The Men Of Anderas: Talon, The Assassin Part 10

Putting that question away for a later discussion, Shadow slowly walked between each row. Every urn carried a name and the same date. It had to be the date Draagon ordered the complete genocide of an amazing race of people.

In the far back corner, Shadow noticed tiny paw prints in the thick dust covering the floor. Now how did you get in here, little field mouse? Since she found no skeletal remains on the floor and she doubted the critter crawled into one of the urns to die. There had to be an opening of some description. The trail led back to the front of the room and the corner nearest the security door. Squatting down, she carefully wiped away the dust and saw what looked like tiny scratches on the floor. The tiny mouse may have made them trying to escape the sealed room except each mark curved perfectly. No, not made by the mouse. They appeared to be made by someone pulling the shelf unit away from the wall.

Stalling long enough to retrieve another piece of wood from across the hall in case she needed to block another door, Shadow drew a deep breath and carefully pulled the unit. The groan of an unused hinge echoed through the quiet vault and raised goose b.u.mps up her arms, making her shiver.

If she hadn't seen the paw prints she never would have thought to look for another door. Just what did they need to hide? Did Talon know about this door or was this shelf unit used for something else? Bookcase, maybe?

The door had a standard doork.n.o.b but no place for a key. Caution was her mantra when she gripped the k.n.o.b. A slight twist of wrist and the door eased open without the screaming hinge. No natural light meant no window. After she blocked this door like the first one, Shadow pulled her torch from her pocket. The small circle of light didn't give her the same strong light as the sun, but she could easily make out the shape of a small table, a single chair, and a large trunk. There was nothing on the walls or floor except more dust.

The table turned out to be a small desk, the kind a woman would use for her personal activities. It held nothing but a few sheets of paper and a journal which she slipped into her pocket to read later. She couldn't wait to get her hands on that trunk!

The heavy lid had a bracer bar which still looked st.u.r.dy but she wouldn't wiggle the contents around too much in case it gave way. Inside she found several packets of letters tied up with satin ribbons; alb.u.ms of wedding photos and baby pictures; and stacks and stacks of infant clothes folded neatly and apparently by size. These were the precious memories of a devoted wife and mother. Shadow somehow felt guilty for snooping. If felt wrong, somehow, like she'd be caught going through someone else's personal things.

Is there a similar trunk somewhere in the universe from my mother? Left hidden away until someone stumbled onto it? Slamming the door on thoughts of a woman she had no memory of, she carefully closed the lid.

If she hadn't lost her balance just a little when she stood up too fast, she would have completely missed the edge of what looked like a picture frame behind the trunk. The trunk was too heavy to move but it made a st.u.r.dy brace as she lifted the painting. A few swipes of her hand removed the layers of dust enough that she could see it was a portrait of a woman sitting at this desk. Light shone through a spectacular stained gla.s.s window behind her so this wasn't the room where the desk belonged. Standing beside the woman was a little boy about six years old. His hair was an unruly brown mop and those green eyes sparkled with mischief. The blue shirt he wore, a darker shade than the dress on his mother, carried an embroidered name-Darius. Cradled in his arms was a vioharp. She heard one played once and still got goose b.u.mps thinking about the sweet, soulful sound. This portrait was so vibrant, so lifelike, that she fully expected him to lift it to his chin any moment.

"Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned." She whispered, wiping carefully at the dust still clinging to the paint. She'd know that grin anywhere. She should. It appeared way too often in her dreams. "You were one cute little b.u.g.g.e.r, Talon."

Things were finally beginning to make sense. Talon's reaction to this house. The baby spoon she found downstairs. The trauma of dealing with all these deaths at such a young age could have destroyed a weaker human being. All these items and events are what gave birth to Talon.

"I wonder...." Shadow scurried into the vault room and again walked the aisles. This time she looked for a specific name. "Ha!" She crowed, pointing to the urn she just located. "Found your a.s.s!" She needed to prove to herself that her a.s.sumptions were right so she broke the seal on the urn and lifted the lid.

Empty! I knew it would be! Carefully replacing the urn to its place on the shelf, she closed the little room, sealing away his childhood. She would tell him about the trunk because Talon needed this trunk. It was as close as he would ever come to having his mother with him.

The main door hummed when it sealed itself after she removed the piece of wood holding it open. It would have closed on her without the block.

Walking across the hall to Talon's old room, Shadow tried to put herself in the situation he found himself in after Draagon left. Even now, as an adult compared to his twelve, she honestly didn't think she would have the presence of mind to accomplish all this. For family-yes. People she knew by name but only saw on rare occasions? She didn't think so.

