Tracker (Outcasts Book 3), Page 3

  The cat was still relatively small. She looked like she weighed ten, maybe fifteen pounds. Once Arrista had the cat bundled up in its mother’s blanket, she passed her to Sara. “She needs to start bonding with you.”

  The cat was heavier than she looked. More like twenty pounds. All Sara got was a glimpse of dark brown, almost black fur and tufted ears before Arrista urged her toward the door. Not willing to risk waking the cat, they hurried without running. Luckily most of the distance to the surface had been covered before they picked up Weniffa. Sara had done her best to memorize their path and catalogue everything she’d seen as they hurried past. Unfortunately, all the corridors looked the same, carved-out stone with sporadic wood and metal supports. They’d passed at least ten larger chambers, but Sara hadn’t been able to see how large or determine what purpose they served.

  Arrista opened an ancient-looking door and motioned Sara out into the shadowy forest. As the elf carefully closed the door, it seemed to disappear into the foliage. Were they using some sort of masking technology, or was it simply effective camouflage?

  Arrista quickly led her away from the well-hidden entrance. There were no paths, no indication of which way they were headed, yet Arrista obviously knew her way around. “You heard everything they said. Do I need to explain what Lady Isoland wants from you?”

  “No. She expects me to convince the overlord to trade General Alonov’s son for Heather, and take care of Wenny until she’s old enough to survive on her own.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Do all the battle cats belong to Lady Isolaund?” Sara asked when Arrista didn’t say anything else.

  “Karrons don’t ‘belong’ to anyone. They choose to follow Lady Isolaund because she has earned their respect.”

  Like an alpha wolf or the strongest female in a lion pride. Sara understood the concept. She just wasn’t sure how a human would prove their worth to a group of predatory felines. Instead of debating the issue, she focused on the practical details of caring for a karron cub. “How old is Wenny? Does she eat meat? I know a good amount about Earth’s big cats, but I don’t know how that equates to karrons.”

  “She’s twelve weeks old, has been weened, and she’s a carnivorous predator. What else do you need to know? Keep offering her raw meat until she stops eating. Wenny knows when she’s full. She has just begun to hunt rodents and other field animals. Encourage this, but she is not yet skillful enough to live only off what she hunts. You will need to feed her for at least four more weeks.”

  Sara shifted the karron, supporting her weight higher against her chest. “She’s manageable now, but how fast will she grow. I’ve only seen karrons from a distance, but I’ve heard they’re huge.”

  Arrista sighed and stopped walking. “She will require your assistance for two maybe three moon cycles. After that, she should be strong enough, and skilled enough, to survive on her own.”

  “Moon cycles?”

  “What you call months, though it takes our moons slightly longer to cycle.”

  So approximately ninety days. She was willing to do it, but how would the Outcasts react to having a baby battle cat aboard one of their ships? She wasn’t sure this was her decision to make. But Heather’s safety, perhaps her life, depended on Sara convincing the overlord to make the trade and allow the karron to be fostered. God, what a tangle. “Why does the council want Wenny dead?”

  “They don’t care about the cub. They want to prove their power over Isolaund. She has a tendency to stir up trouble and they’re determined to put her in her place. The easiest and most effective way of hurting my mistress is to harm one of her cats. She is utterly devoted to her pride.”

  “But how will the council justify killing an innocent animal?”

  “Wenny is sweet. She is loveable and utterly passive. These characteristics are not desirable in a battle cat. She failed her final exam, so Lady Isolaund was supposed to turn Wenny over to the labor pool.”

  “Labor pool? That sounds horrible.”

  “It is. Retired battle cats, or those not aggressive enough to be used in battle, are trained as beasts of burden. Karrons are very strong for their size, which makes them useful in certain areas of the Underground, mainly the mines and expansion projects. Lady Isolaund’s predecessor simply ‘disposed of’ the battle cats once they’d outlived their usefulness. The council reluctantly approved this alternative, but I’m not sure it’s any better.”

