Heart Bound Read online

  “There was an earthquake a while back. The surveyors were sent out to take samples of the area, particularly where Beatrix directed them. There’s every indication that Guntram is somewhere around there.”

  “So, just leave it alone,” Vans whispered.

  “Not until I verify that he’s all right,” Travis answered, his expression stubborn.

  Mano’s eyes narrowed. “You really think you and my uncle have Beatrix fooled?”

  Travis nodded. “I do. She knows she can trust me. Maximilian is distracting her. I swear, I don’t want to see golden boy harmed. But don’t you feel it?” He tapped the center of his chest. “Something is wrong. You and your…mystical crap.” He wiggled his fingers. “You must feel it, too. Why don’t you help me? The sooner I sort this out, the sooner I get out of there.”

  Vans looked from Travis to the rest of them, particularly Ursa, with a plea in her eyes.

  “Those surveyors go right to her with everything they find,” Travis said grimly. “I have no control over them. You know how Hayden is. They are all about consuming land. All this land.” He pointed a finger vaguely to indicate Ursa and Leo’s new home and property. “Shopping malls. Car lots. Condos. Who knows what else?”

  “Fuck,” Mano growled and leaned back into his chair and looked skyward. “Conte, you are not going to enjoy what you find.” He didn’t look back at the other man.

  “Better me than the surveyors.”

  “No, I mean when you start digging, you’re going to have to face some uncomfortable facts. The mystical crap you keep thumbing your nose at…” Mano mocked as he wiggled his fingers. “It’s going to bite your face off. Because I respect the spirit of what you’re trying to do, I’m going to do everything I can to keep that from happening. That is why I’m not going to help you hunt my cousin. My aunt could put all her power to bear, and still it would not move me. He is beyond her reach. And yours, too.” He turned to Vans with a look of sympathy and pity. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re an asshole, Mano,” Travis growled.

  “I know. I am a horrible person,” Mano answered, smirking. “Insults aren’t going to soften me. Drop it. Find a house here in the valley with your wife-to-be. Enjoy life here out from under Beatrix’s thumb. Then, when you are free of her, I will sit with you and tell you everything.”

  Leo and Marcie looked skeptical and concerned, but Vans seemed utterly stricken. Victorious whispered quietly against her side, We will find the golden boy, champion. Do not worry.

  Ursa wasn’t sure that was a good idea. No, she was pretty sure that was the worst idea in the world.

  Chapter 7

  Dreams

  Spirit-walks, not dreams, filled Ursa’s night.

  They began the same, looking at the map stretched across the courier quarters. An enormous expanse of blue, dotted with land masses. Roads and rivers laced across the green-and-gold forms. There were lakes, mountains, forests, grasslands and cities. So many cities.

  “Come, messenger, time waits on no one. Not even you,” The voice drew Ursa’s attention from reading the names of the continents. Fa’burk, Talgraem, Lyni, Norendin, Klorwur, and Shirvil. The scribe, a small boy dressed in scarlet velvet was the same. He offered her the leather tube and bowed low, waiting for her to take it. “Deliver the message. Do not stray from the path,” the boy intoned the ritual. “You will wake when the task is complete and not before. Run swiftly, messenger.”

  That was the responsibility she had accepted when she took the sword. Delivering messages where she was directed. As long as it remained in transit, she would sleep. It took as little as hours or as long as weeks doing her delivery, but it always filled the short span of a mortal night.

  Stay to the task. Do not get distracted. Do not leave the path. Easy.

  Ursa loved it.

  There were dangers of course. Not only that she might die while bearing the message, but if she went off track she could get lost. Both meant she would never wake.

  She checked that Victorious hung at her side before plucking the tube from the boy.

  Then she ran.

  Who would have thought Ursa Myller would enjoy running? Maybe because her lungs didn’t burn and her body didn’t ache. She delighted in running. She delivered the messages as directed, eager to return to her life. To her Leo and to her friends. As much as she enjoyed being strong, graceful and respected in that place, she missed the life on the other side.

