By the time I finished sharing the specifics of our plan and had answered all of his questions, a thin layer of ice had formed over most of my tail. My fingers had long ago gone numb inside my gauntlets. I was shivering uncontrollably—a byproduct of being soaking wet and dressed only in metal when it was fifty below outside—and I was growing desperate for oxygen.
It’s a well-conceived plan, he finally commented. Using your enemy’s own tendencies against them is shrewd, and the benefit is two-fold. In addition to inflicting heavy losses while they continue to take the bait, when the griffins finally become leery of the trap they will no longer be inclined to view Syreni birthing chambers as places they wish to do battle, allowing you to give birth to your young. I wouldn’t believe a former human child would be capable of carrying out such a daring plan if I had not met you in person. You are as brave, stubborn and determined as King Celandor claimed. Even half-frozen and about to pass out from a lack of oxygen your resolve never wavered. I would be honored to fight by your side.
All I ask in return for our assistance is to triple the stockpiles of fish delivered to us each week for the duration of the war, finish the construction of the coral reefs your overfishing destroyed along our entire shoreline, deploy the spear launch batteries your king has long promised—and a permanent brigade of soldiers to man them—in the shallows closest to our nesting grounds, and personally ask your gods Neptune and Poseidon to replenish the supply of deer, wild boar and tieraynts that used to flourish across our lands so we may once again become self-sufficient.
As un-queenly as it made me feel, I had no choice but to offer my apologies and dip my head beneath the surface to catch my breath. Immersing myself in twenty degree water didn’t help me feel any warmer, but after a few minutes I was no longer on the verge of blacking out. King Celandor had predicted Genevolet’s demands almost to the letter, the only exception being his request for me to ask Neptune and Poseidon to replenish the wildlife on the raptor lands. I saw no reason to push back on that item as long as I made it clear I couldn’t make any promises the gods would comply.
As for the rest, I knew the upper end of what I was authorized to agree to and where both Aristos and Celandor felt the negations should end up. My initial counter was to double the stockpiles of fish for three months—regardless of how long our new false birthing battle tactic wore on—complete the coral reefs already under construction at the eastern end of their lands, and deploy one hundred spear launchers in the shallows adjacent to their nesting grounds with a battalion of troops to man them.
I didn’t need to be one of his kind to understand that the ear-jarring squawk and snapping of his beak next to my face meant Genevolet was less than pleased with my offer. We went back and forth for three more rounds before he finally nodded his head in agreement. I’d committed us to deliver double the stockpiles of fish for the duration of the war—more than I’d been authorized to agree to—but I’d kept the construction of the reefs limited to the small section we were currently working on, when Celandor was willing to build up to two-hundred additional miles. As for the spear launchers, we’d settled on three hundred with a permanent deployment of a battalion of troops to man them, which was right in line with where Aristos and Celandor had expected negations to end up. Genevolet accepted that I’d do my best to convince Neptune and Poseidon to replenish the wildlife on the raptor lands but I was in no position to make any demands.
When the negations came to an end his golden eyes filled with almost fatherly pride as he had me remove one of the longer crimson feathers from the edge of his wing and weave it into my helmet. I’d stood my ground, displayed knowledge of the key negotiating points and spoken confidently and with authority on behalf of the Syreni people. I was truly a queen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Secrets Revealed
* * *
Of all the potentially life threatening maneuvers I’d feared I might walk in on upon entering the Castra Athena training facility to observe my compar’s training, seeing Cami surrounded by four of our most accomplished students—all wielding bladed weapons—was beyond even the worst of my nightmares. I’d already selected a broadsword from the rack mounted on the wall next to me with plans to put an end to all of their lives before Taleoek pinned my chest against the cold stone, his hand gripping my wrist to keep from falling victim to my roiling anger.
Easy, General. I assure you our queen is in little danger. Just watch.At a pointed glare he released my arm and backed away, being careful to keep himself positioned between me and the center of the training arena, where Cami waited with her back facing me. He hadn’t initiated the exercise yet, which was the only reason I granted him even a few seconds to explain. Lifelong friend or not, he’d be stripped of his rank and demoted to standing guard in a remote tower on the outskirts of the city by morning if he didn’t convince me what I was witnessing wasn’t shear madness. Elaborate, Commander. I’d love to hear your rationale for having a cadet in the fourth week of her training—my pregnant compar, who I entrusted to your care, no less—conducting drills that are a part of our ascension trials. She shouldn’t even be using bladed weapons in individual combat yet.
Taleoek pulled his violet hair up into its usual tight knot and secured it in place with a short strip of canta vine before motioning to the three freshly stitched together lacerations I hadn’t noticed that marred his coal-colored tail. Our queen’s handiwork, inflicted during our individual training session with battle axes yesterday. I admit it’s never been my weapon of choice, but we’re talking about a commander squaring off with an untrained cadet. I didn’t so much as dislodge one of her scales in seven rounds. And it’s not like that’s the only abnormal thing I’ve noticed during her training. In the two weeks of hand-to-hand combat, she put seventeen of her classmates in the infirmary without ever suffering anything worse than a black eye. Last week, when she was taken to Mt. Olympus to serve Athena for the second time in a month, the rest of the class began their weapons training. It should have taken her weeks to catch up, and yet in the three days since she returned, she’s already slashed up ten of my students. Four of them critically. I finally had to require she be outnumbered at least three to one in each of our drills and ban her from wielding her sword altogether.