Her opinion of Talon had improved over the weeks they'd been together. There was so much more to him than the man she dragged from Cypriana. It looked like she was far beyond the point where she would leave with her heart intact when their contract terminated.

Standing at what was left of a broken window, lost in thoughts of Talon and her eventual heartache; it took several minutes before her brain recognized what she was seeing. Hidden among the branches of a ma.s.sive tree beside the house was a structure. The thick vegetation made it difficult to make out many details but she could definitely see milled lumber when the breeze lifted the leaves. Was it a watchtower? It was too far from the marina to warn of an invasion from the ocean and the hidden tunnel was on the other side of the island.

It was too close to sunset to investigate today; but just as soon as it got light tomorrow her a.s.s would be climbing that tree. Her focus on what was hiding in the tree completely obliterated the reason for her search of the locked room.

Chapter Twenty.

"I went into the burial vault yesterday. The house next door is where you lived. Your real name is Darius and there's a trunk filled with journals and photographs and keepsakes from your mother. It's amazing." She announced over breakfast.

The delicate, china teacup shattered in his grip. d.a.m.n! I knew this would happen. She's too curious to ignore a locked room. I thought...hoped...I would have more time. Cleaning up the shards of broken china gave him time to force the horrific memories back to the mental box he created twenty years ago. It was the only way he stayed sane back then.

"Leave it, Talon. I'll take care of it later." She laid her hands on his arm and squeezed. "I'm sorry." She whispered. "I didn't realize...."

He shook off her touch and pushed away from the table. "There's no big secret, Shadow. You're right. I lived there."

He grabbed the crossbow and adjusted the quiver of bolts until it fit comfortably against the middle of his back, within easy reach. At the door, he turned and faced the only woman alive who had the power to rip his world apart.

"You're wrong about Darius. He died with his parents."

"Talon! Wait! Don't...."

He closed the door, silencing whatever she had to say. With no particular destination in mind, he turned toward the mountains. He needed to make sure the hover-boat was secured. The increasing winds smelled of rain and one thing he did remember about this place was the severe late-summer storms that blew in without warning. Some of them would last for days. The cooler temperatures at night were sure signs that summer was almost over.

Shadow's little proclamation tore a hole in his soul. His arrogant a.s.sumption that he had the early years of his life carefully and securely locked away gave him the courage to suggest coming back here for her training. In all honesty, he didn't expect to find a single structure still standing. Between the storms and lack of maintenance over the years, he believed he wouldn't encounter anything from then.

The sight of the cave entrance shocked him. It was a steady two-hour hike from the village here. He was so focused on containing the memories fighting to come pouring out that he didn't notice anything else.

"That was f.u.c.kin' stupid, dumba.s.s. What would you do if more of those escaped prisoners were waiting here? Told 'em please don't shoot me, I had a p.i.s.sy childhood? You are one sorry, disgusting waste of manhood."

The rising tide already lapped at the entrance of the cave which made it the perfect time to bring the craft inland. Left out by the sea, anyone pa.s.sing by the island could see it. He didn't have a problem with visitors as long as they came in through the marina.

A hover-boat could skim across dry land for short distances so Talon brought it in as far as he dared and dropped the anchor. Before he left the area he'd make sure the anchor was securely lodged in the boulders that formed a semi-circle around the clearing. Right now, he had to get out of his wet clothes and lay them out to dry. The ocean side of the cave was armpit deep when he retrieved the hover-boat.

With nothing left to occupy his mind, the memories of his childhood surged, demanding freedom. Twenty years didn't begin to heal his loss or relieve his guilt.

It started out like most days. After breaking our fast, I left for school. The morning hours were devoted to language, history, science, and mathematics. After lunch each student met with their artistic mentor for four hours of one-on-one instruction. My mentor was my mother since she was an acknowledged virtuoso of the vioharp. Which meant I was the one student allowed to leave campus. Father would walk with me as far as the central square before turning to the government building. His afternoons were spent maintaining the complex financial records of the island. As a professor of mathematics, his understanding of the intricate equations made him an excellent choice for the job.

I didn't want to practice the vioharp today. There was a fleet of ships currently anch.o.r.ed just outside the harbor waiting for permission to dock. Several of my cla.s.smates were going to sneak away early and watch them come ash.o.r.e and I wanted to go with them.

Mother was waiting on the porch for me. She always met me with a cold gla.s.s of milk and something freshly baked and sweet. Today she had my vioharp case in her hand. She said I could sit on the porch to do my warm-up scales while she made a quick trip to the butcher shop. That way I could be out in the fresh air and still be ready for the serious work when she returned. I asked to go with her but she wanted me to practice. She insisted that I stay on the porch.