  “Do the Sarronti choose to live underground or is there... Why do you do it?”

  With a heavy sigh, Arrista raised her face to the sky. Moonlight filtered through the tree branches, and stars were visible in several places above their heads. “We have no choice. We were overcome by an illness meant to wipe us out of existence. Most died, but those who didn’t were irrevocably changed. Sunlight makes us sick. If we are exposed for long, we die. Like it or not, we are creatures of the night and must forever hide from the daylight.”

  “When did this happen? How long have you lived underground?”

  Arrista hesitated. “It is hard to remember you are my enemy. Are all humans as likeable as you?”

  Sara smiled, but she was also aware Arrista had avoided the question. “You just caught me on a good day.”

  “I need to return, and you must get Wenny inside the safety of your ship. Your freedom can be revoked like this—” she snapped her fingers “—if anything happens to the cub.”

  “I get it. I’ll make damn sure she’s safe and well cared for.” She quickly licked her lips, struggling to believe she was actually free. “What about Heather? How do I contact you if I can get the overlord to agree to the exchange?”

  “Have the silver-haired male contact Isolaund. And it better be when, not ‘if’, the overlord agrees. General Alonov is used to taking anything he wants and your friend has caught his attention.”

  “I don’t know how much sway I have with the overlord, but I’ll do everything I can.” Arrista started to leave, so Sara stopped her. “One last question. Which way is the Outcast settlement?”

  A patient smile parted Arrista’s lips and pointed to a shimmer barely visible through the trees. “That is the river that runs beside your ships. Walk the same direction the river flows.”

  “Thank you, and tell Lady Isolaund not to worry. I’ll treat Wenny as if she were my own.”

  Chapter Two

  Unwilling to accept defeat, Xorran Entor poured energy into his psychic receptors and scanned the forest surrounding him. Each minute the kidnapped females were at the mercy of the elves increased the chances that they would be harmed or psychologically damaged by the ordeal. He could hear the warriors shifting restlessly, waiting for him to lock onto a signal, any signal. They were armed and ready to take back the females, but first Xorran had to find an entrance to the elves’ stronghold.

  Xorran was a tracker, a psychic hunter who could identify, and usually follow, energy echoes left behind by emotionally charged events. So why couldn’t he follow elfin energy? Over and over, he’d locked onto a pattern only to have it stop abruptly for no apparent reason. Either the elves could teleport, or there was some element to this forest that Xorran didn’t understand.

  “We’re wasting our time out here in the dark.” Torak finally said what the body language of his team had been shouting for the past hour. “Let’s get some sleep and start again at dawn.”

  Clenching his fists so he could maintain a calm expression, Xorran turned and faced the other male. Not only did Torak Payne command the best ship in the Outcast fleet, he had earned the title warlord by defeating his predecessor, and every male foolish enough to challenge him.

  Xorran nodded once, acknowledging the warlord’s decision. “I’m going to take one last try at it and then I’ll head back.”

  “You stay, I stay,” Torak insisted. “The overlord doesn’t want anyone out here alone.”

  “There’s a slim possibility that you and your team are distracting me.” It was more like their frustration and
impatience were preventing him from meditating deeply enough to accurately assess the signals he was receiving, but he wasn’t going to explain all that to the frustrated warlord.

  Torak dismissed his men with a curt telepathic command. The communication occurred via networked implants. Still, the signals were exchanged mind to mind, which qualified them as telepathy in Xorran’s book.

  “You’re stuck with me,” Torak said once his men and dispersed. “There’s a very real possibility some of those pointy-eared bastards are still lurking in these trees.”

  Xorran sighed, but didn’t argue. He no longer had the power of the Rodyte military to back him up, so he tended to avoid conflicts rather than race into them as he’d done for many years. “There’s more to tracking than sniffing the ground. Give me some space and try not to make a sound.”

  “Understood,” Torak muttered and faded into the shadows.

