Over near her writing table, her small hands rested on a porcelain cup and then moving to a taller piece of dinnerware, Garnet said, “One would think.” She poured from a silver decanter into her cup, saying, “He’s kept at a distance under great guard. Mavik’s security man, Harlan, keeps a strict guard on every avenue to the Prince.”
“I see that jar-headed prick in the carriage. Are you asking me to expose Vincent or pull him to pieces, thus foiling your sisters’ claim to the throne?”
Garnet sipped her drink, swallowed and then gazed across the expansive floor as if Gorias wasn’t there. “That would be wonderful, but no. I’m glad to see you still have the salt for such tasks. I have an undertaking for you to perform that will be more difficult.”
“I figured as much. Orsen acts like money is no object.”
She titled her head back and laughed once. “There was a time you’d perform my will for a chance at my bed.”
Gorias shrugged, looking around the floor of the tower. “We could do that again, ma’am, but it’ll be a bit slower.”
Garnet’s stiff face used muscles seldom put to action as she grinned and laughed to great excess. In a few moments, the Queen regained her composure. “Gorias La Gaul, you tempt me.”
Cracking his knuckles, Gorias shrugged. “You’re still a striking woman, but I doubt I ya can bear a new heir at this late stage in the game.”
“That’s precisely why you are here, mister hero for hire. There is an heir of mine, alive, but many think her dead.”
“That’s what little Orsen says, something about princess Nykia being alive somewhere. So knocking off this fake heir isn’t on your mind?”
Garnet made eye contact with Gorias for but a moment before turning away to the outside world. “All in due time. I have many things in mind that will pay you well. The men that run Transalpina are having trouble with this dragonfire problem. They direct me like an old coot, yet I still have cards to play, hence, you.”
“Thanks. Orsen told me about the castellans.”
“He better have. I cannot have my trusted castellans all dying off. I need my friends even if they are politicians.”
“This sounds like a mystical matter, ma’am, not one for a fighter or killer.”
“There are no more wizards in Transalpina.”
Gorias coughed and rolled his eyes heavenward. “So you say, but I hear you retain Yannick, still alive after all these years. What do you call him?”
“My prognosticator and herbalist.”
“You’re funny and free with the truth.”
“I am the Queen.”
Gorias took a few steps as she started to walk across the room. “That you are. Well, what does Yannick say of this?”
“Not much as of late. He was just recovered from a long illness and a travel abroad. These deaths have been happening for a month. Your presence in Albion is a lucky occurrence.”
“Lucky for you, sure. What does Yannick say?”
“I want you to ask him.”
Gorias blinked. An understanding flowed over him as she figured his methods and presence would yield more than edicts by a monarch.
“Investigate this dragonfire matter with Orsen. That is your official reason to be in Transalpina.”
“And my real reason is to find Nykia so the forces plotting for Mavik don’t get wise? Got it. If Nykia were in this land, wouldn’t she come forward?”
“She’s nearby. An army couldn’t have extracted her from the Pryten wilderness where she was lost to and grew up in, but she runs with the pirates now. I want you to bring her back to me.”
“She runs with the pirates, and is now one of them?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps she doesn’t want the crown.”
Garnet turned like a dancer, face like a stone and declared, “If she doesn’t, I want her here, Gorias La Gaul, within my grasp. I won’t be denied, one way or another.”
He nodded, comprehending the fate of Nykia one way or another at his hands.
She said, “Take Alena for your guide in matters here as well as Orsen. He’s a good youth but she will show you what you need and cover your back.”
“I don’t need back up.”
“You are over 700 years old, Gorias. We all need help.”
“I still can out-strut the roosters in the yard, ma’am.”
She took steps toward him, her hand on Gorias’ chest and then running to his waist belt. “I expect you still can.”
“I can.”
Eyes focused on his, Garnet said softly, “You wouldn’t be much of a legend then, true?”
“A man has to eat.”
She giggled, sounding much younger, and held her hand to her mouth. “You and your ways. If only you had stayed with me a century ago, we’d have bred a fine line for this land.”
