But the remarkable thing was that the walls were adorned with the designs that the Warrior Maidens of Cumae drew when they meditated in preparation for battle. Gemma had participated in the ritual many times while in training on that planet. She remembered the cleansing of the body, the bathing and removal of hair. She remembered the mixing of pigments, the grinding of roots and herbs, and the blending of that with oil to create the familiar russet hue that embellished these walls. She remembered the painting of the body with protective symbols, the camaraderie of adorning another warrior with such talismans where she couldn’t reach to do it herself. They’d stood in a circle, each painting the back of another, humming the music of war. She remembered the communal meal, the prayer, and the final adornment of the walls of the caves.
Those from other civilizations thought the ritual was an invocation to the gods, but the Cumaens didn’t believe in deities. They saw the sequence as a meditative exercise, one that would both focus the will of the individual warrior and build a sense of union between members of the company. That, in their view, was a better indication of success.
On Cumae, the caves had been painted many many times, and Gemma had always felt a connection with past warriors as she drew her lines over theirs. This cave had been painted once, with deliberation and skill. The whorls and circular designs were a band of power on the walls, spilling into each other, feeding each other, flowing all around the room. They seemed to draw together disparate elements and stray power, then drive it all to the final culmination point. Gemma turned in place, remembering the surge of energy that she’d always felt when the last painted line connected with the first, making the circle complete.
It was similar to the jolt of the last line connected the images of the body paint into a coherent whole.
Where the end and the beginning connected on the cave walls, there was always a medallion, and this one was no different. The circular mark was always lavishly decorated, as befit a focus of power. The Warrior Maidens participating in the ritual, preparing for war, always signed the medallion with their own marks as their last deed before battle.
There was only one mark on this medallion, and Gemma’s heart stuck in her throat as she stood before it and traced the familiar insignia with a fingertip.
Arista.
Gemma blinked back her tears. Arista had been on Regalia. She had been in this cave. She had painted all of this herself. She had departed from this cave to fight for some cause or another. She had won, because she had returned to Cumae, only to be killed.
Arista’s time on Regalia must be at least part of the reason Urbanus had paid for her assassination. Why had she been here? She had gone into a battle of some kind, given that she’d painted this cave.
Had she survived alone with no one to paint her back?
Or had she fought with a companion?
Who?
Gemma’s heart clenched at the notion of Arista taking another Sword Sister. But there was only one signature in the medallion, only Arista’s own. If she’d fought with another, that person hadn’t been trained on Cumae.
Which was very strange. The Warrior Maidens of Cumae trusted only their own kind. Arista must have fought alone.
Why had Arista been on Regalia?
What had she done?
That seemed, actually, like a good question to ask the toad, and once again, Gemma regretted leaving him behind. She would have to venture into the Queen’s Grotto alone, without his advice, and find the antidote to her spell, without any idea what it might look like or where it might be. She was entering battle with less than perfect preparation. She sensed that Arista’s story was an important detail, and she didn’t know much about the queen’s powers, either.
Maybe Gemma had been a little impetuous.
But what was done was done. She could go back for the toad, but didn’t imagine it would be easy to find him. He would have left the path for his own protection, and with the coloring of his skin, she’d never see him.
Especially at night.
Maybe she should take advantage of this unexpected gift and prepare herself for the uncertainties ahead in the way she knew best.
Gemma wasn’t superstitious but in this cave, in this moment, she felt as if Arista’s ghost was right beside her. It made no sense, until she brushed her fingertips over her Sword Sister’s familiar signature one more time and loosed a stone.
The wall had been patched, quickly, and the marks disguised the spot.
Gemma pulled her knife and dug at the crumbling surface. She caught her breath when a small metal capsule glinted in the light, then fell and rolled across the cavern floor. She pursued it and picked it up, smiling as she examined it in the light. It was about the size of her thumbnail, spherical, and smooth.
It was a Cumaen memoria.
Some part of Arista was in the palm of Gemma’s hand.
Maybe Gemma wouldn’t arrive at the Citadel as unprepared as she’d feared.
* * *
A Cumaen memoria was a one-time recording device used by the Warrior Maidens as a secure means of passing intelligence to those who followed. The manufacture of the device was a closely guarded secret, requiring no less than twenty-seven separate steps, each of which was understood by only a single individual on Cumae at any given time. The identities of the Twenty-Seven were so secret that each of them knew the identity of only one other, the one to whom he or she delivered the device after completing the assigned phase. The coordination of the manufacture of each memoria was managed by the computer known as the Hive, built in the depths of the Vaults of Cumae.
Gemma hadn’t seen one since she’d left her training. The individual memoria were indistinguishable from each other. Although the surface of the memoria appeared to have no sensors or seams, it responded to an oral command, set by the owner. The device recognized only the code word uttered by the owner, and the same word uttered aloud by the owner’s Sword Sister. Sword Sisters were forbidden to reveal a code word, under penalty of death, and not a one by the time Gemma left Cumae had ever divulged such a code, even under torture.
