Prosperine: The Adventures of the Space Heroine Hickory Lace: Books 1, 2 & 3 (The Prosperine Trilogy)

by PJ McDermott

  He touched the hilt of the weapon hanging at his side. Even with the blade of Connat-sèra-Haagar in his possession, he needed soldiers. After the turncoat, Thurle, had brought the sacred weapon to him, he had kept it hidden by day and brought it out in his tent only at night, and only when he was alone. He had marveled at how well the blade had stood the ravages of time—it sparkled in the firelight—and the edge could cleanly split a neck feather along its quill.

  Each night of the journey, he had balanced the weapon in his hand and slashed and lunged at an imaginary opponent. Eventually, he took to wearing it when riding. Once, when one of his naurs had angered him, he had drawn the Sword but had been immediately horrified that he might desecrate the relic for so petty a reason. Since then, it had remained in its scabbard by his side, and he carried a long knife in his belt in case of need.

  “Sequana-sѐr-Kira, it is a pleasure to greet you.” A richly dressed naur bustled into the room and bowed low. “My name is Forclav, and I am the principal adviser to the king. I hope you had a pleasant journey to Kandromena?”

  Sequana examined the dignitary as he approached. He wore a full-length cloak with long sleeves hiding his hands. Those sleeves might conceal a dagger, he thought, then this one would not have the courage. “Let us dispense with the pleasantries, Forclav. We both know the circumstances of my departure from Ezekan. I wish to see the king.”

  “Alas, the sovereign is indisposed. Otherwise, he would have welcomed you in person.” His eyes strayed to the weapon hanging at Sequana’s side and he shuddered. “Is it true what they say—that the sword of Connat has magical powers, that it is alive?” he whispered.

  Sequana’s eyebrows rose. “That is but one of the Sword’s many qualities. Another is that it has a nose for falsehoods.” His stony gaze pierced the advisor.

  “Ha, ha, ha.” Forclav giggled nervously. “Then it will be busy at court, for this is the center of intrigue in the north.”

  “Delay me no further, fool. I will see the king. I have a proposal to put before him.” He took a pace towards Forclav and thrust his face forward.

  Forlcav gulped. “I…I will speak with the king…he—”

  Sequana grasped him by the shoulder and propelled him sideways then stepped to the ornately carved doors and pushed them open. His soldiers crowded next to him as he strode into the throne room. It was empty. The Pharlaxian leader rampaged around the walls searching for another exit. He spied the door partly hidden by a red curtain on the wall adjacent to the throne and pushed it open. His chainmail jangled as he swept into the bedroom and confronted the king.

  Bowing extravagantly, he fell onto one knee. “Your Highness, pardon my intrusion but I have journeyed long and far, and it is imperative I see you on a matter of great importance.”

  Albetius grasped the collar of his nightshirt and looked at the Avanauri in fright. “I know who you are, I know who sent you, and I know what you carry by your side. Have you come to kill me, to murder me in my bed?”

  Sequana frowned. This terrified figure was the mighty King of Erlach? “I have come to place my sword at your service, if you will it, my King.”

  “Your sword?”

  “It belongs to me. It is mine by right of possession and as ordained by Balor. The sword of Connat-sѐra-Haagar will lead us to victory against the priests and sycophants who rule Avanaux. Join with me, Majesty, in this righteous war and we will return the land to Balor and his law.” Sequana spoke with passion. He kept his head bowed and glanced up at the king.

  The king’s expression changed from fear to distaste. Didn’t the Pharlaxian realize that the presence of these nauris garbed as warriors, and this blade here in his presence was an affront to him and the whole of Erlach? Then the truth flashed across his mind. Not to everyone in Erlach. His nobles had sent Sequana here, knowing who and what the Pharlaxian represented, and knowing exactly how he, the king, would be forced to respond to this insult to tradition and palace law.

