Daryk Warrior

by Denise A. Agnew

  “Try them on,” the woman said.

  Mia looked around. “Is there somewhere I can go in private?”

  The woman looked scandalized and the men disappointed. The woman said, “No. We didn’t have room for a changing area.”

  Mia balked. “I cannot undress in front of you.”

  Eryk placed coin on the counter for the clothes. “She’s from a very modest family. We’ll take the clothes as is. They look to be the right size.”

  The clerks looked pleased with the money he gave them and the woman placed the clothes in a nicely woven bag.

  “The bag is extra.” The woman smiled and her attention stayed firmly on Eryk. “A gift for such a generous payment.”

  Before they could leave the oldest man of the two stopped Eryk. “You’re a Daryk One?”

  “Yes.”

  The older man nodded vigorously as if that would make Eryk’s statement more definitive. “Can you tell us what it’s like outside of Felican? We haven’t been outside the castle walls for a long time.”

  Eryk handed Mia the bag. “War is still coming.”

  “I heard it was already approaching Grimnald Castle,” the female clerk said.

  “Where did you hear this?” Eryk asked.

  The female leaned on the counter as close as she could get to Eryk. “Annalica at the tavern house. I hear she’s the best one to ask. She hears all the gossip.”

  “By the gods.” Eryk groaned. “Gossip is not always truth. I wouldn’t believe everything Annalica tells you.”

  As they left, Mia wanted to ask Eryk why this Annalica seemed to irritate him so much. She sensed there might have been a sexual connection between the mysterious Annalica and Eryk, if not a mental connection.

  As they left the shop she noticed the talking, the noise and hustle and bustle were considerably louder. People looked anxious.

  “Something’s wrong.” Eryk started back toward their lodging. “I need to investigate.”

  He took her hand this time, and the heat of his big palm and fingers raced with a tingle up her arm. Rather than question him, she followed as he practically ran back to their lodging. Finny wasn’t at the front of the lodging when they reached it. They hurried to their room.

  “Stay here,” he said after she’d walked into the room. “I’ll be back later. Rest if you can.”

  Apprehension went straight to fear. “What’s happening?”

  “Maybe word of a battle nearby or plans to attack Felican Castle. I’ll be back as soon as possible.” He drew a large dagger from his belt and laid it on the table. “Do not let anyone in but me. If someone breaks in, don’t hesitate to use this. If you hear battle sounds, get on the floor near the bed or under the bed. I’ll come for you as soon as possible. Put the chair in front of the door. When I return I’ll knock and call out so you know it’s me.”

  He started to leave and she reached out for his arm and pushed tight words through her throat. “Please. Be careful.”

  He nodded. “Always.”

  With that, he left.

  Chapter Five

  Eryk navigated through the crowd, well aware panic gripped some as they rushed to return home within the castle walls or to bed down for the night in the courtyards and common areas. Few would leave the castle if an attack came. He needed intelligence now. He searched the area for other Daryk Ones and didn’t see any recognizable faces.

  Fuck.

  All he’d wanted for the rest of the day was a good drink and a soft bed. That wouldn’t come anytime soon if conflict broke out at the castle. Number one, his priority felt like it should be Mia, but he knew his duty as a Daryk One should come first. Defend the people. Defend the common good.

  The tavern house in the farthest south corner of the castle sat three stories tall, its second and third floors accommodation for guests. The proprietor slept in the gloomy damp cellar level, a surprising thing if ever there was a surprise. He spotted the tavern sign above the crowd. Felican Tavern. A dull and plain wood sign. No need for embellishments or fancy titles. This tavern served all that came in with many types of drinks. They didn’t discriminate, and while he could have brought Mia with him, he didn’t want her out in a possibly dangerous situation. If she tried to run again…well what could he seriously do?

