Man Who Should be King

by Mlyn Hurn

  Many times since her return from Vikalla, she awoke in the night, wanting things she wasn’t even sure of. The feel of his big hand, so tenderly caressing her breast, was much too sweet a memory for her to push away. Each time she recalled being on the bed with Lord Marcus, her flesh would tingle and she felt heat surging through her body. Between her thighs, wetness would appear. One night, she had moved her hand down to stroke her wet lips, easing between them to find her clit. In the quiet darkness, Syranna caressed her flesh until she climaxed.

  She went about her business, though, as the weeks passed, trying to ignore her sleepless nights, filled with longing and arousal. She often awoke in a sweat, her breasts swollen and tender, her nipples taut. If she touched her breasts it only heightened the feelings and the doubts. And when she awoke with wetness between her thighs, she seemed unable to stop her hand from straying down to ease her discomfort.

  That first night, she was unsure and tentative, but soon she learned just where to touch herself to ease the burning emptiness she would feel. The first time her body had jerked and spasmed in response to her own touches she had pulled back in shock and amazement. She had felt the beginnings of that in his arms, but her hand had brought her to satiation.

  Yet after each time she satisfied herself she only felt guilty. It was nonsensical, but somehow she knew that she would have felt much less guilt if she had let Marcus continue his attack that night. Instead, she had gathered all of her inner strength and focused it all into her sensory powers. With precise control she had entered Marcus’ mind and taken control. Syranna had sensed that he was going to enter her body a second before she took him.

  It had not been easy, overcoming such fierce masculine strength and determination. Using all her of powers, she had sent his conscious mind into deep unconsciousness, and he had immediately slumped to the bed beside her. If she had just stopped there, it would have been all right. But she had not stopped and instead she had planted deep in his mind the memory of taking her as he had planned.

  Planting thoughts, or dreams, into another’s subconscious was a power that few of the mystics her grandfather had introduced her to over the years had ever possessed. She had learned of the power about a year after her arrival. It had started simply enough—wanting extra sweets or playing with something she shouldn’t. Syranna had learned that all she had to do was think what she wanted and then look into the person’s eyes. If she could have physical contact, then the effect could be even more powerful.

  Like all children, she had started practicing this intriguing ability on others, until she tried with her grandfather. It was getting late and her grandfather told her it was time for bed. That night, though, Syranna was being stubborn about everything. Instead of stomping her foot or even shaking her head from side to side, Syranna had concentrated very hard. Squinting intently with her eyes, a frown appeared on her forehead and she stared very hard at him. Syranna sat quietly, just waiting for him to look at her. Once he did, she would have her way!

  “Hell’s Bells!” Lord Mathayrus had stood so quickly that he knocked his heavy wooden chair over.

  Sir Ralus had rushed up to him, wondering what could have possibly upset the old man now. It became immediately apparent by the way the old wizard was glaring at his granddaughter that whatever the disturbance was, it was very serious. Opening his mouth to ask what was going on, Ralus could only watch as Mathayrus acted quickly.

  Mathayrus stunned the other people seated in the old hall. In less than a minute, he had grabbed his granddaughter’s hand and was dragging her behind him. Syranna was so surprised her mouth hung open all the way. Mathayrus didn’t stop until they were deep inside the gardens surrounding the old castle. Abruptly stopping, he turned to look at the shocked and scared little girl. Steeling himself, he ignored the tears welling up in her big blue eyes. Shaking his head, he looked at his granddaughter, unable to miss the striking resemblance between her and his daughter.

  “Syranna, do you know what you were doing in there?”

  Syranna’s frown deepened. “I don’t know, Grandpapa.” Even after all this time, Syranna could recall the look in his eyes—fearful, almost.

  “Have you done that before? Trying to change my mind after I told you it was time for you to retire for the evening?”

  Syranna didn’t consider lying to him. “Yes, sir.”

