Queens (The Wielders of Arantha Book 2)

by Patrick Hodges

  “Vaxi?” he finally blurted out. “What are you doing here?”

  She stood up straight, smoothing out her tunic. “I followed you.”

  “You heard me leave?” Sen asked, quirking an eyebrow.

  “I'm a huntress, remember?” She gave a coy smile. “I've tracked nemza cats over solid ground in the dead of cold season.”

  He simply nodded, turning back to face the city.

  “Can't sleep? Neither can I,” she said, standing at his shoulder. “Great Arantha. Is that the entire city?”

  “Most of it, yes. Pretty impressive, huh?”

  She nodded. “I'll never get used to it. So many people in one place.”

  Despite the cold, he felt a trickle of sweat on his neck. He hadn't planned for this to happen. She was leaving tomorrow, and that would be that.

  “Why did you follow me?” he asked.

  She faced him, closing the distance even further. “I wanted to talk to you. We haven't talked much since we arrived in Dar. And since I'm leaving tomorrow—”

  “You're here to say goodbye,” Sen finished. A wave of sadness swept through him. The sudden thought of losing Vaxi, forever, gnawed a hole in his stomach. Why was she torturing him like this?

  “No, Sen!” She grabbed his hand. “I wanted to convince you to come with us.”

  Sen averted his gaze, staring at his feet. “Why?”

  Her volume rose even further. “Excuse me?”

  “Why do you want me to come with you?” He held out his puny arms to demonstrate. “Look at me! I'm no good in a fight! I promised to look after you while you were here, but once we cross the border, I won't even be able to heal!” He walked a few steps away. “I'm completely useless.”

  “I thought we were friends.” The hurt in Vaxi's voice was like a punch to his chest.

  Sen put his hand on the wall for support. He couldn't look at her. Instead, he thrust a finger in the direction of the city. “This is my home, Vaxi. These are my people. I've sworn an oath to serve them. I belong here. And you belong with your people. Not with me.” He faced her again, exhaling deeply. “Not with me.”

  “Sen …” A mournful look came over her face. “Before I met you, I'd never even seen a boy my age. I didn't know what to expect. I didn't think I'd meet people who were kind, and gentle, and …” She paused. “If every man on Elystra were like you, we wouldn't have to hide. But that is not the world we live in. I could meet a thousand men, and I don't think I'd find one as good-hearted as you.”

  The iciness gave way to a spreading warmth inside him. “Thank you,” he said in a hushed whisper.

  “I-I'm not ready to say goodbye, Sen,” she stammered. “I feel better when you're around me.” She squeezed his hand. Her hands were freezing, and he noticed her shivering in the dim light.

  He took a half-step back and unfastened the knots that held his coat shut. He shrugged the coat off and coaxed her to put her arms through it. She pulled it tight around herself and nodded thanks.

  A nagging thought entered his mind. “What happens when we get to your village? My mother …” He couldn't even finish the thought.

  “Sen, my grandmother may be my only blood relative, but the Ixtrayu are my family. If they'll have me back, I see no reason why they won't accept you. You are, after all, one of us, in a way.” She smiled again.

  Could it be true? Would he find a mother willing to ignore her tribe's traditions and accept him back into her life?

  Mizar's words echoed in his mind: Regret has no cure. Don't wake up one day and discover you are old and regretful.

  A surge of hope flowed through him. His path, Mizar's path, Vaxi's path; they were all the same, for the time being anyway. He couldn't step off it now. He had to keep following it, wherever it led.

  He looked her up and down, huddled in his coat underneath which she wore the tunic of a farmer's son. Men's clothes. And yet, she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

  “I just have one question, if I may,” Sen said, meeting Vaxi's eyes again.

  “Anything.”

  “Are you in love with Warran?”

  “Wh-why do you ask?” she replied, averting her gaze.

  “I heard what happened. On the archery range, and in the Hall. It's obvious you've captured his eye.”

  She rounded on him, her expression a mixture of befuddlement and outrage. “So, what, you think that means I feel the same way? I only met him two days ago! Why would you think that?”

