Lioness of Kell
Page 1
PAUL E. HORSMAN
LIONESS OF KELL
© 2015 - Paul E. Horsman
Red Rune Books, Netherlands
All rights reserved.
Cover: Ravven
For more info: paulhorsman-author.com
There are a glossary and a name list at the back of the book.
Paul E. Horsman’s books:
Zilverspoor Uitgeverij (Dutch Editions):
Rhidauna – Schaduw van de Revenaunt #1
Zihaen – Schaduw van de Revenaunt #2
Ordelanden – Schaduw van de Revenaunt #3
Red Rune Books (English Editions):
The Lioness of Kell
Shardfall – The Shardheld Saga #1
Runemaster – The Shardheld Saga #2
Shardheld – The Shardheld Saga #3
Rhidauna –The Shadow of the Revenaunt #1
Zihaen – The Shadow of the Revenaunt #2
Ordelanden – The Shadow of the Revenaunt #3
Shadows Under Nadril - A Revenaunt novelette
CONTENT
MAP OF MALGARTH
CHAPTER 1 - ASSIGNMENT
CHAPTER 2 - SUMMONS
CHAPTER 3 - JURGIS
CHAPTER 4 - SABOTAGE
CHAPTER 5 - YARWAN
CHAPTER 6 - THE LORN WITCH
CHAPTER 7 - THE DAISEE
CHAPTER 8 - FOUL PLAY
CHAPTER 9 - SEAMIST
CHAPTER 10 - SURPRISE
CHAPTER 11 - COUNSELS
CHAPTER 12 - TOWNE
CHAPTER 13 - PERILOUS BOOTY
CHAPTER 14 - OLD FRIENDS
CHAPTER 15 - EXPEDITION
CHAPTER 16 - THE BLUE SHIP
CHAPTER 17 - THE TOWER AWARE
CHAPTER 18 - AN URGENT MESSAGE
CHAPTER 19 - A NEW SURPRISE
CHAPTER 20 - TAR KELL
CHAPTER 21 - WISEWOMAN
CHAPTER 22 - WARGALL
CHAPTER 23 - BROOMS
MAP OF VANHAAR
LIONESS OF KELL
CHAPTER 24 - TRAPPED
CHAPTER 25 - SHAMAN
CHAPTER 26 - HOMECOMING
CHAPTER 27 - TO THE RESCUE
CHAPTER 28 - SECRET SOCIETIES
CHAPTER 29 - SEATOME
CHAPTER 30 - CAGED JOURNEY
CHAPTER 31- PLANS
CHAPTER 32 - BATTLE
CHAPTER 33 - RECOVERED IDENTITIES
CHAPTER 34 - TOWER MEETING
CHAPTER 35 - LONG-SOUGHT SPELL
CHAPTER 36 - DHOW
CHAPTER 37 - REINFORCEMENTS
CHAPTER 38 - FINISHING MOVES
CHAPTER 39 - FINAL DOINGS
LIST OF NAMES
LIONESS OF KELL
PART 1
MALGARTH
MAP OF MALGARTH
Kell(s): Citizens of a militant matriarchate. They are a big, black-skinned people, blue eyed and curly-haired; refugees from continental (Old) Kell.
Vanhaari: The warlock people. They are of average heigth, with complexions ranging from snow-white to steel-gray; refugees from continental Vanhaar.
Chorwaynie(s): The coastal people of the Chorwaynie Archipelago in the north. A slender, brown-skinned people, mainly seafaring merchants and pirates, traders and fishers; townsfolk.
Jentakan(s): The inland people of the Chorwaynie Archipelago. Mainly fishers and sailors; they crew the trading ships of the Chorwaynie.
Thali: The people of the frozen south. A rather reclusive people; technicians, who develop wonders like steam engines, airships and such.
Unwaari:The Singers of Aera, mages, living in continental Unwaar. They are Vanhaar’s brother people.
Garthan(s): The original inhabitants of the High Kingdom of Malgarth; themselves refugees from earlier turmoil. A melting pot of light-skinned dropouts and renegades.
CHAPTER 1 - ASSIGNMENT
Lioness Maud of the M’Brannoe stood by the railing, moving with the motion of the ship as they neared the harbor mouth. Breathlessly, she gazed at her first foreign city, oblivious to the confusion of pigtailed Chorwaynies around her preparing the ship for mooring. The sailors chattered and laughed in a thick accent, while they worked without disturbing her privacy.
