A Story Begins Now

By Jane Carver

A weak knock tapped at Gambrel’s door the next morning. From deep slumber, he emerged awake, alert to danger. When he realized where he was, his racing heart slowed.

Again, the faint knocking. Someone requested entrance.

“A moment while I dress,” he called out. Least he offend, he dressed quickly. He opened the portal. An old man, the father from the previous night’s tavern visit, smiled, and extended his hand.

“You’re Gambrel.” The two clasped forearms in standard universal greeting. “I’m Darkin Windrum.” The man stepped into the room. The elder looked fragile, with white hair and slender build. His features sank into dark weathered skin. His back bent, he walked slowly as if ill. “I am a poor host. I can offer you no meal. My daughter and I will dine aboard our ship. This home is bare except for the few things we could not take with us on our voyage.” He held hands up and shrugged.

“Your daughter was kind enough to offer me a safe place to sleep last night, Windrum. More than I expected. A meal should be easy to come by.”

“Perhaps places are still open where you may eat. I hope so for your sake, sire.” Darkin led the way down the hall to the front door. Vangee waited wearing a soft gray cape this time. Again, her features lay concealed within the folds of the hood.

Gambrel bowed to her.

“My friend, did you rest well?”

A man could get used to waking up every morning to the sound of her voice. “Thank you, yes, lady.”

“I can offer no refreshments and no passage off Ancade, but would you walk with us to the docks and wish us safe voyage?” The twinkle in Darkin’s eyes made Gambrel smile. Poor host or not, the man drew him.

The three passed through the front portal. Darkin put the key into the lock and turned it. A shudder ran down his back, and he pressed his forehead against the heavy panel for a minute.

Gambrel stepped forward, worried something had happened to him. Vangee stopped him with one gray-gloved hand on his forearm. A slight shake of her head indicated they should wait.

As he watched, he sensed the elder hated going as much as his friend. The pain of leaving his home tore him apart. Eventually the man turned from the locked board and caught his glance.

“You think me a silly man perhaps. But I married and brought my wife to this house. My only child was born here. Friends and businessmen greeted me in this home. We lived simple. Enjoyed the product of our labors. Life has come full-circle. I began as a ship’s captain, sailing the astral tides. And I shall most likely die riding those same invisible waves.”

When Vangee protested his death, Darkin put a finger over her lips. “Hush, daughter. All things have a purpose, and my death will serve one someday.” The man’s eyes sparkled at her then Gambrel. “If nothing else, I will see your mother again.”

Darkin held out his hand and patted Gambrel’s arm. He raised it so the elder could lean on it while they walked to the dock. Vangee hooked her arm around her father’s elbow. Like boon companions, the three strolled away, chatting as if acquainted for decades.

Eerie silence lay heavy on the streets. Those who passed said not a word. Those staying hid inside. Many of the ships’ passengers must have boarded earlier for few walked abroad.

A hot breeze carried a piece of debris in its searing clutches. Buildings looked deserted already. Mid-summer heat amplified the fragrance of blooming flowers. Flyers—usually noisy in the early hours—sat strangely quiet as if aware a change was coming.

The trio neared the lower streets closer to the edge of the Badian Sea. Vangee and her father grew quiet. To be expected, Gambrel mused, when one’s life has been turned upside down.

Sympathy welled in him, and he started to speak, offer some consolation. But compassion was a dangerous emotion, a sign of tragedy. The words stuck in his throat. No insipid musings of his would make man or woman feel better. He had moved from planet to planet and town to town so often that he didn’t know the meaning of stability. After thinking about it, he didn’t know how to offer sympathy.

He listened to Windrum’s musings while trying to catch the daughter’s gaze. Almost in front of his eyes, a dart flew past and twanged into the soft side of the building. Gambrel hunkered over the old man and scanned the surrounding area. One hand already held a blaster at full stun power.

Nothing. He spotted no one. But that dart—probably a tranq—came from somewhere.

Vangee screamed when another dart caught in the folds of her cape. She crouched, as wary of the surroundings as him. One step forward, she straightened then threw out her hands. But the barrier that saved her the night before didn’t work fast enough. Darkin slid to the pavement as the shield formed around them.

“Windrum!” Gambrel went down on one knee and pulled the elder to rest on his propped leg. His blaster prepared to disintegrate anyone who rushed them.

“Father!” Vangee huddled over the man as she shook him. “’Brel, what’s wrong with him?” Her voice quivered in fear, choked on tears.

