The Star Of Saree (GODS OF THE FOREVER SEA Book 3)

by A. J. STRICKLER

  The mercenary captain clapped him on the shoulder. “It seems you made it back in one piece. I take it the man in the cloak is our wayward prince?”

  “Are the children safe? I can see there was an attack.” Kian asked, ignoring the question.

  “Yes, yes, the brood is well,” K’xarr said with irritation. “I asked if that was the prince, damn it.”

  Kian glanced over his shoulder as the group disappeared into the camp. “Aye, it is Dimitri, at least what Serban left of him.”

  “What do you mean left of him?”

  “He has been tortured, and the baron took his eyes. The prince is blind, K’xarr.”

  “Damn that bastard, Serban is more cunning than I thought. He must have wanted the prince alive, most likely to be used as leverage if need be. Blind, he would be of little use to the baron’s enemies if by chance he was freed. Who’s going to want to throw their lot in with a man that can’t see to lead them? It was a wise move.”

  “You are right, I think. I spoke to the prince. He believes his sister Danika and the queen are being used to keep the king under the baron’s thumb. I also talked with him about what you and Constantine would want of him. Dimitri’s fear is the same as yours, that if his condition is discovered, few of the Trimenian military would break ranks to join him.”

  K’xarr scratched his head. “I guess we could keep quiet about his eyes, keep him secluded. We can send out word that the prince is now leading the rebellion. Once they desert, it will be too late for soldiers to go back even if they find out their prince is blind. Maybe we can make this work. I guess your trip wasn’t a total waste of time.”

  Kian looked around. “Where is the princess? I thought she would be here to greet her brother.”

  K’xarr shook his head. “You noticed we had a scrap while you were gone, a couple of snags came along with the attack. Julian is dead. It is a shame, and I know you liked him.”

  Kian’s heart sank he had felt a kinship with Julian. The inquisitive boy he had orphaned all those years ago had been the first friend he made after leaving the Blue Dagger Mountains.

  “He was never a warrior. Vladimir pushed it on him,” Kian muttered.

  “Aye, but I don’t think it was all Vladimir’s doing. The boy wanted to fight.”

  “He was infected by the rebel’s rhetoric. He lost his family as a boy, and then he was turned by Vladimir. When he returned home to Trimenia, I am sure it was not difficult for the shapechanger to enlist the young man in their cause. What choice would he have had after all that? I would not be surprised if Vladimir hadn’t planned the whole thing from the beginning.”

  K’xarr smacked him on the chest. “Don’t get all worked up, damn it. Serban is the enemy now. Vladimir and Constantine are just two self-serving cocks with dreams of a new Trimenia. If Julian wanted revenge for his family, I doubt they had to twist his arm much.”

  “I still don’t like it. He died for nothing.”

  “Listen, Kian, I don’t believe Vladimir had any ill intentions towards the boy. He was truly hurt by Julian’s death, I saw it myself. If anyone has to worry about rebel intrigues, it is Dimitri and Pepca. I’m a little concerned about the rebels’ plans for them if they manage to win back the kingdom. I don’t trust Constantine. He’s no warrior, but the man is devious.”

  Kian pushed back the darkness welling up inside him, at the cost of his head beginning to pound and a sharp pain knifing through his chest. “You think they want to take the throne for themselves?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I have noticed none of their talk about Trimenia’s future including Pepca or her brother. All I’m saying is we should be vigilant if we are going to get into to this any deeper.”

  Kian sighed heavily. He liked the princess. Now K’xarr thought she might be betrayed by the same people Pepca meant to help, and an evil creature was ruling in the palace that belonged to the princess and her family. He hadn’t wanted to become involved, but as usual, Gildor’s words echoed in his mind: a man must always fight the darkness.

  “I will think on what to do, K’xarr, but I will make no promises. Endra and I planned to head north after winter broke.”

  “You do whatever you think is right, my friend. By the way, where are Pierre and Adisa? I didn’t see them come in with you.”

  Kian shook his head. “We lost them just outside Brova. Pierre was dying and Adisa would not leave him.”

