Queens (The Wielders of Arantha Book 2)

by Patrick Hodges

  “Listen to me,” Maeve said with a confidence she barely felt. “We are going to get her back. I know things are bad right now –”

  “Bad?!” Nyla exclaimed. “They took our Stone! They took my mother! They killed Sarja!” A choked sob forced its way up her throat and into the morning air. “They killed my Promised!”

  “I know,” Maeve said, lowering her voice to a taut whisper. “I know you're hurting. I know you're all hurting. So am I.” She moved to Nyla, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. Nyla flinched but didn't shake her off. “This is not over. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to get your mother back.”

  Nyla met Maeve's gaze, her brown eyes brimming with tears. “You will?”

  “I swear to Arantha, and on the soul of my mother, I will get her back … even if it means my life. Until then,” Maeve said, “I guess you're Protectress.”

  Nyla's eyes widened, then she shook her head. “I can't …” she whimpered.

  “Someone needs to lead the Ixtrayu –”

  “And it should be you.”

  Maeve's jaw dropped, any response dying in the back of her throat. She backed up, looking over the faces of the huntresses. Every one of them was staring at her expectantly.

  “I-I …” she stuttered, gesticulating wildly. “I'm –”

  “You're a soldier,” Nyla said with surprising calmness. “You're a leader. You're a Wielder. You are Ixtrayu.” She pointed at the Talon. “You have that.”

  The huntresses nodded in unison.

  A flash of glinting metal, half-buried in the dried mud nearby, caught Maeve's eye. Curious, she walked over and pulled it free. Nyla gasped as the object was revealed. Kelia's necklace.

  The small clasp had twisted and melted into an ugly smear against the leather strap, the edges of which were frayed and burned. Miraculously, the contents of the necklace were intact and unharmed: six beads surrounding a small lump of copper-colored metal.

  Maeve cradled the object in her hands, squeezing her eyes shut as Kelia's face swam through her mind. It had only been one short day since she woke up in her lover's arms. For a few brief, blissful hours, she'd felt a happiness that had eluded her for many long years. A contentment she never thought she'd feel again had been summarily ripped away.

  The Dark Player, she mused. He's responsible for all this. He unleashed the Jegg upon my world. He sent that bitch and her army to do his bidding on Elystra.

  To him, to Banikar, it's just a game. Hundreds more pieces knocked off the board, and the game goes merrily on.

  No wonder Richard hadn't told anybody about this. It was too much for any mind to comprehend, let alone condone.

  She looked at her hands. Her knuckles had turned white, she was gripping the necklace so tightly.

  “We're getting her back,” she said, facing the huntresses again. “And God help anyone who gets in our way.”

  Yarji stepped forward, met Maeve's eyes, and bowed. “We're with you … Protectress.” The other huntresses bowed as well.

  She locked eyes with Davin, who gave her an encouraging smile.

  “All right then,” she said. “Let's get to it.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Vaxi entered the courtyard of Castle Randar, well-rested and ready to return to her homeland. Spending the night in Sen's arms had done wonders for her morale, though it wasn't enough to quell the gnawing sense of trepidation in her stomach. She knew that feeling would grow as the distance between her and the Ixtrayan Plateau diminished.

  A line of merychs awaited her, their reins held steady by a trio of stable-hands. She recognized Mizar's and Sen's mounts, as well as a proud gray steed draped in royal finery that could only belong to King Aridor. The reins of the proud white mare staring balefully at her were, to her astonishment, not held by a stable-hand, but by Prince Warran.

  “Your Highness,” she said, bowing her head.

  “Vaxi,” he responded, flashing his usual smirk. “I trust you slept well?”

  Her face reddened, and she wondered if he knew exactly where—and with whom—she'd spent the night. “V-very well, thank you,” she stammered.

  The white merych stamped its foot lightly, and Warran used a gloved hand to stroke its neck. It chuffed in response, swinging its long head in the prince's direction and baring its teeth in a rather comical approximation of a smile.