“Not my thing.”
“I know. I had a wonderful life, but it’s a terrible thing to be left alone in this awful world now.”
Gorias shrugged. “It’s not so bad if you’re me, but I know what ya mean.”
“So, do you still fancy redheaded ladies?”
“As often as my guile or pockets allow.”
“To think you would have to pay for such things. Tarts, for the goddess’ sake.” Whereas her tone mocked him, a thread of humor strung in it deep.
“I don’t have it in me to fall in love anymore, ma’am. It’s easier and quicker this way.”
“I’m sure you have a legion of adoring ladies or wannabe fighters prone to lie down for free.”
“I get that, but, I’m gettin’ too old for romance, ma’am.”
An eyebrow raised, Garnet said, “Ma’am. There was a time when you’d never have called me that.”
“Calling you Princess is kinda out now, right?”
Garnet walked to her changing alcove and sat on a cushioned chair beside the makeup table. After waving him to walk over, she asked, “Do you recall what you used to call me?”
His boots set on the rug by her chair, Gorias nodded once. “Firebrand, because of the spark in your eyes…” His voice trailed off.
“Oh, say it, man of renown.” Her voice lost all of its stiff authority and purred. “You said my eyes flared when I arrived.”
“They did, that and you were red down below, too.”
“Yours always looked like you’d kill a man when you arrived.”
Both shared a laugh as she sat back, opened her silk gown and parted her legs. “There are some things I can no longer do with a man, Lord La Gaul, but one thing I would not be remiss in asking is for you to kneel before the Queen. You always loved to do that.”
Gorias stared down at her, seeing the age in her naked body, but that it hadn’t lost complete attraction. Garnet still possessed a shaped form, sleek and comely even if decades past her prime.
“I’m not a man to kneel before any monarch, Firebrand, but…” Gorias went to one knee and then both, feigning a bad back, causing her to giggle again. He cupped her left hip and kissed her navel. “…but in your case, I will make an exception.”
CHAPTER IV
Crystals and Street Fight
“I know you,” Noguria said to Nykia as the younger woman watched the sun-kissed waves.
Nykia couldn’t face her mistress. “Are you here to chide me for my obsession, too? Even my so-called friends like Allard and Savage Chad give me grief.”
Noguria shook her head and swept back a mane of blue-black locks as the wind caught hold of them. “Of course not. No, I can smell something else on you, what nips at your mind.”
Eyes still on the waves and then the sky, Nykia replied, “Oh? Am I bored yet?”
Noguria stood beside Nykia and looked at the sea, then turned and faced the opposite way, toward the Captain’s cabin. “I smell murder, very ripe indeed.”
Nykia stayed quiet, so Noguria spoke instead.
“You’re going to kill Dumas, aren’t you?”
“What if I do? Dumas killed the last C
aptain, a proper Pryten, to be the leader now.”
“You have the desire to lead?”
“No,” Nykia admitted and turned to face her. “But Savage Chad does.”
Noguria smiled for a moment but it dropped fast. She stepped away from the edge of the boat and started to walk, her nodding head leading Nykia with her. “Savage Chad wears ribbons in his beard for his bastard children.”
“So?”
“He’s awfully sentimental for a pirate.”
“Aren’t we all a little?”
Noguria took her hand, conceding the point.
“You oppose the idea?”
“No, I’ll back you, of course. I just wanted to be sure of your actions.”
“All right then.”
“Better be quick about it as we’ll be going to ground in the next phase as the moon is full.”
Nykia’s eyes became icy. “Oh, there will be no hesitation. Follow me.”
Noguria whispered, “He’ll have those two skinny bastards with him.”
Never turning, Nykia shot back, “That’s why you’re with me.”
They walked to the Captain’s cabin. Nykia pounded on the cabin door with her fist, then stepped back.
The door swung open and a scrawny man wearing round spectacles and a loin cloth frowned at her.
“Yeah?”
“LaFeaur? Tell Dumas I need to speak with him, now.”
