An Excerpt From: The Sailkeeper's Bride

© Copyright Annie Windsor, 2003.

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave, Inc.

Chapter 1

     Fari Tul’Mar, Sailkeeper of Arda, never believed he would feel the Ardani mating fervor.

     He had lived 120 stellar years. He was large and powerful even by Ardani standards, fit, battle-trained, and bloodthirsty when challenged. He guarded his brother Ki, the Sailmaster, with a ferocity akin to beasts of the woods. Fari knew the schematics of alien vessels as well as he knew the frigates and speeders in the Royal Fleet. His lawkeeper’s mind stayed three steps ahead of potential adversaries and saboteurs.

     He had no time for lunacy, and absolutely no time for a shanna, a soul’s mate.

     And yet, the moment Fari saw Georgia Steel swing her swords in front of the Tuscan Platform, the fires of mating madness had scorched him thoroughly. Stellar week after stellar week, he had been forced to consume calming elixirs prepared by the High Priest Akad. Without the drugs, and without satisfying his mounting desires, Fari would surely lose his mind.

     On this day, one more in a long line of endless, grating days of frustration, he tamed his lust enough to fulfill his duties to Arda. Fari took these responsibilities more than seriously. He had learned at a tender age that mistakes and carelessness could cost precious lives.

     The stables of Browntown, on the far side of Camford Lake, had been burned. The townspeople had called to the Tul’Mar Clan for help and defense, and that meant the Sailkeeper’s involvement. He had made the journey by Chimera, without hesitation or delay.

     As Fari stood in Browntown amidst the smoking rubble, he used the full measure of his psi gift to see what might elude duller minds. Behind him, the town’s meager population stood in silence as he worked.

     There. Fari narrowed his eyes. Wood burned beyond char. Accelerant.

     And there. The way the structure collapsed inward. Accelerant spread in a careful circular pattern. This was not done in passionate rage. This was cold. Calculated.

     “A message.” He stroked the stubble on his cheeks.

     The smoldering ruins cast sinister shadows on the scarred ground.

     No Chimeras had died. They had been stolen.

     Fari strode across the ashen boards to get a view from the back. Almost immediately, he caught an irregularity in the nearby dirt—and an all-too-familiar object.

     “Knador!” Arda’s worst curse left Fari’s lips even as he knelt to grab the rare black falcon feather. Grinding his teeth, he crushed the plume in his fist.

     Darkyn Weil and the Outlanders. And they had left him a message, neatly carved in the dried, flaking earth.

     The end of time is coming. You must prepare.

     Fari kicked dirt over the irritating words and crammed the broken feather in his pocket. No need to distress the citizens. At least not yet.

     When he turned to explore the barn once more, Fari was taken aback by the grim, resolute expressions of the townspeople. They eyed the ground where he stood, and then glanced at the feather poking from his pocket.

     He sighed.

     There were no secrets here.

     Serious trouble was afoot, and Arda’s gentle folk—the very souls who would be counting on the might of Tul’Mar to defend them—already knew.

* * * * *

     Fari rode Tor, his blue Chimera stallion, toward Camford at a dead gallop. His black hair whipped his shoulders, and his black breeches and tunic flapped in the wind. As the road wound back to the castle, grain fields, grassy plains, and thick clumps of forest flew by.

     Old lore held that the Lorelei, wild women who protected the Tul’Mar line, once lived among those ancient trees—but the Lorelei were phantoms no more.

     Legend had come to life in the recent Battle of Camford, after a brutal speeder crash. Fari’s much-adored sister Krysta had been exposed to too much pa, the living substance of the universe. Her hair had turned shimmering silver, like pa itself. Elise Tul’Mar, Fari’s sister-by-marriage, also received a full-body pa mark in that crash, as did her cousin Georgia Steel.

     Georgia. My Georgia.

     Fari’s eyes narrowed. His cock hardened, and a wave of madness swept his soul. If he did not put rein to his thoughts, he would be forced to drink more of the elixir in his pocket.

     Georgia. His shanna. Even a mental image of his destined mate could instantly push him toward insanity. Fari pictured Georgia’s fiery hair and shapely body. Her smooth, freckled skin called to him, as did her tempting vine-like pa mark. And yet she rejected him at every turn.