  She lost track of the number of messages. There were places of beauty but also horrors she would rather forget.

  In the back of her mind she kept the hope she would cross the path of Guntram Engel and relay the message his father gave her. Then she could get him out of there. As she’d been told, this was no place for the living.

  She didn’t understand the spirit-tongue of the natives. Who was she to question the nature of dreams? Her visits were just that. Visits. This wasn’t the place she belonged, and despite being honored as a diplomat, it was very apparent that the locals didn’t want her getting too comfortable.

  So she ran, longing to finish her job and get back to living.

  Tipping her head, she enjoyed the sunshine on her face and the sounds of the strange forest around her. She came to the familiar fork in the road and glanced at the tube to check her map when the sound of a horn echoed through the trees around her.

  Victorious’s green brilliance and voice filled her head. Someone is trapped there.

  When the sound faded, it took the birdsong with it and the silence stretched around them. The sound came from the woods, far off the path.

  Do not leave the path. She had been warned.

  The road was packed dirt, safe where it ran between the trees. She chewed her lower lip as Victorious mentally nudged at her. They couldn’t just walk away.

  Groaning softly, Ursa tucked the message tube into her pocket and stepped off the path and into the massive grove of golden-trunked trees. The dark leaves overhead blotted out the sunshine. The ground sloped down sharply, and she saw a broken stone wall curling through the trees.

  “Don’t you dare get me lost,” she whispered, putting a hand to the hilt of the sword as she continued down the slope.

  You are safe, champion. He is the one in danger. We must save him.

  Him?

  Ursa leapt over the wall, vaulting down into the ditch and padded through the water with the stink of blood and filth choking her. The sound rose up again, a blast like a French horn, quavering but loud. It vibrated the ground under her feet. She came around the cluster of trees and saw the animal in chains at the bottom of a pit.

  It was the size of a rhino with a stag’s graceful build. The horn extending from the center of its forehead was a corkscrew as thick as her thigh, ending in a trio of sharp prongs. Unlike the hide of a rhinoceros, this creature had fur the same color red as Marcie’s fancy corvette. Dirty and burned in places, there were horrible cuts along its powerful hips and flanks. There were spots along its back where the fur was rubbed away to expose raw flesh. Several spears pierced one side, shattered wood poles extended like quills between its ribs.

  Bands of metal circled each thick fetlock. Chains stretched from the cuffs to posts, tangled in mud- and blood-clotted fur. The scent of rot and decay flew up on the wings of flies. It had been left for dead.

  Ursa questioned that the noise had come from this direction. The creature didn’t look strong enough to make that sort of sound. Then the vast ribs moved upward, swelling with a breath and the animal struggled in the filth to lift its savage head.

  Eyes the color of amethyst regarded her with fires burning within. Mistrust and pain glazed together as the huge beast surged and then staggered to its feet. Its lips pulled up from muddy teeth. The fluted ears pinned flat as it waited to see what Ursa was going to do.

  Ursa swallowed and held up her hand, showing her palm. She felt the tingle along the starred mark intensify as the animal glanced at it and then back to her. A shudder ran across i
ts shoulders, muscles twitching. The pale-purple iris almost vanished as the pupils dilated in response to the agony.

  “Let me help you.” When she spoke, the beast’s ears ticked forward to catch her voice.

  She took it as a signal it was safe to come forward. “I’m going to pull these out of you.” Before she could convince herself to run, she tugged the first weapon from the beast’s flesh.

  It groaned with relief when the steel came away and the powerful legs shook as it fell back into the muck. Breath rattled through its teeth, foam blowing from the flared nostrils.

  “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” She tore the edge of her cloak and pushed it onto the wound and worked out the second spearhead, doing the same with it, all the while muttering her apology.

  When she was finished removing the metal and wood from its side, the beast lay still in the muck, breaths shallow and eyes rolled up to the whites. She pulled Victorious free and the green fire of the stone flared brightly against her bloody fingertips. She brought the flamed edge down on the rusted chains, shattering them.