I waited until she turned the corner of the square before I headed to my secret place. I don't know who built the little room high in the trees or how long it had been there; but it was mine now. I could practice up in the tree and maybe catch sight of the crew from the boats when they came into the village.

Talon fought the nausea churning in his gut. He desperately wanted to stop reliving that day. Shadow's declaration that she knew his name shredded his ability to bury this pain. Why now? Why her? There was no choice but to go through each and every horrific second of his life-long nightmare.

As soon as I reached my hideout, I took out my instrument and adjusted the strings until the sound was perfect. I might disobey my mother by not staying on the porch but I would never skip warm-ups. She would know if I omitted even a single note. Besides, she'd be back from the butcher shop before I was even half through the scales. The empty crate below the window was a perfect seat. I could practice and keep watch for Mother's return.

Something was wrong. I finished all the scales and she hadn't returned. I got that sick feeling I always got when I knew I was going to get in trouble for something. Maybe she was hurt and needed help! My vioharp landed on the sleeping pallet without a care for the instrument. Leaving it out of its case would guarantee punishment-probably cleaning out the smokehouse-but I had to find her.

I only went down two steps when the screams started. At first, I froze, too afraid to move. When men with loud, angry voices came into the square, I scrambled back to the safety of the tree house. The men were shouting for everyone to come out of their homes. I peeked out of the window to see why they were yelling at everyone. My neighbors did as they ordered but I knew they were scared, too.

The bad men kept yelling and banging on doors until every man, woman, and child in the village was packed on the square. That was when the leader of the bad men rode up on a horse. He raised his hand and all the yelling and screaming and crying stopped-except for the babies. I saw Father in the crowd and wanted to go to him but I was too afraid to move. The leader told all the men and teenage boys to go back to the marina and the women and children were left under the watchful eyes of the guards. Anyone who refused would get hit with a stick that shot electricity into them. When he had them separated he told one of his men to kill all of the males as punishment because they made him wait ten hours for permission to dock. My screams mixed with those of the women until I shoved the end of my shirt in my mouth.

The leader just smiled like he did something special. In that moment I understood hate because it filled my body.

When he turned to the women, he started pointing to different ones. If they were young and pretty he sent them into a fenced yard guarded by his men. The old ones were shot where they stood. His men brought up a wagon with high wooden sides and put the young girls and boys able to walk on their own in the wagon along with the pretty women.

He sent them all to his ships and turned his attention to the rest of his men. He gave them permission to do whatever they wanted with any of the women in the square. In two hours the men down in the square would switch with the men stripping the town of anything of value, and switch again every two hours until the village was nothing more than an empty sh.e.l.l. The ships would sail with the tide in two days. Any man not at his post at that time would be left to rot. His final command was to ensure there were no survivors. He rode off with his men chanting "Draagon! Draagon! Draagon!"

I didn't understand what rape was until that moment. I knew the definition but the reality wasn't something that existed anywhere in my limited world. The remaining men swarmed into the crowd pushing, shoving, and grabbing at any woman who caught their eye. Stripped of their clothes and thrown to the ground, the women fought their attackers until they had no energy left. After hours of watching, I recognized my mother and called out to her. With all the crying and begging echoing in the square, my pitiful voice didn't carry enough to be heard by the guards. Mother heard me, I'm sure of it. She looked at where I hid in the tree and smiled at me. She mouthed 'I love you' and took off running in the opposite direction. The guard who shot her saved my life. I wouldn't have allowed him to rape my mother without trying to stop him.

I crawled over to the sleeping pallet and huddled in the corner, listening to the sounds of horror and death; crying for the loss of my family. The bad men finally left but I didn't move. The silence was harder than the screams but I stayed hidden until I knew there was no chance of this Draagon coming back.

The smell of death, so thick you couldn't draw a breath, hit me before I reached the bottom step. There were things that needed to be done as soon as I could stop throwing up every sip of water I swallowed.

Talon's stomach heaved but there was nothing there to purge. It happened every time he allowed even a glimmer of memory to escape. G.o.ds, what he wouldn't give for a bottle of strong liquor. As bad as those first days were, the next three weeks were worse. That's how long it took him to cremate the bodies and prepare the vault room. He found a list of the residents at the Hall of Records and made sure there was a burial urn for each one. Greedy men often overlooked a stock room when presented with more treasure than they could carry. They emptied the ashes and took the thousands of burial urns in the mausoleum but never ventured into the bas.e.m.e.nt under the shed at the back of the building. He found more than enough urns to bury the village. He even made one for himself. Darius Ta'Londal-Ar died as surely as everyone else. He chose a new name, one to honor his family and his people.