  Two clearly intoxicated men stumbled out of the tavern and almost ran into him. He ignored the far smaller men and pushed the big door open. It protested, a loud squawk that didn’t pause the equally voluminous chatter within the good-sized room. Laughter broke out. People of all heights, weights and dispositions filled tables, eating and drinking and flirting. Taverns didn’t care if you were man or woman. Money and drink were the name of the game. Annalica was nowhere in sight. Damn. Eryk moved across the room to the bar area and ordered an ale. Before he could ask he felt a tap on his shoulder. He swung around and a fist came straight at his face. He ducked and caught the hand that came for him, squeezed the bunched fist in on itself.

  A tall, beautiful woman with silvery blonde hair that flowed to her waist was attached to the fist. Blue eyes flashed like cold fire, a strange glow that sometimes hovered above Imekland mountains at night.

  Annalica.

  She jerked her fist from his grip and planted her hands on her hips. Her glare could strip the hide off a dragon at a hundred paces. “You bastard. What are you doing in my tavern?”

  Half amused, he lifted one eyebrow. People all around them gawked but he didn’t give a shite. “Good to see you too, Annalica.”

  Her glare didn’t soften but she rounded the side of the bar. Maybe she thought she needed protection from him. If she threw another punch he’d evade her.

  She threw a disgusted look at the barman. “Don’t give him anything. His money isn’t welcome here.”

  The barman retreated from the area to help another patron. Annalica’s beautiful eyes sent fire at Eryk, and at one time her brand of fury would have aroused him. Hells, as late as a few days ago he would have found her beauty exciting. Not today. And he couldn’t say why. It annoyed the shite out of him.

  He gestured sharply toward the front door. “People are running around out there in a panic. What have you heard?”

  She flicked a glance his way then looked around at her patrons. They were too souped up to care what happened outside the walls. “There’s talk of a war party heading this way. Some of Drakus Fina’s men. They’ve been raiding every few days.”

  “I was here for the last one. Who is your source?”

  “My lover.” Her gaze snapped to his and held.

  He knew she wanted him jealous. She’d angled to get in his trousers for as long as he could remember. His distrust of her had won over a Daryk One’s desire for sex. She’d sell him up the river to the highest bidder if the right payment came her way.

  “And?” He crossed his arms. “You lover spread a rumor about a raid on Felican or he got it from a reliable source?”

  “Reliable.” She swallowed hard. “He used to be one of Drakus Fina’s men.”

  Unease started in his stomach. “Used to be?”

  She glanced at the floor. Yeah. She didn’t know whether to believe this so-called lover.

  “How does he know about an attack? He’s not one of Drakus’ men anymore,” Eryk said.

  Annalica’s gaze flicked to a point behind him and the hair on the back of Eryk’s neck rose. He turned slowly, his hand reaching for the hilt of his sword.

  A man even taller than Eryk stood not five feet from him. Mixed dark and gray hair tossed this way and that on the man’s head. His dark eyes held menace, his lips were tight. With a pugnacious jaw and big crooked nose, the man would scare most women shiteless. His dark, sleeveless tunic showed powerful arms, his physique one of fitness. Most likely he carried substantial coin. Hence Annalica’s attraction to him.

  “Disrespect my woman and you die,” the older man said.

  Eryk sized the man up. The guy was taller, yes, but not as strong. Older. Not a Daryk One. Still, Eryk
didn’t want a fight.

  Eryk looked the guy straight in the eye. “No disrespect intended. I don’t give two dragon turds. What I want to know is if there is a credible threat to Felican Castle.”

  Eryk also didn’t care if the rest of the tavern heard him. Judging by the way heads swiveled in his direction, quite a few patrons had.

  The man eyeballed him and put his hand out to shake. “Then I think we can work together. I’m Boltga Arch. I work off and on with Marc Gambia at his compound.”

  Eryk knew Marc Gambia well. The man owned a huge complex that wasn’t as large as Felican Castle but was well-guarded and perfectly neutral. Even more neutral than Felican Castle.

  Eryk shook hands. “Work? In what capacity?”

  Boltga glanced around the room. “I need more privacy to talk about this.”

  “Outside then.” Eryk didn’t trust the man, and talking outside at least wouldn’t leave Eryk in a room alone with the guy.