  “You lied to me,” Warran said with bemusement.

  “Your Highness?”

  “In the garden, I asked you where you were from. You said you were from Ghaldyn.”

  Vaxi gulped. She'd wondered if her slight deception would come back to bite her. “Not precisely. I said we'd arrived from Ghaldyn the previous day.”

  Warran's face creased as he searched his memory. After a few moments, his smirk returned. “So you did. A very clever ruse.”

  She bowed her head again. “Forgive me, Your High–”

  “Please,” he interrupted. “Call me Warran.”

  She met his gaze, noting his guileless grin, and smiled as well. “It was not my wish to deceive you. It was my hope, and the High Mage's, to stay out of sight until my presence was required. What started as an innocent game of search-and-find with Prince Lehr turned into something much more … dramatic.”

  He chuckled. “To say the least.”

  “I was instructed by the High Mage to not reveal my true identity to any but the King. Meeting you put me in a rather precarious position. What I told you was the truth, just not the truth you were looking for. Can you forgive me?”

  He handed the merych's reins to her. “I already have.”

  “Thank you, Your High … Warran.”

  “Have you given any thought to my mother's offer?”

  Vaxi felt the smile vanish from her face. The prince's shining green eyes bored into hers as she fought to keep her body from swaying. “I-I regret that I haven't. I've been too consumed with thoughts of home, and my people, and this man who seeks to plunder our most treasured artifact.”

  He continued to stare at Vaxi, unnerving her with his silence.

  “It is Arantha who guides me,” she continued. “Her path led me away from my village, to Darad, and to Castle Randar. That path will now come full circle. What may happen after that is unknown to me.” She sighed. “My answer is not no, but neither can I agree to your mother's proposal until I've taken a few more steps. I hope you understand.”

  “I do,” he said, the tension melting from his shoulders. “I would not ask you to put my and my mother's desires, as altruistic as they are, above that of your own people.” He smiled again. “I will pray that if our paths intersect once again, it is under better circumstances.”

  “Thank you, Warran,” she said, relieved. “I will admit, I was worried that you might use your royal authority to … compel me to stay. I'm sure many women would be delighted to earn your courtship of them, but –”

  A deep, rich laugh erupted from Warran's mouth. It filled the courtyard, earning stares from the stable-hands as well as several merychs.

  “What's so funny?” Vaxi asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

  His laugh tapered to a droll chortle. “I trust you are aware of my age and birthright?”

  She nodded.

  “Have you not wondered how I could reach twenty-six years of age and still remain unmarried? Why I haven't been ordered by my father to take a wife and produce an heir?”

  Vaxi blinked. She actually hadn't paid that fact any mind, but now that Warran had brought it up, it made her curious to know the answer. “Would you care to share?”

  Hushed voices came from behind Vaxi. She turned to see King Aridor and Mizar approaching through the rear archway, engaged in whispered conversation.

  Warran stepped close, regaining her attention. “I give you my word, should you one day return to Darad, you need not fear any such pursuit from me.” He bowed at the waist, giving her one last smile. “Farewell, Vaxi, huntress of the Ixtrayu.” Then he strode away to greet his father and Miz
ar.

  Vaxi turned her attention to the white mare, who surveyed her with wide brown eyes. “Take care of me, girl, and I'll take care of you,” Vaxi whispered in the beast's ear. “How does that sound?”

  The merych leaned forward, nuzzling the side of her head with its broad chin. She giggled softly, but her thoughts returned to a state of agitation as she again wondered what would be waiting for her when she finally returned home.

  * * *

  After leaving Dar, the large contingent of soldiers and bodyguards that accompanied King Aridor, Mizar, Sen, and herself made their way westward. It took a day and a half of hard riding to reach Promontory Point, a large, rounded peak that marked the western border of Darad. It was on the vast field that basked in the mountain's shadow that several thousand men had assembled. Over half the Daradian army readied themselves for battle, and reinforcements from both Imar and Rhys were expected within the next two days.

