Maiden of Fire

by Ishabelle Torry

  Her eyes opened, wild and confused. “The Vespa,” she whispered hoarsely.

  Jalomar stood, pulling her up with him. He held her tightly as she sobbed against his chest, gently stroking her hair. “I know.” Snapping twigs and heavy thumping reverberated through the forest. He didn’t need to see the beast to know what approached. The Shema. A lizard-like creature with a bad temper and a deadly spear for a tongue. It was drawn to the majik of the Vespa. “We need to leave this place.”

  For the first time since they'd met, Ramona didn't argue and relaxed into his embrace. Her head fell back, and their eyes met. He kissed her sweaty forehead. “They visited me, too.”

  She pulled away and stared up at him in disbelief as she gnawed at her bottom lip. “Did they…show you anything?”

  Jalomar hoped his expression remained firm, unbothered. Aye, the Vespa had shown him something—something he'd yet to comprehend fully.

  Beneath a full, red moon, he saw Ramona dead upon an altar surrounded by Cynthe and three unknown persons. To the left, another unknown female with long silver hair and gentle, cerulean eyes chanted into the sky. Both dark and light majik swirled around Ramona in a flurry of colors before infusing with her body.

  Azer, the High Priest of Vespa, had warned Jalomar of the importance of Ramona's role, appointing him her guardian until the proper time came for her destiny to be fulfilled. He also warned Jalomar about interfering and trying to alter her fate—her death was ordained.

  Ramona waved her hands in front of his face. “Hello, Jalo? You there, buddy? Did they show you something or not?”

  “Nay,” he lied. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her what fate had planned for her. He closed his much larger hands around hers. “Nothing more than a whisper I was gifted with.”

  She smiled, and his breath stalled. She was so young and fragile. The fate of the world rested in her tiny hands. The same hands he now held. The warmth of life pulsed through them, seeping into his own. A hum in the back of his mind echoed, “Protect her.”

  Her body tensed; she jerked loose of his hold. “Holy shit, Jalo. The Vespa…what's his face, er…Azer, he said a child would be born of fire!”

  “Aye? It is written in the prophesy as so.”

  She turned in circles, screaming into the morning sky. “You can't have her!” You hear me, you alien things! You can't have her!”

  Jalomar's hand flew to the sword strapped at his side, gripping the hilt as he scanned their surroundings. “There’s no one here. And to whom do you refer to?”

  Ramona collapsed to her knees, her voice so soft it barely registered above the blowing wind. “The baby girl…she was born during the bombardment in my time. I think they want her. She's the key.”

  Labelle's piercing gaze washed over Clarissa, leaving her to question the radical decision in seeking out the devious queen. Upon her arrival, she noted the worn condition of Castle Dika and found it lacking even more so than Dilseacht. The only visible luxury was Labelle's grand silk clothing. The Victorian style bodice scooped dangerously low to display smooth skin and firm round breasts. Her youthful appearance contradicted the wisdom of age seen in her cold, gray eyes.

  Clarissa smirked, her confidence in control. After extensive surveillance and questioning everyone she crossed paths with, she came to the unbelievable conclusion that she and the other survivors had traveled through time. Back to where their ancestors were nothing more than uncivilized, power-hungry, and superstitious fools. She refrained from scoffing aloud. Prophesies, Fiery Maidens, queens and lords. It was a pathetic world she now found herself in. With her twenty-first century knowledge and life experience, it wouldn't take too long to gain the upper-hand. Some meager contributions, and a little cleverness, she would become the Bill Gates of this primitive land.

  Labelle stood, descending from the cushioned throne chair to stand before Clarissa. She smiled prettily, her full lips forming a moue. “Tell me, Clarissa Steele: How do I trust what you have told me?”

  Clarissa harrumphed. “It's simple, Your Highness. You can either believe me, or not. However, it would be foolish to dismiss all I have said without an investigation.”

  The contemptuous queen flung her raven locks behind her in a show of haughtiness and roared with laughter. “That may be true, and yet, there isn't much stopping me from taking in all you have said, and still ending your miserable life.”

