Children of the Prophecy: The Gathering
By Tracy J. Farrell

Chapter 1

     Starke stepped into the small square room used for Portaling. Concentration eluded him.
     He recited a relaxation litany, but stopped midway through in disgust. He couldn’t focus, not with his mate unsecured.
     Pale gray walls greeted him. Enclosing him in their cool embrace, not a single window broke the bland chill of the room. He began again.
     Failed.
     He was appalled. Not since the age of ten had he been unable to repress his emotions. If he didn’t find a way to shackle his need the Amorians wouldn’t let him pass.
     And that was unforgivable. Duty and responsibility must be served, not wants and desires, and least of all emotions.
     Fanru, Starke’s feline companion, touched him, offering comfort and warmth. A rare purr rumbled against his leg.
     Lyrans were thick-furred ice-dwelling felines. Lithe and small, they had deadly, razor sharp claws and wicked tempers.
     She spoke directly into his mind. You must calm yourself before you enter or the guardians will refuse your passage.
     He smiled. Usually he told her to put aside emotions.
     She was right. He needed to calm down. Amorians were a highly sensitive species that lived within the corridors of time/space. If they sensed any tension in your aura and you were lucky, they would simply refuse to transport you. If you weren’t, they might abandon you within the between.
Starke reached down and tweaked a black tipped ear. “You do like to point out the obvious. Are all companions like this? Or is it just you?”
     Like what?
     “Ornery.” Taking the sting out of his words, Starke stroked her sleek head.
     She accepted his touch. The reverberating rumble of her purr built to a soothing rhythm.
     Fanru had claimed him the day his sister was born. The same day his mother died and his father became an unspeakable horror. If not for her, Starke would have been completely lost, unable to deal with raising a newborn.
     Fanru tilted her head, her deep jade eyes filled with humor. You are calmer, are you not?
     “Not really, but thank you for trying.” His voice cracked with urgency. “I have to get to her. After what Azrath revealed, it’s more urgent then just my need for my mate.”
     Then you shall go. Unfortunately, I will not be able to accompany you.
     “Your litter? Are they companions?”
     Not all. But I will be too large to be of use to you. She bumped against him. Fear not, I will keep my mind open and call to you often. Others will be there to help you.
     Distracted, Starke nodded. He spoke in the ancient language. “Monrz xal har Blik.” A tingling grew throughout his body. It pulsed, alive with the life force of the universe.
     He drew the energy up and through him, allowing it to gather in his short knife. Once fully charged, Starke sliced the knife down into the time/space plane.
     A door opened, shimmering pink in the gloom of the Portaling chamber. He stepped into the rift.
Immediately, a trio of Amorians approached. Their shimmering bodies gliding soundlessly, beautifully, moving through the thick, soft, pale air of the corridor. They surrounded him. Their soft blue glow was light on the edges, deepening toward the center. The colors blended and whirled as they rotated.
     Starke felt one of the Amorian’s touch him. It pulsated the energy surrounding his heart and head, exploring the clarity of his aura. Another joined the first and touched his back, chest, and stomach. And the third moved against him and brushed his legs, crotch and backside.
     They sought the faintest taste of taint.
     Summer blue energy glistened in the air around him as they swirled up and down. Twinkling points of white denoted searing eyes and shades of deeper azure delineated the soft glowing outlines of hands.
     One gently glowing figure bled into another, like ghostly shrouds they clung to him.
     “Ah, the Hunter has come to do his dance, to hunt in the blessed land." Twirl, zap, the energy pulsed.
     "To join the Dark One, and find a Blessed Lady to call his own, and dance the hunter's dance." Voices trailed in streams of cerulean light.
     "Beware, beware, you must share in the hunter's dance, beware." As they twirled, each speaker glided before him in a constant circle of color and light.
     Disorienting and beautiful.
     "To dance in the light and extinguish the night, come forward to dance the hunter's dance.” White eyes glowed, stars in a shroud of blue.
     In his impatience, Starke brushed formalities aside. “I need to go to Andalia to retrieve my mate. Grant me passage."
     Fanru spit at his audacity. Please, forgive my companion. He is in need of the other half of his soul. His trespasses are not intentional.
     Summer blue specters swirled in the pink mists of the corridor. "The hunter's dance will be so much more than you bargained for."
     " More than the blessed land hoped, beware, beware." A buzz of energy shot along his senses.
     The thick pink air caressed his face, as they whirled round him. "You will find your hunter's dance hard, and tested by night, and by might."
     "Ah, your will be strong, the hunter true, beware, beware." Three pairs of star-filled eyes twined and fused.
     "Oh hunter, oh hunter, time flows on, you must hurry. Hurry." Hands stroked chest, face and back, bodies whispered secrets against his, and power pulsed.
     Head spinning, nausea rushing up from his stomach, Starke broke into the jumble of chanting voices. "Please, grant me this passage."
     From one trio to another he moved, on and on they spoke. Here and there he caught snippets of phrases. The corridor fluttered and rippled, sapphire, cerulean and azure, blended and bent. Pink time spilled, like ink through the thick air.
     Fear flowed cold, as one voice contradicted the other. They never did that. Amorian’s always agreed.
     “No, no time, no time, you must go, hunter, dance the dance.” Summer bled into autumn then a deep stormy blue-gray.
     Faster and faster they spun. "Your passage is granted, use your time wisely." Blue Amorians swirled and crowded. Multitude upon multitude until he lost sight of the pink. Fanru shrieked.
     "The Hunter has come." Stars moved.
     "Here, he is here." Voices caressed and bodies hummed, into and out of his soul.
     "The dance, the dance." Voices blended.
     "Beware, beware, hunter, beware."
     As suddenly as it began, he arrived.

