by R A Oakes
Gwendylln, Andrina and Corson smiled knowingly. Danger was a luscious, welcoming temptation none of them could resist. They envied their master for having encountered such a powerful foe. Only when living on the edge did they feel truly alive; everything else was simply waiting for the action to begin.
Lord Grenitar gave another ear-splitting roar while moving his face even closer to Chen’s, their noses almost touching. The black leather panther felt herself shivering with delight as the incredible power of this massive beast surged through her. Suddenly realizing his opponent was experiencing pleasure, not fear, a sense of wonder and shock filled the giant tiger, and he thought, Who is this woman?
Amused by Grenitar’s reaction, Chen smiled and put her knife back into its sheath. She knew there was someone else whose primitive, powerful nature thrilled her above all others, Lord Pensgraft.
“I’m sorry, but I’m married,” Chen purred. “Fighting this intimate should be reserved for my husband. But you have reminded me how much I enjoy being around him, at least at times.”
Lord Grenitar tried to speak but found his mind a jumble. Chen tended to have this effect on powerful men, and Gwendylln, Andrina and Corson looked at each other and laughed. They knew Lord Grenitar was one more conquest for their master.
“You are Grenitar, aren’t you?” Chen asked, gripping the fur on the big cat’s chin.
“Yes,” the giant tiger said greatly impressed by the intensity and ferocity of the black leather panther’s anger. However, once Chen was certain the object of her affections was indeed her intended target, she relaxed.
Chen enjoyed closeness and intimacy if they were connected to conquest. At other times, she guarded her personal space. That is, unless Lord Pensgraft needed his famous temper dampened a little. Chen could take her husband’s most tumultuous days and turn them into his most luxurious nights, if she was in the mood. Which with Lord Pensgraft, she frequently was.
Powerful men had an intoxicating effect on her, especially one with surging emotions as untamed as her husband’s. Lord Pensgraft was a man with an enormous
appetite for life, so much so that his wife sometimes needed to exert a moderating influence on him. And Chen knew precious little about moderation herself. They were quite a pair.
Backing up a step or two, Lord Grenitar turned around and saw the surprised looks on the faces of the 60 tigers Aerylln had so far managed to send forward in time. Another 40 were still waiting their turn, but those present had never seen anyone come close to besting their leader before, certainly not a human. They wondered what losing to a woman like Chen felt like.
Reading their minds and unashamed, Lord Grenitar said, “In a funny way, it feels good.”
Chen’s warrior women all started to laugh. They knew that one way of handling a larger opponent was to first drain him of any desire to fight. A male’s greater physical strength meant nothing unless he also possessed the emotional, mental and spiritual willingness to use it. Confuse the male, win the war.
As for Lord Grenitar, his skill as a warrior was unquestioned, but he realized he was on shaky ground. Glancing around the courtyard, his gaze settled on the ten tigers with blood on their chests and snouts. This was a new issue, something to distract him from Chen’s unsettling skill at using violence as a form of seduction.
As Lord Grenitar headed towards the bloodstained tigers, Chaktar, his great-great-grandson, approached him and bowed. “My most revered ancestor, thank you for coming to our aid.”
“So, you’re Chaktar?” Lord Grenitar asked looking over his great-great-grandson and taking his measure.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Why are those tigers stained with blood?”
“They’re man-eaters, my lord.”
“Man-eaters?”
“They terrorize local villagers who’ve been enslaved by Swarenth and his gargoyles, my lord.”
“They consort with the enemy? They’re traitors to their one true king?”
“Yes, my lord.”
That’s all Lord Grenitar needed to hear. Lunging at the bloodstained tiger closest to him, he smashed the traitorous big cat on the side of the head with a massive paw snapping his neck.
The other bloodstained tigers cautiously backed away but did not show fear. Having been granted special privileges by their gargoyle masters for years, these brutal, sadistic big cats were used to being in charge. That their authority could be successfully challenged was unthinkable.