  The pit and surrounding forest echoed with the sound before the drone of the flies returned. The beast lay still and silent, barely breathing and then it lurched to its feet. It sprang up the bank of the pit and vanished from sight. The sounds of the chains rattled around its limbs as it bounded away.

  Ursa stared after it with a smile. They’d saved it! Victorious thrummed in her hand with satisfaction. Sliding the blade back into the sheath, she climbed out of the muck. Warily she picked her way toward her path, wanting to avoid running into anything or anyone who had captured the animal and tortured it.

  Good deed accomplished, but she still had the message to deliver.

  What sort of animal was it and why had it been left to die in chains? Who did such things? These were the puzzles her dreams left with her. Maybe it was supposed to symbolize—

  Her thoughts cut off as she came through the knot of trees and into a meadow. This should have been the road! The scarlet beast was rolling in the high grass. Long legs kicked up, chains clinking as it rubbed in the sun-warmed greenery. It stopped and jerked its head up. A tuft of earth clung to the tips of the savage horn.

  Leaping to its feet, it charged Ursa.

  Time in dreams behaves strangely. Warped and distorted, it felt as though a lifetime passed as she watched the rhinoceros-sized stag gallop toward her, head low with the halberd-like horn aimed right at her gut.

  Wake up Ursa! Wake up Ursa! But the dream held her tightly. She had not delivered her message! The dream continued to spool around her, closing in. She was going to die!

  But the beast flew past her and trampled the huntsman lurking behind her. His sword flew one way and his body the other as the horn went right through him. With a violent headshake, the beast flung him away, blood and entrails and all.

  Whirling back to her, the fluted ears perked forward. One forelimb poised up as it listened to the silent forest. Blood and gore drooled down the silvery horn and the beast’s pale-lilac eyes swept the glade before very slowly locking its attention again on Ursa.

  Ursa’s heart continued thundering and she held her ground, realizing she had drawn Victorious. The animal’s withers twitched away flies and the ratty tail slapped over a battered flank. “Easy. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Amusement rippled off the animal and it ducked its head slightly, gaze fixed on the sword.

  With an effort she forced her hands to stay still and sheathed the sword again. “Who…are you? What are you?”

  It uttered a songbird’s lyrical warble. Her throat wasn’t even capable of making such a sound.

  “That’s your name?” she asked, and the beast dipped its powerful head, muzzle tucking to the vast chest with a wet smack. It left a grimy dollop of foam behind. The spiral horn came dangerously close to her and she could smell and feel heat radiating from it. The stamp of the beast’s cloven hoof rattled the chain dangling from the manacle.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t speak that—” Ursa found herself lost in the lilac gaze as it held her.

  Ur’Sah! The voice stamped warmly between her eyes in time with her heartbeat. She felt the huge wave of amusement tumble over her. You’ll do just fine, a softer undercurrent whispered under a breath. Pleasure, pride, and curious interest curled like smoke around the creature as those beautiful eyes swept through her.

  It… No, he, saw everything about her. Quick as shuffling of a deck of cards. Simple as that, he knew everything.

  He considered, and then approved, with a respectful, My Ur’Sah!

  His Ur’Sah.

  “W-w-what?” She blinked and felt the crush of amusement. “What are you?”

  Small ears flicked forward and then curved back after a series of soft warbles, beautiful for a creature so savage and clearly in pain. The eyes twinkled as though sharing a secret with her. Of course, she could never correctly pronounce the name or species. Silly war bride.

  “War bride?” She frowned.

  Yes. You are clearly warrior born. You and the blade! The voice of the beast boomed through her head and she received an image of brilliant-emerald Victorious smashing through the chains to free him. Then a sweep of warm relief, affection and delight. Silly war bride. His voice was a sigh now, just a rumble deep within her, almost an afterthought.

  “All right.” She lifted her hand again to show off her palm and the mark there, but the beast was looking at her eyes. “Well, you are free now. You should go back to your kind.”