Betrayal of one’s fellows was a greater indignity than any pain that could be inflicted upon the body. They were taught that, and those who could not uphold this duty were discharged from training.
Given where she had found the memoria, Gemma could only assume it had been programmed by Arista. She held it in the palms of her hands for a long moment, then bent and whispered Arista’s code word to the device.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Gemma wondered whether Arista had chosen another code word, or taken another Sword Sister, then the memoria began to hum on her palm. It vibrated, then a seam was revealed and it split in half like an egg. The interior projector unfolded itself and a beam of light was projected across the cavern.
A hologram.
Of Arista.
Gemma sat down hard at the sight. She was amazed by how real her friend appeared to be. Arista was crouched before her, dressed for war, her hair shorter than it had ever been. The blue tattoo on her neck seemed darker, as if her tan had faded, but the gleam of purpose in her dark eyes was just the same.
“I don’t know why I’m recording this,” she confessed, her husky voice making Gemma ache with its familiarity. She spoke crisply and without hesitation, not wasting a gesture. “Only my Sword Sister can ever view it, and I can’t imagine any circumstance that would ever bring Gemma to this cave. But I am confronted by such a puzzle that I wish I had a dragon’s ability to solve a riddle, especially one that seems to have no good solution.”
Felice looked up at the sound of Arista’s voice. The blue hair bristled on the back of her neck and she stalked the hologram, eyes shining.
Arista looked directly at her, and Gemma’s breath caught that her friend seemed to be looking straight into her eyes. “Maybe Gemma will sense my appeal, and her abilities will help me.” Arista shook her head. “That sounds more like the magic and whimsy of the Regalians than anything that has
ever crossed my lips. This is a curious place, to be sure, and there is no telling what has been influencing my thoughts, even without my awareness. I have, after all, been traveling in the company of a DreamCaster.”
Had Venero been with Arista? Or was that ability common on Regalia?
Felice pounced on the hologram and passed right through it. The pavofel rolled and rose to her feet, spinning to assault the image again.
Arista sighed and pushed to her feet, pacing across the chamber. The pavofel darted between the display of her legs, then retreated to the perimeter of the cave. Just before Arista pivoted, her image faded, perhaps because she had stepped beyond the range of the projector. Felice crouched to watch the hologram, ears folded back against her head. Arista returned to her former position and folded her arms across her chest, staring at the device.
“To review: I came to Regalia on a mission. The assignment was said to have come from the queen herself, although there is (naturally) no official confirmation of that. My task was to eliminate Prince Venero, the third son born to Queen Arcana—although this is some debate as to which twin was born first, the queen herself counts Urbanus as second and Venero as third. The fee was quite high, there being a considerable risk in eliminating one of the royal family. It was understood that I might not manage to leave Regalia after completing my mission, and that if I was captured, no one would come to my aid, not even the queen. I wonder if it was to look as if someone on Incendium was behind the assassination.” Arista smiled thinly. “Even Cumae would disavow any knowledge of my presence on Regalia, and I would be considered a rogue.”
Gemma was startled that Arista would have agreed to any assignment that might have left a stain on her reputation. What had the second mission been?
Chapter Five
Arista’s hologram continued. “I agreed to the terms because I had another incomplete assignment that led to Regalia: this mission would serve as suitable cover. I had been charged to retrieve a valuable relic that was rumored to have been stolen by Queen Arcana. I was to bring it back to Cumae. I came to Regalia alone, so that no other lives would be risked.”
Gemma could easily believe that Arista would sacrifice her own life to fulfill an assignment for Cumae.
Arista shook her head. “I didn’t believe in sorcery before I came to Regalia, and I’m still not certain that magic is the cause for my current situation. But the fact remains that this quest has been very strange, and coincidence is a poor explanation for what transpired. I arrived on Regalia under the cover of being a diplomat, sent to negotiate updated terms for the Galactic Trade Alliance. I sought out Prince Venero at the palace soon after my arrival, for he was said to offer counsel to the queen on matters of diplomacy and law.”
She smiled. “I expected him to be easy to kill, a nobleman convinced of his own safety and one accustomed to indulging his every whim, without regard for others. I expected to feel no qualms.” Arista frowned. “It was not his good looks that swayed me, nor even the splendor of his body. He indulged in humor, which I did not always understand and for this, he mocked me. I recalled your counsel, Gemma, that such mockery could be done in affection, and was known as teasing, so I endured it with apparent good humor.” Arista shook her head. “I did not expect him to surprise me, but he did. Venero not only acknowledged the existence of the prize I sought but said he knew its location. He proposed to be my ally and aid me in its retrieval from the treasury in the Queen’s Grotto.”
Gemma was fascinated.
Arista shrugged. “Why would a prince betray his mother and his kingdom? Perhaps because he knew my other assignment and where it had originated. But the fact was that I had need of someone who understood Regalia better than me.” Arista fell silent and Gemma wondered how much more hologram the memoria could contain.
“I calculated the odds of my success alone to be much lower than those with Venero, even if he proved to be untrustworthy in the end. And so I accepted his proposition.”