  Mathayrus led her over to a stone bench in the garden. “Listen to me, Syranna, for this is probably the most important thing I shall ever tell you. You must never let anyone else see you do this. What you’ve done in the past is over, but unless you are alone with me, you must never do this form of deep alteration again.”

  Syranna was very frightened as she nodded her agreement. “Very well, Grandpapa. May I ask why, though?”

  “I will tell you soon, my sweet granddaughter. Until then do not mention this to anyone. If anyone should ask about tonight, I shall tell them I lost my temper with your delaying tactics.” Mathayrus stood slowly, reaching for Syranna’s hand again. “Do not fret, my sweet. I shall teach all you need to know about such abilities, but we must not let anyone else know our secret. Promise?”

  Syranna promised, and from that day on she was very discreet practicing this powerful mental control. As she grew, she became aware of her ability to get all the animals to do whatever she wanted. Of course, this power was especially handy when she desired extra sweet treats from the cook. The few servants around the castle eagerly obeyed the bright-eyed little girl, happy that they could please her.

  * * * * *

  Marcus’ anger knew no bounds when he was informed the following morning that his “guest” was nowhere to be found. And then, the unconscious stable boy had been discovered and Syranna’s horse found missing. It was easy to learn from that what had occurred. He had followed her, but had missed the planetary ship by a few hours.

  His gut was telling him to follow her immediately, but he had also confided to William the night’s events. William convinced him to wait. To give both of them time to cool down, he had argued persuasively, and for Marcus to develop a “plan of attack.” He was a master of campaigns, William had reminded him, and this was to be one of his hardest won campaigns ever.

  * * * * *

  Marcus was like a fish out of water. And he hated the feeling. Four weeks after Syranna’s departure, he arrived on Kalledane with a full entourage of staff, knights and servants. There had been meetings with the chief of the diplomacy committee of Kalledane. When he had explained he was on his way to Mystonia, the silence at first had been a bit daunting, but then Lord Allaene had offered guides to assist them. Eventually, it had turned out that only one man was willing to guide them into Mystonia, and he looked so ancient that Marcus feared he wouldn’t survive the arduous ride even one day. But after staying two days at Kalledania, the capitol city, they set out on horseback for Mystonia.

  The land was lush and green everywhere he looked. Plants, trees and flowers of all kinds grew on Kalledane. As they neared the border between the two divisions, he could almost feel the increasing moisture in the air. Crossing the border, rain always seemed imminent, and the ground was covered half the day in a thick mist. The horses were skittish due to the mist. They all soon grew irritable with each other.

  Finally, after traveling for two days, he sent nearly the entire entourage on a return trip to Kalledania. He went on with Sir William and their guide, Old Toeom.

  They passed several small villages and cottages. They were greeted carefully, coolly. They were never denied a place to lodge if needed, but they were distrusted as outsiders. Finally, on the fifth day, as the mist finally began clearing somewhere around the midday hour, they caught their first sight of the small castle in the distance. It appeared to be floating in a cloud, the mist surrounding it was so dense. As they neared the gray stone castle, the gates opened. He was not terribly surprised to see a very old man come walking down the stone pathway toward them.

  The curious old fellow was sto
oped over, with a long white beard, and wore a brilliant purple velvet cloak. The old man greeted Old Toeom first, which surprised Marcus. Because of his dress and his horses’ outfitting it was obvious that he was a knight from a titled house. Old Toeom managed to slide off his horse and greet the other man with a precarious bow.

  “I am most sorry to disturb you, Master Uther, but Lord Allaene bade me guide these knights here. They demand to see the lady.” The last part was whispered, almost as if in reverence.

  Master Uther nodded. “Very well, Toeom. Please take them to the stables first and then join me in the main hall. I’ll find her and see if she will accept visitors.” Uther then turned, still without acknowledging Marcus or William, and returned to the castle.

  Nearly an hour later, Marcus and William were finally shown into the main hall of the castle. He noted immediately that it was stark and quite bare inside. William muttered that he hoped they had real mattresses for them to sleep on at least. Uther greeted them from a chair that was rather ornate, at the far end of a long empty table.