  “Then it is your loss. I have the ability to be where you cannot…within the woman’s personal party and presence. Not only is my information valuable, but the future information I may acquire is priceless.”

  After a lengthy pause, Labelle nodded her head. “Such as?”

  “I can inform you of the whereabouts of the maiden. She has taken in two orphans, one teen and one infant born during the bombardment of my time. As we both know, children need constant activity. Wouldn't it be nice to know when she will be in your reach?”

  “When did you say the child was born?”

  “She was born in the midst of the impact. Her mother didn’t survive the delivery.”

  “A female child.” Labelle licked her lips. “Ohh, how wonderful!”

  Clarissa shrugged. “Yeah. Whatever. Do we have a deal?”

  Labelle half curtsied. “It seems we are on common ground, my dearest Clarissa Steele. My Commander at Charge, Sandread, will be making contact with you as soon as he returns from his current endeavors. He shall arrange a rendezvous where you will exchange information on a weekly basis. You will report all and everything you see, hear, and even smell. I don't care how petty you feel something is. I want to know all.”

  Assured of her newly found importance, Clarissa bowed her acceptance. She would be the best damn spy possible. And when the selfish queen destroyed herself and took Ramona with her, she would step in and make herself invaluable to Jalomar as an equal business partner. Indeed, the remainder of her life would be luxuriant, just as she deserved. She would thrive in all the privileges and novelties of royalty while Jalomar paid her way through.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After several unaccustomed and agonizing hours in the saddle, she no longer possessed the ability to sit straight. Each torturous step of the mount jarred Ramona’s thoroughly sore body, and she made sure to remind Jalomar about it every few minutes. He finally gave in to her pleas a mile from the castle.

  Jalomar dismounted first before helping her slide down from their shared ride. He pointed toward the stream before tethering his stallion, Lacaux, to a nearby tree. Ramona soaked her bare feet in the cool water, wishing it were her blistered ass receiving the spa treatment. The gentle rolling tempted her to strip down and emerge herself beneath the clear surface, washing away the last day and a half of camping, aliens, and prophesy crap.

  Jalomar obviously had the same desire. Stripping down to what could pass as a pair of boxers, he waded into the creek without hesitation. A devilish grin displayed perfect teeth as he splashed her several times. “You should join me. The water is rather pleasing this evening.”

  He dunked himself beneath the surface, popping up a moment later. Water cascaded down his body, highlighting his ridiculous amount of rippling muscle. Did he do a million sit-ups a day to get abs like that? And those arms... He could probably bench press her with just one. Damn. He could have been the mold for Michelangelo's David. Just wet…really wet and shiny, and…

  Ramona gave her head a little shake, as if the gesture could erase the sudden peculiar thoughts. “I've no doubt. But I'm fine until we get back to the castle.” Did I really just say castle? Cra-z-eee.

  “Suit yourself, my petite.”

  My petite… She dwelled on the phrase.

  It wasn’t the first time he'd used the pet name. But this time, it didn’t bother. Perhaps the hour spent crying in his arms after her traumatic visit with the Vespa warmed her toleration for the arrogant warrior. He splashed her again, and she kicked water back at him. “Stop calling me that. I'm not your anything, weirdo.”

>   “Perhaps not yet.”

  “Not yet? Pfft. I'm not interested.” Liar. Her mouth went dry. “And stop getting me wet.”

  “I haven’t begun to get you wet, my petite.”

  His implication took a moment to sink in. A wave of heat rushed her body, which she blamed on the hot sun bearing down directly on her head. Maybe a quick dip to cool off wasn’t such a bad idea? She pulled the hem of her dress up to her thighs, scooting closer to the edge until the water covered her knees. “Oh, that feels awesome.”

  Jalomar glided across the stream, a lopsided grin betraying his intent.

  “Don’t you dare splash me again.”

  “If that is what milady wishes.” In one fluid motion, he’d reached for her and yanked her into the water beside him.

  The unexpected plunge stole Ramona’s breath. “What part of don’t get me wet did you not understand? I'm completely dressed, and now my clothes are ruined!”

  He winked at her and waggled his brows. “Then I suppose you’d better take them off before they're irreparable.”

  “You would like that, wouldn't you?”

