Dragon Defense (Heirs to the Throne Book 3)

by Diane Rapp

  “But sire, our orders…”

  “Do not apply to the clergy!” The Bishop glared and felt the man’s fear. He ground his teeth, forcing himself to remain unresponsive to the onslaught of emotion from the guard.

  Jarrack’s voice softened. Holding his fingertips together in a gesture he once ridiculed, he said, “My son, I wish to minister to the prisoner. Every man deserves redemption, and I’ll take responsibility for my safety.” He felt pleased when the guard yielded.

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Of course! Now please admit me.” Doubt flickered from the man while he fingered the keys. “I’ll tell no one of your kindness,” Jarrack said.

  The guard relaxed—no one would know. He opened the door and Jarrack saw Fremont. He felt startled, remembered the man as taller, stronger. This thin prisoner looked small, powerless.

  “Fremont. It is good to see you again,” Jarrack said.

  “I’ve never met you before.” Fremont scowled. “Do they think the Institute accepts religion?”

  Jarrack grinned. “I’m not here as a cleric. I came to report to my superior. The body you see contains your best agent—Jarrack.”

  Fremont shook his head. “You expect me to believe such trash?”

  “I can prove it.” Jarrack felt Fremont’s anticipation. “On my last assignment, my code word was emerald.”

  “Anyone could crack the code after all these years.”

  Jarrack scowled. “I was programmed to die rather than divulge information.”

  Fremont still looked unconvinced. “Do you remember that little piece of fluff we shared on my last shore leave? She was exceptionally dexterous and you promoted her. Is she still around?”

  Fremont’s face paled as he sank onto the cot. “It is you!” He eyed the bulky body. “We can’t Transfer a mind into anything except a clone without rejection. How’d you do it?”

  Jarrack whispered, “It’s a story best told in secure quarters. I learned to Transfer without a machine.” He glanced nervously at the door.

  “It can’t be true!” Fremont gasped.

  Jarrack grew irritated. Could this man be the same commander he once respected? “I’ve no time to argue! We must speak quickly.”

  “Go on.”

  “To succeed with your mission, make Donovan believe you’ll negotiate. Threats and intimidation are useless, but he can be manipulated.”

  “You may be right. After surviving the first barrage of missiles, his cockiness makes me nervous. What do you suggest?”

  “What’s the goal of your mission?”

  “The Institute needs to learn the process of hardening mendilium crystals. Those blasted scientists wiped the records before they escaped. I’m under orders to bring Dr. Alexander back alive, but everyone else is expendable.”

  Jarrack sighed. “They won’t give up the sainted doctor without a fight.”

  “But what can we do?” Fremont’s fear threatened to overwhelm Jarrack.

  “Let me nose around. In the meantime, offer to negotiate and buy time.”

  Fremont thrust out his hand. “Welcome back into service, Jarrack. You’re my most valued agent.”

  Jarrack shook Fremont’s hand. “I must maintain my disguise for the guard, so please kneel.”

  “Certainly.” He knelt on the floor as Jarrack summoned the guard.

  “Thank you, my son,” Jarrack told the guard. “God blesses you for bringing a lost sheep back into the flock. Say nothing about my visit but he requests an audience with King Donovan.”

  “Your worship! I never believed a spacer could be converted!” The guard’s eyes widened.

  “I’ll return soon,” Jarrack said to Fremont.

  *****

  Donovan argued with the Council, calming nerves and trying to sound reasonable. When they grew quiet he said, “Does anyone have ideas that might help?”

  “I do.” The Bishop entered the doorway and Donovan cringed. The lords saw a beloved religious leader, not the evil man inside. Donovan kept the truth to himself. Father Cedric stood next to Jarrack looking angry. What happened?

  Jarrack ambled forward, a placid look upon his round face. “King Donovan, my lords, blessings upon you.”

  Donovan squirmed in his chair. “You mentioned an idea?” He tried to keep sarcasm out of his voice.

  “I spoke with Fremont a few minutes ago and we can negotiate a settlement.” Jarrack’s gaze held Donovan’s without flickering. “Fremont confided certain facts to me that may prove beneficial. I am, of course, forbidden to divulge the exact content of the conversation but a deal can be struck.”