  He braced himself against the stone wall. “Because he's a prince. The next King of Darad. And on top of that, he's …” He bowed his head.

  “He's what?”

  “Strong. Handsome. A great leader. The sort of man every woman dreams of having.” He sighed in resignation. “Everything I'm not.”

  Vaxi strode up to him, placing her hands on his arms. “Sen, I'm not in love with Warran.”

  “You're not?”

  She shook her head. “I came to Darad because Arantha led me here. I just …. I just never dreamed her path for me would be so filled with thorns.”

  “So it's true? The prince really asked you to be his consort?”

  “It's been mentioned.”

  “So … what will you do?”

  Without warning, she stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her head in his shoulder. “I don't know,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt. “I'm just a huntress. To do what Warran wants, what the Queen wants …”

  Sen didn't respond. He just held her.

  “I just want to go home,” she whispered. “With you.”

  Their eyes met again. Reaching out, he caressed her cheek. She did not flinch or pull away but put her hand over his. She continued to stare at him, and Sen saw something in her eyes.

  An invitation. The subtlest of signals, but it was there.

  Do I dare?

  He slid his hand down to her shoulder, leaning forward. Inch by inch, he brought his face close to hers. Her eyelids closed as she prepared to receive his kiss.

  Regret has no cure.

  Their lips met.

  His first kiss. Their first kiss. An event that would end all too quickly, but would last forever in his memory.

  Her lips were cold, just like her hands, but they were soft, moist, delicious. He pressed harder, and the coldness ebbed away, replaced by blazing, tingling heat. He felt her strong arms tighten around him as the kiss deepened further. She traced the shape of his mouth with her own. They fit together like they were meant for that purpose. His hands found her long, lustrous hair, and he ran his fingers through its silken length.

  And then her lips parted, and her tongue edged through them as if making an introduction. It made contact with his own before retreating back inside her mouth. She did not pull away. Her fingernails pressed hard, which he felt through the material of his shirt.

  She wanted more.

  He let his tongue slip over hers. It was an odd sensation, but it sent a fire as hot as a smithy's furnace through his gut and down to his loins.

  Great Arantha, let this moment never end.

  On top of the cold, lonely bartizan, overlooking the great city of Dar, they kissed as if eternity was but a whim. In those moments, Sen saw his future flash before him. It was so clear. She was part of his life now, and he would walk through fire to keep it that way.

  Finally, they parted, though their grip on each other didn't slacken. She pressed her forehead against his, her breath like a warm breeze on his face. “I think I will return to my room now.”

  He loosened his hold, but only slightly. “I will walk you back.”

  “Will you sleep beside me?”

  This question was like a lightning bolt to his brain. Had he heard her correctly? “Sleep? Beside you? In a bed?”

  His shirt tightened as she clenched several folds of fabric in her fists. Her eyes were magical, casting their temptress's spell on him. “It's cold in my room. Keep me warm tonight. We leave tomorrow, so
we may not get another chance.”

  The words weren't coming, so he just nodded. He gestured at the trapdoor. “After you,” he croaked.

  * * *

  Inside Vaxi's room, she returned his coat, which he put back on. After lighting several more candles, she climbed into her bed—which thankfully was larger than his, and had enough width to accommodate them both. She pulled a woolen blanket up to her neck, and turned on her side with her back to him. He lay down next to her, draping an arm around her and holding her close. He buried his face in her hair, drinking in her earthy scent he'd grown to love.

  “Sleep soundly, Sen,” she whispered. He couldn't see her face, but he knew she was smiling. As was he.

  I love you, he wanted to say, but the words caught in his throat and would go no further. Instead, he chose safer ones. “Good night, Vaxi.” He kissed the back of her head.

  Snuggled in his arms, she fell asleep within minutes. He soon followed. Despite the pain in his face, he was filled with more happiness than in his entire life.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Maeve hadn't gone one step down the ramp of the Talon when she felt Rahne place the tip of her tritanium baseball bat between her shoulder blades and give her a violent shove. With nothing to grab onto, she pitched down the ramp, landing hard on the dirt of the riverbed. She was able to brace her fall, just barely, but the small cloud of dust thrown up by her tumble stuck to the blood encrusting her lip, nose, and right eyebrow. In no hurry to stand up, she concentrated instead on the people around her as she scrabbled on the dusty ground.