“That dead tiger was one of Swarenth’s favorites. You’ll pay for that,” one of the bloodstained tigers snarled.
“Really? Too bad you won’t be alive to see it,” Lord Grenitar said. Then, turning to his own tigers, he said, “We’ve no time for prisoners. Kill them all.”
“Cancel that order!” King Tarlen shouted before anyone moved.
Lord Grenitar, not used to having an order countermanded, looked over to see who’d dared to question his judgment. Upon recognizing the speaker, Lord Grenitar threw himself to the ground in total, abject submission saying, “King Ulray, I wasn’t aware you’d arrived.”
“I’m King Tarlen, Ulray’s son. There’s already been too much senseless killing due to these wretched beasts. Let’s cage them up instead. Take them inside the building.”
“Yes, sire.” Turning back to the traitorous tigers, he said, “You heard him. Head over to the cages.”
“No,” one tiger said snidely. “We’re in a castle filled with thousands of gargoyles. You have no power here.”
Lord Grenitar was filled with rage but held his temper long enough to glance over at King Tarlen who nodded. Leaping forward, the lord of big cats caught the traitor with a vicious swipe of his claws across the face. Howling in pain, the bloodstained big cat reared up on his hind legs throwing himself at Lord Grenitar who deftly sidestepped the animal, catching the beast with another swipe of his claws.
The two big cats began circling each other. After a while, Lord Grenitar stopped and said, “Well, I don’t have all day.”
Both reared up on their hind legs slamming together with enormous force, and the bloodstained tiger was thrown to the ground where Lord Grenitar caught him with yet another swat of his paw, knocking him unconscious but not killing him.
“Anyone else have something they’d like to say?” Lord Grenitar asked glaring at the other man-eating tigers. “No? Then head over to that doorway leading inside as your king commanded.”
“We don’t have a king,” one of the tigers said while moving towards the doorway, obedient but still defiant.
“You don’t deserve one,” Lord Grenitar growled as a dozen of his own tigers and a few of Chen’s warrior women followed them inside.
Afterwards, everyone watched as more and more giant tigers from the past materialized. They were coming quickly, though one at a time, until about 85 in all had arrived. But then the process slowed, each one taking longer to appear.
“White Angel’s almost worn out, my lord,” one of the most recent arrivals reported to Grenitar. “At this point, she can barely stand.”
Lord Grenitar and Chaktar exchanged worried glances. “She can do it. Aerylln’s tougher than she looks,” the older tiger said trying to provide encouragement but obviously concerned.
Once the last of the 100 tigers had arrived, an image of White Angel mounted on Zorya with King Ulray behind her had begun to materialize but then vanished. As everyone held their breath, White Angel, King Ulray, Zorya and Baelfire appeared again, however this time even fainter than before.
“Quit trying to protect me, White Angel,” everyone heard King Ulray say. “Get yourself into the future. Don’t worry about me. You know the battle plan and can tell my son about it. I’m not important now. Save yourself.”
“We’ll make it, sire,” the winged young woman insisted, refusing to leave Tarlen’s father behind. This is more than about fighting, it’s about family, she thought. Tarlen needs emotional support at a time like this. We all do.
White
Angel continued to struggle, exhaustion readily apparent on her face. Then with one more surge of effort, the young angel, the king, the horse and the sword almost seemed to fully materialize when, suddenly, they began to fade once more.
“We’re not all going to make it,” King Ulray shouted getting up from a sitting position onto his knees and throwing himself off Zorya, landing on the ground away from the others.
White Angel, Zorya and Baelfire solidified almost immediately, but King Ulray was in trouble. Forty years ago, the monarch had been 34-years-old, but now he began aging rapidly. The closer he got to fully materializing, the older he became. When the process was finally completed and he had successfully made the transition into the future, it was in the form of a 74-year-old man, which would have been his actual age had he lived and not been killed by Swarenth’s forces.
