On a Barbarian World Page 3

  But one cowardly act had stolen Colan away from all of them and forever tarnished their family name.

  By instinct, Kavon’s gaze moved south. He saw the distant twinkle of lights.

  The home of Drog Mal Sull—all-around bastard, and the murderer of Kavon’s father.

  Kavon’s hands tightened on the reins, and his hargon shifted restlessly. “Easy, Tarm.”

  Drog’s family had always been bitter rivals with Kavon’s. A feud so old, its origins were murky. Some said it started with their great-great grandparents, caused by a slain brother, or a kidnapped sister who’d been returned round with child.

  Whatever had started the feud, and despite Kavon’s father making many attempts to defuse it, it was still alive and well.

  And now it was also fueled by the blood of Kavon’s father.

  Drog had lured Colan away with talks of peace, and killed him in a way dishonorable to any warrior. Of course, Drog had crowed wide and far that he’d killed the great Colan Mal Dor in a fair fight. But Kavon, only nineteen years old at the time and still in training, had recognized that his father had been stabbed in the back by more than one weapon.

  Kavon’s knuckles turned white. It had been no honorable warrior’s fight. Drog had ambushed his father.

  The death of a warrior in a challenge casts a weak light on the family name. After Colan’s death, other warrior families had distanced themselves from Kavon’s. It had meant few would do business with Clan Mal Dor. Villagers had defected, searching for a stronger family to claim protection from. The farms had suffered, their livelihood had died away, and his mother and young sister had suffered. Just thinking of them made his chest tighten.

  Over the last fourteen years, he’d worked hard to rebuild the Mal Dor name. To be the family people wanted to do business with—for foodstuffs, for minerals—and to claim protection from.

  He’d become the best warrior he could be. He’d led many battles for their king, and gained his favor. But Kavon still needed one last thing to seal the honor his family deserved—his father deserved.

  Kavon needed to find the legendary sword, Durendal.

  He imagined presenting the historic blade to King Corant Mal Rann, King of Markaria, and his chest swelled.

  A few months back, Kavon had celebrated his thirty-third birthday. In the Way of the Warrior, his tempestuous age of boiling emotions and temper had passed. He was now an experienced warrior, disciplined and controlled. He’d learned to control and direct his nanami—was one with them. In turn, they granted him speed, strength, and enhanced senses.

  His biggest problem right now was that he had no idea where Durendal might rest. He had a team of scholars working on the problem, day and night. He’d sent warriors to search many locations, but they still hadn’t found it, and were out of promising options.

  Ahead, the protective walls of his estate rose. He lifted a hand to the warriors guarding the gates and directed Tarm inside, the beast’s sharp hooves clattering on the cobblestone street.

  Something in the sky caught his attention and he slowed Tarm. Falling stars were filling the vast emptiness.

  The strange showers had started a day ago. Sometimes they were just a few streaks across the sky, or like now, a rain of them. Kavon hoped it was the Great Warrior’s way of giving his support for Kavon’s quest for Durendal.

  Kavon heard voices ahead, and saw some of his clan spilling out of the great house. Farther down in the village, he saw people standing outside their homes, also joining others to watch the show in the sky.

  Near him, he saw a young couple—a tall warrior-in-training with his arm around a pretty girl. She nestled into him, and the young man rested his face against her dark hair.

  The tableau was an unwelcome reminder of the final thing he needed to gain favor with the king and bring honor to his family name. He needed to find a wife.

  He needed to marry the daughter of one of the powerful warlord families and make an alliance. Kavon released a long breath. He had no interest in a wife. He liked sampling all the luscious women available to him when it suited him. Besides, the few warlord daughters he’d met so far were spoiled and pampered creatures. Not one had made his nanami sing. But it was a necessary piece of his plan and he’d allow nothing to get in his way.

  He looked up again, watching the trail of a particularly large and bright falling star. Maybe this was a sign his luck was going to change. That he’d find a woman who wouldn’t make the idea of marriage a chore.

  Suddenly, a boom echoed through the sky.