Maud was a big, muscular girl, topping the crew by a head or more. Her skin shone in the purest black, her eyes were blue and her close-cropped curls dyed the bloody red of active service. In her well-waxed body armor, she was the epitome of a Kell warrioress—strong, virile and dangerous. Yet underneath her brawn she was an eighteen-year-old girl, and her heart hammered with the excitement of her first foray into the high kingdom of Malgarth.
Winsproke, place of magic! she thought. The approaching city was different from Brannoe or old Tar Kell, the only towns she had known. Here, the dwellings were tall and narrow; painted in bright colors, as if the owners vied with each other over whose house was the most garish. Only the large tower in the center was a plain gray, and loomed over the town like a mountain peak.
‘Lioness.’ The rough voice told Maud her superior had come on deck. ‘To me.’
As she walked over to the veteran tigress, sailors took her place at the railing, and she felt a stab of guilt.
‘I was in the way,’ she said defiantly.
‘Yes.’ Veteran Hala’s dark face was impassive. ‘Such inattention can be dangerous in action. And spare me your huffiness, girl; you’re not a full lioness yet. As long as we’re in the field you’re my responsibility. Behave yourself.’
Maud swallowed at the rebuke. ‘Yes, Veteran.’
As soon as the crew had lowered the gangway, the two warrioresses jumped onto the graystone quay. Hala stood for a moment, rubbing her cheeks with her knuckles. Then she growled and strode into the city.
Maud hurried after her, reveling in Winsproke’s sights and smells. The sun’s play on the colorful buildings left her breathless. A cacophony of purples and pinks, of reds, ochre, bright greens and blues, against which the people themselves were pale shadows who went about their business as joyless as professional mourners.
These can’t be warlocks, Maud thought. They must be the common Vanhaari; servants and clerks. Surely the warlocks will be grander than these drudges.
As they approached the main square, hawkers filled the street with their cries and the rattle of their laden pushcarts. The veteran barged through the crowd with little regard for the vendors and their unwieldy transports. Maud squared her shoulders against the angry curses and fists shaken in their wake, and followed the older woman to the warlock tower.
Close up, the building was even more impressive than seen from the sea—half a mile of gray stone blocks, rising up to the sky.
‘So high; it’s humiliating.’ Maud gazed up to the top of the tower, lost in the clouds. ‘I don’t like feeling small.’
The veteran snorted. ‘It’s only a building.’ She studied the walls, and then growled. ‘Openings all over it, but no damned front door.’
As they looked, a portion of the wall shimmered, and a handsome woman in a blue suit stepped through the solid-seeming stones. She was speaking in a soft voice, gesturing with a rolled up scroll as if arguing with an invisible companion.
Hala gave an exasperated grunt, and hurried to intercept her. The woman, immersed in her one-sided discussion, almost walked into the veteran, but Hala sidestepped swiftly and saluted.
‘Excuse me, ma’am. I saw you coming out of the tower, but how do we get inside?’
The warlock blinked in apparent confusion. ‘Eh? Oh, ask the spellscribe.’
Hala scowled at the vague answer. ‘The spellscribe?’
Flustered, the woman turned and waved her scroll at a nearby wooden stall. ‘Him. The fellow sells penny spells to the common folk. Useless, but the people like the
m. He pays for his doghouse by doubling as the tower’s doorwarden.’ Without another glance, she walked on, waving and mouthing.
Hala lifted her eyes to the sky. ‘I hate dealing with those foggy-minded finger-wrigglers.’ Without another word, she marched to the booth and leaned forward.
‘Careful!’ A pinched, angry face snarled at them as the stacks of little cards on the countertop trembled. ‘Them spells be the work of days, you ignorant woman! Want to buy one?’
The old warrioress inspected the man. ‘I’m Veteran Tigress Hala of the M’Brannoe, for my appointment with the prince-warlock.’
The spellscribe made a disgusted sound as he adjusted his glasses. Careful not to knock over the stacks of handwritten cards himself, he opened a large book. Page by page, he went through the scribbles, mumbling.
‘There’s no Lala here,’ he said at last, peering up at the big Kell over the rim of his glasses.
The veteran folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the booth. It creaked alarmingly, but nothing disastrous happened.
