She learned quickly that several things were deceptive in the wastelands. One of them was distance.
She’d been walking for what felt like hours, but seemed to be no closer to the ravine than when she had started. Now that she looked back, she couldn’t see the portal either. The only things she could see were the scraggly bushes growing like an enormous maze, and the outcroppings of black rock that rose from the brush.
She heard a rumble in the distance, a clattering noise that sent a chill down her spine. Someone was out there.
Climbing one of the outcroppings was a risk, but she needed to know where the noise was coming from.
A large hawk-like bird cried overhead. Rexa glanced up at it. It circled on the wind, an ominous reminder that even the animals in this place would pick her bones clean.
The rumbling came from a different direction now. Frightened, she trotted to the nearest rock outcropping and searched for a handhold, her already parched mouth painfully dry. Luckily the dark rock was layered, giving her several cracks to wedge her hands into.
She climbed, her heart beating faster. The rumbling stopped, and she thought she heard voices.
Thankfully, her black synth coat meant she blended in with the surrounding rock.
Without thinking, Rexa jammed her hand into another crack, and immediately felt a sharp jab of burning pain. She gasped as she let go of the rock and fell backward, landing with a thud on the hard ground. She grabbed her wrist. Blood oozed from a nasty bite on the side of her palm. A red-spotted reptilian creature scuttled out of the crack in the rock, bared its sharp teeth and hissed at her. The frill along its back rattled in warning.
Her hand felt like it was on fire. It was already beginning to swell. She could only hold her wrist tightly and clench her teeth against the pain.
“Over here!” A man shouted. The rustling in the brush grew louder. “Sounds like a kiver got the bastard.”
“Good, we won’t have to kill him, then. We’ll just take his head when he dies.” A second voice answered. “The bounty on the Mad Man will be more than the last three combined.”
Rexa closed her eyes. She was poisoned. Already the nausea set in and she felt dizzy. She was dead.
Either way, she was dead.
She watched helplessly as a rusty blade cut through the brush. “Hey, it’s a woman!”
Rexa tried to clear her vision, but it took too much effort.
The other man cackled. “They must have sent a whore through the wrong portal. We’ll have fun tonight.
If she’s not breathing, she’ll still be warm.”
Rexa felt them pawing at her clothing, searching for pockets, and felt the bile rise in her throat.
“Stop – stop it,” she whispered, as one of them tried to hoist her up over his shoulder.
“Hey you!” A low, booming voice broke the silence of the wasteland. The hawk cried once more, the sharp keening sound slicing through the air like a knife. “You think a kiver could kill me?”
“The Mad Man!” One of them shouted.
The two men immediately dropped her onto the hard rock. She used all of her energy to curl into a ball.
Just then a roar blasted out overhead, followed by a blistering wave of heat. Rexa opened her eyes to see fire raining down around her. The two scavengers screamed as if the hand of death had just opened up to grab them.
The rumbling started up again, and with a squeal of an engine, they were gone.
“You okay?” The new stranger loomed over her. Her eyes cleared just enough to see the edge of his long, patchwork coat waving in the breeze beside the still-burning tip of a junked-together flamethrower.
The bushes around them crackled as the man let out a high-pitched whistle.
The hawk swooped over the burning bushes and landed on a leather pad tied to the man’s shoulder.
Dark hair blew haphazardly across the man’s hardened face, dark eyes, and the K-shaped brand on his cheek.
Murderer.
Rexa let her head fall, and the world turned black.
Two
She woke slowly. At first she held still, frantic to keep the nausea at bay. Her body was just as desperate for something to drink, though. She flopped her arm over her body and rolled to her side. She was on a flat pallet with a rough blanket beneath her cheek. A chain rattled as she moved.
She blinked her eyes into focus and stared down at the wrapping on her wounded hand. Although the clean bandage compressed her sore hand tightly, the color of her fingertips looked healthy. Her clothes were intact. Her ribs were still sore, but other than that, she didn’t seem to have any injuries. Then she noticed the makeshift shackle on her ankle.
“You’re alive.” A deep, gravelly voice commented. “Good.”
Rexa pushed herself against the hard dirt wall behind her. She was in a cave. Exposed wires and lights were tacked into the rough ceiling. The walls curved naturally, as if they had been carved by flowing water.
In every nook and corner, mounds of junk were piled. At first glance, they gave the impression of being heaps of garbage, but as she looked closer, all of the refuse seemed organized by size and material.
Throughout the cave, strange furniture had been welded or strapped together from salvaged parts of old appliances and vehicles. This recycled furniture had even been polished to show off vintage designs. In their own way, the structures were whimsical, if not outright beautiful.
On a stand that had once been the control wheel for a Patarch War-era starfighter, the large, dark hawk roosted with his feathers fluffed in contentment and his eyes happily closed.
That’s when her gaze fell on her captor. He sat at a table using a tool to pry into an electronics panel.
He’d pulled the top half of his hair back and tied it, revealing the hard lines of his face and the rough dark stubble of a young beard. He was large and powerful, with wide, honed shoulders and long limbs.
Her gaze traveled back to his face and fixed on the shining scars. They formed a brand on the crest of his cheekbone, just below and slightly behind his left eye.
“What are you going to do to me?” Rexa hugged her legs tightly. She tried to fight her fear, but she couldn’t stop staring at the brand.
The man frowned and rose from his seat. He stalked across the room like a large hunting cat. Rexa caught sight of the glint of metal and flinched, but when the man came forward, he was only carrying a cup of water. He towered over her, not bothering to try to make himself less threatening as he handed the cup to her.
She took it, and while the clear liquid sloshing inside the dented cup was the most tempting drug she could imagine, fear kept her from taking a sip.
“It’s only water.” The man returned to his chair and resumed his work on the electronic panel, as if she were no concern to him at all.
“How do I know?” She placed the cup down on the edge of the pallet. It was the only way she could defy him.
“Trust me, or don’t. I don’t care either way.” He lifted the panel and examined it from a different angle.
“Then why did you chain me to the wall?” She pulled her leg forward and dragged the heavy chain over the blanket.
“Because I don’t trust you.”
Rexa let out a gasp, and almost choked on a laugh. “I’m not branded.”
Her captor fixed her with a stare that could have cowed a deadly creature twice his size. “Not where I can see it, maybe. There are plenty of places to hide a brand on a body.”
“I’m innocent,” she hissed.
“Congratulations, you know the planetary motto.” He put the panel down and walked to the other side of the room, where he lit a fire in the belly of an antique camping stove.