I’d wondered about her relatively unscathed appearance the last few weeks, but I figured Taleoek was just taking it easy on her given the fallout from the damage she suffered during her fitness and agility testing. She’d had some nasty bruises, of course, along with bloodied knuckles, black eyes, split lips, splinted fingers and a few minor cuts, but nothing like I would have expected to see for a cadet in her first month of training. Which had been fine by me. I wasn’t about to ask Taleoek to be harder on her. Never once had I thought it could be because she was the one administering the punishment. That doesn’t make any sense. Her previous martial arts experience as a human didn’t even include weapons training, and proved to be only marginally helpful in your initial sparring session with her. I know you are a gifted teacher, Commander, but you have not had the time working with her to explain that kind of progress. You make it sound as if she’s ready to face the ascension trials.
She is. Not that I’d ever tell her that, of course. Knowing our queen, she’d demand they begin tomorrow. As for your question, I’d wondered the same thing until I picked up on something while I fought with her yesterday afternoon. When I initiate this exercise closely observe her technique, Aristos. Afterwards I’ll show you what I uncovered last night that may explain her unbelievable progress. If I’m right, I’ve stumbled upon a secret neither of us can share with anyone. Not even the king.
While his cloak and dagger delivery had piqued my curiosity, the only thing that allowed me to nod my head in consent for the exercise to begin was the stone-cold confidence and adrenaline-laced excitement I felt flowing into me from my compar through our bond. In spite of being outnumbered four to one, and facing a broadsword, a much larger battle axe, a trident
and a lethal-looking mace with two chains leading to steel spiked balls, Cami wasn’t afraid. Her axe was held in a backhanded grip with the blade arched behind her, the top edge of her shield tucked just beneath her chin. The other students all glanced nervously at each other, hoping someone else would decide to strike first once Taleoek gave the command to attack. I’d never seen my fierce little Camithia look quite as beautiful as she did in that moment, decked out in her full battle armor with her weapon in hand, poised for war.
The moment Taleoek barked out the command to begin, the male behind her with the trident lunged forward, thrusting his barb-tipped weapon toward the exposed section of her tail above her flukes where her chainmail ended. Camithia timed her spin perfectly, twisting out of the way of the attack while she buried her dulled but still potentially lethal axe in his unprotected armpit. The trident fell from his grip even before she yanked her blade free, sending a large cloud of blood billowing out into the water like the ink from an octopus as she turned to face her next attacker. The unsuspecting cadet with the mace caught the edge of her burgundy and gold shield right in the teeth. I sent up a silent prayer to the gods that Damille would be able to replant enough of the dislodged molars, canines and incisors I watched him spit out of his mangled mouth for him to be able to chew solid food again.
Her last two opponents were at least smart enough to attempt to coordinate their attack. She took a mighty blow from the largest male’s battle axe against the center of her shield as she used her own weapon to parry the fourth male’s sword. Before either of them could regroup she’d spun again, her shield breaking the arm of the male wielding the sword at the same moment the flat of her axe came down across the back of the largest male’s head with the force of a war hammer. He was unconscious before the gleaming steel weapon that slipped from his paralyzed fingers settled against the stone floor.
That wasn’t the end, of course. At least not for the three who were still conscious. My compar was facing highly trained students intent on becoming soldiers in our army, warriors who dreamed of passing their ascension trials someday. If they refused to fight until they were no longer able to continue they’d be expelled and branded as cowards. For an aspiring warrior that was a fate far worse than death.
For a few tense moments Camithia battled with her overwhelming desire to finish off her weakened opponents—her stone cold eyes honing in on their most vulnerable spots as her hand clenched the handle of her axe in a death grip, her barely-controlled wrath flooding into me through our bond—but she remained disciplined and backed off to allow them to retrieve their weapons, adhering to the strict code of conduct for the end of a round. The moment the three males had surrounded her again Taleoek issued the command for the second round to begin.
The male with the mace swung first, likely in an effort to keep from getting hit in the face by her shield again. Whether his errant attack was due to his battered condition or a lack of skill, much to my relief both spiked-steel balls passed harmlessly over her head. She’d assumed the same stance as she had at the start of the previous round, with her shield tucked beneath her chin and a backhand grip on her battle axe. His wayward strike hadn’t elicited as much as a flinch from my compar in spite of the fact that it had come from behind her, and only missed the top of her head by a matter of inches. The male with the trident—who now sported a gaping hole beneath his armpit that was still hemorrhaging a considerable amount of blood—wasn’t as fortunate. She exploded into him in a blur of motion, her shield striking the middle of his trident with such force it flew from his hands, spinning end over end into the massive circle of on-looking students who had to scramble out of the way to keep from being impaled by the flying projectile. While he was still watching his weapon disappear into the crowd her blunted axe split open his abdomen beneath his plate mail armor from one side of his body to the other. It was a gruesome injury—one that would require hours of surgery to debride the wound and stitch the tissue back together—but the shallow cut was not life-threatening, and was well within the confines of our rules regarding combat training.