  “Did ya get it?” came an impatient voice from nearby. She heard the captain—Kalik, Rahne called him—shuffle toward her.

  “Yeah,” Rahne answered.

  Maeve watched the two men out the corner of her eye. Kalik's frown turned into a cruel smile as Rahne handed him the box containing the Stone. Kalik ran his palms over its surface but quickly eyed the bat in Rahne's other hand.

  “What is that?” he said.

  Rahne used the bat to point at Maeve. “The Stone was hidden under the floor in their crew quarters,” he said. “She made a grab for this, but I beat her to it.” His smile mirrored Kalik's. “And then I beat her with it.”

  This elicited guffaws from several of the men. Kalik, however, was apparently not amused. “Give it here, boy,” he ordered.

  Rather than hand the bat over, he gripped it with both hands, bracing it against his shoulder. “I took the risk, sir. I should reap the reward.”

  Kalik looked like he was going to dispute Rahne's claim, but then shrugged. “Fine, keep it. We got what we came for, anyway. Ya see any other weapons lyin' around?”

  Rahne shook his head. “I didn't have time to search. You only gave her ten minutes, remember?”

  “No matter. We can loot the ship fer all it's worth after we're done here.” He waved at the kneeling forms of Davin and Runa. “Resume your position. If the woman gets feisty, kill the boy.”

  Maeve hissed, glaring icy daggers at Rahne.

  “Yes, sir,” Rahne said and, bat in hand, took up a stance behind Davin.

  She stared helplessly at her son, powerless to help him. Kneeling next to him, Runa looked like she was about to keel over.

  And then Maeve noticed something else: the soldier at Rahne's side, behind Runa, was not the same man who'd been standing there when she boarded the Talon. This man was shorter yet more broad-shouldered, with fairer hair. As she watched, the man engaged in conspiratorial whispers with Rahne.

  “Well, alien, it would seem your usefulness has come to an end,” Kalik said.

  Rising to a kneeling position, Maeve met his smug smile with a larger one of her own. And then she let loose a peal of mocking laughter. Loud and strident, it filled the air of the wadi, echoing off the walls of the nearby basin.

  Kalik drew his sword, holding the point inches from her face. “The last woman to laugh at me felt her tongue bein' cut from her head right before I opened her throat,” he seethed. “I'll cut ya ta ribbons if ya don't shut yer mouth.”

  Instead of complying, she laughed even louder.

  “Have it yer way,” Kalik said, and with a violent flick of his wrist, sliced a deep gash in her cheek.

  Maeve's laughter tapered to a strangled cry as she slapped her hand over the wound. Her breaths came quickly as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will the pain away.

  “At sunrise,” Kalik said, “my men and I are leavin' these mountains. Guess where we're goin'.”

  “Hell?” Maeve panted, blood seeping between her fingers.

  “Nah. We're goin' to that village right across the desert.”

  Maeve jerked her head upright, her eyes wide with horror.

  “That got yer attention, did'nit? Oh, yeah, if everythin's gone to plan, the attack should be startin' …” he turned to the west, where the last rays of the sun outlined the massive peak that loomed over them, “… right about now.”

  Maeve's head began to pound, as her shared vision with Kelia flashed through her mind. The Plateau, her new home, covered with bodies. Ixtrayu bodies, skewered by arrows or burned by the lightning-Wielder's fire.

  The attack was happening. Right now.

  She couldn't delay any longer. It was time to put her crazy plan into action.

  “Good,” she seethed.

  Kalik's brows knitted. He obviously hadn't expected that reaction from her. “ 'Good'?”

  She smiled, wincing through the pain. “You know nothing. You know less than nothing. My friend and ally, Protectress Kelia, is an Elemental Wielder. Do you know what that means, you piece of shite?” She paused dramatically. “It means she can wipe out your army in more ways than you could even conceive. And guess what else? She can see the future, too.”

  The blood drained from Kalik's face, taking his smug smile with it.