  K’xarr nodded and asked no more. “We can speak later, Kian, and decide what is best.” The mercenary captain slapped him on the back as he walked away.

  He knew the two men’s death bothered the Camiran, though K’xarr would never admit such a thing. Taking a last look around the camp, Kian went to join the others.

  * * *

  Watching Father Sobena tend to Dimitri gave her little solace. Her brother’s rescue had come too late, and he had paid a terrible price for saving her from Serban’s wrath and her father’s indifference. What little love that remained for her father faded away when Pepca saw what the king allowed to happen to his very own son. The house of King Petru Lasota had grown truly evil.

  The soft crackling heat from the fireplace made her a little sleepy, although she knew tonight would be another restless night no matter how heavy her eyes got. Her dreams would be once again filled with blood and wolves.

  Pepca rubbed at her nose. She could smell the foul odor from Dimitri’s festering wounds. Her sense of smell wasn’t the only thing that had changed since Julian had bitten her. Her vision and hearing were now far greater than before, and the night no longer held any fear for her.

  The full moon was not far off and every day, Pepca grew more afraid of what it would bring. Goosebumps spread across her flesh at the thought of it.

  Needing to focus on other things, Pepca watched the priest apply his remedies to her brother’s wounds. Tempest trusted Father Sobena; the young priest had saved her and the children. The man seemed kind and very understanding. Pepca had even thought of talking with him, but there was no way she could ever broach the subject. How could she tell anyone about what was soon going to happen to her?

  The priest gently wrapped a bandage around Dimitri’s eyes and lay the prince back in his bed. “I have done all I can for now, Your Highness,” the excommunicated priest said softly. “What he needs most now is time.”

  “Thank you, Father. Your help has been most welcome.”

  “You should not call me father, Highness. Miro will do just fine.”

  “I am sure Dimitri will find a way to lift the sanctions on you for what you have done for him, once this dreadful war is over.”

  “Even a king cannot overrule the pope’s holy decree, Highness. Besides, it’s not necessary. I didn’t help the prince to curry favor with him. I only did what God would wish me to do.”

  Pepca tried to smile. “You are a good man, father...uh, Miro.”

  The former priest touched her cheek and gathered his things, and she saw him out.

  Closing the door, she felt it strange to be alone. Pepca had spent her time with Tempest and the young ones since she had arrived in the camp. Captain Strom however would not allow the priest inside the cabin where he was discussing what would happen in the coming months, so she and Dimitri had been given their own lodge. It was for the best. Pepca hadn’t felt like company since the attack.

  She sat down on the bed beside her brother, gently stroking his hair.

  “Pepca, is that you?” Dimitri asked, lifting his head.

  “Yes, just sleep now. You have been through enough. It’s my turn to take care of you.”

  “I am sorry that I have come to you like this. A blind prince is not much good to anyone.”

  Pepca lay down beside him, softly draping her arm across his large frame. “Don’t say that. I need you now more now than you will ever know.”

  “You don’t need me, Pepca. You are strong, stronger than Mother and Father ever imagined. Even I underestimated you, and for that I am sorry.”
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  “I am not strong. I am little more than a girl, and I’m afraid of everything.”

  “No, Pepca. You not only survived, you made alliances with men that not only saved me, but have agreed to try and help win back our country. This Kian said it was you that told them I could sway some of the army to our cause, and it was your idea to send them after me. You are much more than you know, Pepca.”

  “I’m just a girl with bad hair who missed her brother, and I am not sure if these men are fighting for us or themselves. I didn’t recruit them. I clung to them.”

  “When I am better, we will see what these rebels are about. You have done well, so do not think otherwise.”

  If things were different, her heart would have swelled with pride at the compliment. Now all she could manage was a sad grin. “Rest now. I will lay with you till you sleep.”

  Dimitri grunted and laid back. Within minutes, he was snoring softly and she slid out of the bed, taking care not to wake her weary brother.

