The Star Of Saree

by A. J. STRICKLER

  Even better, K’xarr thought, now Constantine was out one of his precious wolves. Now the rebel general would believe only Vladimir could kill Serban. K’xarr let the rebels think what they wanted. There were other ways to destroy the baron. The shapechangers might be the most convenient, but if nothing else, he had Kian and that dark sword of his. He doubted even Serban could rise from an encounter with the Slayer. K’xarr just needed the right motivation to put Kian on the baron’s trail, and maybe the gods had just blessed him with it. The swordsman would want to avenge Julian. Kian would feel it was his duty.

  “Captain,” a familiar voice called. Glancing to his right, K’xarr saw Payton and Vinsant. They swaggered towards him, both wearing blood-splattered grins. The pair had been up to no good, that was for sure. Endra’s oldest sons always seemed to be somewhere they shouldn’t be, doing something they shouldn’t do. The brothers were trouble, plain and simple.

  “What in the name of the gods have you two done now?” K’xarr asked sternly.

  “We joined the fight. What would you have us do?” Payton said arrogantly.

  K’xarr liked Endra’s son’s backbone. Vinsant was strong as an ox and he had his mother’s courage. Payton was different, though. He too was stout and almost too fearless, but the boy’s mind was quick as well. Payton was calculating, cunning, and there was a brutality to his nature. Payton would lead men someday, if his mother didn’t kill him first.

  Endra had agreed to let them ride with the Sons and act as retainers for his men, but she had strictly forbidden them to enter combat for any reason. If she found out they had participated in the battle, she would skin them alive and he would never hear the end of it.

  “Your mother will have all our asses if she finds out about this. So keep your mouths shut, and if anyone asks, you two were never in this scrap.”

  “Payton killed a shapechanger in the forest,” Vinsant said, trying to make things sound better.

  “Payton did what?” K’xarr said, his mouth pressing into a fine line.

  “The princess and Julian were attacked by a wolf. Tempest, Vinsant, and I went to their aid. We wounded it and the thing fled. We followed its blood trail like Mother taught us, and when we came upon it, the wolf had changed back to a man.”

  “What did you do, Payton?” K’xarr asked, shaking his head.

  “I cut his head off. Then Vinsant and I hacked the body into pieces.”

  K’xarr thought for a moment. “What did he look like?”

  “A big wolf,” Vinsant said eagerly.

  “No, damn it, the man,” K’xarr said, smacking the boy on the head.

  “He was big, blonde, and had the look of a warrior,” Payton answered indifferently.

  K’xarr smiled. It had to be Bernard. The baron must have sent him in with his mercenaries. Serban would be furious when he found out his pet had been killed. “Boys, you have done well. If you can keep quiet about it, I will give you both a mug of ale.”

  “We are good at keeping secrets,” Payton said, glancing at his brother.

  * * *

  Tempest and Pepca sat huddled near the simple fireplace inside Constantine’s cabin. The rebel general was the only one Tempest had seen in the camp not covered in the filth of war. He rubbed his narrow chin, looking down at the blanket covering Julian’s shattered body.

  Vladimir silently knelt beside his lifeless companion. Tempest could see the man was heartbroken. He had lost Julian, and his friend Grigore had fallen as well. The bald woodsman and Vladimir were close, and the younger shapechanger had been like a son to him. It wasn’t hard to see the bitter grief in the man’s eyes.

  Pepca began to cry again. Tempest pulled her friend close, letting the grief-stricken young woman’s tears fall into her cloak.

  “You are all we have now, Vladimir. You’re the one that must kill Serban.” Constantine sighed.

  Vladimir shook his head. “No, Julian insured his death would not diminish our chances.”

  He glanced at Pepca and Constantine followed his eyes.

  The rebel general frowned. “The princess?”

  Vladimir stood and grabbed Pepca’s hand. Pulling off the bandage, he held it out so Constantine could see the bite. “Look how the wound is already healing. It is proof. Julian passed the gift on before he died.”

  Pepca jumped up, tears streaming. “I don’t want any gift, and I don’t want to be a wolf. This is madness.”