     Liandra used to love the smell of the earth right after a summer shower. Now the wet ground slowed her down while she ran for her life. She was so tired.
     How long had she been just surviving? Two cycles of the Sisters? Three? Forever? She long ago lost count. Instinctually, she knew it was over two months since she left the safety of Terral’s rooms.
      By the Mother, the man was stubborn. She smiled. Remembering their last discussion. Terral had wanted her to stay and heal. He’d been right, of course, she was still weak, but she’d been away from her duties too long. And the information she carried would bind the free races and force them to quit cowering and fight the Disciples.
     Now, she just had to reach her family, figure out a way to contact her father and convince the free races of universe to unite. Simple. Liandra laughed and it sounded crazy.
     Sweet Mother, she needed rest.
     Green branches caught at her and the slick, moist terrain squished under her boots and threatened to take her down. Her foot caught on a stump.
     “Whoa.” She steadied herself and continued to weave and dodge through the trees.
     Memories of times spent in this forest with her brothers. Visions of them lying on their backs in the damp earth while the spring rains tumbled down new leaves, rose and faded.
     Liandra's muscles burned as she skimmed northwest through the huge Aphgret trees that held dominion over the Western Woods. The valley was divided into four sections, with the western section starting along the rim of the largest gap in the Tartr Mountains. The entire range cupped like two arms embracing the Great Plains in the middle.
     Hounds bayed. A small sapling smacked her face when she ducked in an attempt to angle toward the grassland. If she could just reach the plains, she might have a chance.
     For the past few weeks she’d kept close to the base of the peaks using the natural caves that littered the slopes as safe havens. For centuries her people kept many of the larger ones stocked with supplies and she’d resisted leaving them.
     Three nights ago a small tracker had sniffed her out and she’d been forced to make a choice, die in a cave or battle.
     Harsh high-pitched screams echoed. Howls enveloped the screams. Satisfaction coursed through her. Her Xhartuls were hunting the hunters.
     “Ooof.” Liandra came to a sudden stop. Something grabbed her arms, steadied her. What had she just run into? She pulled away. It hadn’t been there a second ago. The hands released.
     Liandra reached for her long blade, rocking on her feet. Serpent’s tongue in hand she loosened her limbs prepared to fight. Liandra tilted her head back and back and back.
     Son of a Sloari whore, he must be seven feet tall and at least four feet across. She was in trouble.
     Liandra watched, waiting for him to move.
     Waiting to kill him.
     He stood, thick legs apart, hands up, open and empty. The pommel of his broadsword peeked over straight, copper colored hair. A large stun weapon was strapped to one leg of his dark brown, leather breeches, and an enormous hunting knife to the other.
     Whoever he was, he wasn’t one of Drakar’s guards. Injure first; ask questions later was their way.
Liandra ran a hand over her face, and looked up at the cloud laden sky. Not another innocent to protect.
Clear gray eyes observed her movements and his beautiful face remained impassive.
She didn’t have time to ponder his presence.
     “If you head up that way, you should be fine.” She started to skirt him and pointed toward the eastern ridge.
     He grabbed her shoulders. “I’m here to help.”
     Liandra tensed, put a joint lock on his thumb and tried not to hurt one she’d sworn to protect. “If you wish to help, then get out of my way.”
     "I’m not leaving or getting out of your way." His eyebrows veed and he spoke carefully. “You’re a woman."
     “A woman?" She looked up into the giant's face and stared, open-mouthed. Lots of brawn and loads of looks, too bad he was dumber than a Failian Heiol pig.
     Couldn't he see her eyes? Her cloak?
     He just watched her with that storm gray gaze. Goddess, why were all the good looking ones always stupid? Or insane.
     The excited whines of the hounds broke the spell. She spoke carefully and removed his hands, ignoring the zing of energy. “You’ll be safe, right here.” She motioned to the ground. “Just let them pass. If they ask, tell them where I went."
     She unhooked a small bag attached to her waist. “Here. There’s some currency and food inside.” Placing it in his hand, Liandra closed his fingers around it and patted them. “This should hold you until you get back to your people.”
     An urge to see him to safety intruded. She squashed it.
     The smell of wet Quirack assailed her. The Disciple’s and their hounds were getting closer.
     He took her arm for a second time.
     Did no one teach him manners?
     He spoke slowly like a child. "You’re my woman! I will defend you.” Tendrils of hair escaped the clasp holding it and fell past his shoulders onto a scrumptious chest.
     Liandra’s gaze traveled the rest of him. Mmm. She could do a lot with a body like his.
     His voice filtered through her lusty thoughts. Was he still talking? Bla, bla, bla, the man was definitely wrong somewhere and that tone. It set her teeth on edge. She didn't even attempt reason.
     She just took him down.