     His fists tightened in Tor’s flowing mane.

     The situation was unacceptable. Surely the crazed half-Earthling half-Ardani female would soon see reason and accept him, as she should have done the first moment they met.

     One day, I will ride you, Georgia. As surely as I ride this splendid beast.

     That thought was enough to necessitate a swig of calming liquid.

     Fari felt his tongue burn as he tasted the hateful fluid. Beneath him, Tor snorted and sang as if to bring his master’s concentration back to the task at hand.

     Chimera and rider thundered beneath azure skies and the bright light of big sun and little sister, Arda’s daystars. Fari felt the drive of purpose clearing his fogged mind. Gradually, his intense desire abated.

     He had other urgent matters to attend after the morning’s investigation. After nearly one hundred and twenty-five stellar years of tenuous peace, the only opposition faction within the Tul’Mar realm was suddenly discontent.

     Why would Darkyn Weil and his Outlander fools start trouble now?

     The Outlanders had troubled Arda’s main society since the first recorded times. They had always lived separately and secretly in tribal groups, refusing trade and interaction, waiting for Ma’ord’pa. The end of life. The end of time. The doom of Ardani civilization.

     Tanna Kon’pa. That’s what they called themselves. “The People.”

     As if no other people existed.

     Outlanders considered themselves guardians of the ancient wisdoms and the ancient ways. Generation after generation of Outlander children had been raised to believe that one day, they would be the only hope for Arda’s survival.

     Which was, of course, ridiculous.

     “The People” were not even telepathic. They had no pa mark, and thus, no direct connection to the living matter of the universe.

     Suspicious bastards. Fari swore silently as the Tul’Mar family castle came into view. Prepare for the end of time. The end is near—always the same foolish message. Arda should have blown itself to bits long ago, if Outlander propaganda were the least bit accurate.

     At the moment, though, Darkyn Weil’s timing was abysmal.

     Ki Tul’Mar had taken the Ardani Fleet on patrol to ward off another incursion from OrTa. Lord Gith had been defeated in the Battle of Camford a few stellar months ago, but the stinking lizard had not been destroyed. As long the slaver lived, he would try to reclaim the woman he believed to be his property: Ki’s shanna Elise.

     Fari snarled.

     That would never happen. Ki would die before surrendering Elise, and Fari would die with him. As was Ardani custom, Fari had sometimes joined Ki and Elise for long sessions of sensuous lovemaking. Elise was a warm and caring woman, a golden-haired blessing from the gods. She would never ever become an OrTan pleasure slave.

     Elise was nearing delivery of Ki’s firstborn, and the babe would be heir to Camford’s legacy. In Ki’s absence, Fari was responsible for Elise’s safety—and the safety of petulant, maddening Georgia.

     Fari reined Tor at Camford’s massive gates. Georgia. My shanna. Will you forever reject me?

     As he entered the grounds, his pa mark, the shape of a great bird in flight covering his broad chest and sides, burned with Georgia’s nearness.

     “Where is she?” he murmured, fumbling for the elixir even as his cock responded to her proximity.

     There. In front of the stables.

     Georgia’s hips swayed as she walked, leading her yellow Chimera. Krysta was with her. The two women had been for a morning ride.

     And probably a morning fuck, Fari grumbled to himself, borrowing the Earth word for sex. He liked its harsh, intense sound. The image of Krysta making love to his shanna didn’t anger him, except for the fact that he had been left out. It was commonplace for Ardani to share their mates with first-degree, same generation relatives.

     Exercising great force of will, Fari did not grab his rigid cock and stroke himself to relief. He fancied he could smell Georgia’s light scent of wild berries and spring. Feel the brush of her skin against his throbbing pa mark.

     Tor nuzzled Fari’s neck and hummed.

     “I have no time for this,” Fari agreed. “I need to go to the war room and contact Ki. This Outlander problem…”

     His words trailed off as Georgia entered the stables.

     Will they fuck again, Georgia and Krysta? If I know my sister…

     His cock throbbed hard against his belly.

     Perhaps he could spare a few minutes to visit with his mate-to-be. If they could have a positive conversation, just one reasonable interaction, maybe he would be on the road to persuading Georgia to give him a chance.

     Especially if Krysta had her primed for true satisfaction.

     Grinning, Fari headed for the barn.

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