  Albetius, although disinterested in matters of state, compensated for this failing in other ways. He was intelligent, and he had an excellent nose for when things were running against him. He thought it entirely possible, even likely, that his warlords had conspired to bring this Sequana to Erlach with the aim of unseating him from the throne and putting one or other of them on it. He knew he was unlikely to survive such a plot. His nobles would want to preclude any possibility of a counter-revolution at some future date.

  Two royal domestics hovered in the doorway. The king bid them enter and rose from his bed to be dressed. He adjusted his robe, stretched to his full height and looked Sequana in the eyes. “This is not a matter that can be decided on a whim, without due thought, and without debate by my warlords. Indeed, before I can even consider something as brash as this, I need to know the full extent of your plans and what force you bring to bear. All this will take many weeks—”

  “I do not have weeks! I barely have days, but I do have the Sword.” He drew the weapon from his belt and raised it in the air in front of the king. “You must decide now if you are with me.”

  The blade quivered in Sequana’s fist, reflecting the vibrant colors in the bedroom like a crystal.

  Albetius could easily believe the Sword to be alive and the Pharlaxian mad enough to use it against him. Of all the lessons he had learned from his youth, the stories of the sword of Connat-sèra-Haagar and how it had slaughtered the Erlachi people were the most terrifying. His neck glowed from anxiety. “I…I must consult with my councilors at the least. Surely you realize an undertaking such as this requires some consideration, and…and I do not know how long it will take to ready the army. I will take your proposal to the council. We will call you when we have discussed this.” Albetius didn’t wait for Sequana to answer but turned, his robe swirling around him and fled.

  “Forclav, what can we do?” Albetius leaned across the table and pleaded with his chief adviser. “We should have halted the Pharlaxian at our border. Now he has the backing of the traitors, Xeroz, Querast, and Rome. Surely those fools don’t believe they can control Sequana and turn him to their own ends. Have they forgotten their own history?” His fingers tapped the table rapidly.

  Forclav shook his head. “We didn’t know he was on his way. Otherwise, we might have prevented it. It’s hard to believe our own people would countenance bringing the Sword onto Erlachi soil. We are all in great danger.”

  Albetius considered the problem. The warlords had brought a sizeable force to the city. Not sufficient to pose a threat to security by itself, but in conjunction with Sequana’s war-hardened nauris, they would easily outnumber the royal guards. And once they were defeated, nothing could stop the Pharlaxian from pressing the people into his service.

  “I don’t want to send my people to war. They may not love me overly much, but I would prevent that if I could,” he said.”

  “They love you well enough,” said Forclav. “Certainly in preference to the alternatives. They will follow where you lead. Indeed, you do not appear to have any choice in this matter. Take them to war and many will die. Fight the nobles and Pharlaxians and many will die anyway.”

  “What if I do not make a choice?” Albetius’ face was ashen. What he was considering was perilous, the outcome uncertain and contrary to every principle of kingship his mother had taught him. “What if I depart the city, what then?”

  “If…” Forclav frowned, then scratched his cheek. “It is a risk. The nobles may take the opportunity to seize the throne.”

  “Not with Sequana already there.”

  “But Sequana will himself lead the people to war!”

  “Not immediately, Forclav. With me absent, he will need to deal with the nobles. And they have no desire to go to war with Avanaux, I can assure you.”

  “But…”

  “I know it’s not a great plan, my friend, but we cannot fight the Sword and the nobles. We must hope that one or other prevails in the vacuum left by my departure. Then I will return.”

/>   Predators

  Hickory pretended to be engrossed in her map. Obviously not a woodsman, she thought as the leaves rustled again. She used her SIM to amplify her natural empathic sense and tried to get a feel for the stalker’s intentions, but as before, there was nothing. Whoever this is, they're kind of clumsy, but they have a natural shield. She could count on one hand the number of sentient beings she’d met, human or otherwise, who could completely block her probe. The Teacher was a natural, and both the admiral and her superior, Cortherien, were good at it, but even they had to train their minds to resist. This was different.