  “Please be seated, travelers. I’ve ordered some food and drink and it should be here shortly.”

  They moved to take seats on either side of the old man. Marcus cleared his throat. “I am Lord Marcus…”

  Uther cut him off with a sweep of his hand. There was no missing the imperiousness to the gesture. Obviously, Uther was a man who was always obeyed.

  “I am aware of who you are, my lord. And this is Sir William.”

  He stopped as an elderly woman entered with a young serving girl and they silently laid the food and wine upon the table. Marcus noted the table at which they were seated was finely carved, despite its ancient appearance. The plates, goblets and tableware were also of the very finest quality. Even the old man’s purple floor length tunic was of the finest velvet available. All of these things, along with the well-maintained although nearly deserted castle, spoke of wealth in bygone days.

  Marcus was getting impatient to see Syranna when William suddenly jumped to his feet.

  “What the hell was that?” William demanded, pointing toward a darkened corner of the hall.

  Marcus turned around to look where his friend and loyal knight was pointing. William had actually looked a little unnerved. Then he heard the noise that had alerted William to its presence. In the silence came a scampering sound, which sounded like a dog’s toenails against a hard floor. The corner was too dark to really see anything and he turned back to the old man.

  Marcus was surprised that apparently Uther had not even paused in his eating. Only when Marcus addressed him did he finally glance up. “What is that, Sir Uther?”

  Before Uther could reply, William was cursing again. “Good God! Marcus, the thing has glowing eyes! Look!”

  Marcus glanced over his shoulder, but he didn’t see anything. “It’s probably just a cat, William.” He looked back at Uther, who had returned to his food. “It’s most likely a cat looking for mice.”

  More scampering noises sounded and they all seemed to be going toward the same corner. It was obvious that William didn’t believe it was a cat, or cats, but nonetheless he asked Uther, “Does Lady Syranna keep cats for pets?”

  Uther spoke, but he didn’t look up. “Mistress Syranna keeps pets, but no cats. And they do as well as cats in catching mice, so what do I care?”

  Marcus happened to glance over toward his friend and saw the frisson of fear dart across the bold knight’s face. This man was fearless in facing his enemies.

  “So what does she keep as pets?”

  “Dragons, of course! Some people keep odd things for pets, but Syranna is usually practical. Even her grandfather thought so.”

  Marcus set his goblet down. “I thought you were her grandfather, sir.”

  Uther smiled, shaking his head. “No, no. Her grandfather was much more advanced than I. Sir Ralus sought out my services when her grandfather died. I took over her training, although to be honest, she was amazingly self-sufficient in most of the arts already. In fact, almost from the first day, I was redundant. But since I’d come so far, Mistress Syranna refused to let me leave.”

  Marcus couldn’t believe what this old man was saying. One thing he was sure of was that the old man probably had never had it so good as his life inside these castle walls. Old Uther would be here until he was kicked out, he died or the food ran out. Finally Marcus shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t believe you, old man. I think you and the Lady Syranna are trying to scare us away from here, but it won’t work. Neither do I believe those are dragons in the corner!”

  Uther started mumbling, pushing his chair away from the table slowly. “I imagine you are one of those fools from Vikalla who only believe what you can see or touch! Very well, and on your head be it!”

  William had come to his feet, his hand going to the sword at his side. Looking at Marcus, he made a hand gesture, indicating that Uther was crazy. Marcus shook his head, motioning for the other man to sit back down.

  Both stopped as Uther made an odd, guttural sound in his throat. From the corner came more scuffling noises, but that was all. Marcus spoke suddenly.

  “You don’t need to do that, sir. I need to see Syranna.”

  Uther repeated the sound again, but only scampering noises answered. “Wretched, damned things! She’s spoiled them rotten. That’s the damned problem. Syranna will be here soon.”

  Marcus shook his head, becoming more perturbed by the second. “How do I know that she has even been informed of my arrival?”