‘Hala,’ she said. ‘With an H. I’ve got nothing else to do today, so I don’t mind waiting. I wouldn’t know about the prince-warlock, though.’
As if she’d summoned it with her words, a pink frog appeared on the booth’s counter. ‘Show them in, you limp-brain,’ the familiar croaked, hopping around the stacked spells in agitation. ‘You’ve been told the Splendor is expecting a Kell.’ At that, it winked away again.
The spellscribe’s face was splotchy purple with rage. He waved at the tower, and a massive pair of doors appeared. ‘Go on; get yourselves inside!’ Then he squealed as the warrioress bumped her solid hip against the booth, scattering the written cards into the square.
‘Idiot,’ Hala muttered as she marched to the now visible entrance. ‘Doesn’t want strangers in his magic castle. And he’s ugly as a newborn mole rat, so he must be at bottom level.’
Maud frowned. ‘Why’s that?’
‘You should’ve paid notice to your lessons, clansister.’ Hala’s voice carried a hint of loathing. For a moment, Maud thought it was directed at her, but the veteran’s next words dispelled her fear.
‘The warlocks are beauty-besotted. The higher they come, the prettier they must look.’ Hala made as if to spit, but restrained herself. ‘Never let their strange fancies fool you, though, girl. They are still deadly foes.’ She looked back at the spellscribe, desperately trying to gather his little cards before the wind caught them. ‘At least most of them.’
Inside, the tower was as impressive as the outside. Maud stared around at the hall. Large enough to gather an army in, her training said. And all of it empty.
A plain man rose from the desk beside the entrance. On his shoulder sat a pink frog. ‘Old fool, old fool’, it croaked, while its long tongue shot in and out.
‘Quiet, Rosa,’ the man said. ‘Apologies for that incompetent fellow outside, Veteran. Please follow me upstairs. His Splendicity the Prince-warlock is eagerly awaiting your arrival.’
Maud stared up at the winding stairs, disappearing in the distance. No place for those with a weak heart.
On the first floor, one of the many openings in the tower walls gave a fine view over the city.
‘What are those doors for?’ Maud asked. ‘Warlocks don’t fly, do they?’
Their guide frowned and peered at her. ‘Before the War we did—brooms and flying carpets. We lost the skill of carpet making when the enemy killed all weavers. Our towers still have flight doors, though.’ Then, as if the subject embarrassed him, he handed them to another underling, who escorted them to the next floor.
Many levels of ascending magnificence later, Maud had lost count of the steps. Without speaking, they followed a person of dazzling beauty to the top of the tower. Here, the air was so pure it made Maud giddy from breathing it. Her boots sank deep into rich carpets, and rows of blown-glass figures along the walls made her feel clumsy with their fragility.
They followed the circular corridor to a pair of doors, flanked by flowering plants bearing pink and violet blooms. Still mute, their guide touched the polished wood and drifted away.
‘Was that a female or a male?’ Maud whispered to the veteran while the doors swung open.
‘Both and neither,’ a warm voice said from inside the room.
Maud paused, hand to mouth, chagrined for being overheard.
The voice disregarded her confusion. ‘It considers itself beauty incarnate, though its appearance is an illusion. It is but a mid-level warlock, lacking any true distinction. A capable floor manager, though; that suffices.’
A shadowy figure at the window turned and sat down behind a large desk. Prince-warlock Argyr of Winsproke was a handsome man, with a pale, dignified face and black hair combed back to his shoulders. His robe was of a deep purple hue and the stars woven into it twinkled like the night sky when he moved.
Maud looked in awe at the rich paneling and the framed images of strange places on the walls. Some place he has here.
Her superior didn’t even glance at all the trappings. She stepped forward and saluted. ‘Veteran Tigress Hala of the M’Brannoe, by appointment.’
Argyr folded his hands on the desktop, and his lips formed a small smile. ‘You are prompt; that is promising.’
A fine voice, Maud thought, standing at attention beside Hala with her eyes fixed on the opposite wall. Magically prettied, as is all of him, of course.
The prince-warlock turned his head to look at her as if he’d read her thoughts. ‘Who is your companion, Veteran?’
‘The Lioness-cadet Maud of the M’Brannoe is my second. A field training assignment.’