The only one to suffer a potentially life threatening blow was the male making a half-assed attempt to wield his sword with his opposite hand. The awkward angle of his attack placed his head well out in front of his sword, causing the lightning-quick uppercut of Camithia’s shield—that she’d clearly intended to defect his blade—to catch him square in the throat before continuing on its upward track to take off his helmet along with a good portion of his face.
Cami dropped her axe and shield and frantically called out to Damille as the boy slumped lifelessly toward the floor. In the few short seconds it took Taleoek and I to reach them, Damille—who was always on hand for weapons training—was already busy triaging his wounds. With Naome’s help, she quickly applied a field dressing of carnipula leaves and healing salve to the deep gash across his throat and bound it with canta vine, both to help stem the profuse bleeding and to hold the dressing in place. After fitting several jagged chunks of skin and flesh back together like a morbid jigsaw puzzle to reform his left cheek, they dressed and bound it as well then set to work packing leaves into what little remained of his nose. In spite of the extensive damage he was incredibly lucky. A couple inches to either side and Cami’s shield would have torn apart his gills. The risk of striking such a lethal blow was the reason intentional contact to the neck during training was strictly forbidden.
Once he was stable, Damille tethered his body to one of the flat metal stretchers we kept on hand for such occasions, being especially careful to immobilize his head. After barking out an order for the two closest cadets to carry him to the infirmary she gave me and Cami a formal bow and led them from the room.
While the other students were still caught up in the commotion Naome turned her attention to treating the nasty abdominal gash and puncture wound to the armpit the male with the trident had suffered. It was hard not to be impressed as I watched the quick-witted, often irreverent Syreni female adeptly remove the male’s armor and administer to his wounds with the practiced hands of a seasoned healer. Soon he was being carted off toward the infirmary as well with the other two injured cadets following along behind our gifted healer-apprentice.
After greeting me with a disappointedly chaste and far too short kiss given my heightened arousal from watching her in battle, Camithia started to follow then remembered that, as a lowly cadet, she wasn’t free to just come and go as she pleased. She dropped into a formal bow as she fisted her chest in front of Taleoek—her commander—requesting to be excused from training a little earlier than she’d originally planned so she could see to her badly injured classmate before offering her encouragement and prayers to her sisters while they were impregnated. As soon as he granted her leave she darted off after Naome like she’d been shot out of a spear launcher, catching up to the group just as they excited the facility.
As much as I would have liked to witness the moment Camithia’s sisters conceived—the entire council agreed they’d be considered to be the mother of the children they gave birth to, regardless of whose DNA was contained within the fertilized embryos implanted inside their wombs—Naome and Serienne would be placed in compromising positions for the various tests and probed with instruments while their female organs were displayed in vivid detail on the large glass monitors. Even naturally born Syreni females would balk at sharing such an intimate moment with any male other than their compar.
I’d have plenty of time to congratulate them during the formal ball Cami and I had planned for this evening. Chancellor Venerack was going to announce them as they entered the grand ball room as Princess Naome and Princess Serienne, beloved sisters of our Queen Camithia. While they were still trying to process the shock of being formally recognized as Camithia’s sisters—making them members of the royal family—their handmaidens would set to work tattooing the set of elaborate glyphs onto their left shoulder and chest that would forever mark them as royalty. When the tattoos were finish
ed, they’d be dressed in the flowing satin crème robes and diamond and ruby tiaras they would wear as Syreni princesses to all formal occasions going forward.
But the ceremony was only the beginning. My compar and her sisters would be treated to performances by our most talented singers as they practiced intricate partnered swimming routines that were our equivalent of formal court dances, all while helping themselves to a full buffet featuring rare delicacies from all around Teresolee. For every Syreni-born female lucky enough to have received an invitation to the long overdue gala it would be the highlight of the decade. Hopefully our formerly human females would find our social gatherings just as entertaining. It would be the first time I’d ever gotten to dance with my breathtakingly beautiful warrior of a mate.
Once Taleoek had gotten the rest of the cadets paired off for a close quarters combat lesson with daggers, he turned control of the class over to one of his three lieutenants and motioned for me to follow him down the narrow corridor that led out into the arena. When we emerged inside the oval amphitheatre he swam up to the fourth story, passing over top of the concrete outer wall before circling almost half-way around the facility. I was about to ask why he was leading me on a seemingly pointless and narration-free tour of Castra Athena when he came to a stop in front of a portion of the expansive mural that decorated the entire upper floor featuring our Goddess Athena doing battle with several griffins, who had her completely surrounded. Her shield was tucked up underneath her chin with her battle axe held in the same unorthodox backhanded grip I’d just watched Cami utilize with lethal results.
Kerrigan's Race (The Syreni Book 1) Page 30
