by Kal Spriggs
“No doubt,” Seraphai said. The thought would have amused her, yet the stakes of this game were such that she had little room left for amusement. Passion, anger, and dedication, yes, but things such as humor and amusement had been driven out when her master claimed her.
“Our part is done, for now,” Andoral Elhonas said. “They will have to face their true enemies alone. In the meantime, we must gather our strength for the real fight.”
“Master,” Seraphai said, “please, before you go... share my bed with me, for one more night.”
He smiled down at her, “Where once you rejected me with all your core, now you cannot have enough of me?” He smiled at her and his shadowy hand stroked her cheek. She shuddered at his touch.
“Very well,” Andoral Elhonas said, “one more night, but then I must rest.”
Her naked body began to shudder and twitch as his spirit merged with hers. A moan of pleasure escaped her lips, in tune with the howling of the wind.
She loved her master.
***
Walker
House of the Gray Man
Feast of Attar (Attar First), Cycle 1000 Post Sundering
Walker’s head hung low as his father’s men dragged him forward. His entire body ached and he knew that the severe beating his father’s men ahd given him was only the beginning of the punishments he would receive.
“Valdar,” his father said. As always, his father’s voice held a cultured, warm tone.
One of the men who held him pulled Walker’s head back by the hair. The room hadn’t changed much since the last time he’d been here. The fine furnishings, lush carpets, and beautiful artwork that his father had decorated the room with remained the same. The only things that had changed were the women that his father kept to accompany him. Then again, his father changed those out as soon as he tired of them.
And then there was his father. The Gray Man went by many names, but his public one was the one that Walker had first learned, so that was how he thought of him.
“Konstantin says that you helped to foil my kidnapping plan,” Attrimar said with a relaxed tone. He gestured at where Konstantin stood, relaxed yet wary. Walker spied Mari nearby, her expression reserved. “By my estimates, you accounted for at least a dozen of my men… tell me, why should I let you live?”
Walker tried to speak and then gurgled a bit and coughed to clear the blood and phlegm from his throat. “You won’t kill me, you wouldn’t be so generous.”
Attrimar chuckled, “Valder, that’s one reason I keep you around… so bitter and yet such insight… a pitty you rarely use that insight upon yourself.” Walker’s father sighed, “Truly, did you think that you could position yourself within Katarina’s forces and not draw my attention? Were it not for the… extravagancies of some of your companions, I would have learned of your presence even sooner. You had to know I would come for you… No, my son, if you really wanted to escape, you would have fled much further.”
Walker didn’t respond. He hated his father, hated him beyond words or measure. The last thing he wanted was to be right back here. Yet here I am, Walker thought.
“Well, no matter, my son,” Attrimar said. “Today I am in a good mood. This is my day, after all. The first day of spring, a day of new beginnings…” He gave a gesture and several fur-clad Armen warriors were pushed forward. “So, let us begin anew and refresh ourselves with the liquid of life.”
Walker’s father looked at the Armen warriors, “Whichever one of you kills him,” he said in their native tongue while pointing at Walker, “will go free. The others I will have tortured to death and fed to pigs.”
His gaze swept back to Walker. The two men holding his arms released him and Walker fell flat on his face, even as the five Armen warriors came towards him. Walker looked up and he could see his father’s eyes gleam unnaturally at the blood that was about to spill.
“Let the games begin,” the Gray Man said.
***
Covle Darkbit
Ostrava, Duchy of Masov
Twenty-first of Attar, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering
Covle Darbit glanced down at the small town and pursed his lips. He saw several trading vessels at the docks. With any luck, he could buy passage aboard one. It didn't matter where they headed, anywhere outside the Duchy would do, the further the better.
He would have to shave his beard, he knew. The affection was one he'd picked up in his exile to Boir. He would miss it, it was a reminder of better times.
“Covle Darkbit,” a soft voice said from behind him.
Covle spun, his sword drawn and ready to attack.
He froze as he saw the woman who stood there. She was beautiful, in a lush, overripe fashion. Having been on the run for weeks, he was suddenly aware that he stank and that he hadn't had a woman in months. “Who are you, how did you find me?” Covle snapped
“I've been looking for you,” she replied. “I am Lady Lindsee, wife to Lord Admiral Hennings. You've heard of him, no doubt?”
Covle shrugged, “I know him.” He cocked his head as he recognized her, though from the changes to her face and body, she'd either employed a mage or sorcerer. She looked far prettier than she had when he'd spent time at Trelhaven during his exile. “What do you want?”
“I understand that your previous employer has come to a bad end,” she replied. As he stiffened, she held up a hand, “let me make this clear, Xavien was my nephew and though he served a different master than me, I had nothing to do with his fall.”
“Are you offering me a job?” Covle asked.
“I'm offering you many things,” Lady Lindsee said. “Wealth, power, women... even the one woman you really want.”
“She's married,” Covle snapped. He'd heard the wedding announcement at the last village he stopped at. He'd had to slip out of the tavern like a common criminal when the militia had posted a drawing of his face with a notice of reward.
“She can still be yours,” Lady Lindsee said. “You could break her to your will, have her begging for your attention.”
His eyes narrowed, “How?”
“My husband is building a force to conquer Boir. From there, it would be easy enough to conquer Masov, with the backing of the Iron Wizards and our other allies,” Lady Lindsee said. “My husband will be Emperor, but you could be the Duke of Masov... if you agree to serve him.”
“Duke,” Covle said with narrow eyes. “You're offering me a lot for that.”
“Men of military capability and the ability to follow orders without compunction are hard to come by... so are loyal officers who will be satisfied with their positions. My husband recently suffered a setback. I think a man of your quality will prevent such setbacks from happening.”
“Oh?” Covle grinned, “So he still trusts boot-licking lackeys, does he?” It was why he had taken Xavien's offer in the beginning and left his exile at Trelhaven. Staven Hennings grouped men around him who agreed with him, men who never seemed to have the courage to tell him no.
Her sour expression told him not to push his luck. “Will you take my offer?” She shed the dress from her shoulders, “I'm willing to consumate it, a downpayment of sorts.”
Covle stared at her naked form, lit by the stars and light from Aoria. He began to smile, “You know, I think this might well be a very good arrangement, perhaps we should spend some time working over the finer details, eh?”
###
The End
The Eoriel Saga continues with Book IV:
Heir to the Fallen Duke
About the Author
Kal Spriggs is a science fiction and fantasy author. He currently has four series in print: The Renegades space opera and space exploration series, the Shadow Space Chronicles military science fiction and space opera series, the Fenris space opera series, and the Eoriel Saga epic fantasy series.
Kal is a US Army combat veteran who has been deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan. He lives in Colorado, and is married to his wonderful wife (who deserves mention for h
er patience with his writing) and also shares his home with his infant son, two three feline overlords, and a rather put-upon dog. He likes hiking, skiing, and enjoying the outdoors, when he's not hunched over a keyboard writing his next novel.