The slight man turned to one side, showing that Captain Dumas and Savage Chad played cards with the other skinny second to the Captain, Ryder. “Oh Captain,” LaFeaur mocked in a lilting voice. “The Princess would like to talk with you.”
Well aware he could be heard, Dumas said, “Silly bitch.” He pushed back his chair, upended the last of his drink and stood. “If her brains hadn’t fallen out her twat she’d be resting for the coming actions.”
Dumas made it to the doorway, his mouth open, and his eyes dancing with more mirth to be offered. That’s how he looked when Nykia plunged her seven-inch dagger into his chest, striking through the bones and delving deep into his heart. Both hands on the handle, Nykia twisted, turning the blade counterclockwise, turning his heart into a ruined, spurting mass. Dumas didn’t move at first, but a spew of ale erupted from his mouth as he fell forward, inadvertently tackling Nykia, falling and pinning her to the deck.
LaFeaur and Ryder drew their swords and charged out of the cabin. Savage Chad kept drinking and didn’t rise up. The two men flanked their Captain, but looked at each other and then up at Noguria just as she unleashed her whips. The long leather straps encircled both men’s throats and they gaped, knowing what came next. Noguria yanked on her left whip, ripping the flesh and veins from LaFeaur’s throat. He dropped his sword and grabbed at his neck. Soon, his knees hit the deck, as he couldn’t get his life back into his body, and LaFeaur slammed into the boards, dead like his Captain.
Ryder dropped his sword as other pirates started to gather around.
Noguria offered him, “You have no problem with Savage Chad as Captain, do you?”
With minimal movement, Ryder shook his head form side to side.
Noguria moved closer and unraveled the whip from his neck. He breathed large gulps of air as Savage Chad’s form filled the doorway. Whips both snapping down, she asked the crew, “Any objections?”
If any opposition existed, it wasn’t voiced.
Nykia yelled, “Get this dead prick off me!”
*****
Orsen went to his knees and thought of his goddess. He gazed at the piece of crystal in the stone fixture before him. The holder for the elaborate object sat fixed in a pair of marble palms that topped a duo of arms traveling down to the floor of the temple. Hands on his knees, he glanced over at the tall lady in a hooded robe and the two rotund eunuchs that stood behind her.
“Show him to me, Orsen,” her husky voice implored.
“Yes, Abbess Niva.”
For a moment, he eyed the object before him, a large clear orb with a series of jagged edges on the sides to his right and left. He leaned in until his forehead touched the crystal’s smooth surface. When Orsen’s skin felt the crystal’s cold touch, Abbess Niva moved around opposite him, but her guards stayed in place by the door.
“Show me your first sight of La Gaul.”
All Orsen had to do was recall Gorias in Albion, but not in the whorehouse. That is where they first met, not where he first saw him in the flesh. Orsen never told the old fable how he’d observed Gorias and the reason the warrior came to Albion in the first place. He almost smiled at playing dumb with the great legend, trying to get him to admit it to him.
The crystal swarmed with images and they started taking on human forms. Within a few moments, a moving picture painted on the crystal, as real as if one looked into another room. A trail of dead bodies flanked the entrance to the large stone manse as Orsen’s vision splayed across the crystal. His view jerked from left to right, showing one man, gaping, hands over his heart, shocked at his own death, eyes open. Another lay face down, quivering, blood pooled from his groin. Further up the steps Orsen saw a man with no right forearm, his last breath escaping as his blood stopped shooting from the stump.
Up the steps Orsen ran, but stopped at the higher level, seeing a group of men surround Gorias La Gaul. A man in felt trousers and a silk shirt cursed Gorias, pulled a bow from the wall rack and notched an arrow. Gorias swished his swords, not moving to stop the man as he drew back and fired. The arrow stopped in Gorias’ helmet, but the old warrior didn’t slow down.
