Rogue

by Cheryl Brooks

“Then from this moment forth, I am yours,” he said. “You have my body, my soul, and, most of all, my love.”

  With tears welling up in my eyes, I could barely speak through the tightness in my throat. “I love you so much, Ty,” I whispered.

  “No more than I love you, Kyra, and I will love no other,” he promised. “We will be together forever.”

  Tychar had once said he wanted me to break his heart, but it was mine that was breaking as our lips met again. Here we were in the middle of a war, talking about forever! Losing him was something I didn’t ever want to have to face. He might vow to fight to the death to save me, but it was up to me to keep him safe, too—and I promised myself I would do just that—even if I had to fight to the death myself.

  “Sleep now, my love,” he whispered in a voice which promised even greater delights yet to come. “I will be here to keep you safe.”

  And send shivers down my spine for the rest of my life. I was looking forward to that…

  As I began to drift off to sleep, I heard the strangest sound—almost like that of a donkey braying.

  “Oh, God!” Trag said morosely from where he lay on my other side. “Sladnil’s upset!”

  “Upset?” I repeated. “About what?” If I seemed skeptical, it was because, out of all of Scalia’s slaves, Sladnil struck me as the least likely to cry about anything.

  “Scalia,” Tychar replied. “He was very fond of her.”

  “Oh, my Scalia!” Sladnil moaned. “Where will I ever find such a lover again? I loved her big, scaly body.”

  “This is grossing me out,” I muttered, wondering why Wazak didn’t just up and flatten him on general principles—one consort to another, as it were. “I don’t suppose there’s any tactful way to shut him up, is there?”

  “Guess we could find him another woman,” Trag suggested. “But I don’t know if we’ll find any around here. All of the miners I’ve seen so far have been men.”

  It was hard to comfort someone like Sladnil—I mean, he wasn’t the sort you’d want to hug or anything—but surprisingly, Nindala murmured to him, and he quieted down. When I got up later on, I saw why. They were lying side by side, and Sladnil was sound asleep with the tip of one finger sucked onto her nipple. Nindala appeared to be sleeping, too, but she had a smile on her face.

  ***

  That evening, we had dinner with the miners, who were surprisingly subdued—undoubtedly due to Zealon’s presence; either that, or Wazak had them all too scared to open their mouths. They seemed like a decent bunch of guys to me, though I still thought Dragus was better looking.

  After the meal, we talked strategy. Going in under cover of night seemed the best plan and, if the passage hadn’t been blocked, we knew we could get into the palace through The Shrine—though it was anyone’s guess what we’d find once we got inside. With Lerotan’s weaponry, we had plenty of firepower, but it would be so much more effective to get to Dobraton and take her out without killing anyone else. Being a peace-loving piano teacher, this plan appealed to me, not only because Dobraton was the one responsible for everything, but because so many people had already died as a result of her bid for power. Nineteen of the miners had been killed in their battle alone, and we could only guess at how many had died inside the palace and at the spaceport—on either side—though if anyone had counted the number of fallen in Dobraton’s army, I hadn’t heard of it, which made me wonder what had become of the survivors.

  “What happened after the battle?” I asked Lerotan. “Did Dobraton’s men retreat, or did you capture them, or what?”

  “They are being held captive in the mines,” he replied.

  “Think we could persuade them to come over to our side?”

  Lerotan laughed mirthlessly. “Would you trust them?”

  “Well, to be perfectly honest, Leroy, I’m not sure I trust you.”

  His smile indicated that he didn’t really blame me for that, nor did he seem to mind the nickname I’d given him. Nice smile, too. Charming fellow.

  “I have no reason to trust you, either,” he said equably. “When everyone in your group was told to throw down their weapons, you didn’t.”

  “Noticed that, did you?” I said with a grin. “Hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I’m new to this being taken prisoner thing.”

  “Not a typical day in the life of a piano teacher?” he suggested with another killer smile.

  Oh, yes, he was definitely charming! In fact, I thought I might have to revise my initial impression of him; he might not be such a sexist pig after all, and the tail might prove interesting, too. I wondered if he liked blue redheads.

  “Not really,” I admitted. “But to answer your previous question, no, we probably can’t trust them, but we could still use all the help we can get. What about it, Zealon?” I asked, with a nod in her direction. “Think you could drum up some support?”

  Never having done much in the way of public relations as yet, Zealon wasn’t sure, but said she would give it a try. It would be helpful to know what Dobraton had promised them—money, power, prestige?—because if they truly agreed with her beliefs, it would be difficult to convert them. Mercenaries, however, were a different story and could be bought. It was possible that they might hold out, thinking that someone would come and rescue them, but Dobraton was undoubtedly too busy to worry about what had happened in the mines and was putting off dealing with the problem until things settled down a bit. For my part, I hoped her situation never did improve; in fact, I hoped things were going really rotten for her. An open rebellion would be best, but an attitude of noncooperation might cause her enough headaches to keep her from dealing with the miners—before we got around to dealing with her, that is.