“Hold the barrier while I check.” One look only. The last dart stuck out of the man’s neck. A direct hit. But on the wrong person.

The ‘nappers wanted Vangee alive and him dead. The dart was for her, a young person healthy enough to withstand the effects. A blaster, knife, or sword awaited him. He pulled out the tranq dart and felt for a pulse. As he suspected. None. The elder lay dead in the arms of a stranger.

While Gambrel regretted the man’s passing, Vangee became emotional. She threw her body across her father’s and called softly for him to wake. All the while, she sobbed.

Her emotions roiled. Anger. Grief and pain. The web of her power tightened until Gambrel’s lungs gathered no air, and his heart pounded. He broke out in a cold sweat. His reaction to the death wasn’t profound. Yet he experienced hers. Her protective powers, enhanced by grief, trussed his body in a hold that grew tighter and tighter.

He shook the woman who slumped across his lap. Her sobs broke his heart. The sounds of her laughter lay fresh in his memory but were not powerful enough to counteract this feminine anguish. “We have to move. Get away from here.”

“But my father…”

“I’ll carry him. But we must leave now.” The tone of his voice, deep and rumbling, finally broke through her pain. She nodded then stood.

“Stay close. My power does not extend far from my center when I am in such condition.”

Rather than throw the body over his shoulder, Gambrel carried Darkin Windrum tenderly in his arms. They hurried through the last two blocks. The thought of causing her further heartache seemed unthinkable.

By Jane Carver

Like other Ancadian homes, Vangee’s was beautiful. Once she closed the door behind them, a sense of serenity washed over Gambrel. Exotic-colored flowers in jewel-like vases gave off a delicate sweet fragrance. The lovely home was doomed like all the others he’d seen in the last two days. Was there no justice in the universe?

Vangee didn’t stop once they entered the dwelling. She continued down the open hallway, gauze hangings fluttering in the hot breezes. Nor did she remove her cape.

He still had no idea what she looked like. But he knew more than he did an hour ago. She fought well, thought clearly in a crisis, and spoke with soft words. The top of her head came not to the point of his shoulder.

Feeling like a barbarian among the civilized, he attempted no polite conversation. Did not try to see her face.

At the end of a hall, she pushed a door inward then stepped into a large bedroom. Across the room, outsized windows stood open. Incessant heat filtered through the night hours same as the daytime.

“I bid you rest here for tonight where you will be safe. Those who attacked us seek what they cannot have and might be bold enough to try again if we are outside. You, they would kill. I seem to be their target, but few would brave the defenses of my home. Sleep well.” She hesitated as if she wanted to add more. Finally, she turned to leave.

“Who were those men?”

“I have no idea, sire.”

“I am Gambrel Sarjean. And you are?” He knew her name but wanted to keep her there.

“I am Vangee Windrum.”

“Can I leave with the fleet tomorrow?” He stepped closer in an attempt to peer under the hood, but the light’s reflection off her eyes was the only thing he made out.

“I’m sorry. Strict rules govern how many may sail on each astral ship. Each is full to capacity. The ships merely wait for us to come aboard before sailing.”

She stepped forward and laid a hand on his arm. One companionable squeeze and she disappeared out the door, a faint click the only indication it closed.

Since he couldn’t explore the dwelling, he inspected the room. If necessary, he could drop from the windows to the blue grass below with no problem. Once he barred the heavy door, he shed his clothes. A smaller area to one side of the bedroom proved to be for bathing. He admired the mammoth tub. While steaming blue liquid filled the small lake of a facility, he shaved. Days had passed since his face was free of beard.

Mirrors in the room discomforted him only because he was alone. If a woman, someone like Vangee, were with him, they would be part of his enticing sensual foreplay before intimacy. Since he stood alone, the glistening glasses were useless. They reflected a tall man with abnormally broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and muscled thighs. His entire body looked square; no other description fit. The slight cleft in the bottom of his chin proved to be the only exception to that shape. His torso resembled a box, his shoulders making crisp right angles to thick arms and hands the size of small cruisers. Legs like columns supported his mass, the feet below resembled chunks of ‘crete.

At times, he appreciated his mass, in fights, when intimidating his enemies. Other times his huge dimension kept him from a decent hiding place. People turned from him in fear—size equaled aggression.

The only attributes he relished being so large were his privates. When aroused, his shaft strained the front of his hide trousers. Ladies loved to fondle him and begged for his attention.

