Passion of the Different (9 page)

Chapter Thirteen - The Bite

Myra's pregnancy changed her behavior in surprising ways, and even the bitter cold of winter couldn't dampen her energy and growing wildness. Like the previous year, they had labored hard to make sure the food harvest was finished and any upkeep on the property was completed. She seemed hardier and was able to complete the same amount of tasks he did without growing sore, which impressed him considerably.

Her sexual desire and need for intimacy also increased, which he didn't object one ounce until she accidentally drew blood on his shoulder one cold night during a powerful love making session. Her needle sharp fangs were a touch longer than even before, curved inward so her bottom lip wouldn't be pricked. Her passionate kissing of his shoulder got a little too deep and just a bit too careless.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, face covered with sweat as she looked down on him, teeth stained with flecks of red blood. She liked being on top more often than not when her system was changing from pregnancy and he had no reason to complain until now. "Does it hurt, honey?"

"Am I still bleeding?" he asked with a meek rumble in his low voice, husky from the building passion. Physically thrilled with her increased wild need for him, the pain from her bite was only a mild sting, it did nothing to mute his desire. He hoped this wouldn't turn her off enough to stop, unless of course, she did more damage than what he could feel.

"It's stopped, sorta," she blurted out, her expression growing more concerned mixed with regret. "I got carried away, love. Forgive me?" She gazed down at him in apology, her hands gently caressing his tight chest muscles.

Looking up at her in his best expression of love, he smiled in response. She smiled back, and her bloodstained fangs gave the dark mass of hidden memory in his mind a little jiggle. A word popped up, and he knew its definition without hesitation. He also knew it did not apply to her, but the image is almost mirror perfect in his mind.
Vampire.
He almost chuckled, instead he caressed her sexy thigh and gave it a gentle tap.

"I'll always love you, Myra. No matter what." His voice was firm yet gentle, and he could see her worry melt away. With a firm resolution to be more careful, she started to move on him again and he groaned with pleasure. It was a good long time before they finished and got to sleep.

The next morning, Ryan went to get up to start the fire for his wife but he could barely move. It felt as if his entire body was made out of lead and he wasn't strong enough to lift his arm. He called out but his volume was muted almost down to a harsh whisper. He could hear Myra in the kitchen cooking breakfast over the iron wood burning stove. The crackle of the flaming logs was unusually loud in his ears. Good, at least she's not overly cold. All he could do was lay there collecting his strength, and his second attempt to call for her actually made it past the whisper stage and into the realm of a hoarse cough.

It felt like an eternity, but she finally came into their bedroom and cheerfully announced, "Breakfast is ready dear," but got no further with her attempt at teasing him for sleeping in. He was covered head to toe in a thick sweat, his eyes seemed distant and his shoulder was a deep dark bloated purple where her fang marks had scabbed over. "Oh no! I'll be right back, don't try to move," she commanded in sheer panic, then hurried away.

Another eternity later, though he knew it only to be a few minutes, she returned with a bowl of slushy ice water scooped from the outside trough. She dipped a rag into it and started to wipe him down from forehead to his chest. Normally such a freezing cloth on his bare skin would have made him yelp, but this felt like heaven. Each damp swipe took the damaging heat from his skin and replaced it with a calm coolness. As the heat started to return, she would wipe him down again and the relief would return in a large swatch while the rest of his body attempted to cook itself.

Ryan knew he had a bad fever, but couldn't recall ever getting this sick before. In fact, he recalled being healthier than normal compared to... to... his mind stayed dark at that point, refusing him the knowledge. He felt the gist of truth for his ability to be healthy, but without anything else coming out of his amnesia laced memory there was no way he could voice it. Then another cool swipe and the heat that was trying to fry his brain got less intense.

He started to drift in and out of sleep. A few times when he opened his eyes, he noticed Myra was putting on winter travel clothes. Where was she going?
The cold hurt so she hated traveling in the snow.
Bad enough she would have to go out to get the firewood until he felt stronger, but she never bundled up in her winter traveling clothes.