  Wazak was all for storming the palace and going in with guns blazing, and I was afraid Lerotan would agree. To prevent further loss of life, I felt we should be more subtle than that, and besides, we did have the keys! The trick would be to get into the palace to organize a counter-rebellion. There had been far more guards in the palace than we could count among our group, and there had been scads of other workers who had been loyal to Scalia, as well. Dobraton couldn’t have killed them all—though it was possible that she’d simply had them expelled from the palace. If that was the case, we might be able to find them in the town, get them together, and then retake the palace by force, if necessary. And if we could gather enough support among the civilian population, our numbers would be even more imposing.

  Unfortunately, no matter how we went about it, we still had to cross the desert, and out there in the open, a large army could have defeated us quite easily. Therefore, it was agreed that our return had to be as stealthy as possible, using Lerotan’s weapons as a last resort. We didn’t want to reduce the palace to rubble to take it, either, which was something Tychar pointed out. He knew a little bit about that, and though he wasn’t completely sure that the destruction of Zetith had been intentional, the timing had been entirely too opportune for it to have been mere coincidence.

  The funny thing was, the former slaves were the ones who seemed to be the most excited about retaking the palace. The Edraitians just wanted to get on to their next gig and the arms dealers to their next sale, but Sladnil and Refdeck were practically jumping up and down with excitement, and they weren’t the only ones—Tychar and Trag both had a bit of a gleam in their eyes, as well. Having been slaves for so long, they probably welcomed the opportunity to kick some Darconian ass—either that, or they truly were fond of Scalia and wanted to avenge her death—but the simple truth was that they were all bored to tears and were craving a little adventure. Aside from that, the palace was their home, and they had nowhere else to go—and if the spaceport never reopened, neither did I.

  More out of curiosity than anything, I went along with Zealon and Dragus to visit the remaining members of Dobraton’s forces. I wasn’t sure how they would respond, but apparently a
little time spent locked up in the darkness of the mines had been enough to make a bunch of sun-loving lizards willing to swear an oath of fealty to the devil himself.

  They made a brief show of belligerence, but it passed pretty quickly when Dragus made some comment about leaving them there to rot until Dobraton decided to come to their rescue. Zealon asked them a number of good questions, but the one that had been plaguing me was one she omitted.

  “So, just what was it that Dobraton promised you guys when you joined up with her?” I asked curiously. “Money, glowstones, or what?”

  There was a bit of foot shuffling and some averted eyes, which meant it had to have been something other than money and possibly something not quite kosher—spoils of war and such.

  “Favors,” came the reluctant reply from one of the group, though I didn’t see who had actually spoken.

  “Favors,” I repeated. “What kind of favors?” Searching their faces, I finally singled out one who was actually making eye contact with me. “You there, what were you offered?”

  He looked at me for a long moment before he replied. “Those loyal to Dobraton would be paid well,” he said at last. “And then given their choice of the females taken prisoner.”

  “I see,” I said slowly. “Well, I guess that’s what happens to prisoners of war,” I admitted, though I wouldn’t have thought they’d be that desperate. “But a handsome bunch of guys like you shouldn’t be so hard up for women that you’d have to resort to taking prisoners!”

  Another of them cleared his throat in a very human gesture. Carefully avoiding Zealon’s eyes, he said, “We were promised a chance at the Princess.”

  I laughed out loud. “Well, to do that, Dobraton will have to catch her first, and somehow I can’t see Wazak letting that happen.”

  “Nevertheless, that is what we were promised,” he said stiffly.

  “Well,” I said in as matter of fact a tone as I could under the circumstances, “if any of you have a desire to become the consort of a queen, rather than a princess who’s been taken prisoner, you might consider helping her regain her throne.”

  This was an aspect of the situation which had obviously not occurred to any of them. Perhaps it was a good thing Zealon had come to recruit them herself, though she seemed awfully young to be choosing consorts. She handled it well, however, showing more poise than I would have at that age. Perhaps growing up as a princess made you mature faster—and suddenly becoming Queen when your mother was assassinated would tend to have a sobering effect on anyone.

  In the end, the men swore an oath of loyalty to Zealon, which probably wasn’t as believable and binding as one coming from men who were not behind bars, but circumstances can’t always be as perfect as one would wish. Zealon then conferred with Dragus on whether we should release the prisoners or keep them where they were until we were ready to leave for the palace. Not surprisingly, he wanted Wazak’s input before releasing anyone.

  “In his capacity as the Chief of Security, you understand, Princess,” Dragus added courteously. “His advice in this instance would be beneficial.”

  I’d always known Dragus to be a smooth talker, and perhaps the men of Dobraton’s army weren’t the only ones interested in becoming Zealon’s consort. There seemed to be some competition going on here, but it was subtle, and I wondered just who she would choose. Given that the females of this world considered their males to be too rowdy, I had no idea what they might have valued in a man. Scalia had seemed to value honesty as much as a cooperative attitude, but there was no asking her about it now.

