost Market are recent immigrants to Mystic Valley or their immediate descendents.
Mystic Valley: hidden valley reached only through a series of tunnels that appear and disappear intermittently. Once in Mystic Valley, there is no known exit.
Needle Rock: the Judgment Seat. Located near Lost Market, this tall rock spire is the place where valley miscreants are taken for judgment.
Rebaccah’s Promise: village far to the north, near Talking Wall
Shadow Lake: deep, very cold lake that borders the southwest wall of the valley
Stonehollow: one of the numerous bonding cottages where newly bonded couples spend the first three months of their bonding in privacy
Talking Wall: enormous hanging wall on far north side of the valley. It is covered with palm-sized glyphs that contain the history, laws and customs of the valley. Much of it is in the “old” language of the valley. Archivists work full time to translate the information on the wall.
Prologue
Hundred-mile-an-hour wind-driven rain lashed the squat concrete-block building where the small group of survivors huddled in the shadows. Typhoon Kiko had inundated the lowlands of southern coastal Vietnam with a raging storm surge and heavy rains and the shrieking winds drowned out every other sound. Traveller squatted in a dark corner, wryly wondering what demon was responsible for him being in the Far East during the worst typhoon of the season. A muffled crash outside heralded the loss of another tree. Inside, the other people drew closer together and shivered in the damp air.
The shacks surrounding the two-story block building had disintegrated in the first blast of the storm, releasing debris that turned into a deadly hail of missiles that hit the building with terrifying whomps. Trav figured they would all be incredibly lucky to survive, especially when—not if—the rickety roof went. Already the initial storm surge had flooded the first floor halfway up the stairs and it was still rising.
Pulling his battered backpack to the space between his knees, he rummaged beneath his rumpled clothes for one of the granola bars his brother Dancer had made for him. He always carried them instead of candy bars because in the steamy heat of the Far East chocolate melted. His fingers brushed against his gun, wrapped securely in a t-shirt and a Ziploc bag. Another bag that contained his personal papers slipped down below it. He shoved that aside and plucked the bag of food bars from the bottom, a small wry grin flashing very briefly across his face. It never failed, no matter how carefully he packed, the food always ended up on the bottom.
He fished a small square from the jam-packed bag, popped it into his mouth and resealed the bag before tossing it back into his pack. Munching quietly, he contemplated the possibilities and advantages of retirement. One—he wouldn’t be likely to find himself in the middle of nowhere in a typhoon. Two—he would be able to have a real life with real friends and maybe even a woman of his own. Three—when the imaginary woman or friends asked him what he did for a living, he would be able to tell them the truth instead of lying to cover the fact that he killed people. Even though the government sanctioned the hits, that didn’t help. Killing destroyed the soul and heart. If it didn’t, you were already dead. Of course, sometimes there were people out there more than willing to help you on your way. He wondered how many of the ambushes he’d survived in the past week were set up by his boss. It was one way to avoid paying retirement benefits.
The howl outside picked up in intensity. Across the room, a little girl sitting on her mother’s lap stared at him with huge dark wounded eyes. He wished he could reassure her but everyone in the room was a stranger and he didn’t dare risk leaving his bag unattended. With his back braced against the wall, he slid down until his jeans-clad butt rested on the floor and wearily leaned his head back, tilting his battered ball cap down so that the bill hid his deep blue eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an uninterrupted night of sleep.
He thought about his brother, Dancer, and wondered what he was doing. He knew that Dance had already informed his agent, Jake, that he wasn’t going to tour again when this one was done. Dance was tired of the concerts and fans and his own assignments from their boss, Free Llewellyn. If he didn’t get out of the business of assassination soon, he would have no soul left.
Abruptly the wind dropped to a sigh. In the corner, a man muttered about the storm finally ending and Trav repositioned his cap to cover his vibrant strawberry blond hair before he shook his head. “It’s just the eye. In a little while it will start back up, worse than ever,” he said in fractured French.
The little girl’s mother nodded agreement. The man cursed beneath his breath and stood up. “I’m going up to the roof to see what’s going on,” he announced almost belligerently.
Trav shrugged. The woman gave the man a puzzled frown. “Why? Everything is flooded and we have no boat. Where would we go? We must wait here for help.”