Men clad in leather jerkins typical of guards surrounded Gorias. He paused, sliced the throat free of one with a left-handed swipe, and turned, stabbing his other sword into the foot of another enemy, pinning him through the wooden floor. This man screamed, but Gorias never regarded him again. Orsen couldn’t believe this man forgot to even try and strike Gorias. A third guard leapt on his left arm, awkwardly removing Gorias’ sword. As it clattered to the ground, Gorias drew back and chopped at the guard’s head with a great roundhouse blow with his fist. The guard’s helm flew, along with a couple teeth.
Orsen crouched at the last steps, just out of their sight, but he saw the man in the silk shirt fire another arrow just as Gorias moved forward. No swords, Gorias grasped the smaller man in a bear hug and belly-flopped toward the ground. They landed on a wooden chair and a small table, shattering both. A great groan escaped from the man under Gorias. Quickly, Gorias rose up, reached to his helmet for the arrow lodged there and broke it off. He sat up and held back the flailing man’s arm so he could stab the arrow down into the left eye of his target. The man gagged, coughed, but no screams came out as the broken shaft passed through his eye and nestled in his brain.
Orsen shook, his body a bundle of nerves at the sight of such violence, and at the scent of brains.
The view twisted as a glass lantern flew into the scene, shattering at Gorias’ side. A huge wave of flame spewed and rolled over Gorias’ thigh and side. The big man rose up, flames all around him, and casually walked over to his dropped sword. These flames started to lick at the man pinned by Gorias’ sword and the screams added more horror to the vision.
Orsen’s view jerked away and he started to flee down the stairs again. Screams echoed in his mind as another man died. He pulled his head back and the vision ceased. While he sucked in breath, he opened his eyes to the face of Abbess Niva, standing only a few inches from the crystal.
“Incredible,” Niva said with admiration, her long face almost glowing from her feline eyes that refused to blink. “The old man has lost none of his ability, though he relied on his armor protecting him from the attack from behind.”
“The fire doesn’t concern him whatsoever, Abbess.”
The wonder receded and Niva’s face showed no emotion. “It’s made from dragon skin. He could walk through a furnace in that thing with his helmet on and feel no ill effects. He truly will be the answer to some prayers here in Transalpina.” At last, she blinked, staring hard at
him. “Is there something else?”
“Gorias holds something in his belt, a curious object in a glass vial. I saw it when he deposited the bit of dragonfire when we were on the ship.”
Niva waved at the crystal and Orsen dutifully touched his head to the surface again. However, when the vision of the two on the barge’s deck became clear, as soon as Gorias opened his pouch, the vision ended. Orsen moved back, confused.
Niva rubbed her chin with her right index finger. “Fascinating. Something magical blocks us from seeing it.”
“The vial contains liquid and something floating, but I’m sorry I couldn’t see it again.”
“It’s no fault of yours. A powerful enchantment blocks my eyes and the crystal, the Eye of the Dragon here. Keep me posted.”
“Gorias holds his tongue often.”
“He doesn’t trust you?”
“He doesn’t trust anyone.” Orsen stood, adjusted his tunic and bowed. “I must go and tend to my duties, Abbess.”
Niva put her hands together. They vanished in the baggy folds of her sleeves. Her chin rose as her aloft manner increased, the headpiece cuffing her scalp tightening at the edges. “Follow your orders, Orsen. I thank you for this vision. I always wanted to see him.”
“I could bring him by the temple, Abbess.”
“I said I wanted to see him, not necessarily meet him.” She turned to address her guards. “Dola, Metrose, compline nears, my eunuchs.”
He watched the slender lady begin to gravitate toward the exit. Dola and Metrose instantly parted to make way. She walked into the yawning sanctuary of Ernytel’s temple, toward the towering image of the goddess, followed by the eunuchs. All about the goddess Orsen saw a yellow glow, but the corona effect wasn’t even, as if whatever made the illumination wasn’t uniform on the backside of Ernytel.
*****
Alena sat astride her dancing roan and looked up at the man hanging from the upper terrace of the boarding house. A stocky man, face bloated, a swollen tongue half bit off protruding from his lips, feces covering one leg of his trousers, never moved in the morning air. She dismounted, and hitched up her horse, half smiling at the grisly spectacle.
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