But standing up without assistance and brushing the dust off his tunic, King Ulray conveyed an aura of power, an unmistakably regal presence with his shoulders squared, and his back ramrod straight and his long, white hair adding to an incredible sense of dignity and authority. Though much older in appearance, Ulray was still every inch a king.
When Captain Polaris saw his long-dead master alive once more, he ran over and knelt before him. The 20 members of the king’s personal guard present reached their lord only a second behind the captain. Some put their heads to the ground. Others kissed his feet. All were close to tears.
“You should’ve allowed us to die with you, sire,” Captain Polaris said. “We had no right to be alive after failing our king.”
“You didn’t fail me, you saved my son, and for that I’m eternally grateful.”
“But King Tarlen has been living in exile. At Hawthorn Village, we masqueraded as common folk for years. After that, we set up a ranch near Skybrook Castle and bred horses.”
“That’s not so bad,” King Ulray smiled.
“King Tarlen grew up as a blacksmith’s apprentice,” Captain Polaris said, frightened that King Ulray would be angry when he heard the full extent of their humiliation.
“That’s good exercise for a growing boy.”
“But the last living Kardimont grew up as a commoner, sire. He has split wood, hauled water and repaired plows. His face was often covered with soot,” Captain Polaris said tears streaming down his cheeks. “A Kardimont king helping harvest corn and other crops, it was a disgrace, sire.”
“No honest work is ever a disgrace, captain.”
“Forgive us, sire.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. If the man standing next to that attractive young woman is my son, then you’ve done quite well.”
Spreading his arms wide, King Ulray said, “Come to me, son, and give your father a hug.”
Running to his father, Tarlen threw himself into King Ulray’s outstretched arms. “Father I missed you so much. I dreamt about you for years, but gradually I couldn’t remember your face.”
“Well, it’s really nothing worth remembering. Your mother was the beauty. No one could ever compare with her.”
“Yes, father, that’s true. I remember everyone saying how she got prettier every day.”
While still embracing each other, Tarlen being unwilling to let go of a father he hadn’t seen since he was a child, King Ulray looked at his son and said, “Aerylln tells me we have a problem.”
“Well, we’re in the middle of a gargoyle controlled castle ruled by a sadistic monster and 10,000 winged apes.”
“What do you plan on doing about it?”
“Now that we’ve gotten in here, I’m not sure. It was all we could do to sneak inside. Plus, my men and I can’t get far from Marcheto’s wizard’s staff. It’s the gateway to the College of Wizards. If we move too far away from the gateway, we’ll die.”
“First things first. Let’s get you back into this world.”
“To do that, we have to use an incantation that seems wholly unreliable. You should have seen the mess we made during our first attempt.”
“Well, Lord Grenitar has had experience dealing with unstable incantations which could be a help. Also, Aerylln has an idea.”
White Angel had changed back into a young woman immediately upon returning from the past. Looking rather haggard with dark circles under her eyes, Aerylln said, “It’s possible the Council of Aeryllns can help.”
King Tarlen gave his father a questioning look. King Ulray smiled and said, “I’m sure it will be fine. We’ll have you permanently back in this world in no time.”
What is it that’s so different about my father’s attitude and my own? King Tarlen asked himself, but then it hit him. Father’s used to winning. He’s used to succeeding at whatever he does, whereas I’ve been on the run all my life hiding from Swarenth.
While touching his wife’s belly, King Tarlen thought, It’s very important that our children experience success. By seeing themselves as winners, they’ll be far less likely to accept defeat.
“Father, this is my wife, Genevieve,” Tarlen said as his queen knelt before her father-in-law.
“My, but I think her beauty rivals your mother’s,” King Ulray said taking Genevieve by the hand and helping her up.
“And that’s our daughter,” Tarlen said pointing at Genevieve’s tummy.
“My grandchild?”
“Granddaughter,” Genevieve said, wondering if King Ulray would be disappointed that it was a girl.