  Some of the people nearby gasped and a few screamed.

  Kavon saw a huge object blaze across the sky, falling toward the ground. It carved across the sky like a fiery rock cast from Mount Vulc in the Northern Wastelands.

  He didn’t take his eyes off the object’s path. Inside, he felt the rush of energy as his nanami flared. The object flew over his farmland, and into the Wilds. There was an almighty din as it crashed.

  Kavon turned. His warriors came to a stop behind him.

  “Kian and Colm, you’re with me.”

  Colm nodded. “Guess that ale and woman will have to wait.”

  Yes, they would. “The rest of you, secure the estate.”

  “Yes, Warlord,” they all called out before riding away.

  Kavon looked toward the glow on the horizon. The light of whatever had crashed in the Wilds would be a beacon for everyone around—the wild darken beasts, raiders, Drog. “Let’s go. Ride hard.”

  It was a race to see who would get there first.

  Chapter Three

  Kavon nudged his beast and murmured a command. Tarm moved forward, snorting and pawing the ground. As they left the walled area of the estate, Kavon nodded at his guards.

  “Light wands,” Kavon called to the others. He pulled his own glowing wand of rock from the leather saddlebags on Tarm. The rock came from his mines, and contained a living organism that caused the light.

  Kavon clipped the wand to the side of his beast and rode on.

  As they neared the boundary to the Darken Wilds, the grass petered out, leaving a gray, rocky landscape. Ahead, the spires of the Grimore Mountains looked like sharp needles, or the teeth of some monstrous beast. Kavon kicked Tarm into a gallop and soon they were charging across the desert-like landscape, the wind pushing his hair off his face.

  He wondered if his miners had seen the object fall and crash. Probably not. The night shift would be deep within the mountain.

  They crested a rise, and he got a glimpse of the crash site.

  “By the Great Warrior…” Colm shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  A large gouge had been carved through the rocky ground. Bits of…something…were scattered across a wide field. And everything was burning.

  “Come on.” Kavon directed his beast down the slope. He glanced around the surrounding area, but didn’t see anyone else approaching.

  He stopped at the edge of burning debris and stared. Colm was right, this was unlike anything they’d seen or dealt with before.

  Kavon dismounted, and his warriors followed suit. He strode through the wreckage. Had it been a star or a rock from the sky? But when he crouched beside a large object, it wasn’t rock like he expected, but something slick and shiny.

  Metal.

  “Kavon,” Kian called out. “You need to see this.”

  Kavon hurried over to where the young warrior stood at the peak of the next slope. The gouge in the earth went over the side.

  “By the heavens.” Kavon skidded down the slope. Ahead, partly nestled in the earth, was what looked like a metal carriage of some description.

  He sensed movement and looked over to see Colm drawing his sword.

  The large warrior shrugged. “We’ve heard the legends of skyflyers. They are said to have strange weapons.”

  Kavon turned back to the wreck. Yes, their legends spoke of people who traveled the stars. But he’d never met any. He didn’t know anyone who�
�d met a skyflyer. He circled the strange object. One side of it had a large tear that looked like a gaping wound.

  He crouched again, and pressed his fingers to a sheet of ripped metal. It was warm to the touch, and not as heavy as he’d imagined. He shifted it a little.

  And then he heard a noise that made him pause.

  A groan.

  He peered closer, and spotted a small, pale hand.

  Someone was in there!

  He touched the hand. It was warm, the creamy-colored skin smooth to his touch.

  With his other hand, Kavon heaved the sheet of metal aside. Then he sucked in a sharp breath.

  It was a woman.

  She lay on her side, still strapped to what he guessed had been a chair. She was…completely unique. Unlike anyone he’d ever seen before.

  All Markarians had dark-bronze skin with a metallic sheen, and dark hair that ranged from the deepest brown to the darkest black.

  This woman had pale, creamy skin and hair of a shade he’d never, ever seen in his life. It looked like it was the color of a sunset, or of the delicious flesh of the mata fruit.