  Donovan’s face reddened. He said, “Gentlemen, it appears the Bishop and I should discuss this in private. Council is adjourned but return on short notice.”

  Bryant stood to leave, but Donovan placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Join us in my private hall.”

  “Surely.”

  “You too, Trenton.”

  Deep in thought, Trenton stood at the sound of his name. Donovan led them to his private hall. When the door closed he turned an angry glare on Father Cedric.

  “What do you mean allowing Jarrack to meet with Fremont? Now he strolls into the Council with an offer to negotiate.”

  “Jarrack?” Bryant said while Trenton stared at the enemy.

  Father Cedric nodded his head and said, “Please hear him out. You may be surprised at his message.” Everyone listened while Jarrack explained about convincing Fremont to negotiate for good crystals.

  “You must send Fremont’s coded message to the ship without changing the wording,” Jarrack said.

  “I don’t trust Fremont!” Trenton scoffed.

  Donovan ground his teeth. “None of us trust the devil but this buys us time.”

  Bryant leaned forward. “Milord, you know the mindset of spacers. What is he after?”

  Revenge, Donovan thought, but telling the truth might ruin his argument. “The Institute needs a secret process that only Dr. Alexander knows.” It was the truth, but Donovan knew Fremont would execute everyone who embarrassed him twenty years ago.

  “Can we give them the secret and make them leave?” Bryant asked.

  “Have you ever dealt with a blackmailer?” Donovan asked. “Give him what he wants and he will bleed you dry. The Institute knows about Drako and won’t leave us alone—unless we gain leverage over them.”

  “Our planetary defense system is old and flawed.” Trenton pounded his fist on the table. “We need a spaceship and trained technicians to install updated equipment to keep them out.”

  “Figure out a plan to update the system,” Donovan said. “How big a ship do we need? What kind of technicians? Analyze the Zebulon’s crew. Can our own people solve the problem with the right equipment?”

  Trenton brooded. “I’ll go over the names and give you a report.”

  “That’s better.” Donovan leaned back. “Give us constructive suggestions, not more obstacles.” He turned to Jarrack. “What do you want from this?”

  Jarrack smiled. “I want to leave on that space ship. If I never see Drako again, I’ll be happy.” He gestured to Donovan’s ring, glowing white. “Look at your ring. I’m telling you the truth.”

  23 ~ TAMARIND’S KIDNAPPING

  After the crisis with the missile attack, Donovan radioed to explain he’d struck a deal with Fremont. Lauryn had time to expedite the plan to help Salizar kidnap Tamarind. She felt strange dressed in women’s clothing again. Her skirt and tunic made her look feminine but Lauryn missed the comfort of pants. She must look like a woman to approach Tamarind and free herself from an unwanted oath.

  “You think the mullah will allow me to talk with her?” Lauryn asked Maggie.

  “He won’t refuse the royal visit of a princess. He’s brimming with gratitude and unlikely to insult the gods by refusing your request.”

  “I wish my mother and Alex could come. I feel so defenseless and what if Tamarind refuses to be kidnapped?” Lauryn’s gray eyes clo
uded. “I was so stupid.”

  Maggie combed Lauryn’s short blond hair. “You have Samurai women as guards and Salizar wants Tamarind.” She paused, meeting Lauryn’s troubled gaze in the glass. “We all make mistakes. Don’t whip yourself for falling prey to a crafty man.”

  Lauryn stroked her soft tunic. “It wasn’t all Salizar’s fault. I felt overwhelmed by the response of my body. It ruled my mind, made me ignore his intentions.”

  “You’ll learn to master your urges. It’s all part of becoming a woman.” Maggie stroked Lauryn’s silken hair.

  “I’m glad to have you here, Maggie. I know that you miss Trenton, but I need someone to see me through this.”

  “Nonsense. I’m running the reactor and training new techs. Trenton will survive. Are you ready?”

  “No, but I’ll go.” Lauryn straightened her shoulders and opened the door. Her personal Samurai walked beside her, and the rest of the troop joined them outside the hall. Lauryn played the part that the desert tribes expected, a haughty princess. She heard awed whispers ripple through the crowd as she glided toward the throne. Now they felt protected by the shield, the room was filled with courtiers. Lauryn hoped it wasn’t a mistake.