  A sickly honeysuckle scent drifted into the clearing, and Hickory wrinkled her nose. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed movement. She snapped her head to the left. At first, she thought a strange animal had slipped into the camp to attack Saurab, but the Dark Sun was being mauled by something altogether different. The creature was more plant than animal but unlike any plant she had ever seen. It stood twelve feet tall from root to head. Half this height was made up of a thick translucent trunk inside which Hickory could see pulsating currents of swirling color. The top half of the plant was a long sinuous stem that extended from a gnarly collar on the trunk. On the end of this was, she supposed, the monster’s head, although it was both eyeless and toothless.

  Writhing tentacles sprouting from the collar had wrapped themselves around Saurab’s neck, and the plant-beast’s swollen bell-shaped head was squashed against his skull. Thin stamen-like strands extended from the mouth and spread across Saurab’s face, burrowing into his ears and nose.

  The little man’s eyes were open, but only the whites were visible. His mouth hung slack, and drool ran down his chin. The slight tremble of his hands was the only sign he was alive.

  Hickory shook off her stupor and jumped to her feet, shouting for help. She saw several similar creatures had surrounded the campsite, and were slowly gliding over the ground like snakes towards the humanoids. She was fascinated despite her horror. The plants moved by tearing their roots from the ground and slithering forward a few feet, then planting their roots for a few moments before repeating the motion.

  Hickory’s shout woke the others.

  “Whoa!” Gareth looked around wildly. “Are there violators?”

  Jess pulled her sword from her belt, immediately awake. “Where?” Then she saw Saurab. “My God! What is that?” Her face screwed up in disgust as she saw the Dark Sun’s head almost entirely enveloped in a translucent oily sludge.

  Jakah raced to his partner’s side, sword drawn. He heaved it high and slashed at the neck of the plant-beast. Its head flew into the air and tumbled to the ground ten feet away. Jakah’s face contorted as he tried to dislodge the tendrils from his partner’s inert form. “Help me get these off him!” he shouted. “If we don’t release him, he’ll die.”

  Jess and Gareth ran to help him while Hickory slashed at the stem of the plant close to its roots.

  “What is it? Is it poisonous?” Hickory asked.

  “It’s a paramour plant—I’ve only ever seen one before. They are deadly. If we don’t get this stuff out of his system, the hemoglobin in his bloodstream will all be absorbed. We might already be too late.” He slashed at the tentacles that held Saurab tightly against the plant-beast’s trunk.

  Saurab’s ears and nose were still full of squirming strands. Jess grasped a handful of the slimy weeds and threw them away in disgust. “Oh God. What are these things? They seem to be right inside his head. I can’t get them out!”

  A dozen or more plant-beasts pulled their roots from the ground and skittered towards the group, tentacles squirming. Hickory shouted to Jess and Gareth, “Let Jakah deal with that one! There are more coming. We need to stop them before they fasten onto someone else.” She shook her head, trying to rid it of the sweet scent the plants were exuding. Must be some sort of sedative. Slows the victims down until the paramour can get to them.

  Gareth and Jess rushed to join Hickory. “How do we kill them, Hickory?” asked Gareth. “I mean, these are plants, right?” Disbelief was strong in his voice.

  “Aim for their necks. That should slow them down. Take that one nearest us first. Make sure you don’t let it get a hold of you. Slice off their heads first.”

  “Heads first!” yelled Gareth, running towards the nearest plant. He swung the blade above his head and brought it down like a scythe. The sword stuck fast. Gareth struggled to extract the edge as the tentacles reached towards his face.

  “Let it go, you fool,” shouted Jess as she rushed forward. “Get out of the way.” She forced her sword into the stem from the opposite direction and felt her blade make contact with Gareth’s. The head of the plant toppled forward to the ground. “Yee-haw! Got you, petal,” she screamed.

  “Good one, Mother,” said Gareth with a smirk.

  The plant-beast seemed to shrink, then snapped forward, releasing a score of swirling tendrils at Jess’s face.

  “Jess!” Hickory slashed at the tentacles and dragged her away.

  “I’m okay. It missed, thank God,” said Jess.

  Gareth chopped several times at the paramour’s lower stalk, ducking beneath its still writhing tentacles.

