Lady of the Haven (Empire Princess Book 1)

by Graham Diamond

  “Mistress Shaina,” he said, catching his breath. “Please return at once to the minister’s post.”

  The girl nodded without a moment’s hesitation. “But what about Lady Anastasia? She’ll have to be brought back to the palace.”

  “I’ll escort her, mistress. But hurry. All officers are being called at once.”

  “I’ll have to leave, my lady,” said Shaina. “Follow Rald. He’ll bring you home.” With that and a quick smile Shaina disappeared among the crowds.

  The guard sighed, then grinned at the startled girl. “Do not worry, my lady. Things are well.”

  Just the quickest glance into his deep-set eyes told her that they were not well at all. There was more happening than either one was willing to say. But she knew that questioning Rald was futile. He was as close-mouthed as every other Satrian.

  The guard pointed. “This way, my lady. Please follow me.”

  Stacy nodded and followed him along the street. There was something important going on, and she was going to find out what it was, even if it meant being chained again. Bit by bit, without the guard even realizing it, she slipped a quarter pace behind. Ahead was a busy avenue filled with veiled Satrian women in saris similar to hers. Stacy took a deep breath and pushed Rald hard so that he stumbled. Before he could turn around she was gone, hidden among a hundred women bustling among the stalls.

  Stacy walked at a fast clip toward the spiral stairwell, yet slow enough not to attract attention. She covered her face with her veil and bent her head low. Then, certain that no one had seen, she took hold of the metal banister and dashed two steps at a time down into the darkness. She found herself on a small landing, faced with a tall iron door blocking her path. If there was a guard on the other side, her game was done, she knew. But if there was no one...

  She held her breath and pushed at the concealed recess near the lower hinge. Metal groaned; the door opened. She passed through easily and stepped inside a luminous passageway that led farther below. The door shut behind her on its own.

  Down, down she went. Shouting voices echoed in the distance, yet here the tunnel was empty. Save for an occasional mouse, she was alone. At length the tunnel grew dim, the earth beneath her feet softer. Holding the wall with her hand, she moved slowly and cautiously, letting her eyes become accustomed to the new light. Canine instinct warned her of danger ahead; her keen sense of smell picked up a scent of blood.

  A frantic cry sent her reeling back. Ahead a soldier came running, his eyes ablaze. At the sight of her he stopped. “The canal! They’ve broken across the canal!”

  Stacy thought fast. “I know! Others are to follow! Get above and bring as many reinforcements as you can find!”

  The soldier nodded. “Yes, mistress!”

  She saw that he was young, not really more than a boy — yet from the look of his sunken, ravished eyes, she knew he had already seen long service in the tunnels fighting things.

  He ran frantically on, in the direction of the stairwell she had just descended.

  Stacy pressed forward, heart pounding like the drums in the temple. An underground canal! No one had told her of that! If there was a canal, there would probably be a river — and that would lead outside the mountain!

  More cries from ahead. The passage grew wider and wider with every step, and wind began to howl down from hidden fissures. It became cold, winter cold. She stopped at the foot of a ledge and peered down into a vast cavern below. The pits! A dark, endless, windswept canyon filled with boulders and rocky ledges. Across the floor lay the bodies of things, bloodied and mangled, intertwined with corpses of Satrian soldiers, their weapons shimmering dully in dim light.

  She edged her way along the edge of the tunnel, hands feeling their way along the wall. Suddenly her fingers touched metal. Handholds! To climb down below, she knew. She grasped the first hold, lowered herself down the ladder and swiftly made the descent. Her feet dropped into a thin layer of mud, splashing dully.

  Nauseated by the stench of death, she retched. Soon she caught sight of a dim tunnel far to her right. It was from there the screams were coming; it was there the battle was being fought. She drew her dagger from inside her sari.

  She heard the sound of rushing water and knew the river and canal must be close. The dim light grew closer; she hugged the wall. Once past the pit she saw a sight that she would never forget.

  A vast cavern loomed, a hundred meters high. From below came a steady flow of water spilling over a deep wooded channel dug into the earth. Below the ledge on which she crouched the battle raged in eerie light, Satrian soldiers wielding scimitars in wild frenzy as a countless number of fierce droop-jawed creatures swarmed around them.