  Vladimir grabbed her by the shoulders. “It is in your blood now, girl, there is no going back. When the moon turns full again, you will change. I can help you if you let me. I can teach you as I did Julian. You can learn how to use what he gave you, even how to bring the wolf forward whenever you please. It will make you stronger, Highness.” Vladimir loosened his grip on Pepca and lowered his voice. “It isn’t a curse, Princess. What Julian gave you is a blessing.”

  Pepca shook her head violently. “No, no, no, I don’t want anything from you.” The princess haphazardly re-bandaged her hand and ran out of the cabin.

  “She doesn’t seem to like the idea,” Constantine said without emotion. The general turned his attention to Tempest. “Didn’t you say another person was bitten?”

  Tempest nodded. “Yes, Payton…”

  “It’s the son of the Slayer’s woman,” Vladimir interrupted. “And I already checked the boy. He wasn’t affected by the bite. It must be something in that black blood of his that makes him immune. Only Pepca received the wolf.”

  “Then she has no choice but to help us,” Constantine said. “After all, her father had a hand in plunging the country into civil war. She owes it to her people.”

  Tempest moved to the door. She wanted to leave, but couldn’t hold her tongue. “Pepca isn’t responsible for anything her father did, and if you need more wolves, have Vladimir bite someone else. The princess is my friend and she has suffered a terrible loss. On top of that, she must deal with the fact that the man she loved cursed her before he died. It would be wise if you left Pepca be, or I will see you regret it.”

  “Would you please lower you voice?” Vladimir said, taking a step towards her. “May I remind you that our condition is not common knowledge? The people are superstitious Tempest. If the truth came out, it would be unfortunate for all of us, including Pepca.”

  “Neither I nor Pepca will say anything,” Tempest whispered. “But I will not stand for you hurting the princess any further, or bullying her into something she doesn’t want to do.”

  “It is not my intention to hurt anyone. Fate has made Pepca one of my kind, she must accept that and do her duty,” Vladimir said evenly.

  “Fate made nothing, Julian’s selfishness did. Pepca is your princess. I don’t think either of you can tell her what her duty is,” Tempest said, her voice rising again. “Her heart is broken and it will need time to heal. Can’t you understand that?”

  Constantine slammed his hand on the table. “I don’t like your tone, you little white-headed harpy. You and the princess will do as I say or…”

  “Or what?” K’xarr said, stepping inside the cabin.

  Tempest breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t know the mercenary captain very well, but he was a friend of Kian’s.

  “The princess was bitten. She will change when the moon turns. I was trying to explain to this young lady that Pepca is obligated to help us,” Constantine said, taking a step back and lowering his voice.

  “I heard a bit of that story. It sounds like this young woman and a couple of boys did in Serban’s man Bernard. And they weren’t shapechangers, sorcerers or even experienced warriors, just young fighters with enough balls to stand their ground. You and your army might try finding some of those for yourselves. Maybe you would find you didn’t need these wolves after all.” Vladimir snarled, but the mercenary didn’t relent. “As for the princess, you can ask her for her help. She seemed willing enough to aid your cause before. Once she calms down a bit, you might try asking her a little more politely.” Tempest felt Capt
ain Strom lay his hand on her shoulder. “As for threatening this girl, you will have to take that up with the Slayer when he returns. She is his ward, I believe.”

  Constantine’s eyes widened. “There was no threat. These are just desperate times. I am under a great deal of strain, Captain, and I momentarily lost my civility. I apologize to the young lady, if she will accept?”

  Tempest gave him a thin smile and nodded. It was best if she tried to keep the peace.

  “I’m glad you did the right thing here, General. Kian is not a very understanding man when it comes to those under his protection. I have something to tend to, but I will return later. I think we have matters to discuss.”

  Constantine inclined his head and said no more.

  K’xarr took her by the arm and led her outside. “Tempest, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “I think you should go see to the princess. We will need her with her wits about her if Kian manages to bring her brother back.”