‘Ah, a trainee; that explains her tender age,’ the prince-warlock said. ‘No matter. I asked the Brannoe Queen for a capable person to execute a minor but delicate duty, and she sent you. I want you to find a boy for me.’
The veteran raised an eyebrow. ‘A boy, Your Splendicity?’
Prince-warlock Argyr gave a small smile. ‘You do not think naughty thoughts, do you, Veteran?’ He rose and walked to a tall mirror in the corner of his office.
‘A boy.’ With a wave of his pale hand, an image appeared of a young male about Maud’s age. He was small and slender, with long, wavy red hair accentuating the alabaster beauty of his face and his large gray eyes.
Divine Otha! He’s delicious! To her disgust, Maud felt her loins react to the boy’s delicate beauty. Keep your pants on, girl. This time. But the mirror reflected her face next to his, in black contrast to his whiteness, and she couldn’t stop her breath speeding up.
Argyr cleared his throat. ‘To be clear, the boy in the mirror is my son Basil, the Spellwarden. I have not personally seen the one you are to fetch. I only know where you may find him. He should look much like my son; a cruder version, but the similarity will be there. I have need of this boy.’ He paused, looking at the two women. ‘It is nothing improper, or dangerous. The Spellwarden has to go somewhere, but he never leaves his apartments. I seek a double to take his place; that is all. As there is some urgency to the matter, I have ordered my dirigible to expect you.’
‘That’s most efficient,’ Hala said. ‘Ah, where do we go to, if I may ask?’
‘The Five Tradeports. To be precise—Port Brisa.’
‘That cesspool?’ The veteran pressed her lips into a thin line. ‘One more reason to make it quick. One finds more sins among the Garthans in the Five Tradeports than anywhere in the high kingdom.’
Argyr smiled. ‘But you won’t be tempted, Veteran. Now will you?’
Hala moved her shoulders. ‘I won’t, but I’m not a young Kell anymore. We are lusty lasses in our youth, Splendicity. That’s why our juniors won’t ever be allowed to leave Kell without an elder in command.’
Neither of them looked at her, but Maud felt the blood rush to her face. Lusty! As if she couldn’t concentrate on her orders. Her eyes strayed to the boy in the mirror. This will be the hells of a job. She pulled her thoughts back in t
ime to see how the prince-warlock handed Hala a pouch and a signed contract. The veteran saluted, wheeled around and marched from the room. Maud followed her, without missing a step, fuming in silence.
‘I heard you breathing,’ Hala said as they walked down the stairs unattended. ‘Like a bitch in heat. Forget it, you hear? We’re on duty.’
Maud sighed. ‘I know. But by Gorm, it’s not fair.’
‘Lass, if you need a screw, there are males enough. But not the contract. Understood?’
‘Of course.’ Maud swallowed her chagrin.
‘And not in Brisa. That town isn’t safe for innocent young girls.’
‘Innocent?’ I turned eighteen; I’m not a child anymore.
Hala growled. ‘Pure as a nightwing’s tear.’ She halted and gripped Maud’s arm. ‘You don’t fool me, lass. The only boys you’ve laid were Kells and our males are meek as lambs. In the other lands they’re still wild and believe me, they don’t tame easily. You may be almost a full lioness, but this is your first assignment outside Kell, and you’re as wet as a frog in a pool. So no experiments, no funny games, no nothing. You’re on active service, and if you try anything, I’ll kick your butt back to Brannoe. You’re not going to shame me. Am I clear?’
Maud took a deep breath. ‘Yes, Veteran,’ she said. ‘Perfectly clear.’
CHAPTER 2 - SUMMONS
‘Damn them!’ Basil’s voice was hoarse with anger as he limped around his sitting room, clutching a crumpled paper. His finely cut white countenance had gone pink, and the gray in his eyes was stormy. ‘I’ve been summoned! They want me to prove ... And now Father ....’ For a moment his rage reduced him to silence. Biting back a sob, he dropped down in a chair and sat clenching and unclenching his slender hands.
Darquine poured wine in a glass and held it out to him.
Without thinking, he took a large gulp. ‘Blast them all.’ He looked at his friend sitting opposite him, and desperate anger clawed at his nerves.
The girl leaned back in her chair. She stretched her booted legs out and brushed a tiny speck of dust from her master merchant’s dress coat. ‘Tell me.’
Basil opened his eyes wide. ‘I am telling you.’