  Uther cackled and smiled as he sat back down at the table. “Why, of course she knows you are here! What claptrap…she was the one who sent me to greet you!”

  Marcus scowled at the old man. He opened his mouth to make a demand that Syranna appear before him right now, when there was a light, musical trilling noise. Behind him, from the corner, came three answering calls, each on a slightly different note. A second later came the scampering noise, followed by the sound of flapping wings. Marcus jumped to his feet, drawing his sword. William immediately followed suit, awaiting their attackers.

  Into the light came Syranna. She was dressed in a floor-length, blue velvet gown, and while Marcus noted she looked beautiful, his attention went to her left arm, which was lifted upward to form a perch for two—

  “What the hell!” Marcus shouted as he saw them for the first time. Two small green things, perhaps eight or nine inches tall, were sitting on Syranna’s arm. No doubt about what they were now! He’d been read enough stories as a child to recognize a dragon when he saw one. Shoving his chair farther away from the table, he started toward her.

  The loud noise startled the small creatures. The two on Syranna’s arm began trilling excitedly and a third one, which had been clinging to her dress in the back, moved to her shoulder. Marcus could tell their claws were biting into her skin from the wince he saw cross her face. He started forward when Syranna held her hand up to stop him.

  “Stop! You are scaring them,” Syranna shouted out, and then she started making the same musical trilling noise they had heard a few moments earlier. It took several moments of singing to the small green creatures for them to relax. Marcus guessed they were “back to normal” when the one on her shoulder leaned forward and rubbed his head against Syranna’s cheek.

  Syranna walked to the table and then coaxed all three baby dragons to jump the short distance to the tabletop. All of them except the one on her shoulder. Marcus watched in disbelief as Syranna reached up and gently lifted that one with her hands. She paused and let it rub against her cheek one more time and then settled it on the flat surface with its siblings.

  “Moerana,” Syranna spoke to the woman hovering a short distance away. “Please bring the dragonets’ dinner in here. I’ll feed them.”

  The woman hurried to do Syranna’s bidding, but not before Marcus saw the look of relief on her face. He turned back as Syranna invited them to all be seated once again. Instead, Marcus pulled the chair beside him ou
t, gesturing for Syranna to sit down there.

  Chapter Five

  Syranna immediately stepped onto the chair and then up to the polished, wooden surface of the large table. She walked a few feet away and sat down, cross-legged. A second later, her pets were climbing into her lap. Instead of greeting her so-called guests, Syranna looked at Sir Uther.

  “Thank you, Uther, for meeting our uninvited guests. You may retire if you wish. I am sorry you missed your nap.”

  Uther smiled, nodding his head. “Uhmpff! No good now. I’m wide awake, Mistress Syranna.”

  “Very well. Perhaps you’ll sleep better tonight.” Syranna smiled at the old man who grimaced back at her.

  “Even if I can’t, Mistress, I promise I won’t come and disturb you.”

  Syranna laughed, shaking her head. “You never disturb me, so feel free to come whenever you need to.”

  “Madam,” Marcus spoke up determinedly. “We need to speak privately, now!”

  Syranna shook her head, and her long black hair danced with the movement. “It will have to wait. Dragonets must be fed on time or there can be serious consequences.” She stopped as Moerana returned with a tray piled with food and water. Reaching into the top of her dress and ignoring the gasps of her visitors, Syranna pulled a chain out with a small key dangling from it. Lining up the small green creatures in front of her, she took the largest one first into her lap.

  Marcus noticed for the first time that there was a small metal band that encircled each of the dragons’ mouths. Syranna used the key to unlock the band. She immediately set the dragon in front of the water bowl, nudging his head down to drink. Frowning, Marcus watched as she did the same for the second largest dragon. Soon both were slurping and slopping the water quite loudly.

  A strange mewling sound drew his attention back to the third and smallest. Syranna picked the little one up. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but you know how your brothers get.” She undid the clamp, turning to set the device on the table. “Go on, AnnaBelle!”