Darius was a boy too young and weak to save anyone but himself; frightened of being alone in the world.

Talon would grow stronger and stronger until, one day in the distant future, he would find Draagon and destroy him.

Chapter Twenty-One.

Shadow couldn't get the image of Talon's face out of her mind. Looking back, okay, she probably shouldn't have blurted out her findings. All she wanted was to give Talon the memories his mother held dear. Instead, he looked...destroyed.

"You are such a f.u.c.kin' b.i.t.c.h." She muttered, watching Talon disappear down the road. "Just because you have a hole in your psyche where family's concerned doesn't mean he does."

When he came back-if he came back-she'd have to explain her reasons. d.a.m.n it! She hated talking about her personal life. Swapping war stories around a fire pit with other warriors was just part of the down time after a skirmish. She was one of them, swapping the same sweat, blood, and bullets. Whenever the talks turned to tales of friends and family left behind it was easy to make excuses and walk away.

It was hard enough for her to believe where she came from and she lived it. No one would understand the peculiar lifestyle that formed the basis of her existence. She told her story, once, when the constant questions about her name became a nightly exercise in frustration. The reactions from her fellow soldiers forced her to seek other employment. She could deal with every att.i.tude they threw at her except pity.

They didn't bat an eye at her having no living family. That was common enough on any planet. It was when she let slip that she didn't see her first female until she was seventeen years old that triggered the change in att.i.tude-in acceptance. Once the words left her mouth she had no choice but to explain why and how it happened. Shared pain is supposed to lessen the pain. Bulls.h.i.t! That day, so long ago, was the day she met the most depraved, evil medic in the known universe and took her first step on the path that led to Talon and this island.

Her rambling thoughts brought her right back to the source of her current worries. She owed Talon an apology and an explanation. Just because she didn't want to spill her guts about her past didn't mean she wouldn't do it if it was the only way to get her Talon back. She missed his grin and the way his green eyes darkened when he looked at her.

"Worry about that when he walks through the door." She muttered. There was a tree waiting for her and she was more than ready for a little exercise to release the tensions of the morning.

Stopping long enough to grab a torch and a coil of rope from the bottom of her closet, Shadow scurried through the two yards. The tree was ma.s.sive but when she circled the girth she discovered she wouldn't need the rope. Weathered, wooden slats still waited for the young boy to return. The first one was too high for her to reach, giving her a good indication of how much the tree had grown over the years. Using a technique she learned from a lumberjack, she slipped a length of rope around the tree and used it for traction until she reached the first slat. Not willing to break her neck in a fall, she cautiously tested each step to be sure it would support her weight before reaching for the next step. Although the nail heads were rusty they held firm. She released a nervous breath when she pulled herself through the square opening in the floor of the structure.

Twenty years of debris...mostly leaves, twigs, and small limbs, filled the corners and littered the floor. Careful not to alarm any wildlife that might be bedded down, she used her feet to push the dried vegetation through the opening in the floor until she could see what lay hidden.

A bookcase sat in one corner but any books left on the shelves were long gone. Probably used by the resident field mice she could hear scurrying away from her impromptu cleaning. A few bindings were all that remained. An artist's easel stood empty in the opposite corner. An empty crate with a crushed top sat below the window opening next to what looked to be a sleeping area. The animals didn't leave much to identify the s.p.a.ce but it would be about the right size for a young boy.

The view from the window was blocked by the tree but she could imagine the view of the central square. Satisfied that it wasn't a possible observation point, she turned to leave. Her boot caught something beside the crate making her stumble. Only her quick reflexes and legs long enough to straddle the open hatch in the floor kept her from tumbling to her death, thirty feet to the ground.

Breathing through the adrenalin rush, she eased back to the window to find whatever tripped her. A quick brush of her fingers uncovered a bow used for a number of stringed instruments. More leaves scattered in her quest for the instrument itself. She located an empty case but didn't find the missing piece of her puzzle. When she pulled the rotting fabric cover of a sleeping mat onto the floor, she found the vioharp. It would take an experienced craftsman to know for sure, but she couldn't find any damage other than a few tiny claw marks and broken strings.

She recognized it from the painting she found yesterday. The scrolling D on the bottom was a perfect match to the one in the painting. This was Darius' vioharp! Her excitement and enthusiasm took a nosedive when she remembered Talon's reaction to yesterday's discoveries. She had another treasure to add to her chest until...until never if Talon didn't come back home.