  “I wouldn't have suggested it if it were otherwise.”

  Words failed her when he grabbed her by the waist and directed her toward the middle of the stream with him. What was going on with her newly appointed bodyguard? Or whatever the hell he was now. When did Mr. No Personality get a freaking personality? A perverted one at that. His gaze lingered on her breasts, which now advertised the degree of the water. She cleared her throat and snapped her fingers. “Up here, big guy. Let me suggest something to you. I don't take my clothes off for anyone, least of all you. So my advice is to keep your eyes off of me. All of me.”

  “Then why do you tempt me?”

  What? She harrumphed. “Whateves.” She turned her back to him, determined to return to the bank and dry off some before she was forced back in the saddle. His hands caressed her shoulders, and she shivered. The water was obviously colder than she’d thought…

  He leaned over her, his lips brushing against her ear. He held her still when she tried to jerk away, whispering, “I pulled you into the water because we aren't alone. I need you to act as if nothing is amiss until I get to my weapons. Then take cover.”

  “Are you freaking kidding me?”

  “Hush your tone, woman. Can't you hear the rustling of the bushes? Carry on in a normal fashion.”

  Unexpected disappointment. Apparently her warrior guardian didn’t find her attractive at all. His new persona was just a ruse to whisk her away from the bank and possibly danger. She strained to hear anything beyond the gurgling stream. Oh please be a deer, or a rabbit, or something smaller. Yeah. Smaller is good.

  Jalomar laughed purposefully, gingerly strolling from the creek as if he were taking a walk in the park. “I’ll grab the canteen for refill,” he announced over his shoulder.

  “Do not move.”

  A fast hand across her mouth and a shiny blade at her throat, colder than the water she stood in, kept Ramona from responding. A trickle of warm blood cleared a path down her neck, and she knew her unseen attacker meant business. She leaned back into her assailant as she watched Jalomar make a quick lunge for his sword and spin around. A string of elicit curses followed.

  Jalomar's jaw tightened. His voice was eerily low and calm when he finally spoke. “I would put the weapon down and let the woman walk away from you unharmed.”

  “I cannot do that, Lord Jalomar. I mean the woman no ill, immediate harm.”

  “Then why do you have her at knife point? Let her go!”

  Ramona didn't move a muscle, barely breathing for fear of the blade biting into her flesh. Warm tears countered the droplets of cool water as they ran down her face. She locked eyes with Jalomar. Oh God. He looks worried. What was he thinking? Did he have a plan? He was standing there in his underwear with only a sword. Her stomach roiled. He was a warrior, wasn't he? Jalomar's stance relaxed. He cocked his head and let the sword fall to his side, leaning against it as if it were a cane. “Take off your mask. I want to see the coward who holds a mere woman as captive.”

  Dear Lord, pick up your weapon.

  The assailant removed his hand from Ramona's mouth. She inhaled deeply, cringing when the knife nipped at her jugular as he shifted to remove his hood.

  Jalomar shook his head. “You're just a boy. Let the woman free, and I'll let you live until manhood.”

  Ramona resisted the urge to spin around and look. A boy? Like a teenage boy? So help me God, if I'm being threatened by some pissed off adolescent with a warrior complex, I'm going to kick his ass from here and back to my own timeline!

  “I am no boy,” the would-be assassin declared boldly, placing more pressure against Ramona's throat. “With utmost respect, Lord Jalomar, I know your reputation. But we both know this is no mere woman. You'd be stupid to risk her life.”

  Ramona bit her tongue—literally—to keep from shouting. So that cat's out of its bag.

  Jalomar grit his teeth. “What do you want then, boy?”

  “Retreat, or I slit her thin throat!”

  “No, you won't,” Jalomar sneered. “You cannot afford to. You need the maiden alive. How do you think your queen would react if you delivered a dead Fiery Maiden? She won't be inclined to care if it saved your sorry ass. Your life will be forfeit. Once again, I ask you to drop your pathetic carving knife and run while my temper remains intact.”