  He grabbed his knife from the sheath strapped to his thigh, and with a few slashes, he cut the strange harness off her.

  He eased her into his arms, worried that she was so still. But she made a small sound and her generous chest was rising and falling. He stared for a second. Markarian women had small, firm breasts, and this woman’s…well, the sight of her was both intriguing and appealing.

  “Holy Warrior’s sword, Kavon. What is that?” Kian exclaimed.

  “A woman,” Colm breathed.

  “An amazing woman,” Kian added in a choked voice.

  When the woman made another small sound and her eyes opened, Kavon tuned out his warriors. His nanami went quiet. By the heavens, her eyes were the deepest green he’d ever seen, the lush color of fresh grass or his most prized Tanaa emeralds. Kavon felt something rocket through him…his nanami were suddenly buzzing like he’d been struck and needed healing.

  The woman’s brow wrinkled, and her eyes were a little unfocused. Her gaze took in Kavon and her eyes widened, then she looked past him to Colm and Kian.

  Suddenly, she exploded into action.

  She shoved against Kavon, and although it didn’t move him, it did surprise him into loosening his hold on her. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she spun, making him lose his grip on her. She dodged past him, glancing around frantically.

  Colm grabbed for her, but she kicked out. Her boot landed right in Colm’s hard gut, and the air rushed out of the warrior.

  She shoved past him, and Kian stepped in front of her. The younger warrior reached for her.

  It happened so fast, Kavon wasn’t exactly sure what she’d done. But she grabbed Kian’s arm, dropped her weight and yanked. The warrior stumbled, and then was falling. He tumbled into the dirt with a shocked shout.

  The woman stepped back, still looking confused and dazed.

  Enough. Kavon strode forward and scooped her up against his chest. She struggled against him, but he held her tight, trapping her arms to keep her from trying to escape again. He was impressed she’d bested them all, especially while she was hurt. But he didn’t want her to injure herself further.

  “Enough, woman.”

  She froze.

  “You are injured. You need help. That is what I offer.”

  She blinked, but he saw a haze of pain spreading over her face, and knew she was having trouble processing everything.

  “Kavon, we have company incoming.”

  Colm’s quiet words had Kavon turning his head. In the distance, he made out lights racing toward them…from Drog’s estate. Kavon’s nanami flared and his hearing increased. He heard the excited yips of hunting dogs. His mouth firmed. Drog bred vicious dogs and kept them on a hungry edge. They’d been known to tear people apart in a frenzy.

  Just the thought of those animals getting close to this woman’s smooth skin hardened his resolve.

  “Woman, I claim you.”

  She frowned. “You speak English.”

  Her voice was a smooth sound that reminded him of his favorite malt whiskey. “I speak Markarian, and I claim you.”

  She shook her head. “You can’t claim me! I’m a person, not a thing.”

  “You do not understand our customs.” He hitched her higher. “Everyone on Markaria is claimed or begs protection of a warlord.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or you fight to prove your strength.” He turned so she could see the approaching hunting party. “You will have to fight them or be claimed.”

  Then a wild roar echoed around them.

  Colm and Kian cursed, drawing their swords. The woman’s eyes widened. “What was that?”

  “One of the darken beast. They call this area home. You do not want to run into one alone.”

  Her gaze moved to study the thick darkness where the beast had called from, then flicked to Drog’s gang and back again. Her green gaze locked with Kavon’s. He could see she was hurt and still confused.

  Her nose wrinkled but she nodded. “Fine. But this is a temporary thing, barbarian.”

  She was his. With a deep sense of satisfaction riding him, he spun and strode to his hargon beast. He hitched her higher in his arms. For all her curves, she didn’t weigh much. “You are now Clan Mal Dor. You are mine.”

  “You—” Her voice was just a husky whisper, then she lost consciousness again.

  “Colm, Kian, grab what you can carry of the wreckage. Be quick. We want to be gone before Drog arrives. We’ll come again at first light to take anything else that remains.”

  The warriors nodded, but their gazes were still on the bundle in Kavon’s arms.