His eyes opened and closed two more times. The third time he opened them, he was looking into an older man's face. His dark blue hair straight and pointed ears sagging from age, his gentle eyes spoke of years of confident experience. His clothes were covered with snow. Ryan went to speak but the old man put his hand gently over his lips and shook his head slowly, letting the patient know he wasn't to try.

"How bad is it, Doctor Haka'Zal?" Myra asked, fear riding her musical accent.

"I'll have to lance his shoulder," he replied calmly. "He is not of our people, so your venom reacted with him a lot worse than if he was one of our kind."

"Venom?" Myra all but spat out.

"Your first pregnancy?" the doctor asked, got his answer when he glanced at her and she nodded woodenly. "I see. Normally this is explained in your youth, but sometimes it's not taught as well as it should be."

"What?" she demanded, then quickly apologized. "Really, Doctor, I'm sorry for snapping. I'm scared for my husband."

"Quite alright," the doctor consoled her, his understanding tone professional and detached. "Women with child develop defenses, as you're now well aware of. You also have a small amount of venom in your bite, it turns on when you're with child. Anything not of our kind will be paralyzed almost instantly and can die within a few hours. For our own people it's just a mild headache at best. We have a natural immunity, the defense is geared to wild creatures nature might send to try to hurt you."

"My biting him was an accident," she exclaimed.

"The venom doesn't know that," Doctor Haka'Zal said. "I think his size and strength has spared him from the worst of it, he would be dead by now if this wasn't the case. The wound is badly infected and filled with puss. Once I drain it he should start feeling better within a few hours. But he'll be weak as a flower in the storm, possibly for days."

Ryan had heard it all. She had
gone
out and got a doctor for him while he was going in and out of stupor. His heart was constantly warmed by her caring nature but also troubled by what he heard. Her bite was poisonous, venom filled and deadly dangerous. It amazed him quite a bit though he was too weak to show it. The paralytic in her venom was extremely effective.

As his artificially slowed thoughts crawled by, he didn't even notice the steel needle that pricked his inflamed shoulder. He didn't see a tear filled Myra flinch when the thick yellow puss shot across the room. When the doctor poured the astringent liquid over the bleeding patch, it stung like hell but not enough to make Ryan react. He just didn't have the energy.

"This is strong antiseptic wash," Doctor Haka'Zal told Myra. "He must really be out of it not to holler. It burns like acid on open flesh." His skilled slender fingers started to apply a clean bandage. "I’ll leave supplies with you to change this twice a day. Use the strong wash I leave with you each time until it's all gone, in the amount I used just now. Do you understand?"

"Yes Doctor," she said, voice low with grief. Her bite almost killed her husband. She would have to be ultra careful in the future, determined to never let this happen again.

Ryan opened his eyes and saw the doctor leave. Then Myra came over to him, placed her cool hands on each side of his face, bending over to snuggle her cheek against his cheek. "I'm so sorry, love," she whispered into his ear. "I would have died with you if this turned out bad."

His rebuttal was thoughtful, inspired by his wanting her to live a normal life even if something bad happened to him and to not blame herself for his current condition. It could only remain a thought, dizziness washed over him like a breeze from hell. He fixed the sentiment in his mind and promised that when he could speak normally, he would tell her. Then fatigue came waltzing into his head, stomped on his brain with an evil cackle and the lights went out as he slipped into a deep obsidian sleep.

Chapter Fourteen - Taken

The people in Ocaza didn't turn their heads as often as before when Ryan walked down the street. The novelty of his existence was starting to wear off which made him exhale with relief. With the taxes paid to the guards while Avrohom hid safely in town on the first warm day, he knew exactly how much he had to spend on building the nursery. Just as he spotted the merchant that sold construction materials in the distance, Vendegal came trotting up with a welcoming smile.

"Lord Za'Ryan, it's so good to see you!" The garrison commander was dressed in simple clothes, which meant he was off duty. He held out his hand and Ryan clasped it.

"Likewise," he returned with a friendly grin. "It seems the locals are getting used to me."

