Lady of the Haven (Empire Princess Book 1)

by Graham Diamond

  Just then there was a mighty crash. The ram had dealt its first blow against the gate. “Heave!” cried the Nomads. “Heave!”

  The massive ram was drawn back, then like thunder against the gates of Satra a terrible boom reverberated right across the High Cavern. Again it drew back and again it was swung forward. The beams groaned and split. The gates plunged open. Great cheers of glee swelled from the attackers.

  Waves of wild men came pouring through the entrance, whooping at the tops of their lungs. Two hundred Satrians met them head-on, but the Nomads were driven men, urged on by the knowledge of the plunder that lay before them. From precious stones to tunnels of gold and silver, from the wealth of the palace, to the lust of women, all this and more lay at their feet. Scimitars and arrows would not keep them from it. For so long they had lusted; now it was theirs for the taking!

  Sumavand, with Alryc and Cicero at his side, dashed down the long steps from the parapet. The Rangers drew long, curved Satrian daggers and plunged wildly to Sumavand’s side, slashing the air, sending wild men reeling back.

  “We are lost,” shouted Sumavand in bitter realization.

  “Not yet, Prince!” rasped Alryc. The astronomer cut a path before him with his blade; inch by inch the small band began to withdraw. Melinda plunged her knife through the heart of a hairy bestial man lunging at her; Cicero toppled on the ground with two wild men, dodging and swerving, keeping the knives at bay. Sumavand heaved his sword about and brought it crashing against mail and flesh and skins and axe blades. Dizzily he forgot his royal bearing and began to shriek like the savages that surrounded him, dealing death at every turn.

  Grisly shouts obliterated all. Sumavand was hardly aware of the din, besieged as he was. But through the fog of his mind he swore he heard the howl of wolves. The ultimate irony, he thought. Now that the things have ravished the shala from below and the Nomads from above, the wolves would seek their vengeance, too. There had been too many enemies for too long, he knew, and now Satra would pay the price.

  It was with incredible shock that he heard the shrill blasts of the Nomad horns sound the retreat. From all around, barbarians who had been pressing upon his very flesh now began to turn pale with fright and to scurry back in the direction of the gate.

  Alryc stood, hand to his wound. Melinda and Robin painfully lifted themselves off the floor, panting.

  And the wolf howls rose above all, louder and louder. Cicero suddenly bounded up atop the wall.

  “What is it?” gasped the prince amid the tumult.

  “What are they saying, Cicero?” asked Melinda.

  The wolf glanced down with amazement. “Lead us! They are shouting ‘lead us, lead us, Khalea!’”

  Robin and Melinda hurried to the wall. Alryc and the prince were quick to follow. Hundreds upon hundreds of great fierce white wolves were pouring into the cavern from outside, lunging and leaping, tearing at Nomad throats. And leading them was a woman dressed in a long cloak that swirled behind her, a band of ferocious seekers surrounding and protecting her. As the bitter fight waxed hotly everywhere, the girl strode forward, dagger in hand, barking commands in the canine tongue.

  Alryc clapped Sumavand on the shoulder, eyes twinkling. “We’ve been saved, Prince! Saved! The name they shout, Khalea, do you know to whom it belongs?”

  Sumavand still could not believe what he saw. “Anastasia!” he gasped. “It can’t be. But it is!”

  “Yes,” replied the astronomer dourly. “Anastasia. She has come to fight for us — with the white wolves.”

  Tears streamed down Melinda’s face, tears of joy. “You did it, Stacy,” she whispered. “You really did it!”

  The battle was brief but savage. The Nomad army, having taken many casualties at the hands of the Satrians, were now completely overrun from behind. The disarray was total. Wild men broke ranks and fled in panic, vainly seeking shelter from the rampaging wolves. The wolves were repaying an old debt. Never again would Lowland men catch and murder them. Never again would they shy from the tips of Nomad spears or the gleaming blades of their axes. Khalea had called them wild and free — and now they truly were. Free wolves of the pack! Wherever she beckoned they would follow, for now she was their queen.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The long winter snows began to melt. Aleya blew more gently now, and Khal bathed the land in his warmth. Fara had awakened from her slumber at last; the first days of spring were close at hand.

  Captain Elias stood at the foot of the ridge, peering out at his ship and the dark blue sea beyond.

  The Brora, still nestled in the cove, rocked gently with the bobbing waves, her new sail proudly fluttering in the breeze. Gulls filled the sky, and the bright sun peeked from behind fast-rolling, cotton-like clouds,

  Alryc stood beside Elias, dressed now not in fine Satrian fabric but in the rougher cloth of his Newfoundland tunic.

  “Can you see it all?” he asked softly. “See Bartok’s vision coming true?”

  Elias nodded. “I think so, yes.”

  The astronomer sighed and touched lightly at the healing wound under his eye. “Tell me what you see.”

  “Our ships crossing beside Satra’s own,” sighed Elias. “Our world and Satra’s bound together by bonds that can’t be broken. We’ll learn from each other.”

  Alryc nodded somberly. “We both have much to teach. We will bring home new wonders. And some of us will stay behind to work with Satra and forge this bold new world you see.”