  Pepca swept her cloak around her shoulders and walked outside. She moved to one of the camp’s many fires. The flames were low. No one had been minding the blaze for some time. Nights had grown quiet since the baron’s mercenaries attacked. Before, the men and women of the rebel army had gathered around the fires, talking or singing. Now except for the sentries, the encampment was almost deserted. The winter’s deepening cold and the abysmal battle had seen to that. The rebels’ hopes and happiness had been lost along with so many of their loved ones. Serban’s men had been merciless, sparing no one—man, woman, or child. If not for Captain Strom and his grim warriors, they would have all perished.

  A form drifted out of the darkness, and Pepca found she could easily make out the womanly shape moving towards her. The mercenary’s brownish-red hair looked as if it hadn’t been washed in weeks, its greasy stands hanging down over the young woman’s pretty face. Her cloak hung open, exposing the array of weapons belted around her slender waist, and she carried a small jug of wine. Pepca thought it not the warrior’s first by the way the she weaved back and forth.

  “Is this spot taken?” the young woman asked, gesturing to the fire.

  “Not at all, you are welcome to it. Ashlyn, isn’t it?” Pepca asked politely.

  “I wondered if you would remember my name,” the woman slurred.

  “Of course. How could I forget? You’re the one who, uh…captured me.” Pepca said awkwardly. She had seen the mercenary often around the camp, but they had never really been formally introduced.

  “Yes, I did that. I am sorry for it now.”

  “It is quite alright. You’ve more than made up for it by helping retrieve my brother. You have my undying thanks for your part in freeing him.”

  “You are welcome.” The woman started to continue, but hesitated.

  “Did you want something, Ashlyn?” Pepca asked, seeking some conversation. Ashlyn’s sudden appearance had sparked her curiosity.

  “I wanted to talk to you. K’xarr told us what happened while we were gone after your brother.”

  Pepca stared into the fire. “Yes, it was terrible.” She bit her lip to keep from crying again. Julian’s death was still too fresh.

  Stumbling closer, Ashlyn put her hand on the princess’s shoulder. “He told us about Julian…all of it.”

  Pepca turned away, shrugging off the woman’s hand. She was finished with this.

  Ashlyn grabbed her by the arm. “Wait, it’s Julian I wish to speak of. I know your pain, Princess. I have felt it.”

  The woman wasn’t here to impart her pity for the curse. She wanted to converse about Julian’s death. “What do you know about any of it?”

  The mercenary looked out into the dark. “I had a love once. I treasured him more than my life. We grew up together, planned to marry, but he was taken from me.”

  Pepca could see the shine of Ashlyn’s tears in the firelight. “How did you lose him?”

  “He was murdered by someone we both trusted.” Ashlyn threw back the jug of wine. Finishing it, she tossed the crockery into the fire. Staggering closer, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “I just wanted you to know that you aren’t the only one who has lost someone dear. I am familiar with mourning alone, Highness, and I wouldn’t recommend it. If you need to talk, I am here.”

  Pepca nearly broke into tears; the young woman had laid her own sorrow naked before her. “I thank you, but I don’t know if I can speak of it yet.”

  “I understand. It’s been over a year since Lucan was killed. If I close my eyes, I can still see the cold hand of death on his face.” Falling to her knees, the drunken woman began to sob. “I have lost everyone.”

  Pepca didn’t know if it was Ashlyn’s grief or the wine that had set her off, perhaps a bit of both. Squatting down beside her, the princess pushed the woman’s stringy hair away from her face.

  The mercenary looked up, her red swollen eyes trying to blink back her tears. “I came to comfort you, Highness, and it is you that soothes me,” Ashlyn said with an ironic snicker.

  The princess stood and pulled Ashlyn to her feet. “It will be alright. One day, our hearts will mend.” Her lie almost sounded convincing.

  Ashlyn wiped her nose and tried to square her shoulders. “I know you can’t tell it now, but I was once one of the greatest circus acts in all of Masaria.”

  “I did not know that,” Pepca said, shaking her head.