  While Aridor and Mizar met with the army's commanders, Vaxi withdrew to the periphery of the field, where she ate her dinner in silence. Her thoughts turned to Sen, who had ridden alongside her the entire day and even given her a few of his reassuring, bedimpled smiles, but several soldiers nursing nagging injuries or illnesses required his attention. She thought back to the night she'd spent in his arms, and gave a short prayer to Arantha that their paths would not be forced apart any time soon.

  At dawn the next day, with storm clouds rolling in, Aridor ordered her and the rest of their escorts to break camp and mount up. They rode even harder than the previous day as they passed over the border of Darad. The road became narrower as they skirted the boundary between the forest and the country of Imar, Darad's western neighbor. Several hours later, the road diverged. Instead of continuing to bear west, which would take them uncomfortably close to Barju, the large party turned to the south. They pushed their merychs even harder to make it under the dense canopy of forest before the storm hit, but they just made it. They adopted a more leisurely pace until the last of the daylight vanished. As they made camp, both Mizar and Sen confirmed that their Wielding abilities had indeed left them.

  The next morning, King Aridor assigned several of his best trackers to scour the path ahead, ordering them to be on the lookout for not only Vandans but any game that might provide the contingent with a heartier meal than the salted meat they currently sustained themselves with. Bored from the monotony of two straight days' riding, Vaxi asked to join them. Both Sen and Mizar expressed alarm at the suggestion, but Aridor gave her permission nevertheless, assuring her that any Vandan raiders foolish enough to venture so far from their own borders would be no match for his own men. Not only did Vaxi surprise the rest of Aridor's scouts when she felled two large stags by herself, but by the time Aridor and the rest of the party caught up to their position, she'd used her dagger to clean the beasts. That night, two hundred men feasted on venison, the mood cheerful but subdued.

  Vaxi and Sen were able to find a few minutes to slip away from camp to engage in a loving embrace, the first they'd shared since leaving Castle Randar. They returned to find raised eyebrows on the faces of both Aridor and Mizar, but neither scolded them on their amorous behavior. Sen turned in not long afterward, equal parts fatigued and embarrassed. Mizar soon followed. It was hours before the rain finally let up, and the thick forest soon came alive with the droning of insects and the twitters of nocturnal birds emerging from their homes. Vaxi found herself sitting around a blazing campfire with only King Aridor. She couldn't help notice the worry creasing his face as he stared into the flames, as if hoping to glean some measure of reassurance from them.

  “Your Highness?” Vaxi said, interrupting his contemplation.

  He slowly turned to face her, a glint in his grey eyes. “I have neglected to thank you for tonight's meal. I've not had fresh venison in a long time. I'd almost forgotten how much I enjoy it.”

  “You're welcome,” she replied, unsure what else to say.

  “You are a very impressive young lady,” he added

  She felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She waited for him to say more, but silence reigned once again.

  After many long moments where both of them stared vacantly at the crackling fire, Aridor said, “We should reach the Plains of Iyan tomorrow. From there, we will bear southwest. I trust you will be able to guide us to Ixtrayu territory from that point?”

  “Yes, Your Highness. If we keep a good pace, we should reach the Plateau in less than two days, I think. I'm used to traveling the plains by chava. Your merychs are strong and well-bred, but …” A wave of sadness passed through her. “I miss Tig. She was …” She trailed off, sniffling.

  “I heard what happened,” Aridor said. “I regret that your first day in my kingdom was so traumatic.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  He harrumphed. “There's no need to say 'Your Highness' after every sentence, my dear. If you knew how many times I've been addressed as such in my lifetime, you'd probably cringe.”

  “I imagine so.”

  “As much as I wish I could dispense with the utter formality of my position, sadly, it's an inescapable prison.” He chuckled. “To save time, you may address me as 'Sire'. Still formal, but only one syllable long.”

  She laughed as well. “As you wish, Sire.”

