Paul Cook by The Alejandra Variations

Author:The Alejandra Variations [Variations, The Alejandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Published: 2012-05-29T17:45:27+00:00

A girl’s face drifted before him in the mists of memory, but fell back into the twilight world which had spawned it.

He opened his eyes—his real eyes.

“All praise to the Clans!” a woman in front of him said in a throaty voice. She clapped her hands, and grateful tears came to her eyes.

Nicholas tried to blink the illusion into focus. She was the most strikingly beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. Her hair was pure spun gold, and her skin glowed with a rich bronze tan.

Like the women gathered behind her, she wore a regal-looking kilt or short toga with a simple gold necklace around her throat. Her hands were strong and capable, and her figure full and robust. It had been this woman’s hand which had graced his cheek so gently.

She bent over the couch in which he lay as the tears continued to trail down her cheeks. “Thank all the gods,” she whispered. “It’s been so long.…”

Nicholas began to understand.

He was in something like a stasis couch; it was open, and a helmet of peculiar design cupped his head and the back of his neck. He blinked. He could still feel the large vehicle in which he moved, because the couch was tied into the computer, or unit, which propelled it along.

He was alive!

The golden woman touched him once again. There was an aura of ruggedness about her, though she appeared to be gentle. Confidence and strength added to her attractiveness. She was obviously the leader.

“Where am I?” he asked, or tried to.

In reply, she snapped her fingers and turned aside. Nicholas saw two servant girls rush over, bearing pitchers. Like their leader, they wore short kilts, and each was cast in bronze.

“Amazons,” was the word that came to Nicholas’s mind.

At the far end of the room stood a cluster of other women, all dressed similarly except for the addition of ribbons of various colors which probably denoted rank. They were of differing ages, but all were vigorous-looking.

Slowly, Nicholas sat up. The helmet was tight around his skull, but the pressure didn’t bother him as much as his thirst. He took a goblet from the servant and downed it without considering that it might not be water.

Whatever it was, it quenched his thirst quickly, having the rejuvenating qualities of water—and something else besides. He felt the blood quicken in his tired body.

The servant withdrew, and the golden lady smiled at him. “I am Cesya.”

She was quite close to him. Her breath smelled as fresh as a bouquet of flowers—flowers from the paradise beyond the windows of the craft in which he lay. Her eyes sparkled with golden flecks, and the tears she’d shed upon his awakening were gone. Her smile was like the sun rising to a new day.

“I…” He hesitated, finding his voice. “My name’s—”

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