  “And some stay behind in death,” added the mariner.

  The mystic bowed his head. “Believe that they died with a purpose, my friend. They gave all so that others may follow in their places. The world changes around us. We must accept that.”

  Elias looked away. Beside the cabins of the camp his crew and most of the Rangers and Valley soldiers were busily making preparations for the prince’s arrival. A handful of Satrians were helping, including the hawk-nosed minister called Sebelius. He had been among the first to reach them that day after the wolves had come down from the mountains and sent the Nomads fleeing from the camp. And Elias had to smile at the memory of how terrified he had been. First the wolves, then these strangely garbed men of Satra. With their mail and their scimitars, it looked as if they were there to finish what the Nomads had left undone.

  Everything had happened so fast: the news that Stacy and most of the others were alive, that Satra had been found, that the prince of Satra was prepared to form an alliance with the Empire and would send his special emissaries back to Rhonnda aboard the Brora. A trumpet blast sounded from the hills. The Satrians began to cheer.

  The trumpet blared again, closer. Elias saw the first of the Satrian soldiers, all riding stunted ponies, strange and colorful banners flying high. The minister bowed low as a line of sleek black horses appeared at the crest of the hill. Six black horses, six proud riders dressed in bright saris and togas, cloaks flowing gracefully behind in the wind. He stared dumbly. Riding the finest steed of all was Stacy. She rode tall, with her head thrown back, her hair swirling before her eyes. Next to her was a stout broad-shouldered man with a powerful face and bright intelligent eyes. This one was the prince, Elias knew. Poise and manner alone assured him of that. Flanking him was an aide of some sort and a strikingly beautiful young woman with long yellow hair and eyes the color of the sea. Next to her, hands holding the reins lightly, came Trevor.

  At length they dismounted and came into camp. The minister interceded between them. With a sweeping gesture to his prince he introduced Elias. The captain bowed nervously. The prince looked at him and grinned.

  “So, Captain Elias,” Sumavand said, hands on hips, fingers at the hilt of his jeweled dagger, “I don’t mind telling you your name has been spoken frequently to me.”

  Elias looked to Stacy. “Good things, I trust,” he replied.

  “Very good things, Captain. Were it not for your own knowledge of the sea and your stargazer’s understanding of the sky I would probably not have been a
live on this day. But now to business. When will your ship be ready to sail back to your Empire?”

  “By the new moon, my lord. Seven days’ time from now.”

  “Ah, sooner than I hoped,” said the prince, rubbing his hands together. “But I am rude! Forgive me, Captain. Allow me to introduce those who have accompanied me here today.” He pointed to the aide. “This, of course, is General Vela,” he said. “My finest soldier. I daresay you two will spend much time together. He will accompany you on your voyage. And it will be he who shall sign in my absence the trade agreements I am told your Council so badly seeks.”

  The dour soldier smiled and extended his hand to the captain. “I am quite anxious to see this Empire of yours,” Vela said. “I have heard tales of your fabulous city called Rhonnda-by-the-Sea.”

  Elias grinned. “You’ll like it,” he answered, grasping the hand firmly.

  Sumavand beckoned to another. “This is Mistress Shaina,” he said. “She, er, has come to know your companions quite well, I’m told.” Here he smiled. “Some would say too well, I’m sure.”

  Elias caught a flustered look in the blonde girl’s eye.

  “Shaina will also go back with you. When she bargains with your Council on trade, you will find her as capable as any man. She knows how to extract a good price.”

  Elias laughed. “We have shrewd women at home, too, my lord. I’m sure Mistress Shaina will meet her match.”

  Sumavand frowned good-naturedly. Then he put his arm around Sigried and the girl bristled. “I’ve been saving this one for last,” he chuckled. “Permit me to introduce the Rani of Kuba, Sigried.”

  Elias bowed and took her outstretched hand and kissed it.

  “The Rani and your own Anastasia have, er, a special relationship. Sigried is to go back with you, also. To Siggy I give the right to decide on the final agreements we strike with you. I’ll be blunt, Captain. She doesn’t trust your Empire. So I feel that her watchful eyes will guarantee that whatever bargain is struck it will not be to Satra’s disadvantage.”

  “I understand,” replied Elias, not realizing Sumavand’s delight in having the beautiful Rani out of his hair for a couple of years.

  “Now,” continued the prince, turning abruptly to Trevor. “This man helped save our shala from total catastrophe. He calls himself an engineer. A master engineer, I call him. And such title and rank have I bestowed upon him. It took great effort on my part, but I have convinced him to stay with us for a time.” He smiled warmly at Trevor. “Build me a new shala, master engineer. One that stands above the ground — in the sun. We are free men now, are we not?”

  “But I go home when my work is done,” protested Trevor.

  Sumavand laughed. “Of course! That is if you don’t find a young Satrian girl to your liking. We have many to choose from, you know. You might be impressed.”

  Trevor grinned. “I already have.”

  Stacy looked on with surprise and joy as Shaina took Trevor’s hand and kissed him softly on the cheek.