  Ramona's breath came in ragged pants now. Her back ached as she was forced to lean against her assailant. Her neck throbbed and burned as sweat rolled into the open cuts. The point of terror slowly by-passed, replaced by rising anger. Recalling a miniature self-defense seminar she had taken a few years back, she reached for the hand with the weapon at her throat, and dug her fingers into the assailant's wrist. She pressed down right where the arm joint met the hand. He swore viciously as the dagger dropped from his grasp. He then threw Ramona beneath the water as Jalomar charged.

  Upon realizing she was free, Ramona kicked for the surface. Her belly scrapped the bottom of the dirt bed as she thrust upward. She thrust again. Something kept her under. The disturbed dirt at the bottom of the stream bed infiltrated her eyes as she frantically searched for the cause of her entrapment. Goddamnit! Her hair was pinned beneath the assailant's boot. She tried to tug it free, but his footing was steady. Water began to seep into her mouth, and she was losing the ability to resist gasping. A glimmer caught the corner of her eye. The perpetrator's weapon lay within reach, and she scooped it up. One quick swipe to her trapped hair and she was free. She pushed to the surface and gulped in the much needed air.

  The high pitch sound of clashing swords rang in her ears as she scurried to the bank and watched in fascinated horror. Bloody, superficial wounds marred various body parts of both men. Jalomar's cheek bled freely. A gash from temple to chin exposed the inner flesh. “You get that little fucker!” she called out as she fingered her chopped hair.

  The sounds of combat disguised approaching footsteps, and Ramona found herself captive again. A pair of cobalt eyes swept over her as a new assailant wrapped one beefy arm around her waist and pulled her into him. She struggled, immediately seeking out his wrist to thrust her fingers into the same pressure point she'd used on the other guy. He didn’t even wince. “You've got to be kidding me.” She titled her head to see his face. Holy shit…

  The lunatic smiled, revealing a deep dimple in his squared jaw. “I assure you, Maiden, this is not a jesting visit.”

  Ramona dropped down to the ground, effectively falling out his grasp. She grabbed a chunk of dirt and flung it up into her captor's face. He released her to wipe away the offending debris. Taking advantage of his temporary blindness, Ramona leapt onto his back. Grabbing fists full of raven hair, she pulled in all directions. His head jerked back and forth. “Now what!” she exclaimed as he stumbled beneath her weight and vigorous tugs. “You learn a few things when you've been in the foster system! Maybe you'll think twice next
time you wanna attack a woman, you jerk!”

  Her captor faltered beneath her weight as she continued to jerk him around by the hair. Whenever he reached around to pull at her limbs, she bit his hands, arms, shoulders, and even neck.

  “By the Vespa, woman,” he growled. He clamped his arms down to his sides, capturing her calves. He lowered his head and took off into a dead run.

  “What the hell are you doing?” A large tree dominated Ramona's sight; she screamed realizing his intention. At the last second possible, he turned around, slamming her into the thick trunk. She let go and fell to the ground, the breath purged from her lungs.

  Her captor quickly covered her body with his. He brushed his bristly face against her cheek as he lowered his lips to her ear. “Forgive me, Maiden.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  After backtracking a mile and crossing the stream, Commander Sandread reined his mount in and slid from the saddle with an unconscious maiden in his arms. He lay her down gently on a patch of thick grass before tethering his horse to the closest tree.

  Her hair, the color of fire as indicated by her prophetic name, highlighted the pale, creamy complexion of her freckled skin. He scowled as he thumbed a severed curl between his fingers.

  Full breasts rose and fell rhythmically as she slumbered unaware of any scrutinizing eyes. She was a small female, yet fully fleshed out in all the right places. He mentally scolded himself. The mission came first. “Wake up, Maiden,” he said as he caressed her cheek

  She groaned. Her eyes fluttered, but didn’t open. “Jalomar?”

  Sandread grit his teeth. That forsaken name followed him everywhere. There was no room for Sandread, the bastard son of Lord Slydan.

  A rustle in the bushes sent a rush of small critters scattering, warning Sandread of Jalomar’s imminent approach and limited time. “It is time to wake.” The rare hue of her emerald eyes took him by surprise when they fully opened. He slid an arm beneath her and helped her sit. “There you are, my precious jewel. Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Sandread of Dika, formally of Dilseacht.”