Vendegal chuckled. "Getting used to hiding their reaction, maybe. You were the talk of the town all winter long. How's the shoulder?"

Ryan blushed, surprised. "How did you know about that?"

"As part of the garrison," Vendegal explained openly, "even if only part time, the good doctor is tasked with reporting injuries to me. Even accidental ones. I need to know if my men are at one hundred percent when we go on patrol."

"Sensible," Ryan agreed. "He didn't give you, ah, details did he?"

"Not really," Vendegal confessed. "Just something poisonous had bitten your shoulder and needing to be lanced. So your shoulder will be fine, yes?"

"Better than fine," Ryan assured his friend, making a mental note to send thanks to the doctor for being discreet. Before he could continue or mention why he was in town an alarm bell started to clang. Both he and Vendegal turned and the fire wagon rumbled around the corner, the large tank on wheels pulled by ten horses, a pump box with a two man lever near the rear. Several men in thick padding were clinging to it as the driver snapped the reins to urge the horses to a faster trot.

It became all too clear the fire wagon was headed out of town and down the southern road. It was that moment they spotted the distant black smoke rising. Ice twisted in Ryan's gut and Vendegal got the words out before he could. "That looks uncomfortably close to your farm, let's get a pair of horses and check it out."

"Agreed," Ryan replied darkly. He followed the garrison commander to a nearby stable, the boys who were brushing the fast animals backed up at the site of the big man. At any other time Ryan may have smiled and joked with them, but not now. A number of garrison horses were saddled already and it took only a few minutes to check the nails in the horseshoes. Satisfied, they mounted and trotted out towards the smoke.

The ice feeling in his gut spread as they got closer to the fire, and Ryan couldn't restrain himself from hollering out when he spotted the cottage. It had already burned completely to the ground. "Myra! Myra!" His hands shook as he got off the horse and released the reins. She wasn't answering back from anywhere.

The water wagon still gushed out of the long cloth hose, two men pumping while the others helped control the direction of the spray. Whatever they used for increasing the water pressure was impressive, but that fleeting thought blew out of his mind as his eyes searched the smoking ruins. They were still too hot to go tramping through, the smoke way too thick. His thoughts stammered.
She has to be out picking fruit in the woods. She does that often. Her favorite peaches are out there. She couldn't have burned to death.

"Over here," came Vendegal's voice, detached and emotionless. He spun and saw his friend by the barn. The dour expression put haste into Ryan's feet and Vendegal blinked with the speed the big man could produce even in short distances. Anything that large shouldn't be able to move that quick in his opinion, but the current situation drove his attention to the larger problem. They both regarded a long thick paper with flowing text, pinned to the barn door with an expensive looking dagger. It was signed with a flourish and what appeared to be a royal symbol, the gold dust sparkling in the sunlight on the melted wax where the seal made its impression.

"I can speak the language," Ryan darkly confessed to his friend, "but I can't read it. What does it say?"

"You don't understand, Lord Za'Ryan," Vendegal reluctantly got out between pursed lips. "This paper has to come down and go directly to the king. This cannot go unanswered."

"What does it
say
?" When Ryan spoke, the sentence was in a normal tone of voice except for the last word, which he thundered out. His emotions were running too hot to care for proper procedure and he didn't give a damn if it offended anyone. Vendegal's expression said he understood as he raised his hand and placed it high on Ryan's shoulder.

"If I read it to you, will you listen to reason and not go running off?" It was a dangerous question to ask any man in that situation. Vendegal almost removed his hand when he saw those blue eyes, often warm, turn ice cold and deadly. Instead, he swallowed hard and hoped he didn't break into a nervous sweat at the same time.

"No promises," Ryan replied, the frost in his tone equal to those who killed without remorse. "Just read it please, or I'll find another to do it."

He nodded to the big man and turned to the parchment. He traced the words as he read them out loud with his finger. "To Lord Za'Ryan of House Ven'Krue. Greetings from the Bright Lands, the greatest in the world. I, Queen Darya of Central Avernus bid you to come to my castle and speak with me. No harm will come to your Lady if you comply, as I've foreseen your refusal to pay me a visit should there be no incentive. If I do not see you by the end of next summer, I will return your Lady in six different boxes. This I swear upon my throne, do not disappoint me. Seriously sincere, Queen Darya."