  The column of men was pressing steadily backward below her ledge, in the direction of yet another tunnel. Corpses were littered everywhere. The things grunted and wailed, swinging huge rock swords over their heads. The clash was terrible. Now a trumpet blast screamed and a wall began to move on the far side of the canal. Stacy saw the wall mysteriously slide open; a hail of arrows rained down upon the confused things. They tried to scatter but were caught in a crossfire. Stumbling and shrieking, many fell into the canal, their bodies borne swiftly away by the rushing black water.

  A company of fierce mail-clad Satrians charged through the opening in the wall. The men tossed ropes, secured them on both sides of the water and began to cross the canal. Again came a clashing of swords and the shattering sound of smashed bone. A row of the enemy fell back. As they did, the original defenders of the tunnel broke forward with renewed fury, shouting warcries.

  Everywhere, men became blurs, things grotesque silhouettes against the limestone walls. Stacy felt her head swim, the stench of blood and death heavy in the air. Onward the Satrian army pressed, now clearly regaining the upper hand. Things squirmed, writhed; rock swords clanged hollowly against scimitars. Crossbows sang a song of death. Swarming from ledges and tunnels, the Satrians swiftly took control of both sides of the canal. Bodies mingled, twisted, lunged. The earth became soaked in blood.

  Stacy shuddered. She staggered backward, back toward the dark. She had seen a taste of the Ritual Wars, and a taste was more than she could bear.

  Welcome to my city, Anastasia. Welcome to Hel!

  Blindly, she ran back in the direction of the pit, trying in vain to block out the dreadful images of battle. She found herself leaning against the wall of the handhold ladder, panting, drenched in perspiration. Drawing a deep breath, she scrambled up the ladder and ran along the now familiar tunnel. She did not stop until the rock door was opened and the spiral stairwell leading to the shala was in sight.

  *

  Head sunk on her pillow, she tossed about in an uneasy sleep. There was a thing coming for her. Its eyes were wild, face twisted and laughing. She tried to move but found herself frozen. The creature threw back its head and bared horrible fangs. Then she screamed.

  Then she awoke.

  Her room was light, the globe above her head burning brightly. The sound of bells was soft; they helped calm her nerves. On the table was a pitcher of wine and with shaky hands she poured a goblet full to the brim.

  There was a soft knock at the door.

  “My lady? May I enter?”

  Stacy sat up on the edge of the bed. “Come in, Shaina,” she answered, glad for the familiar voice.

  The Satrian girl entered with a worried look. “You caused us great concern, Anastasia,” she said. “Rald reported your disappearance to his superiors. The minister was very upset.”

  “I got lost in the crowds,” Stacy lied, shying her eyes.

  Shaina eyed her coolly. “I think not, my lady. A soldier returning from the tunnels reported seeing someone very much like you headed toward the pits.”

  Stacy sighed. “You’re right, Shaina. I was below. I followed your soldiers to the canal. And I saw the battle. Will you report me?”

  The Satrian shook her head sadly and sank into one of the cushioned seats beside the table. “But you
promised not to enter any restricted area. No one is allowed below, my lady. You’ve caused great anger.”

  “You may not believe this, Shaina, but I’m sorry I went. What I saw —”

  “What you saw is never to be repeated!” snapped the girl.

  Stacy stared with surprise at this first outbreak of temper she had seen from Shaina. “What’s happening, Shaina? Tell me. Please. Satra’s in great danger, isn’t it? The wars go badly, worse than you would have your people believe.”

  Shaina put her head in her hands. “This is not the first time our defenses have been breached. But all is under control.” The words were flat, dry, as if she were repeating a standard reply to such a query.

  Stacy didn’t believe her for an instant. “You are holding back, Shaina. Why?”

  “Because to speak of military matters is forbidden! Ah, Anastasia, your own eyes have seen it. What can I add? Yes, Satra is in danger. The tunnels are infested as never before. Last week the caravan from Kuba was attacked and they made it through only by their wits. What they reported has frightened us.”

  “What was that?”