  “Gareth, leave it,” said Hickory. The other plants were still advancing, and killing this one was taking too long.

  Jakah had managed to free most of the matter from Saurab’s face, but the little man’s skin was almost colorless, and he hadn’t regained consciousness.

  Hickory assessed the situation quickly. The plants were slow moving until they came within range of their victim and could use their tentacles, but they were relentless. They wouldn’t stop coming for them until they were out of range, and she didn’t know how far away they would need to be before they were safe. “Time we got out of here. We can’t defend ourselves against so many. Jakah—can you manage Saurab? We’ll carry the gear. But we need to move.”

  Jakah bundled Saurab in a blanket and heaved him over his shoulder. “We’ve no choice. Which way do you think?”

  Hickory pointed north, and Gareth and Jess attacked the brambles in their path.

  Hickory kept them on the move. She had no way of knowing whether the carnivorous plants would follow them once they were out of the dark forest, but she didn’t want to risk being caught again. The ground underfoot was unstable, crisscrossed by crevasses and gullies that crumbled at the edges, making it dangerous for them to move at faster than walking pace. Jess and Gareth were scouting up ahead, seeking Crodal. Hickory glanced behind at Jakah. The tall Dark Sun was struggling to carry Saurab over one shoulder. As she watched, he stumbled and almost fell.

  She waited until he caught up. “How is he?” she asked.

  “Still out of it. I’m worried he might not recover.” Jakah puffed and laid his friend gently on the ground, then stretched his arms to the sky. He groaned. “He might be small, but he’s as heavy as a yarrak after a while.”

  “Let me give you a spell. I can carry him for a bit.”

  Jakah looked at her skeptically, assessing her slight nauri frame. “I don’t think—”

  “I’m stronger than I look,” she said, as she heaved Saurab over her shoulder.

  “You are,” said Jakah approvingly.

  Hickory heard a shout in the distance and shaded her eyes to look. “Jess and Gareth are running back. They must have found something.”

  In a few minutes, they joined them, panting breathlessly. Gareth bent over with his hands on his knees while Jess gave a report. “The country looks pretty much the same as this from what we could see. There’s a lot of smoke up ahead. Could be the village we’re looking for. I think they’re in trouble.”

  “How far away is it?” Hickory asked.

  “Four or five hours at a guess,” said Gareth.

  “We should get there by dusk,” confirmed Jess.

  “Where is he?” Sequana paced around the throne room, then stopped abruptly in front of Forclav. “Tell me.”

  The king’s a
dvisor trembled at the fury in the Pharlaxian’s eyes. The King had left the city two days previously, and Forclav had been making excuses for his non-appearance, but eventually the truth must out. Not yet, though. “The King is indisposed. He cannot be disturbed. The physicians—”

  “Damn the physicians, and damn you!”

  “I will speak with them again—”

  Sequana’s eyes widened in anger, and he thrust his face close to Forclav’s. “Tell me where I can find him, or you will regret it.” He spoke through clenched teeth and drew the Sword part way out of its scabbard.

  Forclav closed his eyes and whimpered. “Sir, I am but a messenger. I…I will impress upon the physicians the urgency of your request. Perhaps by this afternoon—”

  “Phah! Get out of my sight before I run you through.” Sequana thrust the Sword back into its scabbard and turned towards a table. He picked up a piece of fruit from a bowl and examined it. “This afternoon, Forclav. This afternoon, or you will spend the rest of your life in prison,” he said as the adviser backed out of the room.

  Thurle had been observing this exchange from the background. Now he said, “He is lying.”

  Sequana took a bite of the panada. It was deliciously sweet. “Why would he lie?” He faced the turncoat. “The king has nothing to gain by delaying. Surely he must see the benefits of joining our two causes together.”

  Thurle’s eyebrows rose. “Two causes?”

  “Yes. He needs my help to secure his kingdom from Xeroz and his cohorts. I need his naurs to fight in the upcoming battle against evil. His co-operation is inevitable.”