  Sumavan roared. “Ah, master engineer? So Satra has already woven its magic upon you! Then I must see to it that Shaina tarries not too long in this Empire of yours.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Trevor happily. “I will go home one day. But it will cost Satra a prize negotiator.”

  Stacy came over meekly, clasped both their hands and kissed them. “I wish you...I wish you...” She broke into tears.

  “Isn’t that like a woman!” laughed Sumavand, shaking his head. He pulled Stacy away and looked into her eyes as he spoke. “As for this one,” he began, “would you believe I offered her my name and my crown?”

  Elias felt his heart begin to pound like a drum.

  “And she turned me down! Gods above! Any woman in Satra would give anything for such an offer! And this one spurns me as though I were a jester!”

  “That’s not true!” she pouted, squeezing his hand. Sumavand shrugged. “True enough, but never mind. To Anastasia, Satra owes everything. She has brought us into the light and taught us that years of hatred beget only further hatred. Because of her the white wolves came to our aid, and because of her we have given solemn oath never to harm them again. No more will our traps be set on the mountains. Even as we speak, the red wolf, Cicero, negotiates a treaty between us. It will take some years, I fear, until we have the special relationship with Dwellers that your own land does. But give us time, I pray you. These ways are still new and strange.”

  He turned suddenly to his minister. “But we have yet to reward her! And Sebelius will be most unhappy unless I give Anastasia her due.”

  The minister brought forth a satin pillow on which lay a small golden diadem, laden with tiny jewels.

  “Kneel before me, Anastasia,” he said. And she did, eyes closed, hands trembling.

  He carefully lifted the crown and placed it on her head.

  “I know not what honors your own land bestows, my lady. But I do know how Satra treats those who have helped her. Although you are not my bride, I give to you the title of princess of Satra. Bear it well, for it is a heavy role to play. When you leave this land, you must always hold it dear in your heart. Remember that one day our two lands may well become one. Arise, Anastasia of Satra, the Empire princess.”

  As she stood, every Satrian, including the Rani and Sumavand himself, bowed low before her. And those from the Brora, Alryc, Trevor, and Melinda and Robin and Ashcroft, and all the others did the same. But to Elias there was great sadness, for as a princess he knew Stacy could never be his.

  With a heavy heart he slipped from the crowd and went back to staring at the ship and the sea. Salty winds bit harshly against salted tears. It took him a long time to realize that she was standing behind him, alone, with tears of her own.

  “Hello, Captain,” she said.

  “Hello, Princess,” he replied.

  “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

  He tried to smile. “Too long, my lady. I’ve missed you. How have you been all these weeks?”

  She smiled impishly, batting her wet eyes. “Well, I haven’t been very good, but I sure have been smart.”

  He grabbed her in his arms and squeezed her as tightly as he could. She could hardly breathe, but she didn’t care as she smothered him with wet kisses. “I love you, Elias. I think I always did.”

  “And I’ve loved you, too, Stacy. You’ve always known t.”

  “I’ve always hoped it.”

  Hand in hand they gazed out toward the sea and the setting sun, glowing with the excitement of having at last found each other again.

  “You’ll be going home with great honor and glory, Stacy,” Elias said softly.

  “All of us will,” she sighed.

  “It’s not the same. You’ve found more than just the answers you sought, Stacy.”

  “I know I did. I found myself. And I know for the first time in my life just who I am. Not in title; titles mean nothing to me. But within myself. I left Rhonnda a frightened girl.”

  “And now?”

  She shrugged, kissing him gently. “And now I’m going to use everything given to me to create a better world for us all.”

  Puzzled, he stared into her dark, mysterious eyes; eyes he so adored.

  “Oh, Elias,” she sniffed, pressing herself closer. “I do need you, and I do need your help. We are alike, you know. Cut from the same cloth, just as Trevor once said we were. Maybe we were meant to be wild and free. I doubt either one of us will ever change. And there’ll be so much for us to accomplish when we return to Rhonnda.”

  Home to Rhonnda. It could have brought tears ever to a sailor’s eyes. “I suppose we won’t be sailing the river anymore,” he said wistfully.

  Stacy laughed, her saucy eyes dancing. “You won’t need the river anymore, Elias. Think of the sea! We’ll sail the seas together, and we’ll change the face of the world!”

  He nodded reflectively. “Just as Bartok foretold.”

  “The seven seas that the ancients spoke
of,” whispered Stacy. “And we’ll sail them all. Maybe even find that land where Fara never sleeps and Khal always shines.”

  The captain closed his arms around her and drew he close against his chest. “And there are going to be children, Stacy. Our children.”

  She looked at him warmly and began to cry. How very much she wanted to have children! “As many as we want Elias — and they’re all going to be just like you.”

  Elias shook his head. “I don’t think so, little wolf queen. Their mother will be a princess among men, but still too much of a wolf herself to keep her children away from the forest. You’ll bring them to Casca, just as your father brought you to Hector. And I’m going to be proud.”

  Her tears were running more freely now, and she laughed with happiness. Elias smiled, wiped them away grinning as he thought, “Isn’t that just like a woman!”

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