  The girl looked at her ruefully. “I should not be repeating this to you, my lady. I can be punished.”

  “I’ll tell no one, Shaina. I give my oath as a friend. Tell me.”

  “Armies have begun to group. In spring we would expect it. But not now. The enemy gathers force and moves to Satra’s perimeter. Skirmishes have already begun, soldiers have been dispatched. Kuba itself is reported under siege. The Rani’s father has requested our aid, but we can do little for him. The Rani now accuses our prince of responsibility if Kuba falls. I fear she will rally support from within Satra and force Sumavand’s hand by her cunning and prowess. If that happens and we are forced to send large contingents to Kuba, Satra may well be left defenseless when the true onslaught begins. Patrols from the hills already tell of a large force of Nomads approaching the mountains —”

  “Stop there!” Stacy’s eyes displayed fiery anger of her own. “You lied to me, Shaina! You all did — even your prince! You said that no Satrian ever leaves the mountain during winter. Now you speak of your patrols in the hills! You could have sent word to our ship, couldn’t you? You could have warned our companions of the danger!”

  Shaina wept openly. “Forgive me, my lady. I was commanded never to speak of our patrols. You were not to know.”

  Stacy wiped tears from her own eyes. “But why? You want them to be killed? What harm have they done to you?” And she shook Shaina by the shoulders.

  “It’s too late! Don’t you understand? They’re already doomed! Already the Nomads have seen your ship. Their columns have been sighted, moving in the direction of the inlet. There is nothing to be done.”

  “How can you say that? Send a force of your own soldiers to their side! Help them! Save their lives!”

  The girl shook her head. “We dare not. We cannot!” Stacy stared in shocked silence. Alryc had been right all along. The Satrians would do nothing to aid them. Elias and his band would be left to defend themselves as best they could against the havoc that was being wreaked upon them. “Get out, Shaina,” she said angrily. “I’ll take my cause directly to the prince. He’ll listen to reason even if you won’t!”

  Shaina shook her head. “No, Anastasia. It was Sumavand who gave the command; no patrol must approach your camp. We’ve seen it from a safe distance. But they did not see us.”

  “You’ve been there? Yet you didn’t warn them?”

  The Satrian sighed. “We were forbidden.”

  “Everything here is forbidden!” flared Stacy. “What’s the matter with you people? You call yourself my friend, but you’re not! You’re as poisoned as Sigried! Now get out!”

  Shaina stood, bowed in Satrian fashion. Then she spun around, skirt flaring, and strode tearfully from the room, slamming the door.

  Stacy threw herself down on a pillow and cried for a long while. Elias and the others would be helpless against what was coming, she knew, but there was nothing to be done. Trevor’s plan for escape would be too little, too late. They could not wait until spring. They had to leave now. Every day lost would bring the war that much closer.

  But they were prisoners here, as surely as if they had been thrown into the deepest dungeon. Prisoners in a golden cage. Eyes flushed with tears, Stacy vowed to break free.

  She got dressed in her sari, hid her dagger beneath the skirt and made her way to the small meeting room at the end of the corridor. It was with surprise that she saw Melinda and Alryc already there. They looked up, startled, as she entered.

  “Stacy!” cried Melinda. “We’ve been so frightened! What happened to you yesterday? Our guards were frantic. Even the minister was here. He said you fled your escort.”

  Stacy slumped dejectedly down on the cushions. The ringing chimes in the background began to annoy her. Gazing about, she made sure no Satrian guards or servants were near and then searched the faces of her friends.

  “I’ve been below, beyond the pits,” she confided.

  “How? Where?” her companion’s demanded.

  “Shhh! Listen to me, both of you. The war has already begun. I saw it. Things are already on the march, moving toward the shala. I don’t know all the details, but Satra is preparing for an all-out attack. And they lied to us when they said no one ever goes above. Satrian patrols have been in the hills and seen the Brora. They also reported an army of Nomads massing and heading in the direction of our camp.”

  Melinda gasped in alarm, her trembling hand at her lips.

  “But the Satrians won’t help,” Stacy continued. “The ship’s in grave peril, but Sumavand won’t lift a finger. You were right, Alryc. They’re afraid of us. If Nomads wipe out our camp, they’ll consider it a threat removed.”