  He was still there. Xorran could sense him, but Torak stood quietly, attempting to give Xorran what he needed. Knowing the compromise was as close to solitude as he was going to get, Xorran closed his eyes and opened his mind to the rhythms of the forest. The agitated scurry of frightened creatures faded and random odors swelled to the forefront of his consciousness. Dank dirt and sweet flowers combined with pungent dung and...water.

  His awareness suddenly shifted, locking onto the river. He felt the current, heard the soft burble of the liquid tumbling over rocks. Damp grass crushed beneath running feet, and then a shocking spike of fear stabbed into his brain. He gasped. The emotions he absorbed were never this intense. Someone was terrified.

  “This way,” he urged in a harsh whisper.

  He ran, agilely leaping over bushes and fallen trees in an effort to reach the river as fast as possible. Was he sensing one of the women? It had to be. Why would an elf be this afraid? He locked onto the signal, determined not to lose it as he’d lost so many in this strange forest.

  Crashing through a tangled wall of underbrush, he emerged on a sloping riverbank as a small black animal dove into the water. An agitated human was right behind the animal and—much to Xorran’s shock—she ran right in after the animal. She gasped, then cried out as the cold water saturated her uniform from mid-thigh down. Her uniform was identical to the one Xorran wore. This was one of their females.

  Still not understanding why she was chasing the animal, he slid down the grassy bank and ran beside the rushing water, keeping pace with the panicked woman and the struggling animal.

  “Catch her! We cannot lose that cat.”

  Cat? Was that thing a baby karron? Where had she gotten a cat? The creature was swimming for all it was worth, but the current was strong, sweeping it farther downstream with each passing second.

  “Grab her!” the woman yelled. “Please!”

  She seemed almost panicked now, so Xorran shook away his confusion and rushed into the water, grabbing the soggy animal by the scruff of the neck. It yowled pathetically and latched onto his chest and shoulder with sharp little claws. He ignored the pain and turned just in time to see the female lose her footing and plunge chest-deep into the sweeping water. She cried out, arms flailing as she fought to get her feet beneath her again. Holding tightly to the cat with one hand, he quickly caught the woman’s upper arm and dragged her to her feet. She grabbed the back of his shirt, so he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, steadying her as they waded to the riverbank.

  The cat pressed its face against his neck, its entire body trembling violently. Xorran covered its small body with both hands, trying to comfort the animal as well as minimize the pull of its claws. The woman stood beside him, hands braced on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath.

  “Thank God,” she said in between pants. “I thought I’d lost her for sure.”

  The cat let out another yowl and burrowed closer to his body, its face still pressed against his neck. “Are you all right?” he asked the female. The river had been surprisingly cold given the warm weather, and she was dripping wet from the shoulders down. He looked her over as well as the darkness allowed while also trying to calm the cat. Undoubtedly winded and upset, the woman didn’t seem to be in physical pain.

  “I’m fine.” She tossed back her hair as she straightened, inadvertently drawing his attention to her clingy uniform. The moonlight shone from behind her, the resulting shadows blurring her features. The shape of her body, however, was outlined by the silvery light. She had high, full breasts and a trim waist, then her hips flared, creating a lovely hourglass shape.

  Her aesthetics were pleasing, but they didn’t explain the hunger creeping through not just his body but his soul. He felt restless and needy, anxious in a way he’d never experienced before. She moved closer and awareness pulsed through him. He could almost feel the cool night air wafting across her skin and tightening her nipples as her breathing accelerated. Her gaze widened and her lips parted, but he couldn’t see her clearly enough to discern the emotions driving her reaction.

  “She’s shivering,” the female said softy. “Could you please...” She made a vague gesture with her hand. “Is your shirt still dry?”

  “It was until I picked up the cat.”

  “I had her wrapped in a blanket, but it’s either lying on the other side of the river or it’s downstream somewhere. Does your shirt open down the front? Can you tuck her in next to your skin?”

  His uniform top opened in front, but it was too fitted for what she had in mind. Instead, he passed her the cat and quickly took off his shirt. Then using it like a blanket, he bundled up the cat and took the swaddled animal back from the female.