  The tail flicked again and the animal snorted, nostrils puffing as it came gracefully to her side. Ur’Sah. I go where you go, he explained patiently, as though she should know this as she knew how to breathe. An image followed, of her breaking the chains. That somehow entitled him to some sort of ownership over her. My messenger does not run alone, the secondary voice, a softer whisper, accented the first point.

  “No, you don’t understand—” She gawked at the huge animal, backing up a step as it loomed over her. The smell coming off of him was horrific. A slaughterhouse stink. “You belong here. I belong out there. This is a dream.”

  Which made her really want to wake up. Wake up. Wake up! But the message lay heavily in her pocket. It had not been delivered. She’d gone off target. Did this mean she might get lost here?

  Ur’Sah, the beast soothed. Your course is not flawed. We shall make the delivery without delay. You carry the message, I bear the messenger. The soulful lilac eyes met hers. The beast’s joy was nearly overwhelming. You need only mount up. He eased down onto his knees before her, in obvious pain. The shoulders and slope of his back were over her head. It tucked up a cleft hoof and regarded her expectantly.

  Fine. The message would be delivered and then she would wake up. Leave this all behind her as usual. Good. She grabbed the knotted mane and stepped onto the foot and climbed up onto the back, mindful of the wounds.

  But he heard her and understood what she was thinking. I go where you go, he said again, firmer this time. A warrior must have a mount to watch her flank, the softer whisper confirmed with images of running the enemy through with that savage horn.

  As soon as her fingers tightened around the mane, the beast flew away with her. His speed and grace, only a dream could provide. Flying with unseen wings. The bounding leaps of the stag defied all rules of gravity. They made the gatehouse before the bells even began to ring the morning warnings.

  The guards at the station stared at her on the mount and she felt heat rise in her cheeks while they fell to their knees in some sort of reverence to the animal. He only flicked his ears back toward Ursa, head tipped so one big eye could cast back at her.

  “What have you done to him?” one of the warriors demanded after he’d finished a genuflection that included pressing his forehead to the dirt at the animal’s cloven hooves.

  “I…rescued him,” she said as the man rushed forward, drawing his sword, his eyes furious.

  Her mount ghosted out of range, swing
ing his head, using his horn to casually knock the sword from the man’s hand. Ears laid back, he bellowed a huge, clarion cry, the blare of a golden horn.

  The others paused in various stages of drawing weapons while Ursa struggled to stay mounted. “Are you crazy? What are you doing? I didn’t hurt him! He was in a trap. I cut him loose. I would never hurt him.”

  A rush of affection filled her. The fierce, protective fire shielded her. Ursa had never felt anything close to that emotion. There was the deep love she shared with Leo, soft and beautiful, and then there was this emotion. Thunderous, selfless, and consuming. She’d saved him when all was lost, and she still wore his blood. He had killed for her to complete the circle. It fused them together.

  The man clutched his hand to his chest and stared at her mount as he sank back to his knees and pressed his face into the dirt. He babbled something in the spirit-tongue, sounding outraged and horrified. Gesturing back at Ursa, he kept his head bowed low.

  Her mount listened and then roared again, stretching his neck out as the screaming horn-call echoed on and on. When it ended, there was only silence and every person in the square lay prostrate on the cobblestones.

  They will not touch you! The voice vibrated through her. The secondary voice whispered, They are jealous.

  The warrior who’d come at her before, now pulled himself together and stood to face her, his expression stricken. “It is an honor to meet the betrothed of his Holiness.”

  “What?” Ursa demanded and fell right off the beast’s back.

  What have they done now? The deep inner voice turned into a snarl as the animal shifted to stand guard over her, a threatening rumble bubbling up from its massive throat. Ah! Their translation is flawed, the secondary voice sighed.

  “Lady! Lady! I am sorry! Please forgive us.” The man looked ready to drop down to grovel to her.

  “Stop! Stop this. I’m not getting married. Not to…to an…a… I—”

  The snarling in her head turned to warm laughter and she imagined being wrapped in a brilliant, sunlit hug. Married! He was delighted with this misunderstanding, the laughter ringing through the space in her head. No, beloved. Ours is a much deeper union.