He sank into the tub of steaming water and remembered women in other places. On other planets. One memory led to another. He thought of those he’d met and used. Sex came easily to him.

Now love… That was something else. Only two had ever held his heart. Xantis, his wife, long since dead. An accident. A lousy accident took the life of a gentle woman who only wanted to tend her home, love her husband, and watch children blossom around her skirts.

His thoughts came to Lindan. Nothing compared to what they had shared. Love like that never came twice.

by Jane Carver

As he rounded the corner, he spied Vangee in her pale green cape, but his blood ran cold at the sight of five men around her. They wanted her alive but hadn’t touched her yet. She twisted from side to side, watching the men, her arms outstretched, the cloak held open wide.

One man dashed in to grab her, but she sidestepped before moving aside effortlessly. Despite her apparent ease, Gambrel feared for her safety. Outrage filled his heart. Fury boiled in his blood, and a desire to protect her called him to action.

Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he grabbed each blaster out of its holster then ran, his maniac scream taking the five by surprise. From out of nowhere, blasters, phasers, and old-fashioned swords appeared. One swarthy character held a wicked looking knife between his teeth. Perhaps a headlong charge wasn’t a wise thing after all.

Vangee must have figured the man rushing to save her would die as soon as the surprise wore off. Grabbing him by the arm, she put her insubstantial weight behind her heels and dug in. He fell back, and she used his momentum to swing him behind her.

“Put your hands on my shoulders and move in tight, hulking one. We can outwit these in no time. But no one dies here tonight.”

Her hood turned toward him, he saw nothing of her face buried deep in the folds. As if some force took over his body, he did as the woman ordered. By all he held sacred, he fought the idea of hiding behind the safety of a woman. Yet behind her, he went.

Even as his stomach and chest pressed tightly to her backside, she opened her arms wide again and began to chant. First one man then another darted in to grab her. Another man tried to shot Gambrel. But nothing seemed to penetrate the invisible barrier around them.

“Stay close, big one. I can only protect so much, and you take up a lot of space.” Her words came low, sounded a bit humorous. The humor, however, got lost in the combination of men trying to kill them and some power beyond his knowledge working to save them.

The gang withdrew to the other side of the street and debated loudly how to execute the man and take the woman without harming her. When their attention wavered, Vangee made her move.

“Run for the alley back a block, massive one. We can evade them there.” She swirled her cape around him and left him standing alone, no barrier to protect him. Gambrel had no choice but to follow.

His loping gait easily caught up with her. “Dead-end, woman. How’s that going to help us?” He breathed without difficulty while she gasped for air. For every one of his steps, she took five.

“Have faith. We will disappear in plain sight.”

“Uh-huh.” His sarcastic agreement didn’t slow the woman.

She barreled around the corner into the only darkness available for blocks. High buildings created a cave-like atmosphere.

“Put your back to this wall, and stay still. Don’t talk. Don’t move. Don’t even breathe if you can help it.” Vangee took hold of his waist and pressed him against the side of the building then grabbed his hand. “I will blur our images. The men will only see walls and stone. The longer they stay, the harder it is to hold us invisible, so we do not want to alert them to our presence. Still!” With that, she closed her eyes.

Could she do what she said? He turned his head toward her as the attackers neared the alley’s entrance.

If it were possible, he would have laughed. The five hesitated to enter the dark narrow space between the buildings separately. With pokes and prods, they moved forward together one cautious step at a time, looking behind barrels and crates. One man passed within a foot without seeing them.

He would have breathed a sigh of relief when the men backed out of the alley, but he feared they might return and catch the pair unveiling. Discretion told him to wait for her all-clear signal.

Two full minutes past before Vangee appeared out of thin air. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized she had truly been invisible. Whatever or whoever she was, she made a good companion in a tight spot.

A finger to her lips indicated a need for silence. They crept to the front of the alley. The nearer the two came to the entrance, the more the back of Gambrel’s neck itched. Things weren’t what they seemed.

He jerked Vangee behind him and grabbed a knife from his boot. The largest of the five would-be ‘nappers attacked. Smaller than his intended target, the man never stood a chance. Gambrel whirled him up against his chest and slit his throat with quiet dispatch. Blood splatter shot out.

He shoved the dead man aside, grabbed Vangee’s hand, and hastened her out on to the sidewalk.

“Which way to your home?” Gambrel scrutinized the street or closest alleys.

“Two blocks further then another three to the right.”

They ran flat out, seeing few, avoiding all. By the time they arrived at her home, both were out of breath.