  “Get to it.” Kavon scanned the darkness around them. “Before an enterprising darken beast decides to attack.”

  “She’s a skyflyer,” Colm said.

  “And she’s the most…striking thing I’ve ever seen,” Kian added. “Look at the color of her hair.”

  Kavon tightened his hold on the woman and half turned toward his men. “Mine.”

  He watched a wide grin cross Colm’s face. “Of course, Warlord.”

  Kavon snorted. “You only warlord me when you’re amused or trying to rile me.”

  “Yes, Warlord.”

  Kian made a sound that might have been a choked laugh. “I’ll…start collecting some of the wreckage.”

  Kavon reached his beast and then, with reluctance tugging at him, turned to his friend. “Hold her while I mount.”

  Colm nodded and carefully took the woman. Kavon gripped Tarm’s reins and swung up. Once he was seated, Colm handed the woman back to him.

  As his men grabbed some metal objects and stashed them in their saddlebags, Kavon allowed himself to finger the woman’s hair. It was pulled back in some complicated plait, but much had escaped its bindings. Soft. It felt like the finest Markarian silk.

  “Warlord, look at this.”

  He glanced at what Kian held. It was a metal ball, perfectly formed, the size of his hand. “Bring it.”

  Kavon was beyond intrigued by this woman and he wanted to know more about her. Where she was from and what she knew. Skyflyers were said to have advanced knowledge…and that sort of knowledge could help with his plan to rebuild his family name.

  But for now she was his, claimed in the way of Markaria. That meant it was his job to keep her safe. His nanami flared, flooding him with energy.

  “Enough,” he called out. “Mount up and let’s ride.”

  They sped away from the crash site, and Kavon pushed his beast as fast as he could in the darkness. He kept the woman pressed hard to his chest.

  She stayed motionless, all that vibrancy he’d seen as she’d fought them, still and quiet.

  His pulse tripped. What if she was badly injured? As they approached the house, her eyes remained closed.

  “You will not die,” he muttered. He pulled his beast to a stop at the front steps to his ho
me. He leaped off with the woman still in his arms and strode up the steps.

  “I need the healers,” he bellowed. “And hot water to my rooms.”

  People scurried to obey. Kavon took the steps to his rooms two at a time.

  “You will not die, woman, because now you are mine to protect.”

  But the woman didn’t stir.

  ***

  Aurina turned over in the comfy bed, rubbing her face against the soft sheets. She stretched her arms out, her fingers brushing across the furry blankets.

  Furry blankets? Her bunk on the Sky Nomad was covered in a smooth synth-silk cover.

  She bolted upright.

  That set her head throbbing and, with a wince, she clutched her temple, staring around the room.

  She froze. Oh, God.

  The walls were a shiny, pearlescent gray stone. Sunlight streamed in through a large window, where gauzy white curtains fluttered in the breeze.

  Everything crashed back in on her.

  Systems failing. Meteors. The sickening lurch of the crash.

  She wrapped her arms around herself. She’d crash-landed. On some unknown planet in the middle of nowhere. Her chest constricted, her breathing turning harsh.

  And she remembered hard amber eyes, and even harder arms around her.

  Stay calm, stay calm. She’d been in tight spots before. She’d even crash-landed once before after an engine malfunction.

  But not so far from known space and that time her brothers had rescued her an hour later.

  Her brothers were going to take longer than that to find her now.

  She dragged in some deep breaths. Her brothers had the coordinates for the planets she was planning to search. They could scan for her ship. Besides, all she needed to do was find her e-beacon and set it off. It transmitted a frequency her brothers would pick up.

  They’d come. They wouldn’t know which of the four planets she’d searched first, but they’d get here. They’d pick up the e-beacon and she’d be back on the Sky Nomad and all this would be a fun, if slightly scary, adventure.

  She hoped. Doubts tried to creep in. What if the radiation and meteor storm messed up her ship’s signature? What if the e-beacon was damaged in the crash? What if they read her data wrong and didn’t find this planet…what if, what if, what if.