Arista looked up, her expression so anguished that Gemma reached out a hand to console her, forgetting she viewed a mere hologram. “He surprised me yet again, for I fell in love with him.”
Gemma gasped. That Arista should fall in love was astonishing. Had she been enchanted? She wondered more about Prince Venero and his ability to DreamCast. Had he convinced Arista of something that wasn’t true?
“I never expected this to happen to me. I do not know what to do.” Arista began to pace, her concern clear. “Should I kill him and fulfill my assignment, even knowing that I will never forgive myself for destroying my love? Should I let him live until I retrieve the treasure from the queen, if indeed she truly possesses it? Should I betray him? Should I trust him fully? Should I tell him how I feel, offer myself, and create an alliance with him? The honor is greatest with the first option, but I confess to you alone that the last option has the greatest appeal.”
She frowned and shook her head. “What manner of mother would hire an assassin to eliminate one of her sons? And why? There is more to this tale than I have gleaned, and Venero, I suspect, learned young to be wary of others. He guards his secrets close and his trust is elusive.” Arista lifted her gaze and once again, Gemma felt that her Sword Sister was truly before her. “Could it be the love truly does conquer all?”
Gemma reached out with her free hand, but the hologram sputtered. The image disappeared, and the device whirred as it locked itself once more. Gemma closed her hand over it, feeling the warmth of the metal and wondered at what she’d seen. As much as she wished to watch the hologram again, she knew the memoria was spent or close to it. It wouldn’t display the entire recording without being recharged. That might be possible, but only on Cumae. She closed her eyes and recalled Arista’s confession, her memory training under that same warrior’s instruction coming to her aid.
The Queen’s Grotto was a treasury.
Was the prize Arista sought still there?
Or had she escaped with it? If she had, that might explain the choice of Urbanus. Had the assassin retrieved the treasure for Queen Arcana? Or had Arista hidden it? It was a bit late to think she should have asked more questions of Drakina’s husband, Troy, about Arista’s demise.
Felice trotted to her side, then twined around her ankles. Gemma picked up Arista’s last gift to her and hugged the creature close. Felice began to purr.
Had Arista killed the man she loved?
Or had she taken Venero back to Cumae with her? Gemma straightened. If Venero had escaped Regalia, that would explain his disappearance—and it might also explain the subsequent assassination of Arista. Whether she had taken the prince captive, spirited him away with his consent or killed him, Arcana or Urbanus could have decreed that she had committed a crime on Regalia.
Never mind the relic or treasure.
How did any of this tale influence Gemma’s own situation? She was here to avenge Arista, but how much did Urbanus know of her scheme? Arista’s assertion that Venero had known her secret quest was troubling. Gemma thought of the birds flying overhead, and the claim of the bearded man that the woodland creatures could be spies. She thought of his ability to read her thoughts and wondered how hidden she and her objectives could possibly be.
She felt vulnerable, which she detested. She had to do something to improve her situation. Gemma put the memoria into her satchel, hiding it in an interior pocket. Felice rubbed against the satchel, but there was nothing within it that the pavofel would eat. Still, Gemma offered the pavofel some bread, but Felice turned up her nose and stalked away, presumably to hunt.
Arista’s recording had given Gemma more questions than answers, but she felt empowered by seeing her Sword Sister. It had been good to hear her voice again. She turned to watch Felice, who crouched in the opening that led back to the path up the mountain, watching something.
Gemma smiled.
The ability of a dragon to solve a riddle. Yes, Arista had always said that was Gemma’s gift. Could she solve this one?
The ritual Arista had taught her might help to clear her confusion and focus her thoughts. Gemma stood and shed her clothing quickly, then washed in the pool of water. The small cup of dye left in one corner gave her purpose. She would prepare herself for battle, in the way she had been taught on Cumae, and hope that the familiarity of the ritual would help her find the answers she needed.
* * *
Venero had never hopped so long or so hard as he had in recent days. If this alliance didn’t succeed, it might just kill him. He was exhausted and sore by the time he made the sanctuary of the cave. He was panting when the shadow closed over him, but he didn’t stop there. There was no sign of Gemma, but he could smell her skin. She would have explored, and he wondered how far she had ventured.
There was no sign of the pavofel either, which was a relief.
He could hear a woman’s voice, and in his state of concern, it sounded like Arista. That made no sense, but he followed the sound anyway. Perhaps the stone was distorting the sound of Gemma’s voice.
Venero went through the crack to the tunnel, then hopped its length to the small hole. He could see the warm glow of a candle’s light through that hole, which encouraged him and gave him new strength.
He’d have a drink of water there.
It seemed to take forever to journey the length of the tunnel. Venero finally emerged from the other end of the tunnel that he’d once crawled through on his hands and knees, he halted to stare.
Gemma was humming.
More importantly, Gemma was nude.
Surprise weakened his knees, but as a toad, Venero didn’t have far to fall. He stared and pretty much forgot everything except his desire.
Wyvern's Prince (The Dragons of Incendium Book 2) Page 10