  They resumed staring. Aridor plucked a discarded stick from the ground and poked the fire with it, sending a shower of sparks up into the air. “I need you to do something for me,” he said, not meeting her gaze.

  “Yes, Sire?”

  “Tell me about Kelia.” She opened her mouth to respond, but he silenced her with raised hands. “And I don't mean, tell me about her Wielding abilities. Having seen numerous demonstrations of Mizar's Wielding in my lifetime, I am certain that she is as formidable a woman as exists on our world. I need to know how I might best approach her, gain her trust.

  “From what you and Mizar have told me, I can only conclude that any man, even one of my stature, would most certainly not be welcomed by the Ixtrayu. It's not the first time I've ventured into danger, but …” His brow furrowed. “I have a country of tens of thousands of citizens to protect from any who might do it harm. If I should fall in battle, defending my kingdom as my father did, then so be it, but I do not wish to meet an untimely end at the hands of a woman I seek to ally with.”

  Vaxi thought for a few moments, considering her answer. “Protectress Kelia is powerful, yes, but if your intentions are truly honorable, then you should have nothing to fear from her, especially with me vouching for you. She is compassionate, like you. She loves her family and her people and would die to keep them safe. That is the Protectress's sworn duty.”

  She blew out a breath. “I understand why you travel with so many soldiers. The world is a dangerous place, as I've come to discover, and the more protection one has, the better. However, my best advice to you is this: when we make our final approach to the Plateau, it should be you and me alone. No soldiers, no merychs.”

  He ran his fingers through his short, pointed beard. “Are you certain their response to your return will be … amicable?”

  She shook her head. “No, not certain. I left under less than ideal circumstances, and if they consider my actions traitorous, then I will accept their punishment. But I know Kelia and the Council well enough to predict that we will not be killed on sight. If my word still carries any weight, I will use it to protect you.”

  His eyebrows raised, and a bemused smile curled the corners of his mouth. “The most powerful king on Elystra, requiring the protection of an eighteen-year-old girl. How times have changed.” He laughed. “Should both our peoples survive this war intact, I hope you will continue to serve as an instrument for change.”

  She averted her gaze. “If Arantha wills it, Sire.”

  “Fair enough.” He stood, stretched his back muscles, and yawned. “Time for sleep, I think. It's been many a year since I've had to sleep so … roughly, but not so long that I don't occasionally m
iss it.” He moved to walk away. “Goodnight, Vaxi.”

  “Sleep soundly, Sire.” She stood as well. “Oh, Sire?” she added.

  “Yes?”

  “Before we left Dar, Prince Warran asked me why I thought he hadn't married, and we were interrupted before he could tell me.”

  Aridor's eyes narrowed. “What else did my son say?”

  She shrugged. “Only that if I returned to Darad, I need not worry about him … courting me.”

  He stepped toward her, stopping only a few feet away. He leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. “In the interests of fostering honest relations with your people, I will tell you, but you must promise that this secret will not make its way back across the Daradian border.”

  “Secret?”

  “Yes. Not even Prince Agedor knows.”

  She drew in a breath and held it in anticipation. “What is it?”

  “The reason my son has not married, quite simply, is because he does not favor women.”

  This made no sense to her. “He doesn't 'favor women'? Then why does he want women to fight alongside men?”

  “He respects women, admires them even. My wife the Queen has cultivated that admiration in him almost since birth. But he does not seek women out for … intimate purposes.”

  “Oh?” Then comprehension dawned on her. “Ohhhh.” Her face scrunched up in disbelief. “I … I would never have guessed.”

  “And neither would anyone else,” Aridor said. “I love my son, and despite his … leanings, he has exceeded every expectation I've ever had of him. He will make a fine king, and none would dispute that. I hope you won't think less of him for his proclivities.”

  She smiled. “I come from a tribe of all women, remember? Ixtrayu have bonded, become companions, have shared each other's beds for centuries. The notion that there are men who seek companionship with other men does not shock me, nor does it alter my opinion of Prince Warran. If anything, I respect him even more.”