  “That's right. She foresaw your attack weeks ago. We've used that time to prepare. It's not the Ixtrayu that have fallen into your trap, it's the other way around.” She drew in a breath and spat a gob of blood at his feet.

  Kalik brought his sword up near her face again. “We've still got yer Stone.”

  “Yeah, about that.” Maeve pointed at the box Kalik had pressed to his own hip. “That container is triple-lined with pure quadranium, and coated with a polysilicate resin that could withstand an earthquake without cracking. In other words, you wankers should be technologically advanced enough to open it in oh, say, a thousand years.” She flashed her most devilish smile. “Your boss … what was his name again? Eyesore? Hope he doesn't have plans for the next millennium.”

  Kalik snarled, shoving the tip of his sword right underneath Maeve's chin. “Yer gonna open it for me.”

  “Why would I do that?” she said through gritted teeth. “You're just going to kill us anyway.”

  “'S'right, I am. So I'll make ya a deal: open it now, and I'll make sure yer deaths are quick and painless. Ya don't …” He shot a menacing look at Davin.

  “That's not much incentive,” Maeve said, jerking her head away from the sword-tip.

  “It's the only offer yer gonna get.”

  Maeve lowered her head, considering his offer and praying to every saint she could think of that she hadn't overplayed her hand. “Let my son go, and I'll open it for you.”

  His whole body clenched. “Open it now,” he said, much more quietly than she expected. “And I will consider it.”

  At that moment, a series of bright lights affixed to the underside of the Talon's hull flared into brilliant life, illuminating the campsite. The day they had landed on Elystra, Maeve had set the computer to activate the lights just before total darkness fell upon the mountains. She didn't react to the telltale click and the droning buzz given off by the lights, but the soldiers noticeably flinched. They held their swords at the ready, flicking their eyes in every direction as if anticipating an attack, but nothing else jumped out at them.

  “Put it down,” she instructed Kalik, pointing at the ground
in front of her.

  Kalik eyed her suspiciously, waggling his sword at her. “No tricks.” He gently set the box on the soil between them.

  She knelt down, placing her hands on both sides of the box, flipping a pair of tiny switches. A familiar whirr and a short beep told her the box's voice-recognition system had been activated. “Confirm identity,” came a mechanical yet distinctly feminine voice.

  Kalik took a nervous step backward. “It talks!” he said, hiding behind his sword again.

  She smiled, taking delight in his shock. “Major Maeve Cromack, serial number A-S-Q-dash-zero-eight-one-seven-six-nine,” she stated.

  “Confirmed,” said the box. “Enter passcode.”

  Maeve took a deep breath, gulping down her nerves. “R-D-C-dash-zero-six-one-eight-two-seven-one-nine.”

  With another whirr of hydraulic gears, the box sprang open. Inside, just where she'd put it, was the Stone she and Davin had found.

  Kalik reached down to scoop it up, but before he could, the same soft, yellow, almost sentient light Maeve had seen upon their first discovering it flashed into brilliant existence. Maeve had to avert her gaze and step away from it.

  She closed her eyes, willing the pain from her arm and face to recede, to heal, just like Lyala had taught her. In that brief moment of contact with the Stone, she became one with it. It fueled her will to survive, to vanquish these men.

  In his message, Richard had called her a “queen” in this chess game the Eth were playing. She didn't know much about chess, but she knew of all the pieces, the queen was, by far, the most powerful.

  It's coronation time, bitches.

  While the assembled men continued to gawk in awe at the pulsating, dancing, shimmering light emanating from the Stone, Maeve retreated further into her mind. The chaos, the uncertainty she'd felt at the onset of her Wielding abilities was gone. She was in control now.

  Pushing her focus to its limit, she felt the gash in her cheek seal itself, the abrasions on her face fade. “Help us, my sisters,” she muttered under her breath, sending out a mental signal and praying it would be answered in time.

  A scream of agony pierced the night air. She turned to see Rahne, writhing on the ground behind Davin, clutching his head. His feet thrashed as he tossed from side to side, pressing his hands to his temples as if his skull was about to explode. He wailed again, a tormented cry that sent a shudder through Maeve.