  Eryk didn’t bother to look at Annalica. He didn’t care what she thought of her lover’s willingness to talk peaceably. Chatter in the tavern returned to a dull roar. The show was over. Eryk didn’t turn his back on Boltga, and the man left in front of Eryk.

  Just outside the tavern Eryk said, “For immediate clarification, I’m not interested in Annalica. You don’t need to worry in that regard.”

  Boltga grunted then a smile crossed his ugly mug. “Good. She’s a fuckin’ handful if there ever was one. Not sure I’ll have much use for her soon.”

  Eryk kept his voice low and firm. “The second thing you should know about me is that I won’t stand by and watch a woman brutalized in any way, even if I don’t respect her.”

  Boltga’s bushy eyebrows went up. “I may be the biggest asshole you’ve ever met but I don’t harm women. When I’m done having my fun, I just leave.”

  Eryk nodded. “Then we see eye to eye.” Eryk didn’t relax. People still rushed around as if frightened and certain an attack would come soon. “Annalica aside, I need to know about the threat to Felican Castle. Have you told Bellrus Familia?”

  Boltga nodded. “As soon as I arrived here two hours ago.”

  Eryk leaned against the wall behind him. The solid surface gave him security. “I won’t accept Dragonian unity if it means innocents are thrown to dragons because they don’t believe the way Drakus Fina does. They’re stealing Magonian women to be sex slaves. That, and a plan to invade Magonia are not acceptable to me. If you’re on that side we’re enemies.”

  Boltga shook his head. “Draconus, no.”

  “Then why the fuck were you once a part of Drakus’ rank and file?”

  “I was planted there years ago to spy on him but he found me out and I barely escaped with my skin.”

  Eryk pondered the information for a moment. “I’ll take you at your word right now.”

  “Now?”

  “Give me any reason to suspect you’re lying and I’ll make sure your ass is thrown in the dungeon. Now tell me about this attack.”

  A shout came from a guard in the tower closest to the tavern. “Rogues are coming!”

  * * * * *

  Mia twisted the knob that shut off the water cascading into the tub. She sank into the cold water with a gasp. Magon, this water was the coldest she’d encountered for a bath. She wished she’d used the cascading water device across the small room to bathe. On Magonia they had similar devices that worked the same way, though these seemed more complex and well-made. In Scribe school life had proved austere and she’d never expected much in the way of luxury. The huge tub in the bathing area of the room surprised Mia because so few homes in Magonia had both tub and sprinkling device. She quickly washed, her whole body shivering by the time she finished. It felt wonderful though, to wash her hair clean of grime.

  She’d hoped Eryk wouldn’t return soon. She could finish her bathing routine and think on what she should do next. Mia jumped out of the water, grabbed one of the thick material wraps hanging on a bar near the tub and dried vigorously. Donning her new clothes felt wonderful. The light blue tunic and pants, made of a fluid material, were far nicer than the stained, dirt-encrusted clothes lying on the floor. She’d throw away those old clothes because she doubted she had time to clean them before they’d leave the castle and press onward. The backpack purchased at the clothing shop was filled with her other new clothes. After dressing, she hurried to dry her hair. The thick mass tended to curl a bit here and there and the comb removed knots with ease. She returned to the main room and sat on the bed to finish combing her hair. She smiled. Another example of the lies Magonians told their people. Some things might be primitive and awful here but Magonia had its own problems. She thought of her friends on Magonia, even though she only had two she’d consider good friends. Dania and Litia, twin sisters who’d gone through Scribe school with her from the beginning. Tears filled her eyes. They’d sacrificed so much for her. Guilt stung hard and deep as she swallowed her tears with a sob.

  She recalled Dania’s last words to her before she was dragged away. You have to go on, Mia. You are stronger and younger than we are. You need to spread the truth. To make sure others know what a travesty we’ve created here. The lies must be exposed.

  Mia sobbed again, the sound tight and high and filled with misery. She sucked in a breath and struggled for control. Tears were weakness. Not allowed. Strength before anything. Stoic even in the face of death. She shivered and rubbed her arms. Dania and Litia would tell her to buck up and take it. To fight against the softness that kept her vulnerable. She must harden her heart, bring strength to the forefront. No time for ridiculous sentiments.