  “I plan to do that very thing. I just want to thank you for standing up for me in there,” she said sincerely.

  “It was nothing; I don’t like that man much anyway.”

  The captain took her by the chin and gently turned her head back, scrutinizing her face.

  “Captain?” she said, eyeing the mercenary.

  “Kian said you shared our blood.”

  “Yes, since I was born,” Tempest replied.

  “With those fine features and your white hair, I have a good guess who your mother might be. If I’m right, you and I are cousins. And you will find I always take care of family.”

  Tempest’s mouth fell open. How could any of what the captain said be true? Yet she didn’t doubt the mercenary’s word. The man obviously knew more than she did about their shared affliction.

  Before she could reply, Katrina came running across the camp. The redhead was covered in grime, her face smeared with blood, and she sported a bandaged arm. “Is it true?” she asked frantically. “Tell me they lied.”

  K’xarr caught her around the waist. “Easy, woman, what are you on about?”

  “Julian, they said he had been killed?” Katrina asked, her eyes pleading.

  “It is true, though Tempest here and Endra’s boys avenged him. His killer is just as dead as he is,” K’xarr said proudly.

  Katrina beat her fists against the captain’s chest in anguish. The mercenary pulled the woman to him. At first she resisted, and then slowly she allowed the sellsword to comfort her with an embrace.

  K’xarr nodded slightly, signaling Tempest to leave. She gave him a small wave and walked away. Her mind filled with thoughts about what the captain had said about knowing her mother. She would have to talk with him again when she had the chance. Perhaps she had some family after all. For now, she would see to those taking care of the small children and making sure all was well. Then Pepca would need her.

  Valintina propped her head on her palm and drummed her fingernails on the footboard of the huge canopy bed. Slowly swinging her legs back and forth, the Goddess of Love’s mesmerizing blue eyes narrowed with frustration. She was still cross, and felt terribly slighted. Not one to be ignored, Valintina dwelled on how to settle her score with Syann.

  Helana had been consoled, and Tobiah’s wounds would heal, but her pride was another matter. Syann, the arrogant cow, had gotten away with trying to kill her son. Hesperina had confined the Goddess of Justice to her room like a naughty child, feigning that the she would receive a future penance for her murderous behavior. The queen didn’t seem concerned at all that the woman had nearly disemboweled Tobiah, and had completely humiliated the love goddess.

  It was unjust that her wretched niece had not been made to suffer for the crime. Syann, everyone’s favorite little darling… She wished her fiendish brother had never sired such a creature. Octavian should have drowned the girl at birth and saved them all from Syann’s ridiculous sense of morality and contrived self-righteousness. Valintina had always loathed Syann. Apparently, she was the only one that could see what a fraud she really was.

  There was no reason for Hesperina to be so lenient. Now that Octavian was gone, Syann no longer had any leverage at court, and the Mistress was no friend to the queen. In fact, the two had never been on the same side of anything. Valintina thought her older sister to be an indifferent tyrant who cared little for anyone but herself. The Queen of Hell wouldn’t jeopardize her position to help her daughter. So why did Hesperina let her get away with such a hateful display of savagery, inside the mountain no less? Hadn’t Hesperina forbidden such things herself? There was only one reason for the preferential treatment: the queen liked Syann better that she did Valintina.

  If Cem was still king, Syann’s punishment would have been swift and far more severe. She had a much better relationship with the former king than she did with Hesperina. Valintina rolled on to her back and stared up at the red silk canopy. She wondered if that was it. Had Hesperina known about her and Cem’s…closeness? Maybe that was why the queen refused to take her side.

  A knock disturbed her contemplation. Rolling from the huge bed, she smoothed her short sheer gown and ran a hand through her golden hair. The Goddess of Love made her way across her spacious quarters, kicking at the assortment of throw pillows that littered the room.

  She found Valdrey standing in the corridor, his hand on the hilt of his sword and a short gray cape hanging from his shoulder. “May I come in?” he asked sheepishly.

  Valintina flicked of her wrist and stepped away from the door. Valdrey had never been one of her favorites. Though quite handsome, the God of Victory was too much of a scoundrel for her taste. “What do you want?” she asked peevishly.