  Salizar stood among the guards. Lauryn met his somber gaze without flinching and surprised herself. Surrounded by servants, Tamarind sat on the dais, dressed in electric blue silk with her luxuriant hair piled high. The ensemble accentuated the delicate curve of her long neck. A gossamer web of gold and sapphire stretched across her face. It had the effect of dramatizing her features, rather than obscuring them. Her eyes flashed with anticipation, looking eager to conclude their secret plans.

  Lauryn’s stomach ached, and she felt afraid of her own response to Salizar. No! Tamarind is welcome to the man.

  She focused on the mullah, who stood waiting with his feet spread wide and his arms folded across a massive chest. His dark eyes resembled Tamarind’s—full of fire and pride. A silk turban studded with diamonds rested over the square face. His beard was trimmed to emphasize a strong jaw, while his arms were bare. Intricately carved gold bands adorned his wrists and muscular biceps and a golden cape framed a white silk jersey and red pantaloons.

  The mullah didn’t present a striking image on her previous visit. On that occasion he greeted visitors in the guise of a military leader with cold steel glinting on his belt. Now the mullah greeted a princess and wanted to impress. Salizar looked scrawny next to the mature strength of the mullah. Lauryn’s pulse pounded as the man examined her face with indiscreet approval. She forced herself to remain calm and elegant while the girl inside her wanted to run.

  “The daughter of King Donovan of Havenshire brings you greetings and well wishes.” Lauryn felt shocked at the sound of her own steady voice.

  The mullah’s lips parted and gleaming white teeth flashed enticingly against his olive skin. “It’s good of your father to send such a bewitching emissary. Welcome, princess.” He beckoned her to join him as an honored guest on the dais.

  Lauryn hesitated, and then stepped onto the platform. She took his outstretched hand but the hot touch of his fingers made her flinch. His thoughts were shielded, but this man possessed latent mental power. She must be careful.

  “My father has no sons to send on missions, so he trusts his daughters to represent the court.” She spoke in a demure tone. “I thank you for admitting a mere woman as emissary.” She inclined her head and sat gracefully on a cushion.

  He threw his head back and laughed, and the resonant tones echoed through the hall. “The princess has wit equal to her beauty.” He clapped his hands. Servants scurried up with trays of delicacies. As a servant approached Lauryn, her Samurai blocked the tray. Steel sang as the mullah’s guards drew weapons. The Samurai ignored the threat. A hush spread through the room as the crowd watched the Samurai taste the offered food and nod at the princess.

  Lauryn took a piece but whispered, “You needn’t fear for my safety. My healing arts prevent poison from harming me. Thanks for your courage.”

  The Samurai flashed a toothy grin. “By my oath I won’t allow harm to come to you.” She cast a meaningful glance at the mullah. “He expects you to have a taster, so I put on a show. It’s a tasty treat, milady, enjoy.” The woman stepped back, sheathing her sword with a flourish.

  Lauryn smiled and ate. The mullah’s hard gaze scrutinized the Samurai before he snapped his fingers. Guards sheathed their swords.

  “Princess?” The mullah asked.

  “Yes, milord.” Lauryn met his unwavering stare.

  “How is it that King Donovan admits women into his guard? Are there so many fertile women in your land that he risks their wombs in war?”

  Lauryn sensed the Samurais’ disgust at the question. “Milord, these women are free to choose their destiny. Some choose to become wives and mothers, but others forego that role to train as soldiers. They helped defeat Jarrack and free Donovan from enchantment, so my father accepts their service with gratitude. What better guards to accompany women on a journey?”

  The mullah scratched his chin. “The idea has merit. Women guards would require fewer eunuchs. Could your father loan us a few?”

  “They’re oath-bound to my father. I suggest searching among your own women. A few might prefer the life of a soldier than wiling away time in a harem.” She cast a side-glance at Salizar as she made the comment.

  The mullah frowned. “Our women rejoice in their destiny and none would trade places with a man on the battlefield.”