  A sound came from somewhere far away.

  Mia listened, uncertain what she heard at first. Banging noises. Booms. Strange thuds. People screaming? Perhaps the war Eryk had spoken of had come? Apprehension danced along her skin and made her shiver even more. She hurried to the small window and looked out. Droves of men dressed in clothing similar to Eryk’s charged the castle. The men’s faces twisted in menace and gave no doubt of their intentions.

  “God Magon.” She breathed the words, fear knotting in her belly.

  She rushed to her backpack on the bed and stuffed her new belongings inside.

  Escape.

  The word rushed through her head despite his advice that she stay in the lodgings no matter what happened. Dozens of thoughts ran through her head like lightning. What if he was killed? She’d be left alone in this strange, violent world. Granted, she knew more about Dragonia than most Magonians, but not enough to feel expert. Not to feel as secure as she’d like. Eryk hadn’t left her money, but she hadn’t expected he would. She’d left Magonia hoping to arrive in this land with the little Dragonian money she’d managed to get and with her wits. Now what did she have? No money. Exhaustion weighed on her but she’d have to do whatever it took to survive. If she could make it through a shipwreck she could live through whatever those rampaging rogues outside had in mind.

  A bang on the door startled her. She kept her backpack on but stepped to the door. Another bang. What in the name of Magon? She didn’t speak. Perhaps whoever it was would go away. Eryk would have called out to her.

  “Mia! Are you in there?” Finny’s voice rang out.

  Mia pulled the table away from the door and unlocked it. The door flew open and hit Mia. She stumbled backward, tripped and fell straight onto stone flooring with jarring brutality. Finny tumbled through the doorway as a man behind her pushed the woman through. Finny landed on her hands and knees and cried out. Shocked but unhurt, Mia sprang to her feet and squatted next to the older woman.

  “Are you all right?” she asked Finny.

  Finny’s terrified eyes met Mia’s gaze. “Yes.”

  Finny clung to Mia as they struggled to their feet.

  “Well isn’t this a pretty sight?” one of the men said as he slammed the door behind him.

  Mia took in the bruiser’s appearance and the man who’d shoved Finny into the room. Both loo
ked as tall as Eryk, though perhaps not as strong—still they could probably take on a normal-sized man with little effort. The man who’d first spoken had light blond hair that fell to his shoulders while the other had black hair that wasn’t as long or thick. Both men possessed brutal faces. Similarities in their features made her wonder if they were brothers. Both wore sleeveless dark tunics, trousers and boots. Their swords were sheathed but the belts around their waists bristled with various knives.

  A surge of determination mixed with stark fear inside Mia. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  The blond man tapped his chest. “Kemrond. Warrior for Dragonia.”

  “Emrond.” The dark-haired one spoke. “Brother of Kemrond. Here to do battle with those who won’t support our cause.”

  Finny snorted. She stood taller now, though she clung to Mia’s arm. “Cause? To make war on Magonian women and your own people?”

  “Magonian women must populate us,” Emrond said. “And I intend to fuck as many as possible to accomplish that.”

  Rape.

  Despite everything Magonian culture tried to make women believe, most learned the difference between a mutual coming together of two people in respect or desire and the brutal coupling women suffered at the hands of sick men. Most understood the difference but many Magonian men believed their wives should give in to a husband’s demands. Charging a man with rape in Magonia was almost impossible. Many of those husbands raped wives without consequence.

  She burned with hatred, a furious emotion that shivered through her body and sharpened her awareness. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt this angry. When the twins had died? Perhaps.

  Cold chills darted through her body. Mia was suddenly glad her clothes no longer identified her as different. Would these men somehow detect her nationality? She didn’t appear different from Dragonian women so far as she could tell. Her readings on Dragonian women had told her many had long hair and took great pride in it. Magonian women often wore their hair long but frequently braided it or put it in buns for modesty. Would anything else give her away?