  The god was silent, his attention fixated on her revealing gown and the perfect breasts beneath. “Valdrey, hurry and look me over so you can tell me why you’re here.”

  Leering, the god shook his head. “Airius is very lucky. Of course, he always has been when it came to beautiful women.”

  “I really hope you’re not including that woman in my lover’s streak of good fortune?”

  “I assume you’re referring to Syann, and of course I wouldn’t include her. It was one of Airius’s poorer choices, but the goddess is why I am here,” Valdrey said, moving further into the room. “Before I go any farther, I first I wanted to apologize for my part in the troubling fray. If I had known she would react so violently to the news about Tobiah and Helana’s wedding, I would have kept her away for you.”

  Valintina sighed. Valdrey had taken her part when the queen questioned them. There was no reason to hold a grudge. “You aren’t to blame; my niece is her father’s daughter. It’s why I have always tried to distance myself from my savage siblings. The whole lot of them are bloodthirsty and unstable. I just wish Hesperina would have seen fit to make her properly pay for what she did to Tobiah.”

  Valdrey nodded his agreement. “Your family is somewhat…questionable, to be sure, and you’re right about Syann. She is much loved by the queen. I wouldn’t expect much in the way of retribution for the assault on you and your son.”

  Valentina’s hands balled into fists. “It vexes me to know in the end, nothing will be done. Tobiah and I should have satisfaction. It is our right.”

  The God of Victory shrugged. “You could try to get satisfaction yourself?”

  “The queen has forbidden us to quarrel among ourselves. I’m not going to put myself in Syann’s position. Besides, I have never been a fighter.”

  “Of course the queen must be obeyed, but Syann does care about mortals, and she has been rumored to even have feelings for some of them.”

  Valintina smiled wickedly. “Yes, that dreadful Slayer. Helana says she fawns over the creature like a smitten girl.”

  “Do you have a champion?” Valdrey asked.

  “Yes, Arthor De Grey, a simply beautiful knight from Tirannor.”

  “Odd, I thought we had few worshippers in that region. Tirannor is still a very stron
g supporter of the Church.”

  “I converted the man myself. He worships me in secret till things change. Arthor is a mighty warrior and delightfully lovely for a mortal.” Valintina giggled, thinking of the passionate night she had spent with the knight.

  Valdrey stroked his beardless chin. “He is too far to do you much good, and I doubt even with his good looks, he could stand up to Syann’s Slayer.”

  “Syann has never set that abomination’s name on the roll as her champion.”

  “Then he is fair game; you can handle him yourself. Hurt him, and you hurt Syann.”

  “I don’t think Hesperina would look fondly on me killing him. Even if Syann hasn’t named him, everyone knows she plans to make that thing her champion.”

  “Don’t kill him then. Val, you are the Goddess of Love, just do what you do.”

  Valintina tapped her sensual lips with a finger. “Helana mentioned this Endra Korlest. She is the Slayer’s woman, but before they met, she was one of Octavian’s conquests. Airius and I even saw her once in Bandara.” Valintina moved close to the God of Victory, caressing his cheek and kissing him on the nose. Thank you, Valdrey. I won’t forget this.”

  “Don’t thank me. You came up with this all on your own. I just listened. The accolades will be all yours.”

  * * *

  Syann paced her room like hungry lioness. The Goddess of Justice had dressed herself in a black leather vest and breeches to match, with dark riding boots and a set of vambraces completing the ensemble. Gazing into her mirror, Syann thought dressing for a day of riding was a pointless act. She wasn’t going anywhere.

  The goddess regarded the silver sword lying on her bed. Neither her father nor her mother would have suffered Hesperina’s insulting detention. They would have died before yielding to the queen’s decree. The Reaper and the Mistress were cut from a different cloth than she; both were vicious and defiant. Syann had never tried to emulate her parents’ violent dispositions, thinking their methods of dealing with others cruel and ineffective. Then again, they weren’t the ones sitting in their rooms like unruly children.