  Lauryn chewed another morsel. “Our noblemen held similar opinions until their women were forced to defend themselves against Jarrack. The women fought like wildcats against a tyrant who kidnapped them from their families. Spread the word and you may discover volunteers.”

  The mullah popped a nutmeat into his mouth. “Your father does well to send you. Never have I heard a woman speak with such eloquent persuasion. Has he found a proper husband for such a strong spirit?”

  Lauryn controlled her temper. “My father’s daughters are free to choose their own fate.”

  The mullah’s eyes widened. “Donovan’s a strange man. He raises daughters of strong will and retains the love of a powerful wife. I should like to meet this man.”

  “Tamarind can tell you of his generosity and kindness. She became a favorite at court, and I’d like to invite Tamarind to dine in my room this evening. Would that be permitted?” Lauryn held her breath.

  The mullah’s gaze darted toward the women’s section. “Tamarind will be married soon to a rich pasha. She may wish to discuss women’s matters with another princess. Since you’re properly guarded, I would permit the visit.” He waved his hand as if the request were nothing to him.

  Lauryn nodded, trying not to appear eager. “I’ll send a guard to accompany her to my room.”

  The mullah smirked. “Yes! Send a Samurai woman so the harem can see one up close.”

  The rest of the interview dragged on. Lauryn answered mundane questions about her father’s government and wished she could leave. She noticed Salizar slip away and wondered if he felt pleased. Tamarind would soon be within his grasp and Lauryn released from a vile oath.

  *****

  Tamarind swooped into Lauryn’s quarters like a fluttering bird. She was happy and talkative, which surprised Lauryn. At Havenshire Tamarind treated everyone like an enemy, but now Lauryn sensed feelings of good will radiate from the princess. She wasn’t sure she trusted the girl.

  “Can you instruct your guards to wait outside my door?” Lauryn eyed the giant guards with concern.

  “What a wonderful idea!” Tamarind made shooing motions and said, “Wait outside. We’re guarded by the Samurai in here.” The men glared and their gaze examined the room before the door shut.

  “Excuse me, Lauryn.” Tamarind exclaimed. “I forgot my manners. Please accept this small gift.” Tamarind held out a box tied with a red ribbon. Lauryn eyed the box as if she feared the contents. “Please, Lauryn.” Tamarind’s mellow t
one convinced her to accept.

  Lauryn stroked the soft contours of the box and admired the polished wood with swirls of dark red in the grain. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

  Tamarind laughed. “Silly, the gift is inside the box!”

  Lauryn blushed. She untied the ribbon and opened the box. Inside she found a gold dragon necklace with a sapphire blue eye. The dragon’s eye swirled as Lauryn gazed into the crystal.

  “I thought the jewel matched your eyes. Legend claims the stone came from the gods and holds magic,” Tamarind whispered.

  The crystal looked like the stone inside Krystal’s locket. Lauryn wore her mother’s locket during their battle against Jarrack. She returned it to her mother six months ago and felt like a piece was missing from her soul. Soothing energy radiated from this stone, enveloping her like a blanket, and she knew it was a piece of the original crystal.

  “I can’t take such a valuable gift, Tamarind.”

  “You’d shame me if you refused.”

  Lauryn sensed the truth and smiled. “I don’t want to trample on tradition and get myself into trouble. Thanks, it’s lovely and I’ll treasure it.”

  “Let me help you put it on.” Tamarind draped the chain around Lauryn’s neck and secured the clasp. “It will be perfect.” Tamarind turned Lauryn to face the mirror. “You see! I’m right.”

  Lauryn fingered the stone which warmed under her touch. Lauryn kissed Tamarind’s cheek and the two girls sat cross-legged on silk pillows.

  Tamarind whispered, “Tell me how we’re going to manage the kidnapping.”

  Lauryn sighed, aware of the romantic image Tamarind held of Salizar. “I must warn you about Salizar. His motives might be political.”

  “Of course,” Tamarind said, “he plans to become heir to my father’s throne.” She sounded matter-of-fact. “All my suitors want the throne. Salizar’s far more handsome and virile than the fat old pasha my father intends for me to marry.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  Tamarind frowned. “I investigated his lineage. Salizar descends from a royal line, and except for fate, he’d already be a rich mullah. His father was Forshell.”