  I also wondered just how much courting any of the other palace guards had done with Zealon even before this—with the attitude that if they were good to her while she was Princess, they would have a better shot at becoming her consort. This train of thought led me to Scalia and Wazak, which must have been a very interesting courtship! The fact that Scalia hadn’t been what you’d call exclusive—at least, not lately—meant that if Wazak truly was the father of all of her children, she’d obviously been quite taken with him. Funny how she’d never let on…

  When Dragus and Zealon left to confer with Wazak, I opted to stay behind to talk with the prisoners to hear more about their side of the story. The man I had been talking with introduced himself as Falah, and he seemed quite willing to enlighten me.

  “So, did you really intend to fight a battle here?” I asked. “What I mean is, what were your orders?”

  “We were to take over the mines,” Falah replied. “Any way we could.”

  “And since these miners were ready for you, you had to fight,” I said with a nod. “What would you have done if they hadn’t been warned?”

  “That would depend on how reasonable they were willing to be,” he replied.

  “Hmm,” I said reflectively. “And Lerotan sold Dobraton the weapons you carried?”

  “I believe so,” he said.

  “Tell me something, Falah, if you were to choose—that bit about getting Zealon notwithstanding—which side would you be on?”

  “Whoever paid the highest price,” was his prompt reply.

  “Well, that certainly sounds like an honest answer,” I said with a chuckle. “You didn’t really believe what Dobraton was selling, did you?”

  Several of them exchanged meaningful looks. “We did not know what she intended.”

  “You just took the money and didn’t ask questions?”

  Falah nodded.

  “Were you that hungry?”

  “No,” he replied.

  “Well then, why do it?”

  They looked at each other again and shrugged.

  “Honest to God, this world is as bad as any other!” I said, stomping my foot in sudden anger. “I’ve never understood why men are so willing to go to war! I’ve often wondered just what would happen if a government decided to wage a war and the soldiers on both sides simply refused to fight it!”

  There was a bit more foot-shuffling, but no one commented.

  “Nothing was so bad here,” I went on. “Oh, it could be argued that getting a McDonald’s might raise your cholesterol levels a bit—but really, what’s so wrong with visitors from other worlds? Granted, some of them—and I think we can include Lerotan in this group—aren’t the most peace-loving, law-abiding citizens in the galaxy, but most people are! You just have to be careful who you let land. This isn’t the first planet to be visited by offworlders, you know! Space travel has been going on for a long time, and most societies are just interested in trade, not planetary conquest.”

  I might have continued with my little antiwar tirade, but I soon realized that, for all intents and purposes, I was talking to myself. These guys hadn’t a clue. Apparently, along with being volatile, being stupid wasn’t far from the mark either.

  ***

  When I rejoined the others, it appeared that Wazak wasn’t about to set Dobraton’s men free until we were on our way. “They must not be allowed to escape to warn of our attack.”

  If they hadn’t already.

  “Hey, how far away do those comlink stones of yours work?” I asked. “Seems to me that they could have reported back to Dobraton a long time ago.”

  “They only function effectively over less than a kilometer,” Dragus said. “Beyond that, reception is poor.”

  “You guys definitely need some better technology!” I declared. “On Earth that would be like something out of the Stone Age.”

  Lerotan got the joke, though I’m not sure anyone else did. “I tried to sell them better equipment,” he said with a shrug. “But their budget was too tight.”

  “Which side do you mean?” I asked with a chuckle.

  “Both,” he replied. “Neither of them bought any communication equipment whatsoever.”

  “Their loss,” I said. “Don’t suppose you could sell us some of that stuff now, could you?”


  His grin was downright diabolical. “What were you planning to use as payment?”

  “Well,” I began, “Trag and Tychar have some really nice jewels, and I’ve got this glowstone necklace… and my pearls. Zealon and Nindala have lots of nice beads, too.”

  For a moment there, the gleam in his eye suggested he might be more interested in getting something else as payment, but he only said he’d think about it.

  “You don’t have anything with you to sell, do you?” Tychar said shrewdly.

  “On my ship,” Lerotan said with a regretful sigh. “We only have our personal comlinks with us,” he added. “And since they’re implanted, we can’t sell them to you.”

  “They would still be useful,” Tychar said. “If we are divided into groups, we could maintain communication with each other through them.”

  A long silence followed, which was finally broken by Wazak. “One of Lerotan’s men with each squadron,” he said thoughtfully. “Yes, it might work.”

  It might make them more trustworthy, too, and though I doubted I was the only one to be thinking that, nobody said it aloud. I thought we should split up Dobraton’s former soldiers in the same way, but I didn’t say anything, because I was pretty sure Wazak would figure it out on his own. Of all the Darconian males I’d ever met, he was certainly among the least volatile, nor was he one bit stupid.

  Chapter 17

  It was probably the first time in the history of Darconia that a member of the royal family had spent any time at all with miners, acrobats, and mercenaries, but Racknay was definitely intrigued. I wondered just what a prince who would never take the throne had to keep himself occupied besides taking piano lessons. Since they were supposedly too “volatile” to do much else, I could only come up with a military career. Actually, the more time I spent among them, the more I decided that the bit about them being too volatile was ridiculous; they were no more so than the males of any other world. I wondered what queen in the past had decided to keep them off the throne—though undoubtedly it had been the daughter of a man who’d been a bit of a warmonger. Still, Dobraton was proof positive that having a female in power could be every bit as bad as a power-hungry king.