  The Ranger’s eyes glowed. “We’ve got to do something!”

  “There’s an underground canal — and a river. I’ve seen it. It leads out of here. With a lot of luck someone might just make it to daylight.”

  “And that someone is you?” asked Alryc darkly.

  Stacy nodded. “It has to be. I’m the only one with any idea how to get away. Trevor’s plan is no longer any good. Time counts, so there’s none to waste. Elias must be warned right away. If he’s not...” She didn’t have to draw any pictures of what would happen.

  “How will you make it to the ship, Stacy? Satrian soldiers will be on your heels the moment you flee through the tunnels. And tins time I fear the Rani will be given her way. Your life will be in her hands.”

  Stacy scoffed. “She doesn’t frighten me. And I can elude the soldiers. I know the tunnels; I’ll get by.”

  “But what about things?” cried Melinda. “They’ll swarm all over you, like they did to us before. And even if you make it to daylight, you’ll have to elude Nomads. They’ll want you, too. Remember the tales we’ve heard about what they do to captives?”

  “I’ll have to risk it, Melinda,” said Stacy with a frown. “Too many lives are at stake. I know I can’t make it all the way to the ship by myself. I will need help — and I intend to get it.”

  “Stacy!” rasped Melinda, “Have you lost your senses? There’s nothing between you and the ship except snow and ice. Who will come to your aid? Where will you find shelter?”

  “In the only place I’ve ever found shelter,” she replied dourly. “Among wolves.”

  “The white wolves?”

  “They’ll take me in. They have to. I’m one of them, remember?”

  “This is not the Empire, girl!” boomed Alryc. “They have no love for men. Do you expect them to fight for us?”

  “It’s a slim thread, I know. They might even take me for a Satrian and kill me. But I doubt it. If I can reach their dens, I’ll find the only safety we’ve known since that day we left camp.” Her tone of voice showed she would not be deterred.

  “When will you leave, little wolf princess?” asked Alryc.

  “Tonight. After midnight. That’s when the
guard is changed. Melinda, can you steal a warm cloak for me? And maybe some boots? Mine are pretty ragged.” She glanced down and frowned.

  “I’ll find what you need, Stacy. Don’t worry. What about weapons?”

  She shook her head. “I have my dagger. It’s enough. But right now I have a lot to do. Melinda, meet me later at the entrance to the palace wing. Six bells will be a good time. Right now I’m going to find Shaina. I treated her like dirt a while ago and I want to apologize.”

  *

  Craggy walls dimly lit by torches loomed along the unfamiliar passage. It was the women’s quarter, set aside for girls in service of the throne — girls like Shaina. Stacy had expected to hear laughter from the chambers, but instead there was no sound, no sign of anyone. Cautiously she passed an endless number of closed gray iron doors. Where was everyone? Surely someone was about! A guard, a servant, anyone.

  Nothing.

  Stacy began to feel uneasy. She slid her hand to the hilt of her dagger. Which chamber opened into Shaina’s room? She knocked on a door; no one was inside. Then another door, then a third. Something was wrong. An attack, perhaps? Had all the girls been called to duty?

  Suddenly she froze. From somewhere down the hall she heard a moan, soft, almost a whimper. A door stood ajar, spilling light into the hall. Uneasily she came to it and pushed the door fully open. Lying on the floor was Shaina, hands bound behind her back, mouth gagged with a scarf. Her dress was torn and small threads of blood trickled down her arms, breasts, legs.

  Stacy, shocked, knelt down beside the injured girl. “Shaina,” she whispered. “Shaina! Can you hear me?”

  A long groan came in reply. Gently, Stacy lifted the girl’s head and recoiled with shock. Shaina’s lovely face was bruised and cut — the work of a finely sharpened knife, she knew. One expertly wielded to do minimum cosmetic damage but to inflict the greatest amount of pain.

  “Oh, Shaina,” she cried softly, “who did this to you? Who did this to you?”

  Slowly the Satrian girl managed to open her eyes. They were clouded, showing the effects of forced drugs. “Anastasia? Is...it really you...?”