  “It is the reason I wanted to talk with you. I know we aren’t friends and you don’t know me well, but you should heed my words. No matter how bad the pain, don’t take the path I have chosen. I cannot get past Lucan’s death. He haunts my heart still. I have tried to shut him out with wine, blood, and men, but nothing works. Mourn Julian as long as you must, he will fade on his own. Trying to push him out will only lead to your ruin.”

  A tear slid down her cheek and Pepca felt her chest begin to ache. “I will heed your words, but it’s never too late to change, Ashlyn. Maybe we can help each other?”

  “I will do whatever I can for you, Princess. As for me, I have walked too far down this path to turn around now, but perhaps for you, I can try and be a little less of a wine-soaked doxy.”

  “You should come with me.” Pepca took the sloshed woman’s arm and led her back to the cabin she and Dimitri shared. She put Ashlyn in bed and covered her up, careful not to wake her brother.

  “I was once something to behold. You should have seen me back then, Highness,” the young woman drunkenly whispered.

  Ashlyn curled up like a babe, the wine sending her straight to sleep. The princess sat down in a chair and stared into the fireplace’s peaceful flames, thinking about what Ashlyn had said.

  Pepca awoke still sitting in the chair. The fire had died, and the room was freezing. She quickly checked on Dimitri. Her brother was still sleeping soundly. When she looked in on Ashlyn, she found the woman gone.

  Stoking the fire, the princess put a fresh load of wood on its red coals. In no time, the fire blazed up and the tiny lodge began to warm. She woke Dimitri and fed him a breakfast of warm oats, then afterwards stepped out to get some air.

  The morning was cold and gray. The people went about their usual duties with little enthusiasm. Many had extra work since so many of their companions had been lost. The surviving rebels shared a common bond now. All had lost a friend or family member in the battle, and a mutual despair had settled over all of them.

  Watching them, Pepca felt herself becoming melancholy as well. She spotted Tempest coming down one of the encampment’s worn paths with the three little girls she cared for in tow. The smaller children were looked after by some of the elderly women of the encampment when the white-haired girl wasn’t about. Tempest had told her that Endra was gone so much that she thought it important that someone should spend special time with the older girls. Tempest didn’t believe they should be cared for by strangers so much.

  She could only marvel at Tempest’s tenacious spirt. She worked in the camp, cared from the mercena
ry’s children, and still found time to be a good friend to her.

  “Pepca, how are you today?” Tempest called out.

  Her friend still tried to hide the fact that she was the Princess of Trimenia, though Pepca suspected the people had figured it out. Many had stopped speaking to her, not even to say hello. “I am fine.”

  Tempest hugged her and brushed at her hair with her hand. “You need this combed out. The girls and I are off for a walk around the camp, and you are more than welcome to join us. When we’re done, I can see to this bird’s nest of yours.”

  “No, thank you. K’xarr and Constantine plan to speak with Dimitri today. I should be there to help him if he needs anything. I will see to my hair later.”

  As she spoke, Ashlyn walked by. The woman wouldn’t look Pepca in the eye, but she did stop. “Thank you, Highness, for last night. I am sorry for… Well, I am just sorry.”

  “There is no need to be. Thank you for the advice.” Pepca didn’t know what to say, the moment was awkward.

  Ashlyn pressed her lips together and gave a slight nod before continuing on her way.

  “I didn’t know you were that well aquatinted with Ashlyn Sweet,” Tempest said, a touch of distaste in her voice.

  “I wasn’t till last night. Now I know a great deal about her. It’s a shame a lovely woman like that is in such a state,” Pepca said, more to herself than Tempest. “It would be easy for me to be just like her.”

  Tempest chuckled. “I can’t see you as a drunkard or a whorish mercenary.”

  “I don’t think she started out that way. Loss created what you see now.”

  “She lost someone?” Tempest said, her smile fading.

  “Yes, a man she loved, and maybe others as well. I don’t know the whole story, nor do I think I want to. What I heard sounded tragic enough.” The princess felt her throat tighten. “To lose everyone you love is a terrible thing. I can see how it could destroy a person.”