Thunderclouds of pending grief cleared from his head and new hotter emotions took their place. Relief that Myra was still alive coursed through his veins but it was bitter sweet. She had been captured right out from under him, something he had never thought would happen. He knew he cut an impressive sight among the locals. He also knew that word would have gotten around about him, but to have some royal figure from another country demand his presence after kidnapping his wife to assure it? He felt there was a lot more to this than it appeared. He also felt the dark and stubborn black hole of lost memories in his head quiver.

"I need my armor," he told Vendegal with a grim tone. "I also need my sword." He reached out and worked the dagger free of the barn door and snatched the paper. Then he placed the document in Vendegal's hands. "And please, do get this to your king. We have plans to make and we need to do them quickly."

"Running off after her is a bad idea for several reasons," Vendegal complained, only a tinge of regret riding his musical accent. "There is time for diplomacy here, and our king is not one to show weakness. It's more than likely he'll send an army after her."

"You're the one who doesn't get it," Ryan snapped back. "There's a spy somewhere. That queen who shouldn't even know me or my social status addressed me directly by name. They want me to get in my armor and go riding out, it would be hard to miss me. I don't want my armor and weapon for that, we need to set up a decoy. Make them think I'm still here waiting for your diplomatic response, fill my suit with another but keep the visor down. Even if the blacksmith has to make the insides different so one of your people can parade around town during drills pretending to be me, you all have a chance at not being invaded outright. They want that army to thunder towards them so her forces can sack this country without much resistance. Are you hearing me, Vendegal?"

"I - I think so," he stammered back, features twisted in confusion. "What about the spy?"

"You find your most trusted man in your unit to play my part. The fewer who know, the better," Ryan explained quickly. "Put it all over town that in my grief over the kidnapping and waiting to see if the king sends an army or not, I don't want to be bothered in public. It will give reason why I'm not seen in person. Have the decoy ready in a few days and start parading him around at the proper times for patrols and drills. Let the spy see that. The word will go out that I didn't leave yet and so this place will remain safe for a little while longer."

"So what
will
you do?" Vendegal demanded, but with respect and an urgency for haste combined.

"I'm going after her, of course," he replied with a dangerous tone. "I'll travel only by night and sleep during the day when I can find a comfortable hidden spot. They're terrified of their losses over sacking Ocaza if I'm here. If they find out I'm gone too soon, they'll hit the town hard. So build up the defenses as much as you can. Are you understanding me?"

"I think so," Vendegal said, still slightly confused but thinking it through. "You're leaving to go after her, but making sure they don't think you're gone, right?"

"You got it," Ryan assured his friend. "When night falls, I'm gone. Tell nobody, not even the mayor. Only those you must and swear them to secrecy or this fails and you'll have raiders up the ass. We can't have that."

"I get it," Vendegal replied, voice tinged with doubt. "But why not do this my way, or at least try? You have the time, according to the letter. We can put pressure on her kingdom. If it comes down to it, then you can go and we'll be prepared for an all out attack."

Ryan faced his friend more fully and rested his large hand on Vendegal's thin shoulder. "Two reasons. One, you have a spy to worry about blabbing our intentions. Catch that spy if possible. Two, I have to get her before a year is up. Way before. She's pregnant."

All doubt vanished from Vendegal's face and his eyes hardened. "No more dissent from me, Lord Za'Ryan. Two lives are at stake, go and save them. I'll take care of my end." They clasped hands and Ryan wished he had more knowledge of the terrain around the countryside. He knew which direction the enemy lived and which road to start out on, getting there and locating the castle maybe a bit harder.

Vendegal mounted his horse and tucked the paper inside his shirt. He glanced back at Ryan once more, nodded quickly, then galloped off for Ocaza. It was time to prepare and as soon as it got dark, he prayed that nobody got in the big guy's way.