Her inner voice warned her not to think of the house next door as home, but she couldn't change the way she felt. It was the closest thing she'd ever had to a real home. That house with its G.o.ds-awful yellow paint, boarded up windows and leaky roof welcomed her each time she stepped through the door. Every exploration into the ruins of the village yielded some bit of something left behind. A spoon here. A cup there. She treasured each and every discovery. Most of the items she put to use in their daily routine. Others, those that served no purpose beyond making her feel a part of something greater than she was, waited patiently in the deep recesses of her chest. She'd leave a huge piece of her heart and soul in that house when she left the island but she'd make sure every item was carefully preserved in the vault room before she left. Years from now, maybe someone else would discover this island. She hoped they would appreciate the care she used to preserve this small part of a lost civilization.

Sunset was hours past and Talon still sat, unmoving, watching Shadow's silhouette pa.s.s the window. He needed to go to her and explain...explain what, exactly. That you can't deal with the pain that comes with remembering? Explain how every minute on this island slices deeper into the scar tissue around that pain? Yeah, that would finally get you invited back to her bed. If he could come up with the answer to even one of those questions he could go home.

"Dammit!" He growled, careful to keep the sound low. "That is NOT my home! It's a place to eat, sleep, and bathe. Nothing more."

Believing anything else-wishing for anything else-was pointless and could only lead to more pain.

Shadow opened the door, spilling light from the fire pit into the night. She was looking for him. How long had it been since anyone worried about him? Kierin and Dak-maybe. At the least, they were concerned enough to hire Shadow. There wasn't even a horse or dog in his past that he cared enough about to invest the time or energy it took to form a bond. Not since before Draagon. Until now....

"You win, Blue." He whispered to the retreating woman. "Fate picked a b.i.t.c.h of a time to screw around with our lives." He pushed himself up, brushing gra.s.s and dust from the seat of his pants. "Sure hope you remember what you said about being careful what you prayed for because I'm sure as h.e.l.l not the answer to any woman's dreams."

Shadow stopped pacing when she heard him on the porch. Just breathe and don't do anything stupid. She grabbed for the ladle and stirred the stew simmering over the fire. Anything to keep her hands busy and to hide the telltale tremor in her fingers.

"May I come in, Blue?" Talon asked softly from the door.

"Of course. You live here, too." She turned back to the pot. "There's still plenty of the kava stew. If you're hungry." c.r.a.p! She was as nervous as a young girl on her first date. It's just Talon. It's just Talon. It's just Talon. The litany didn't calm the ton of b.u.t.terflies in her gut.

"I'd love some." He pulled out a chair and sat down. "It sure smells good. Are you going to join me?"

The last thing she needed was food on her nervous stomach; but the uncertainty in his voice stabbed her heart. There was no way she could deny him. Instead of answering him, she served both of them before joining him at the table.

An uncomfortable silence settled around them. The only sound was the occasional pop from a log shifting in the fire pit and the gentle tap of a spoon against a bowl. Say something, man! Don't sit here and pretend there's nothing wrong!

"Dinner was amazing, as usual. Thank you." He stood from the table and dropped his dishes into the sink. "It's been a...long day so I'm going to turn in early. Good night, Blue."

He sounded so...resigned...and it broke her heart. "Talon, wait...."

When he turned to face her she thought she saw a tiny spark of...what? Hope? Need? Whatever it was, it called to her on the most basic level. Don't screw this up! One second she was pushing away from the table and the next she was in his arms with her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. She didn't remember running to him or leaping at him or even wondering if he would catch her.

"I'm so, so sorry," she whispered against his neck, breathing in the warm, spicy musk that was pure male-pure Talon. "It was stupid...."

"No, baby. It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry for running out on you like that." He kissed her shoulder before moving to her neck and finally her temple. "You feel so d.a.m.n good, Blue."

She wanted to explain why she pushed so hard this morning but his hands cupping her a.s.s, squeezing the plush mounds were playing h.e.l.l with her thought processes. Later, she promised herself.

"I've got clean sheets on my bed." She pulled back far enough to flash a grin.

"Clean sheets-the floor-a muddy field." He carried her through the house to her room. "Even tied up and hanging from the ceiling. There is no place you could be that I wouldn't want to sink into your warm, willing body." He pushed her legs from his body until they stood toe-to-toe.

"I was so afraid you wouldn't come back." The admission whispered softly between them.

He placed a fingertip against her lips, silencing her. "I will always, always, come back to you, my beautiful Blue. That's a promise."