Without bothering to reply, the man stomped out the door, slamming it behind him. The others settled down, taking advantage of the lull of the storm to rearrange their belongings and get more comfortable. Someone got the bright idea of using the restroom and in slow trickles they made the trip down the gloomy hall and back. With no water to flush, Trav didn’t even want to think what it must smell like by the time the last one finished.
The woman arranged two folded blankets on the floor to make a pallet and helped her little girl get comfortable for a nap. Another older woman dug in her deep string bag and brought out two bananas, a papaya and a mangosteen. With a shy smile, she offered them to the others in the group. A man that Trav assumed was perhaps the little girl’s father located a dusty in-box on a desk in the corner. He carefully wiped it off and then covered it with a clean sheet of paper. Taking out his pocketknife, he peeled and sliced the fruit in sections before arranging it on the tray. One by one the others helped themselves to the treat, though Trav declined with a smile. From bitter experience, he had learned never to eat anything he hadn’t prepared himself—especially when he was in the field.
His knees cramped and he slowly straightened his long legs until they were flat on the floor. Sitting there with his back against the wall he listened intently to the storm suddenly intensify. In seconds the wailing wind was howling and shrieking around the corners of the building from the other direction. No one commented on the fact that the man who had gone to the roof had never returned. Trav hoped he had ID on him so they could identify him if they found the body.
He took a deep breath, then let it go as he pulled his legs up close to his body and wedged his size twelve Nikes flat on the floor. Damn, his ribs hurt! Tucking his bag beneath his bent knees, he leaned his head back and allowed his eyes to shut. He was so weary and a long way from home.
* * * * *
When rescuers finally arrived, it was a damp, bedraggled group that that greeted them with dull relief. The flooding was devastating and everything in the area except the building they occupied was gone or underwater. Helicopters airlifted them from the shredded tatters of the roof—children, women and finally the remaining men. Trav was the last one hauled aboard.
When his head cleared the doorway, he found a pistol trained on him dead center. Lifting his tired eyes, he saw the face of a man he could have sworn was a friend. “Welcome aboard, nest egg,” Marco said cheerfully in Cherokee.
“I’m not sure I want to,” Trav replied dryly in the same language. “It doesn’t sound as though the ride is going to have a happy ending for me.” He noted the safety on Marco’s weapon was on and flashed a glance at the others slumped in the copter. “You figure we’ve got ears?”
“Ears, eyes and itchy fingers.” Like an Old West gunslinger, Marco twirled his pistol over his finger and settled it in the waistband of his battered jeans. “Lucky for you, I’m the one that drew this little rescue mission. Llewellyn put out a contract on you, amigo. Big bucks. Dead or alive.”
Trav’s gut tightened. “Dancer?”
“Did a Houdini last week. Walked right out of a concert hall in Berlin under their collective noses, carrying his violin and guitar cases. On top of that, he was dressed in his western getup complete with black cowboy hat and boots. Llewellyn is
pissed
.” Marco settled back against the open doorway and pulled Trav up next to him with Trav’s bag between them. “They’ll be waiting for you back at the drop-off point. They have a pretty good description too. What happened to your hair?”
“I tucked it under my windbreaker.”
“Fuck! I thought you cut it off! Good thing you’re wearing a cap. That red hair of yours is like a beacon. You have somewhere you want us to set you down?”
“How far are you going?”
“Da Nang but they’ve got that sewn up good, buddy.” He stared at Trav with worried eyes. “You wouldn’t make it ten feet.”
Trav concentrated, pitting one option against another. “Drop me at the crossroads north of Quy Nho’n,” he said in sudden decision. “I’ll make my own way from there.”
Marco shook his head. “I’m not asking and I don’t want to know. But when we get close, you better make it look good.”
“No problem. I owe you a big one.” Trav settled back with his eyes closed and tried to work out a plan. When they passed the outskirts of Quy Nho’n, he slipped Marco’s pistol out of the man’s waistband and pressed it against his ear. In careful Vietnamese, he gave him directions to set him down. Marco shouted over his shoulder to their pilot and minutes later Trav pointed to the spot where he wanted to get off. Dropping down into six inches of floodwater, he splashed to the edge of the clearing before turning to face Marco. He hurled Marco’s weapon back into the chopper and disappeared into the jungle, his mind occupied with one burning question.
Where was Dancer
?