“I’m sure you’ll both raise her to be as skilled with a blade as Tarlen’s sisters were,” King Ulray said smiling.
“She’ll be well-versed in the arts of war, sire. That I can promise you,” Genevieve said. “Good.”
“For someday, she’ll be king.”
Without even a moment’s hesitation, King Ulray said, “And a great king she will be, I’m sure.”
Genevieve studied King Ulray’s face and looked into his eyes to see if there was the slightest hint of cynicism but saw only sincerity.
“Sire, I said that I want my daughter to be king,” Genevieve said making sure King Ulray understood she was being serious.
“So, how do you feel about that, Tarlen? Should a woman have the right to be king?”
“Well, father, given that we’re in a fortress swarming with gargoyles, and our only allies inside the castle are almost all women, I’d say it’s a good idea.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
But Genevieve was still worried, and King Ulray could see it in her eyes. Taking off his own tiger ring, he placed it in her hand. “Troubled times require a clear line of succession. Tell my granddaughter that her grandfather wholly approves of her being crown princess.”
With that said, King Ulray unsheathed his sword and touched Genevieve’s belly with it twice. “What will the baby’s name be? Have you given any thought to it?”
“We’re naming the baby after your wife. Her name will be Loren.”
Both Genevieve and Tarlen could tell that King Ulray was deeply moved. Wiping away a tear, he said, “In the name of all my forefathers, in the name of every Kardimont king since the first one, Dynarsis, 500 years ago, I declare this baby the heir to the Kardimont throne. When this baby is born, her formal name will be Crown Princess Loren Kardimont. May she rule with both strength and wisdom.”
When King Ulray had finished, he looked up and saw that all those in the courtyard were on their knees. Everyone realized they had just witnessed the prelude to a coronation. In the not-too-distant future there would at last be a woman king.
“You may all rise,” King Ulray said quietly. Then turning to Marcheto, he said, “So, you are Eldwyn’s successor?”
“Yes, sire.”
“I suggest you and Aerylln come up with a way to bring my son and his men back home permanently.”
“May Aerylln and I talk privately for a few moments, sire?”
“Please do.”
After walking to the center of the courtyard, Marcheto took Aerylln’s hand and asked, “What are we going to do?”
&nbs
p; Giving his hand a squeeze, Aerylln said, “Don’t worry, we can handle it. Just follow my lead.”
Looking deeply into her eyes, he smiled realizing that she was right.
Chapter 21
Coldstream Village, two miles south of Dominion Castle. That same day.
Lord Pensgraft, astride his wife’s warhorse, Zenithstar, an animal with incredible strength and endurance, was galloping back to Coldstream Village and to his 3,000 warriors who were encamped around it. Reining up hard, the giant warrior brought Zenithstar to an abrupt halt in front of a ramshackle house, not unlike most of the other broken-down residences in the village. Riding with Lord Pensgraft was an escort of 100 warrior women who, though under his command, had been trained by his wife, Chen, and by Gwendylln, Andrina and the other female warriors now inside Dominion Castle.
Having returned from a reconnaissance mission, the giant warrior knew that fighting their way up the winding mountain trail and past a half-dozen imposing fortifications to Dominion Castle would test the courage of even the most seasoned veterans. Looking into the eyes of his warrior women, he saw their concern but also their fierce determination, which was precisely why he’d surrounded himself with females as his own personal guards.
Warrior women could rarely afford to ease up, for no matter how many times they displayed their skill and courage, the need to prove themselves seemed endless. There was always at least a shadow of a doubt in the hearts of men as to a female’s credibility in battle. Thus, warrior women had to stay sharp while maintaining self-discipline, a deadly seriousness and a pragmatic nature that expected the worst.
In dangerous, unpredictable environments requiring alertness, quick reflexes and a willingness to strike first and ask questions later, women were more reliable than men. Therefore, from Lord Pensgraft’s point of view, being surrounded by 100 warrior women ready to go off at the least provocation was better than the alternative. Better to be practical than dead.