  “I didn’t expect you to go shirtless,” she protested, yet her gaze lingered on his bare torso, making his skin tingle with anticipation. “On second thought,” she whispered, “carry on.”

  Needing a distraction from his rapidly hardening cock, he asked, “Why’d she take off on you?”

  She shrugged, then wrapped her arms around herself. Was she starting to feel the cold, or did his new state of dress make her uncomfortable?

  “She woke up a few minutes ago and just freaked out.” He found her reaction to him more interesting than the explanation. Was she feeling this electric attraction too? “She jumped out of my arms and was off like a shot before I could do anything about it.”

  Torak tromped down the bank, disrupting the tension as he slid to a stop slightly back from Xorran. “What is that thing?”

  “Good question.” Xorran looked at the female. Her features were still shadowed, but her squared shoulders and raised chin managed to convey defiance. “What sort of cat am I holding and where did—? Never mind. Other questions are more important. Are you one of the women kidnapped by the elves?”

  “Yes.”

  She said nothing more, so Xorran asked, “Where is the other female and how did you get away from the elves?”

  “The elves still have Heather and the rest is a long story, one the overlord needs to hear. Can we please get to the Wheel so I can change into something dry?”

  Her teeth chattered and Xorran realized the cat wasn’t the only one shivering. Would she accept it if he unwrapped the cat and gave his shirt to her?

  As if hearing Xorran’s quandary, Torak whipped off his shirt and draped it around the female’s shoulders. Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. He appeared massive and likely threatening in the moonlight. “T-thank you.”

  Xorran tensed. Aggressive impulses surged in response to Torak’s nearness to the female. How strange. Xorran didn’t consider himself jealous, so why did he want to tear the warlord apart?

  “You said the elves still have Heather. Then you’re Sara?” There was a silky quality in Torak’s voice that Xorran had never heard before. The warlord pulled her long dark hair out from under his shirt, obviously in no hurry to move away.

  “Yes, I’m Sara.” She nervously licked her lips as she took a step back.

  Torak lowered his arms, but continued to study her.

  “Let’s go,�
�� Xorran advised, trying to ignore the irrational surges of jealousy pulsing through his system. Each of the captive females was genetically compatible with at least one of the Outcasts. Xorran had yet to learn who his match or matches were. Notifications went out on a regular basis, but he hadn’t had an extra minute to clear his backed-up com-queue. Did compatibility explain why he had a nearly overwhelming need to shove Torak away from her and beat him senseless? Was this female a potential mate?

  As if sensing his sudden tension, the cat shifted, digging its claws deeper into his chest. He stroked its back and whispered, “You’re all right, little guy. You’re safe now.”

  “Her name is Weniffa, but she seems to prefer Wenny,” Sara told him, her gaze closely following every move he made. “She likes you.”

  He chuckled. “She likes me more than the river. That’s not saying much.”

  The cat raised her head and shook off the water, big blue eyes gleaming in her dark, furry face. Her cry sounded less traumatized now, but her claws were still imbedded in his flesh.

  “Have I lost my mind, or is that a tiny battle cat?” Torak asked, moving closer to Xorran.

  The cat hissed, batted at him with extended claws, then pressed its face against Xorran’s neck. “She doesn’t like you, warlord.” Xorran fought back a smile, thrilled with the cat’s decision. Suddenly the claw marks were worth it.

  Torak turned on Sara, all silkiness gone from his voice. “I don’t think your story can wait. We’re not taking a karron to the Wheel. Not even a tiny one.”

  “We have no choice.” She planted her fists on her hips and stared up at him, apparently unafraid.

  Xorran’s chest warmed and his pulse accelerated. He had yet to see her in detail, but it didn’t matter. He admired her spirit and courage. Many females would be clingy and tearful after being kidnapped. Instead, she stood toe to toe with the warlord, insisting he back down. One thing became crystal clear in that moment. Xorran wanted this female, wanted her badly.